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C.I.F. – Crimes of Mumbai
Chapter One: The Journalist's Silence
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Santacruz, Mumbai — 6:43 AM
The sky over Mumbai was bleeding grey. It had rained through the night, washing the filth from the streets but not the secrets. In a dim apartment on the second floor of an old society complex, silence lingered longer than it should have.
Maya D'Souza, a renowned investigative journalist, was found lying on the tiled floor of her bedroom. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling fan, unmoving. A small glass vial lay near her hand — sleeping pills, the label faded from moisture. Beside her, on a small mahogany table, was a single note.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't take it anymore."
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Crime Scene — 7:10 AM
ACP Sikandar Singh stepped out of his SUV, his boots sinking slightly into the slush by the footpath. Tall, composed, and graying at the temples, Sikandar wasn't a man you could easily read. His brown overcoat swayed slightly in the wind as he scanned the building.
"Top floor, flat 2B," a constable informed him.
Behind him came Sr. Inspector Anwar Ali — intense eyes, lean frame, always carrying a restless energy — and Inspector Vijay Kumar, slightly younger, calm and observant, with sharp instincts honed over years in the field.
The trio made their way up without saying much. They didn't need to. The air around them always changed when they walked into a crime scene — as if the room itself knew something was about to be uncovered.
Inside the flat, a junior officer tried to explain.
"Looks like suicide, sir. Pills. No signs of forced entry."
Sikandar glanced at the note and said nothing.
Anwar knelt beside the body. "She didn't struggle. But look at her fingers — slight bruising. Defensive wounds?"
"Maybe," Vijay replied, flipping open Maya's laptop. It was still warm. "She was working until late last night. Browser history's been wiped clean. That's not something suicidal people usually do."
Sikandar moved to the window. It was locked from the inside.
"She was a reporter," he finally said, eyes narrowing. "And she was onto something. Something big."
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C.I.F. Headquarters — 10:00 AM
The Crime Investigation Force operated out of a discreet, highly secured floor in a government building in South Mumbai. Their emblem — a bold silver 'C.I.F.' carved into a black steel plate — hung outside the briefing room.
The team gathered around a digital board. Vijay connected the laptop, projecting Maya's files onto the screen.
"Her last investigation was into a company called Lotus InfraTech," Vijay explained. "No clear reports. But there are keywords — 'Project Black Lotus,' 'illegal land acquisitions,' 'political funding.'"
Anwar raised a brow. "Sounds like a scandal worth killing for."
Sikandar folded his arms. "Dig up everything on this company. I want board members, funding trails, political links, offshore accounts — the works."
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Later That Night — Marine Drive
Anwar and Vijay met an informant. A trembling man in his late forties who used to be Maya's source.
"She said... they were watching her. Told me she got death threats. But she wouldn't stop. She said 'Black Lotus is more than land — it's blood money. It's connected to ministers.'"
"Did she have proof?" Anwar asked.
"She had a file. Hard copy. Hidden somewhere... she didn't trust digital anymore."
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Next Day — Maya's Flat (Search Warrant Executed)
Beneath the floorboard under her bed, CIF found it — a sealed file. Inside were photographs of secret meetings, land registry documents signed illegally, and names. Names that reached the heart of Mumbai's political elite.
Sikandar stared at the document, then looked at his team. "We can't trust anyone outside this room."
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Final Scene — C.I.F. HQ (Night)
Sikandar lit a cigarette and looked at the city skyline from his office window.
"She didn't kill herself," he murmured. "She was silenced."
Vijay stepped in. "Autopsy confirms — sedatives were injected. Suicide was staged."
Anwar added, "One of the names on this file is sitting Cabinet Minister R.K. Mahajan."
Sikandar crushed the cigarette. His jaw tightened.
"This... is just the beginning."
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End of Chapter One