"Leave the logistics to me. I will authorize enough manpower....say, forty men?" SHO Yash Agarwal said, his voice dropping to a low, serious register.
This was no small commitment as it essentially meant mobilizing every available officer at Spanda Police Station. On paper, the station boasted over a hundred personnel, but less than half were actually available for street duty.
In Mumbai, the police force was perpetually drained by VIP culture. Dozens of officers were permanently assigned to act as glorified bodyguards for local politicians, wealthy businessmen, and high-caste elites, escorting them safely through the city.
Because of this, grassroots constables like Rohan were left severely short-handed, forced to work grueling, holiday-less shifts just to keep the streets from tearing themselves apart.
"And I will personally lead the raid," Agarwal added after a brief pause.
Rohan wasn't surprised as he was, after all, only a bottom-tier Constable. Even with the SHO's authorization, a squad of forty hardened cops wouldn't take orders from a rookie. More importantly, this case was far too critical and the potential political reward too massive for Agarwal to let anyone else claim the final glory. The legwork could be left to Rohan, but the SHO had to be the one holding the prize at the end.
"Sir, I still need to confirm the exact warehouse the Kala Sher gang is using to hold the item," Rohan said smoothly.
"How long will that take?"
"Give me half a day," Rohan replied.
"Alright. I'll have Old Bharat go with you. But move fast, the clock is ticking," Agarwal ordered. "The moment you pinpoint the location, call me directly. I will be waiting at the station."
After Agarwal called Head Constable Bharat Dholakia into the office and gave him his marching orders, the two officers left the precinct.
"So, Rohan, how exactly are you going to track down a Kala Sher hideout? They have dozens of rat holes in this city," Bharat asked as they walked toward the slums.
"Aren't you going to ask what we're actually hunting?" Rohan countered, testing the older man.
"Heh. Don't ask about what you shouldn't know," Old Bharat chuckled, shaking his head. "I've been wearing this uniform my entire life and I know how to read the room. No matter how curious I am, keeping my mouth shut keeps me alive. But listen to me, kid... even though I don't know the specifics, I know a golden ticket when I see one. The SHO is terrified, which means this case is extraordinary. If you pull this off, that Head Constable promotion is yours. Don't worry, I've got your back."
"Thank you, Old Bharat," Rohan said, genuinely grateful. Having a seasoned veteran to run interference was exactly what he needed. "I'm going to squeeze a guy from my neighborhood. He's been hustling in Dharavi for years and knows the local gangs inside out. I can get a location out of him."
"Lead the way," Bharat smiled. "Just make it quick, our boss isn't known for his patience."
The man Rohan had in mind was Neil Solanki, a thirty-something neighbor who had been running the Dharavi streets since he was a teenager. Neil wasn't a gang boss, but he was a highly connected khabri (informant) and broker.
Whenever rival factions clashed over territory, Neil was often called in to mediate. Because he played all sides and smoothed over disputes, he commanded a decent amount of respect in the local underworld.
To the restless, impoverished teenagers of the slum, Neil was a certified don and they idolized him.
"Bhaiya, are you off work so early today?" a young voice called out.
It was Amit, Rohan's sixteen-year-old brother. Amit had dropped out of school after the eighth standard and spent his days loitering in the labyrinthine alleys of Dharavi. And right beside Amit stood the man Rohan was looking for.... Neil Solanki.
Amit, along with a few other local boys, practically trailed after Neil like stray dogs, desperate for a taste of the underworld's perceived glamour.
The original owner of Rohan's body had hated his brother's gang affiliations but had been too weak and poor to do anything about it. The new Rohan felt the same disapproval, but his perspective was entirely pragmatic.
He was currently just a lowly constable with an empty bank account so he couldn't force his brother to do anything.
In India, words without power were just noise but once Rohan climbed the ranks and secured real wealth, he could easily pull Amit off the streets and force him into a legitimate life. Until then, he had to play the hand he was dealt.
"Rohan! What can I do for you?" Neil smiled easily, leaning against a corrugated tin wall. Since they were neighbors, Neil wasn't intimidated by Rohan. A rookie constable making a beggar's salary posed absolutely no threat to a connected fixer.
But Neil's smug smile vanished the moment he spotted the burly, graying figure of Head Constable Bharat stepping out from the shadows behind Rohan.
"Head Constable Dholakia!" Neil swallowed hard, his posture instantly straightening. "Why are you here? I haven't done anything. Rohan, tell him! I'm an honest, law-abiding businessman, right?"
Neil looked frantically at Rohan, hoping the neighborhood connection would save him. A rookie cop was one thing, but a veteran Head Constable like Bharat had the authority to drag Neil into an interrogation room and make his life miserable without a shred of paperwork.
"Rohan is the one looking for you. I'm just his muscle today," Bharat snorted, his eyes full of undisguised contempt for the street hustler.
"Amit, go home. Now," Rohan commanded his brother.
"Don't tell me what to do!" Amit snapped back, his teenage rebellion flaring up in front of his idol.
"Amit. Listen to your brother and go home," Neil ordered quickly, not wanting any unnecessary heat.
Hearing it from Neil, Amit immediately shut his mouth. Looking sullen and embarrassed, he kicked a loose rock and walked away.
Rohan sighed inwardly. It was a harsh reality check as the original Rohan had been such a non-entity that his own flesh and blood respected a local street thug more than him. But Rohan didn't let it sting as he knew respect was bought, not demanded and he was about to start buying.
As soon as Amit was out of earshot, Rohan stepped closer to Neil, his demeanor shifting into something cold and authoritative. "Neil. Where are the Kala Sher boys hiding out right now?"
"The Kala Sher gang?" Neil blinked, exhaling a quiet sigh of relief. As long as the cops weren't coming after him, he was happy to talk. He had fed the police scrap information dozens of times to maintain his useful status. "Look, they bounce around a lot...."
"Don't try to feed me table scraps, Neil," Rohan interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you try to play me, the consequences will break you."
Neil bristled, a bit startled by the sudden venom from the usually mild-mannered neighbor. He opened his mouth to stall, intending to give Rohan a half-truth.
He survived in Dharavi by playing a delicate balancing act, feeding the cops just enough to keep them happy without angering the cartels.
But before Neil could spin his lie, Bharat stepped heavily into his personal space.
"This isn't a shakedown, Neil," Old Bharat growled, his hand resting casually on his heavy wooden lathi. "This is a major operation, and it is being personally overseen by the SHO so do not play games."
Neil took a sharp, deep breath, the color draining from his face. A personal operation led by the Station House Officer meant top-tier political pressure. If he lied to them now, he wouldn't just be dealing with a grumpy constable, he'd have the entire precinct breathing down his neck.
The sly old fox realized instantly that his balancing act was over so he had to cooperate.
Authors Note:-
That's chapter 4 .
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