The air in Dr. Sharma's study was thick with the ghosts of his ambition. The manuscript lay open on the desk, its pages a testament to a life spent chasing a secret. Now, that secret had a price, and the names of the men who might have collected it hung in the charged silence.
Vikram Rathore. Dr. Siddharth Rao. Arjun Singh.
A tycoon, a scholar, and a prince. The three pillars of modern Jaipur: money, knowledge, and heritage.
Riya Singh was the first to speak, her voice a low, professional hum that cut through the stillness. She picked up the threatening letter from Rathore's legal team, her expression hardening. She was on familiar ground now. This was no longer about folklore or cryptic symbols; it was about power, motive, and opportunity—the bedrock of police work.
"Let's start with what we know," she said, her tone shifting from liaison to lead investigator. She began to pace the small space between the bookshelves, a habit Neel recognized as the physical manifestation of a sharp mind ordering its thoughts.
"Vikram Rathore," she began, ticking the first name off on her fingers. "New money, but more of it than God. He came to Jaipur a decade ago and has been buying up land like it's going out of style. His Aravalli Vistas project is a behemoth—luxury villas, a golf course, the works. It's his crown jewel. The environmental clearances were a nightmare, and the historical preservation societies fought him tooth and nail. Dr. Sharma's theory, if proven, would be more than a disruption. A confirmed subterranean structure of historical importance would trigger a mandatory ASI buffer zone, potentially halting his project for years, costing him hundreds of crores."
She paused, looking at Neel. "His motive is the cleanest. Pure, unadulterated greed. He's ruthless, and he has the political connections to make problems disappear."
Neel nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the titles on the shelves as Riya spoke. He wasn't just hearing her words; he was building a psychological profile. Rathore was a force of nature, a bulldozer.
"Next, Dr. Siddharth Rao," Riya continued, moving on. "The intellectual dragon. He and Dr. Sharma came up through the university together. Their rivalry is the stuff of legends in academic circles. Rao is a strict traditionalist. He believes in evidence you can touch, in history written in stone and official records. Sharma was the opposite, a romantic who believed in star charts and forgotten verses. For years, Rao has publicly ridiculed Sharma's more 'esoteric' theories. If Sharma's manuscript is correct, Rao isn't just wrong; his entire professional legacy is invalidated. He becomes a footnote in the story of his rival's triumph."
"Humiliation can be a more powerful motive than greed," Neel murmured, his gaze distant.
"Finally, Arjun Singh." Riya's voice softened slightly, taking on a different timbre. This was not a common criminal she was describing. "The Royal Descendant. He isn't just a man; he's a symbol. His family ruled this city for centuries. He manages the Royal Heritage Trust, which gives him immense influence over every historical site in the region. He's seen as the guardian of Jaipur's history."
"A guardian who denied my father access," Maya interjected quietly from the corner, her voice edged with steel.
"Exactly," Riya agreed. "Arjun Singh is obsessed with his family's image, with preserving the narrative of their glory. What if this hidden vault contains something that tarnishes that narrative? Not a treasure, but a scandal? A secret his ancestors went to great lengths to bury? For him, this isn't about money or reputation. It's about honour. And in this city, the honour of that family is priceless."
She stopped pacing and faced Neel, her arms crossed. "So, we have three dragons, each guarding their own treasure. One guards his gold, one guards his pride, and one guards his name. Where do we even start? We can't just haul them in for questioning. They'd have a dozen lawyers on us before the first question was asked, and the commissioner would have my badge."
This was the crux of the problem. The suspects were untouchable, insulated by layers of power, wealth, and influence. A direct assault was impossible.
Neel closed the file on the desk, his movements deliberate. "You are correct, Inspector. We cannot question them." He paused, letting the statement hang in the air. "So we will question the world around them."
He turned to face her, his dark eyes holding a quiet intensity. "These men believe they are in control. They have silenced the man who threatened them, and they have created a perfect cover story. They believe the danger has passed. They will be watching the police, waiting for us to chase the ghost of Nahar Singh Bhomia. They will not be watching for someone who is watching them."
He laid out his strategy, not as a police plan, but as a hunt. "A bulldozer like Rathore is surrounded by people who clear the path for him—and those who resent him for it. A proud academic like Rao has students who admire him and colleagues who envy him. A prince like Arjun Singh has a court of retainers, old family servants who know where the secrets are kept. These men are not islands. They have orbits, and in those orbits are people who talk, who notice things, who have grievances."
He picked up the legal notice from Vikram Rathore. "We will start here," he said. "With the bulldozer. A man like Rathore solves problems with pressure. He pushes. We need to create a situation where he is forced to push back. Only then will we see the machinery he uses."
"What are you suggesting?" Riya asked, intrigued.
"I am not a police officer, Inspector. I am a private consultant, hired by the victim's daughter." Neel's gaze shifted to Maya. "Tomorrow morning, Ms. Sharma, you will file a civil injunction against Mr. Rathore's construction company, citing potential damage to an unconfirmed archaeological site based on your father's preliminary research. It won't hold up in court for long, but it doesn't have to. It is not a legal move. It is a chess move. We are not trying to win the game. We are just prodding the dragon to see if it breathes fire."
A slow, determined smile spread across Maya's face. It was the first time Neel had seen her look like a fighter, not just a victim.
The first rays of dawn were beginning to streak the sky, filtering through the dusty window of the study. The long night was over. The ghost had been banished, and in its place stood three very real, very powerful men. The hunt had truly begun.