CHAPTER 15: "THE INFORMANT"

  Three days later, Vikram sat in a crowded Barista café in Connaught Place, nursing a cold coffee and pretending to read a newspaper.

  In reality, he was watching the entrance, his nerves stretched taut like guitar strings about to snap.

  He had reached out to Arjun with a simple text: I'm in.

  Need intel on Khanna's operations.

  Can you help?

  Arjun's response had been immediate: Meet my contact. Tomorrow.

  CP. He'll find you.

  Now Vikram waited, every muscle coiled.

  He didn't know who this contact was.

  For all he knew, it could be a trap—Khanna's men posing as allies, drawing him out.

  A young man in his twenties, thin and nervous-looking, slid into the chair across from him.

  He was wearing a faded Metallica t-shirt and had the haunted eyes of someone who had seen violence up close.

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  "You Sharma?" the young man asked in a low voice.

  Vikram nodded.

  "I'm Ravi. Arjun-bhai sent me."

  He glanced around nervously.

  "I work for Khanna. Low-level runner. I deliver messages, pick up cash, that sort of thing."

  "Why are you helping us?"

  Ravi's jaw tightened.

  "They killed my brother. He was a street vendor. Didn't pay protection money on time. They beat him so badly he died three days later in the hospital. Khanna doesn't even remember his name. I do."

  Vikram felt a pang of kinship with this boy.

  They were both ordinary people who had been pulled into the abyss.

  "What do you know?" Vikram asked.

  Ravi pulled out his phone and showed Vikram a series of photos.

  "This is Khanna's main office. It's in a warehouse in Okhla, behind the industrial area. He meets his lieutenants there every Friday night to settle accounts."

  Vikram studied the photos.

  The warehouse was large, surrounded by a high wall topped with broken glass.

  Guards at the gate.

  Security cameras.

  "He keeps the real records there," Ravi continued.

  "Not the street-level stuff. The big money. Real estate deals. Politician payoffs. It's all in a safe in his office on the second floor."

  "How do you know this?"

  "I've been inside. I've seen it. The safe is old, Russian-made. But it's not the problem. The problem is getting in and getting out alive."

  Vikram leaned back.

  "I'm not a thief. I don't know how to crack safes."

  "You don't have to," Ravi said.

  "I can get you in. This Friday, there's a big meeting. All the lieutenants will be there. Security will be focused on them, not on the back entrance. I can leave a door unlocked. You slip in, photograph the documents, get out."

  "And if they catch me?"

  Ravi's expression was grim.

  "Then you die. And so do I."

  Vikram stared at the photos.

  This was insane.

  Infiltrating the heart of Khanna's empire? But what choice did he have? He couldn't keep hiding, couldn't keep reacting.

  He needed to go on the offensive.

  "When?"

  "This Friday. 10 PM. I'll text you the exact location and timing."

  Ravi stood up.

  "And Sharma-bhai? If you're going in, go armed. Not a gun—they'll hear it. Something silent."

  He left quickly, disappearing into the crowd of shoppers and tourists.

  Vikram sat there, the weight of the decision crushing him.

  He was about to walk into the lion's den.