The buzz of the city was alive as Kabir stepped out of his apartment, heading toward the meeting spot he’d arranged with a contact who could provide more information on Vikram Kapoor. Every step he took brought him closer to a confrontation with a man who wasn’t just wealthy but deeply entrenched in the web of Kolkata’s criminal underworld.

Kabir didn’t need a confrontation. He needed leverage—something Vikram valued that could force him to the table without bloodshed. The file Rajiv had given him hinted at financial irregularities, but nothing solid enough to take Vikram down.

A Shadowy Contact

The alley behind the old bookshop in College Street was dimly lit, with the faint smell of ink and damp paper hanging in the air. Kabir waited, his senses alert. He heard the faint shuffle of footsteps before a figure emerged—a wiry man with sharp eyes and a nervous demeanor.

“Kabir Singh?” the man asked cautiously.

“That’s me,” Kabir replied, his voice steady. “You’re Sameer?”

Sameer nodded. “I heard you’re looking into Vikram Kapoor. That man’s dangerous.”

“I didn’t come here for warnings,” Kabir said. “What do you have on him?”

Sameer pulled out a USB drive from his pocket and handed it to Kabir. “This has records of his offshore accounts, illegal transactions, and bribes to politicians. But there’s one file in particular you’ll want to see—Kapoor’s involvement in a smuggling ring that spans across the state.”

Kabir pocketed the drive. “Why are you giving this to me?”

Sameer shrugged. “Let’s just say I don’t like working for men who can’t be trusted. Vikram owes me more than money—he owes me my life. Take him down, and maybe I’ll sleep better at night.”

Before Kabir could respond, Sameer disappeared into the shadows, leaving him alone with the evidence.

A Dangerous Proposition

Back in his apartment, Kabir plugged the USB drive into his laptop. The files were a treasure trove of damning information. Vikram Kapoor wasn’t just dabbling in illegal activities; he was deeply entrenched in a network of corruption that extended to high-ranking officials.

But one file caught Kabir’s attention—a folder labeled “Rathore Connections.”

He opened it, his pulse quickening. Inside were records of transactions between Vikram Kapoor and someone within the Rathore Empire. Payments, favors, and even land deals that pointed to an insider working against Rajiv.

“Who could this be?” Kabir muttered, his mind racing.

Before he could dive deeper, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Ananya.

“We need to talk. Come to the old textile mill at 11 PM.”

Meeting in the Shadows

The textile mill was abandoned, its skeletal frame standing as a relic of Kolkata’s industrial past. Kabir arrived a few minutes before the appointed time, his instincts on high alert. He entered the mill cautiously, his eyes scanning the shadows.

Ananya stepped out from behind a rusted machine, her face illuminated by the moonlight streaming through broken windows.

“You’ve been busy,” she said, her tone light but her expression serious.

Kabir folded his arms. “You said we needed to talk. What’s this about?”

Ananya held up a piece of paper. “I did some digging of my own. Vikram Kapoor isn’t just a businessman; he’s a pawn. The real threat is the person feeding him from inside the Rathore Empire.”

She handed Kabir the paper. It was a list of transactions—each tied to the same insider mentioned in the files on the USB drive. The name wasn’t listed, only an alias: “The Black Hand.”

“I found this during my research,” Ananya said. “The Black Hand is someone close to Rajiv Rathore, someone who’s been sabotaging the empire from within while building alliances with Vikram Kapoor.”

Kabir’s jaw tightened. “Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Not yet,” Ananya admitted. “But if we can expose The Black Hand, it’ll weaken Kapoor and secure your position in the Rathore Empire.”

Kabir nodded, his mind already strategizing. “Then we start with Kapoor. If he’s working with The Black Hand, he’ll know something.”

Ananya placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Be careful, Kabir. Kapoor’s not just a businessman—he’s a snake. And if The Black Hand suspects you’re onto them, they’ll strike first.”

“I’ll handle it,” Kabir said, his voice firm. “I always do.”

The First Move

The next day, Kabir arranged a meeting with Vikram Kapoor under the guise of negotiating a deal. The meeting took place in a lavish private club, the kind of place where power and privilege thrived.

Kapoor was waiting for him in a corner booth, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a smug smile on his face.

“Kabir Singh Rathore,” Kapoor said as Kabir sat down. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kabir leaned forward, his eyes locked on Kapoor’s. “I hear you’ve been making moves against the Rathore Empire.”

Kapoor chuckled, swirling his drink. “You hear a lot of things in this city. Most of them aren’t true.”

“I don’t have time for games,” Kabir said, his tone cold. “I know about your smuggling ring. I know about your offshore accounts. And I know you’re working with someone inside the Rathore Empire.”

Kapoor’s smile faltered, just for a moment. “Those are dangerous accusations, Kabir.”

“They’re not accusations,” Kabir said, pulling out a printout of one of the transactions. “They’re facts.”

Kapoor’s expression darkened. “What do you want?”

“Information,” Kabir said. “Who’s The Black Hand?”

Kapoor leaned back, his gaze calculating. “Even if I knew, why would I tell you?”

“Because if you don’t,” Kabir said, his voice low and menacing, “I’ll make sure every dirty secret you’ve ever hidden becomes public knowledge. And trust me, the people you’ve crossed won’t be as forgiving as I am.”

Kapoor stared at Kabir for a long moment, the tension thick between them. Finally, he smirked.

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” Kapoor said. “Alright, I’ll tell you what I know. But you won’t like it.”