The armed guards arrived within thirty minutes, just as Ramesh had promised. They were four men in plain clothes, their suits bulging with concealed weapons, their eyes scanning the street with the practiced vigilance of professionals. They took positions in the lobby, at the elevator bank, and outside Neeraj's office door. Ramesh himself arrived shortly after, his face grim, a compact pistol visible beneath his jacket.
"Vikram Seth's men are still outside," Ramesh said. "Two of them, in the black sedan. They have not moved since I arrived. They are waiting for something."
"Waiting for an opportunity," Neeraj said. "They want me to leave the building."
"Then do not leave the building. Not until the hearing."
Neeraj shook his head. "I have to. I have witnesses to meet, documents to file. I cannot hide in here forever."
"You can hide until the hearing," Ramesh insisted. "That is three days. Three days is not forever."
Neeraj looked at his friend. Ramesh was a pragmatist, a man who believed in practical solutions and immediate safety. But Neeraj had not survived this long by hiding. He had survived by fighting, by moving forward, by refusing to be cowed.
"Three days," Neeraj said. "And then what? The hearing happens, I testify, I win. But Seth is still out there. He will not stop just because I win in court. He will find another way. Another accident."
"Then we deal with that when it happens," Ramesh said. "One step at a time."
Neeraj nodded slowly. Ramesh was right, at least in part. The immediate threat needed to be addressed before the larger ones could be faced.
But he could not shake the feeling that time was running out.
The first day passed in a blur of preparation. Neeraj reviewed his evidence, spoke to Parvati and Aruna by phone, and coordinated with Mira on the media strategy. He did not leave his office. He ate delivered meals, slept on the leather couch, and stayed in constant contact with his allies.
The guards outside his door rotated shifts, their presence a constant reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the walls. Neeraj tried to focus on the case, but his mind kept drifting to the black sedan, to the men watching his building, to the "accident" that Seth had promised.
On the second day, Mira came to visit. She brought food, fresh clothes, and a stack of documents that she had gathered from her sources. She looked tired but determined, her eyes bright with the fire of a journalist who smelled a story.
"I have been digging into Vikram Seth's background," she said. "He is not just a former intelligence officer. He is a fixer. He has been involved in at least three assassinations, all of which were ruled accidents. He is good at what he does, Neeraj. Very good."
"Then we need to be better," Neeraj said.
"We need to expose him," Mira agreed. "If we can connect him to Ravi, if we can show that he has been paid to silence witnesses and eliminate opponents, we can take away his cover. Even Seth cannot survive a public scandal."
Neeraj studied the documents. They were detailed, comprehensive, the work of a journalist who had been following the story for months. There were bank records, phone logs, and testimony from people who had been threatened by Seth's men. It was enough to build a case, but not enough to stop Seth from acting in the next forty-eight hours.
"Can you publish this?" Neeraj asked.
"Not yet," Mira said. "I need more. I need a smoking gun. Something that ties Seth directly to Ravi's corruption. Without that, it is just circumstantial."
Neeraj thought about the listening device. He had not told Mira about it, had kept it as his secret weapon. But now, with the clock ticking, he knew he needed to share it.
"I have something," he said. "A listening device in Ravi's study. I have been recording his conversations for weeks. There is a lot of material—threats, plans, admissions of guilt. But I have not used it yet because I did not want to reveal my source."
Mira's eyes widened. "You bugged his study?"
"I planted a device. Yes."
"Neeraj, that is illegal. That is evidence obtained without a warrant. The court will never admit it."
"I know," Neeraj said. "But I am not planning to use it in court. I am planning to use it to pressure him. To make him confess publicly. To force him into a mistake."
Mira was silent for a long moment. Then she smiled, a thin, dangerous smile. "You are more like me than I thought."
"I will take that as a compliment."
They worked through the afternoon, reviewing the recordings, identifying the key conversations that would be most damaging to Ravi. There were dozens of them—threats against witnesses, admissions of corruption, plans to fabricate evidence. It was a treasure trove of incriminating material, and Neeraj planned to use every piece of it.
At dusk, Neeraj received a call from Aruna. Her voice was strained, barely above a whisper.
"Advocate Verma, I need to see you. It is urgent."
"Where are you?"
"I am at the old café. The same one as before. Please come. I need to tell you something. Something my father did."
Neeraj hesitated. The black sedan was still outside, the men still watching. Leaving the building would be dangerous.
"Aruna, I cannot leave. I am being watched. Seth's men are outside."
"I know," Aruna said. "That is why I need to come to you. But I cannot come alone. My mother is with me. She wants to talk to you too."
Neeraj felt a surge of relief. Kavita Malik had agreed to testify. She was coming to him, with Aruna, to offer her help.
"Come to my office," he said. "I will send my guards to escort you."
He hung up and called Ramesh. "Kavita and Aruna Malik are coming here. I need you to send a car to pick them up from the old café. Make sure they are safe."
Ramesh nodded and dispatched two of his men. Neeraj waited in his office, his heart pounding, his mind racing. Kavita's testimony would be a game-changer. She knew Ravi's secrets, his network, his hidden crimes. She could fill in the gaps that even Aruna's evidence had left open.
Twenty minutes later, Kavita and Aruna arrived. They were escorted into Neeraj's office by the guards, their faces pale, their eyes wide with fear. Kavita was carrying a small briefcase, which she placed on Neeraj's desk.
"Thank you for seeing us," Kavita said.
"Thank you for coming," Neeraj replied. "What do you have for me?"
Kavita opened the briefcase. Inside were stacks of documents—financial records, contracts, photographs. She spread them across the desk, her hands trembling slightly.
"These are Ravi's personal files," she said. "The ones he thought he had hidden. I found them in a safe deposit box at the bank. He does not know I have them."
Neeraj scanned the documents. They were detailed, meticulous, a complete record of Ravi's corruption. There were accounts of bribes paid and received, records of shell companies, evidence of money laundering. It was everything he needed to destroy Ravi in court.
"These are extraordinary," Neeraj said. "With these, I can prove every charge against him."
Kavita nodded. "I know. That is why I brought them. I want to see him pay for what he has done. To us, to you, to everyone he has hurt."
Aruna stood by her mother's side, her face pale but resolute. "I am sorry for what I said before," she said. "About my father. I did not know. I did not want to believe. But now I do, and I want to help."
Neeraj looked at them both—the mother who had been silenced for so long, the daughter who had finally opened her eyes. They were brave, braver than he had ever been at their age. He felt a surge of gratitude, and something that might have been hope.
"Thank you," he said. "You have done more than you know."
He spent the rest of the night reviewing the documents, cross-referencing them with his own evidence, building a case that was airtight, unassailable. By dawn, he had a comprehensive indictment of Ravi Malik—corruption, fraud, witness intimidation, and conspiracy to commit murder.
The hearing was in one day.
At mid-morning, Neeraj received a call from Subramanian. The old man's voice was grave.
"I have news, Neeraj. The 'final solution'—I think I know what it is."
"Tell me."
"Seth has planted a bomb in the courthouse. It is set to detonate during the hearing. He plans to kill you and Ravi both, to make it look like a terrorist attack. Ravi does not even know he is the target too."
Neeraj felt the world tilt beneath his feet. A bomb. In the courthouse. During the hearing.
"Where is it?"
"I do not know. But I have a team of bomb disposal experts on standby. They can sweep the building, but they need a reason to be there. A court order."
"Get the order," Neeraj said. "I will call the chief justice. I will explain the situation."
He hung up and dialed Justice Pardiwala's chambers. The judge's secretary answered, and Neeraj demanded an immediate meeting.
An hour later, Neeraj was in the judge's chambers, explaining the situation. Justice Pardiwala listened in silence, his face impassive. When Neeraj finished, the judge nodded slowly.
"Advocate Verma, you are asking me to delay the hearing and evacuate the courthouse based on an unverified threat from a former intelligence officer."
"I am asking you to save lives, Your Lordship. If Seth's plan succeeds, dozens of people could die. Including you."
The judge was silent for a long moment. Then he picked up his phone. "I will issue the order. But you had better be right about this, Advocate Verma."
Neeraj walked out of the chambers, his heart pounding. The courthouse was being evacuated. The bomb sweep was underway. He had done everything he could.
Now all he could do was wait.
The hours passed in agonizing slowness. Neeraj sat in his office, the listening device still active, waiting for any news from the courthouse. The guards outside his door were tense, their hands never straying far from their weapons.
At six in the evening, his phone rang. It was Subramanian.
"We found it," the old man said. "The bomb was in the ventilation system, set to trigger when the hearing began. It is disarmed. Seth's men are in custody. And Seth himself..."
"What about him?"
"He is gone. He fled. We are tracking him, but he is a ghost. He will be hard to find."
Neeraj closed his eyes. Seth was still out there, still dangerous, still capable of striking again.
But the bomb was disarmed. The courthouse was safe. And the hearing would proceed.
Tomorrow, he would face Ravi Malik in court. And this time, he would not be stopped.
The night was calm, but Neeraj knew it was the calm before the storm. Tomorrow would be the final battle.
And he intended to win.
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