The Betrayal

 

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.

 Over the next few days, she and Vikram pieced together Sethi’s activities. The more they uncovered, the more dangerous the situation became.

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

The Stalker

Monday, 9:00 PM: The wintry evening grew even chillier with the breeze. Nikitha started walking fast toward her home. It was just another 250 meters before she felt she could shake off the person following her. As she turned left near the grocery store, with the last four blocks of houses to cover, she felt alone. When she reached her gate, she turned back and saw no one in the lane.

 

Had there been a man following her? Was she imagining things? Had he turned back after she entered her lane? These thoughts kept her busy until she showered and sat at the dinner table. The streetlight flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement. A gust of wind carried the faint scent of tobacco, making her frown. The unease didn’t leave her, but she dismissed it. She had bigger concerns. The next day was going to be quite busy. She went through the case files and prepared notes on what to expect at the rendezvous with the corporate honcho on Tuesday. This was going to be a major assignment, one that could make or break her career—and, more importantly, the reputation of her organization. Well past midnight, she shut her laptop and the reading light on the table and crashed into bed.

 

Tuesday, 7:00 AM: With a hot coffee mug in hand, she stepped onto the balcony facing the street and looked down to the end of the lane. There was someone standing and puffing a cigarette near the corner grocery store. Was he the same guy? She let the thought drift away, enjoyed the morning breeze, and finished her coffee.

 

After a quick shower and a grilled sandwich for breakfast, Nikitha dressed in formals, walked down to the garage, and opened the gate. She tucked her laptop bag into the rear seat and drove the car onto the main road, looking out for a tail. There seemed to be none—or so she thought. She drove straight to the headquarters.

 

YH Raskar was a multi-billionaire politician with numerous alleged nefarious activities to his name. A former legislator with the then-ruling party, currently with the party in power after switching sides, Raskar wielded significant clout with the police. A self-proclaimed man of the masses, Raskar had friends and foes in the media and kept the police under his grip. The foul-mouthed businessman-politician had an army of followers—a gang that was as much a pain to the cops as to the general public. In recent times, his money-laundering activities and business deals had not only skyrocketed but also caught the eye of the national financial investigation agency. For a long time, he had evaded law enforcement due to his extreme connections.

 

The Enforcement Directorate had assigned the case of investigating YHR and his activities to Sethi and his team. Chief Sethi entrusted Nikitha with bringing the goon to justice. Today was the big day for closure.

 

Working overtime for the past fortnight, Nikitha and her team of two lieutenants had secured enough evidence to nail the financial frauds of YH Raskar. However, there were hurdles. Raskar’s tentacles spread across all strata of society, and the ED team knew they had to wriggle through a maze of deceit to apprehend the kingpin. To make things worse, Raskar’s men had infiltrated every department, and their eyes were on the vigil all the time. He had over half a dozen criminal cases pending against him, yet no charges had ever been framed.

 

9:00 AM: The first thing Nikitha did upon arrival at Chief Sethi’s office was to narrate the mysterious man tailing her since the previous week. Sethi listened quietly and asked her not to worry, as she was being guarded and would remain safe. The local police could not be trusted, so members of the Industrial Security Force in plain clothes were assigned to back up Nikitha and her team during the raid.

 

Noon: Unlike the early morning surprise swoops, this was planned as a mid-day entry—not really an ambush. Nikitha and her two young colleagues walked into the main gate of YH Raskar’s palatial bungalow. The security force waited outside in nondescript cars. Four men stopped them at the first periphery and let them in after verifying their credentials. In the patio, groups of musclemen were engaged in small talk. Two of them approached Nikitha with stern looks. With a bold face, she asked to see Mr. Raskar.

 

“Anna is busy,” was the curt response she received as they were ushered to sit on the sofas in the portico. They sat there for a while. Murmurs reached the man inside. Nikitha turned her head around the place, not sure what she was looking for. Her eyes fell on a man in a black suit on the balcony of the building across the road, watching through what seemed like binoculars. Was he the mysterious stalker? Before she could respond to the thought, two henchmen stood right in front of them and questioned them on the purpose of their visit. They seemed to be armed, and one of them had his hand reaching toward his back pocket. Nikitha was taken aback.

 

The ED team told them they had come to question Mr. Raskar and had enough evidence and a warrant for a search. Nikitha felt uneasy with the number of eyes around them, especially the one from a long distance. After half an hour of waiting, YH Raskar invited Nikitha and her colleagues inside the house. The team engaged him in discussion and laid the documents they had brought on his table. Raskar wore a beaming smile.

 

After three hours of intense questioning, Raskar and the ED team walked out of the house. The henchmen were anxious—was their ‘Anna’ being arrested? Raskar was surrounded by the paramilitary force, while Nikitha and her team were huddled into a bulletproof car and driven to headquarters. Raskar’s lawyers reached the HQ before the entourage brought him in.

 

4:00 PM: The court granted YHR bail. His lawyers had presented forged documents and coerced testimonies, creating just enough doubt to set him free. Nikitha clenched her fists in frustration. As she analyzed the failed operation, something nagged at her. Witnesses had backed out, and crucial evidence had been destroyed before her team arrived. It wasn’t just bad luck—someone had tipped YHR off. Raskar and his men were jubilantly driving back home.

 

Unbeknownst to her, a man in the shadows had been tracking these movements closely. He had witnessed YHR’s men tampering with evidence and discreetly gathered proof. He had seen the mole pass information to YHR’s men outside the courthouse but had to remain silent to protect his cover. This was his chance to tip the scales.

As the eventful day ended, the official car took her back home. At the turn into her lane, she caught a fleeting glance of a man in a dark suit puffing on a cigarette behind the pillar at the corner store. So, he sure wasn’t following her—or was he waiting for her there already? Nikitha didn’t give him much thought and entered her home, shutting the door behind her.

 

Why was bail granted to YHR? Was there something missing in their files? They surely had an airtight case with the evidence, and the court couldn’t have been in cahoots with the criminal. Questions crossed her mind. Then again, the silhouette of the mystery man appeared in front of her shut eyes. She was worried but also smiled, for she believed the department knew better how to handle her safety and security.

 

That night, an anonymous tip landed in her inbox. It contained grainy yet damning images—YHR’s henchmen burning ledgers, bribing key witnesses, and a name she hadn’t expected, someone from her own team. A mole. Her gut twisted. The message ended with: “Trust no one inside. Strike fast.”

 

Wednesday, 6:00 AM: Nikitha wasted no time. By dawn, she had confronted the mole with the evidence. His confession led them to a hidden ledger detailing illegal financial transactions. With the case reinvigorated, she coordinated a more aggressive raid on YHR’s premises, this time backed by an elite paramilitary team.

 

9:00 AM: Sethi, Nikitha, and the team were again present at YHR’s residence. This time, they had a dozen uniformed cops in tow. Word spread across the constituency of an impending arrest of their ‘beloved’ leader. People turned up in hordes, only to be pushed back by the barricades put up across all entry and exit points to Raskar’s house.

 

As the raid unfolded, chaos erupted. The ED team spent over six and a half hours inside, while the crowds surged outside the residence, clogging all paths in the colony. YHR’s guards resisted, trying to buy him time. A shot rang out from above. One of YHR’s most trusted enforcers, about to set fire to a key stash of documents, dropped his gun, wounded. The sudden turn stunned the rest of YHR’s men, giving Nikitha’s team the opening they needed. Within minutes, they had secured the entire premises, including financial records, offshore account details, and digital evidence YHR couldn’t erase in time.

 

4:00 PM Finally, the sirens started blaring as a special grilled vehicle entered the palatial compound. YH Raskar was whisked in, and as the vehicle exited from the rear gate, the followers began chanting slogans. As the officers hauled YHR away, Nikitha’s heart pounded. Something about that precise, well-timed shot stayed with her. She scanned the area, catching a fleeting glimpse of a familiar silhouette disappearing into the distance. That same scent of tobacco lingered.

 

A riot-like situation ensued, with the ED team members leaving the premises in different cars. Nikitha was the last to leave, accompanied by a security guard. Their car was stuck in the melee. The driver turned inside the compound and headed for the north-side main exit. The police pushed back the crowd, and the vehicle slowly made its way onto the by-lane leading to the main road.

 

A group of young men who had been present from the previous day inside YHR’s compound spotted Nikitha and gestured to the others toward the car. Sticks and stones were pelted at the car, even as the driver avoided most of them and drove cautiously away from the scene. They had hardly traveled a kilometer in half an hour from the politician’s residence when a gang of goons blocked their way. The windshield was cracked, and the driver stopped the car as it was completely surrounded by angry, screaming men.

 

The guard sitting beside the driver gestured to Nikitha to exit through the door behind the driver. Just as she opened the door, a tall man in a dark hoodie, his face covered by a mask, grabbed Nikitha, wrapped her in a black shawl covering her head, face, and torso, and whisked her away across the road into a waiting minivan with a sliding door. As she was shoved into the vehicle, a large stone was thrown toward the van, aimed at Nikitha. The ‘abductor’ turned back to look and was hit on the forehead. He hurriedly shut the door and got in beside the waiting hooded, masked driver, who took off at high speed.

 

“Are you okay, buddy?” asked the driver.

“I’m fine,” said the man in a coarse tone, wiping the blood trickling down his face mask.

 

“Where am I?” screamed Nikitha, still covered and lying on the back seat. There was silence for over an hour before the van came to a halt. The two men got down and helped Nikitha out of the car, leading her into a dilapidated building.

 

She found herself bound and blindfolded, her head throbbing from the ambush. Her captor hadn’t spoken a word, but the tension in the air was unmistakable. As she struggled, she heard footsteps approaching. Her restraints loosened, and the hood-like shawl covering her slipped off. Nikitha looked at the bleeding face of her abductor-saviour. She pulled the mask from his face and slapped the ‘stalker’ on his cheek.

 

“Good shot from the balcony, my dear stalker. And bloody hell, stop smoking on duty near my house,” she chided him. Special Service Agent Vikram Singh was her partner in crime and fiancé, who had been entrusted with the undercover assignment of shadowing the dynamic investigator.

 

Chief Sethi walked in with a smile and said, “YHR is out of the picture for good.”

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Pic: Freepik