The air near the university stadium was thick with the sweet, spicy scent of boiling tea and the low rumble of late-night truck traffic on the highway. The chai stall was an island of fluorescent light in the darkness, a handful of plastic chairs scattered around a metal cart where a man rhythmically poured steaming liquid between two steel pots. It was a place where conversations could be had without being overheard, a nexus of anonymity. It was just after 11:55 PM.
Neel was already there, sitting on a stool in the deepest shadow, a small glass of chai untouched in front of him. He looked like just another traveler, another face in the night. He saw the headlights before he heard the car. It was a standard-issue police Maruti, but it parked a block away, its lights cutting out abruptly. A minute later, a figure emerged from the darkness.
Inspector Alok Prakash had changed. The ten years had been heavier on him. His frame was thicker, his hair was graying at the temples, and his face was etched with the cautious lines of a man who had learned to survive within a rigid system. He wore a simple shirt and trousers, but he carried himself like a cop, his eyes constantly scanning, assessing threats.
He saw Neel and his expression hardened. He bought a chai from the vendor, paid without a word, and walked over to Neel's table, taking the chair opposite him. He didn't sit.
"You've got five minutes, Neel," Alok said, his voice a low growl. "Start talking. And this had better be the truth."
Neel didn't waste time. He reached into his coat pocket and placed the small evidence bag containing the tarnished silver locket on the table between them. He nudged it forward.
Alok stared at the bag, his professional suspicion warring with a dawning horror. He recognized it. Every CBI agent who worked the Jigsaw case had seen the photo of Maya and her locket in the missing person's file. It had been their only lead to her disappearance.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice losing its hard edge, replaced by something colder.
"From the new crime scene at Chimanpura Fort," Neel said. "It was left for me, Alok. In the center of the star. He knows I'm here. He's telling me he took her."
Alok finally sat down, the strength seeming to go out of his legs. He ran a hand over his face, the weary gesture of a man confronted with a ghost he had tried very hard to forget. The locket was undeniable proof. This wasn't one of Neel's theories; this was real.
"And the note?" Alok asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Neel slid the second evidence bag, containing the tiny, folded paper, across the table. Alok looked at the three lines of text. Abhijit Singh. The Umaid Bhawan Palace. September 1, 2025.
"He's daring you," Alok breathed, a chill running down his spine. "He's setting the stage."
"He's finishing the game," Neel corrected him. "And I need to get inside that palace. I need to know Singh's schedule, his security detail, the layout of his suite. You can get that. I can't."
Alok looked away, towards the distant, sleeping city. Helping Neel meant risking everything—his job, his reputation, his family's security. But letting a monster like the Jigsaw Killer move freely, knowing he was targeting a man in their city... that was a breach of the only thing he had left: his duty.
"I can't be seen with you," Alok said, his decision made. "I can't be your partner. If you're caught, I don't know you. You are on your own. Understood?"
"Understood," Neel said.
Alok took a final sip of his chai, his mind already working, accessing files he hadn't thought about in a decade. "Singh isn't just at the palace for a summit. He's hosting an exclusive, high-stakes poker game tomorrow night. For a very select guest list."
Neel's eyes sharpened. A private game was a security nightmare. A perfect opportunity for a killer. "Can you get me in?"
"No," Alok said flatly. "Security will be airtight. But an event like that requires temporary staff. Waiters, valets, technicians. They're all hired through a third-party contractor. A man named Gupta who runs an event management company. He's known to cut corners, hire people last minute, cash-in-hand, no questions asked."
He stood up, placing his empty glass back on the table. It was the first real lead, a crack in the fortress wall around Abhijit Singh.
"I never saw you tonight, Verma," Alok said, turning to leave. "This conversation never happened."
He walked back into the darkness without another word, leaving Neel alone with the untouched glass of chai and a single, dangerous thread to pull.