HQ — SWINDON
Three hours later, the cold blue light from the office monitors flickered as Tara sat in front of her screen, eyes sharp, fingers flying across the keyboard. Her brows were furrowed in focus, sifting through encrypted ledgers, hidden files buried under dummy businesses, and anonymous trade logs.
Dev leaned over her shoulder, sipping coffee, while Rehaan hovered silently near the whiteboard, where half-erased notes from their last operation still lingered. Kiaan stood by the window, bandaged hand resting on the frame, eyes scanning the overcast skyline, the weight of the case still heavy on his shoulders.
"Got it," Tara finally breathed, her voice sharp and urgent. "Viper's real identity checks out. Name—Rudransh Bhagat. Ex-navy logistics. Went rogue five years ago. He's been handling overseas drug consignments via ports... and here's the kicker."
She turned the laptop toward them.
"Primary smuggling route: REDFISH PORT."
Kiaan's eyes darkened.
"Redfish?" he muttered, already stepping away from the window. "That's barely an hour from here."
Rehaan, calm as ever, crossed his arms. "I thought Redfish was monitored by private handlers. Low traffic, high clearance only."
Tara nodded. "Exactly. Which means it was perfect for smuggling. Viper was moving consignments through disguised containers—electronics, toys, even organic grains."
Dev whistled low. "Sneaky bastard."
Kiaan turned toward all three. "Let's not waste time. If there's any evidence still sitting there, I want it. We're heading to Redfish now."
They moved fast.
Black jackets, clean IDs, and a forged port inspection order Tara whipped up in minutes. By 4:00 PM, the four agents—under false identities—were walking along the steel walkways of Redfish Port, the sharp scent of salt and diesel in the air.
Cranes moved like mechanical beasts overhead. Containers stacked like walls of color. Workers paced up and down the cargo lanes, all too used to government inspections.
Dev whispered as they walked along a loading dock, "Place looks too clean. You feel that?"
Kiaan nodded. "Too clean is dirty in disguise."
They split in pairs—Tara and Rehaan took the manifest office; Kiaan and Dev inspected docked containers that had left routes from Viper's records.
Every container they opened was legal. Electronics. Machine parts. Clothing. One even had imported wedding furniture.
Nothing.
Two hours of scanning, checking, and cross-verifying. Nothing illegal. Not even a whisper of a hidden compartment.
Tara cursed under her breath, flipping her laptop closed. "They cleaned it out. Someone knew we'd come."
They regrouped near the harbor exit, shadows lengthening over the darkening port.
"We've been watched," Rehaan said quietly.
Dev raised a brow. "You sure?"
Rehaan just nodded. "Someone ran this place tighter than a navy drill. There's no way Viper's shipments were regular without someone protecting him."
Kiaan's jaw clenched. "And whoever that someone is… they just wiped their tracks clean before we could step in."
None of them noticed the small security camera, camouflaged behind a broken floodlight, zooming in slowly on their faces—streaming directly to a private server, encrypted and untouched by official eyes.
________________________________________
Inside the shadowy office on the top floor of a quiet Swindon high-rise, the room was dimly lit by a single desk lamp—its warm glow falling across a thick mahogany table covered in maps, weapons schematics, and confidential documents. The cold rain outside tapped softly against the tinted glass as Rex, lean and composed, leaned back in his leather chair, the light cutting a sharp line across his jaw.
The heavy door clicked open.
Ishaan Roy strode in without knocking—dressed in a sleek black leather jacket, his steps confident, cocky even, the grin on his face never fully trustworthy. A former military logistics genius turned arms and trafficking expert, Ishaan was Rex's wild card—brilliant but dangerous, unpredictable but loyal only to the game.
He threw a manila folder on the desk, right on top of a half-burned port manifest.
"All routes cleared," Ishaan said, his voice smooth and teasing. "Changed vans, rotated license plates, re-routed every GPS. Even the dogs at customs won't sniff us out now. Viper's entire access system? Gone. Scrubbed clean like it never existed."
Rex glanced at him with a small nod of approval. "Good. We're ghosts again."
Another shadow slipped in then—Aarav Mehra, younger but no less lethal, the genius hacker and Rex's digital brain. He moved with quiet confidence, his hands occupied with a thick file that looked freshly bound and stamped with TOP SECRET markings.
"I went through hell to get this," Aarav said, placing the file gently on the desk. "No government firewall was thick enough once I started digging. I personally tracked his full trail—every detail. This guy… he's not just talented, he's carved from a different stone."
Rex opened the file.
Subject: Kiaan Varma (Indian)
Line after line of data stared back at him, each sentence building the silhouette of the boy who'd raided his mall, who'd unknowingly stepped into the heart of a web far beyond what he could imagine.
> Father: Rajeev Verma – Deceased (Mysterious Circumstances)
Stepmother: Nandita Verma – hostile, emotionally distant
Stepbrother: Shaurya – dislikes Kiaan, history of manipulation
Education: Topper – School, College, Training Academy
Allergies: Seafood
Health: Migraine
Fears: Spiders
Accidents: Bullet wounds, childhood fall from stairs, bike crash
Routine:
7:00 AM – Jogging
8:00 AM – Work
1:00 PM – Lunch with team
4:00 PM – Tea stall hangout
7:00 PM – Home
9:00 PM – Lights out
Holidays: Pub, friends' homes, library
Hobbies: Reading, music, travelling, investigating
Fav Food: Biryani
Fav Place: Paris
Fav Colour: Red
Strengths: Observant, smart, skilled, charming
Weaknesses: Deep emotional ties to friends and broken family
Lifestyle: Doesn't use luxuries, prefers his bike. Lives simply.
Monthly Salary: 50,000 INR – sent to home, mostly taken by family
Behavior:
Quiet at home – obedient, no arguments
Outside – sharp, fearless, arrogant when needed
Protective – willing to go rogue for friends
Rex read in silence for nearly five minutes, flipping through surveillance captures, training reports, behavioral patterns, and interview summaries. His lips slowly curled into a smile—half fascinated, half dangerous.
"Interesting," Rex murmured, tapping the boy's name. "He's got all the traits I hate in an enemy… but everything I respect in a soldier."
Ishaan leaned over, eyeing the file.
"So? What's the move now? He's the team leader. We put a bullet in him or mess with his leash first?"
Rex closed the file, eyes gleaming.
"Not yet," he said coldly. "He doesn't know the level of the game he's entered. Let him get comfortable. Let him think he's winning. Because when I pull the thread—"
He snapped his fingers in the air.
"—everything around him will unravel."
Aarav smirked. "Want me to mess with his tech? Plant something?"
Rex shook his head.
"Not yet. Just… watch him. Track his steps, his phone, his visits. Let's see what makes him tick. Then… we use it."
As the rain thickened outside, the three men stood in the shadow of the storm they were about to release. And Kiaan—brilliant, wounded, unknowing—was already in their sightline.