The sun dipped below the horizon, casting elongated shadows across the bustling streets of Hyderabad. Nikitha adjusted her scarf, the cool evening breeze whispering secrets of the city. Her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way to the Enforcement Directorate headquarters, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on her mind.
YH Raskar, the notorious politician-businessman, was out on bail. His release had sent ripples through the agency, undermining months of painstaking investigation. Nikitha couldn't shake the image of his smug grin as he exited the courthouse, flanked by his entourage. Justice had once again been twisted, molded by power and money.
Sethi’s office door creaked open, and he stepped out, glancing around nervously. Nikitha noticed his disheveled look, the hint of sweat on his brow. Something was off. Chief Sethi was always composed, meticulous. Lately, however, he had been distracted, disappearing at odd hours, making hushed phone calls. Inside the office, the atmosphere was tense. Agents whispered in hushed tones, casting furtive glances at Chief Sethi's closed door. Nikitha knocked briskly and entered, finding Sethi hunched over a stack of files, his tie loosened and eyes bloodshot.
"Sir, we
need to discuss Raskar's release," she began, her voice steady but laced
with frustration.
Sethi looked up, his expression weary. "Nikitha, I
understand your concern, but our hands are tied. The judiciary has made its
decision."
She frowned,
noticing the faint tremor in his hands. "There's more to this, isn't
there? You've been... different lately."
He sighed,
rubbing his temples. "It's just the pressure. This case has taken a toll
on all of us."
Unsatisfied, Nikitha left his office, her mind racing. As she
walked back to her desk, Vikram Singh approached, his usual confident demeanor
replaced by unease.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.
She forced a
smile. "Just the usual chaos. What about you? You seem... off."
He hesitated,
glancing around before leaning in. "Meet me at the café down the street
after work. We need to talk."
Curiosity
piqued, Nikitha nodded.
Later, at the
dimly lit café, Vikram stirred his coffee, avoiding her gaze. "I've been
noticing some irregularities," he began.
Nikitha leaned forward. "What kind of irregularities?"
"Sethi's been making unauthorized transactions. Large sums,
offshore accounts."
Her heart sank. "Are you saying he's compromised?"
Vikram nodded. "It looks that way. And there's more. I've
been tailing Raskar. He's been meeting with someone from our agency."
"Who?" He took a deep breath. "I couldn't get a
clear view, but... I think it's Sethi."
Nikitha's mind raced. The pieces were falling into a disturbing pattern.
Nikitha nodded. “He’s acting strange. And with Raskar out, I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Vikram sighed.
“You’re not wrong. I’ve been keeping an eye on Raskar. He’s playing the
innocent businessman, but I’m certain he’s pulling strings behind the scenes.”
Nikitha sipped her coffee, her mind racing. “We need to figure out what’s going on before it’s too late.”
That evening, as she left the office, she noticed Sethi slipping out of the building. Instead of heading home, he turned towards a dimly lit alleyway. Nikitha followed at a safe distance, her heart pounding. Sethi stopped at a nondescript café, heading straight to a booth at the back.
Nikitha took a seat by the counter, pretending to scroll through her phone. A few minutes later, a familiar figure entered—YH Raskar. Her pulse quickened as she watched them exchange hushed words. Raskar slid an envelope across the table.
What the hell was going on? She took out her phone, positioning it subtly to snap a picture. The angle wasn’t great, but it was enough to confirm her worst fears—Sethi was compromised.
Over the next
few days, she discreetly gathered evidence. Financial records, surveillance
footage, intercepted communications—all pointing to Sethi's betrayal. But
something didn't add up. Why would Sethi, a man of integrity, align with
Raskar?
The next morning, Nikitha’s maid, Leela, handed her the newspaper with a curious look. “Madam, bad things happening in the city. Look at this.”
Nikitha took the paper and scanned the headlines. Raskar’s bail approval had made the front page. Below it was another article, an anonymous whistleblower had hinted at corruption within the Enforcement Directorate itself. Her stomach twisted.
Had someone gotten ahead of her? Or was this part of Raskar’s ploy? As she left for work, the parking lot attendant, Suresh, gave her a knowing look. “Madam, some stranger was near your car last night. He asked about you.”
Nikitha stiffened.
“Did you see his face?”
Suresh shook his head. “He left quickly when I came closer.”
Someone was watching her.
In the metro that morning, she was hyper-aware of her surroundings. A man in a grey suit, holding a newspaper, caught her attention. He wasn’t reading it—just glancing at her reflection in the glass. When she switched compartments, he followed.
She tested him again, getting off at a random stop and reboarding from a different entry point. He mirrored her actions.
She pretended to ignore him but quickly snapped his picture when the train halted at the next station. She would run his image through their database later.
Back at the office,
she confronted Sethi in his cabin. “Late-night meetings with criminals? That’s
a new low.”
Sethi’s face drained
of colour. “Nikitha, I can explain.”
“Then do it. Because
right now, it looks like you’re in bed with the very people we’re supposed to
put behind bars.”
Sethi hesitated
before sighing. “They have something on me. My brother... he got involved in
some bad business. They threatened his life if I didn’t cooperate.”
Nikitha’s anger
softened, but suspicion remained. “So you decided to work for them instead?”
“I didn’t have a
choice.”
Nikitha exhaled
sharply. “You always have a choice. And now you’re going to help us bring
Raskar down.”
Sethi looked away. “I
can’t.”
Nikitha clenched her fists. “Then you’re part of the problem.”
That evening, she
stopped by a roadside tea stall. The shopkeeper, an old man named Raju, gave
her an inquisitive look. “Madam, you’ve been coming here for years. Today you
seem troubled.”
She smiled faintly. “Just work.”
Raju nodded wisely. “Sometimes, the problem is closer than you think.”
His words lingered in
her mind as she left.
The final showdown
took place in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
Sethi, wearing a
wire, met with Raskar to finalize a supposed deal. Nikitha and Vikram watched
from a surveillance van. Just as Raskar handed over a briefcase of cash, agents
swarmed in, guns drawn.
Raskar smirked. “You
think this is over? You have no idea what’s coming.”
Nikitha felt a chill
run down her spine.
As Raskar was taken
away, Vikram turned to her. “We did it.”
A week later,
Raskar walked free again. A high-ranking official had intervened, evidence had
vanished, and witnesses had retracted their statements.
Nikitha clenched her fists. This wasn’t over.
Raskar was more than just a corrupt businessman, he was orchestrating something far bigger. Every lead pointed to a massive money-laundering operation, one that involved high-profile politicians and law enforcement officials.
One evening, while tailing one of Raskar’s associates, she found herself at an old warehouse near the city’s outskirts. She parked a block away and slipped in through a side entrance, her footsteps silent against the concrete floor.
Inside, stacks of crates labeled with fraudulent company names stood in neat rows. The faint hum of conversation reached her ears, and she edged closer. Peering around a corner, she spotted Raskar, flanked by two heavily armed men, speaking with a shadowed figure she couldn’t quite make out.
Her pulse quickened as she pulled out her phone and started recording. Suddenly, she heard a soft click behind her.
“Drop it.”
She froze. A gun
barrel pressed against her back.
Slowly, she raised
her hands and turned to face her captor. It was one of Raskar’s men, his
expression a mix of amusement and menace.
“Well, well,” he
drawled. “Looks like we have a guest.”
Nikitha’s mind raced.
She had to think fast.
“Raskar will want to
hear what I have to say,” she said coolly.
The goon hesitated before motioning for her to move forward. They led her into the main area where Raskar turned, his expression unreadable.
“Nikitha,” he said, his voice smooth. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I think we can help
each other,” she replied, forcing a smirk.
Raskar chuckled. “Now that’s interesting. Go on.”
She took a calculated breath. “You have a mole inside the Enforcement Directorate. And I want to know who it is.”
Raskar’s expression flickered, just for a second. Then, he smiled. “Now why would I trust you?”
“Because,” she said, stepping closer, “we both know, I was being followed by your men, for this day.”
Silence stretched
between them before Raskar gestured for his men to stand down. “Alright,
Nikitha. Let’s talk.”
Months later,
Nikitha orchestrated Raskar’s permanent departure with the precision of a
seasoned strategist. Every move had to be calculated, every step airtight. A
man like Raskar, with his wealth, influence, and web of powerful connections,
couldn't simply be eliminated—he had to disappear in a way that ensured he
could never claw his way back.
Using her
network of confidential informants and access to classified intelligence, she
fabricated an elaborate scheme. First, she carefully manipulated digital
records, crafting an ironclad arrest warrant that painted Raskar as a fugitive
wanted not only in India but in multiple countries for financial crimes, arms
trafficking, and conspiracy. She fed this information through encrypted
channels to select international agencies, making sure that his name would
raise red flags at every major airport and border crossing.
Next, she arranged
for a private security team - men who operated in the shadows, working for no
country but serving those who could pay the highest price. With a mix of
bribery and coercion, she ensured that Raskar’s most trusted bodyguards were
suddenly unavailable, replaced by men loyal to her plan. He never even realized
the shift.
On the night of
the operation, Raskar believed he was being escorted to a safe house, a
temporary hideout to lay low while his lawyers worked on clearing his name.
Instead, he was taken to a remote airstrip on the outskirts of the city. The
jet waiting for him wasn’t bound for Dubai or Singapore, as he had been told,
but for an undisclosed destination - a small, heavily monitored island nation
where extradition was nearly impossible, and where powerful figures could be
"contained" under the guise of house arrest.
As the engines
roared to life, Raskar, for the first time, sensed something was wrong. He
turned to his escort, demanding answers, but their blank, unyielding
expressions told him everything. By the time he reached for his phone, the
signal was already jammed.
The last thing
he saw before the jet door shut was Nikitha standing at the edge of the tarmac,
watching impassively. She lifted a hand in a casual farewell, her expression
unreadable.
"Enjoy your new home," she murmured to herself as the
plane ascended into the dark sky.
Raskar was gone.
Forever.
Later that
night, alone in her apartment, she picked up her old Nokia phone and dialed.
A voice on the
other end answered. “Is it done?”
“Yes,” Nikitha replied coldly. “Raskar is out of the way.”
“And Vikram?”
She hesitated.
“He trusts me. For now.”
The voice chuckled. “Good. Keep it that way.”
She exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the phone. “And
Sethi?”
There was a
pause before the voice responded. “Disgraced. He took the fall for the leaks
and financial misconduct. The agency needed a scapegoat, and you made sure he
was the perfect one.”
Nikitha’s lips curled into a faint smile. Sethi had chosen his
side, and she had chosen hers. His betrayal had been a liability, but more than
that, it had been a lesson - loyalty was a currency, and he had spent his
foolishly. Now, he was nothing more than a footnote in the agency’s history,
stripped of his title, his power, and his reputation. A man who had once
commanded the room, reduced to whispers of scandal and disgrace.
She walked over
to the window, the city stretching before her in glimmering lights and deep
shadows. It had been a long road, full of compromises, deception, and carefully
played moves. And now, she stood at the top, untouchable, unchallenged.
A queen in a kingdom of
shadows.
Past Midnight: Nikitha leaned against
the windowpane, the city humming below her like a restless beast. Power. It was
intoxicating, but it was also fragile. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and
the whole empire she had built could crumble.
She had outmaneuvered Raskar, removed Sethi, and secured Vikram’s
trust. But she knew better than to get comfortable. The game never ended, it
only changed players.
Her Nokia phone
buzzed again. Same number. She exhaled sharply before answering. “Yes?”
A pause. Then,
the voice on the other end, smooth but firm. “You’ve done well, Nikitha.”
She stayed silent. Compliments from them were never just that.
“You have
control of the agency now. Vikram trusts you. The department listens to you.
But there’s one last piece left.”
She already knew
what was coming. “Sethi was the fall guy. Raskar’s gone. What else do you
need?”
A low chuckle.
“The throne isn’t truly yours until you eliminate every threat. Vikram is loyal
- for now. But he’s not like you. He still believes in a clear line between
right and wrong. And when the time comes, he won’t choose you.”
Nikitha’s grip
on the phone tightened. Vikram had been her closest ally. He had stood beside
her when things spiraled, fought with her against the corruption festering
within the system. But he was different. He still held onto his moral compass,
even when the world around him had proven that survival required something else
entirely.
The voice
continued, “You need to decide before he does.”
Nikitha let out a slow breath, glancing at the framed photograph on her desk - a rare moment captured years ago, before everything changed. Vikram, herself, a few other recruits during their training days. Back when she still believed that doing the right thing mattered. “I’ll handle it,” she said finally, her voice devoid of hesitation.
The call ended.
She tossed the phone
into a bonfire, watching the flames consume the last trace of the conversation.
Vikram wouldn’t
see it coming. And that was the tragedy of it.
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Pic: Freepik
