There was no time to think, only to act. In the single second it took for the lock to disengage, Neel's mind went blank and his training took over.
He snatched the USB drive and the folded paper, pocketing them in a single fluid motion. He shoved the hollowed-out book back onto the shelf, not perfectly, but close enough. The cigar box was still on the desk, his untouched excuse. There was nowhere to run. To his right, heavy, floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains pooled on the floor, obscuring the view of the city. It wasn't a hiding place; it was a prayer.
Neel dove behind them, pressing himself flat against the cold glass of the window just as the suite door swung open. He held his breath, his body rigid, his heart a silent, hammering drum.
Through a tiny gap in the fabric, he saw a pair of polished black dress shoes stride into the room. It was Nayak, the head of security. He walked with a confident, predatory gait.
"Rahul?" Nayak called out, his voice sharp, expecting an answer.
Silence.
Neel watched the shoes stop in the center of the room. He heard the soft rustle of Nayak's suit as he surveyed the suite. The silence stretched, each second a lifetime. Neel could feel the faint vibration through the floor as the man began to move again. The shoes turned and walked towards the desk.
"Careless," Nayak muttered to himself, his voice dangerously close. He had seen the cigar box, still sitting there. He likely assumed the incompetent waiter had simply forgotten it.
The shoes moved away from the desk and towards the bedroom door. Nayak was doing a quick, professional sweep of the suite. Neel's muscles screamed with tension. He was completely exposed. If Nayak decided to check the windows, he was finished.
The bedroom door creaked open, then closed. Nayak moved to the bathroom, repeating the process. He was thorough.
Then, the shoes stopped. They were pointing directly at the curtains. Directly at Neel. He could hear the man's soft, controlled breathing. It was over. Nayak knew.
A sharp crackle from Nayak's earpiece broke the spell. A voice, tinny and urgent, spoke into his ear. Neel couldn't make out the words, but Nayak's posture changed instantly.
"What is it?" Nayak murmured into his wrist communicator. He listened for a moment, his body going rigid. "Understood. I'm on my way."
The shoes turned abruptly. Nayak walked back to the desk, snatched the mahogany humidor, and strode towards the exit without a backward glance. The door opened and closed with a heavy, final click. The lock re-engaged.
Neel remained frozen for a full minute, his mind catching up to his survival. He had the evidence. He had escaped discovery by a hair's breadth.
But the relief was short-lived. He was still trapped in the suite. Nayak was gone, but the guards would still be outside the door. And now, thanks to whatever had just happened, the palace security was on high alert. Getting in had been hard. Getting out was going to be impossible.