The month of August in Delhi has been acting peculiarly, it’s nice and breezy when it is raining but the moment the rain stops it is unbearably humid prompting Sravani to switch on the air conditioner. Rudro has come home after almost 3 months training at a undisclosed location. He is looking fitter than when he was transferred back from Kolkata to the Special Task Force of National Security Agency. They were sitting in their new 3-bedroom apartment on the 10^th floor, a govt accommodation in Netaji Nagar, heart of New Delhi.

“Since you are here for 2-weeks furlough, let’s go somewhere to chill out. I have heard, Goa is particularly beautiful after the monsoon.” Sravani spoke while snuggling up to Rudro.

“Good idea, let’s get Aniket and Sunanda along as well. But I will have to get the clearance from my office for leaving the station.”  Rudro responded gently combing the hair of Sravani with his finger.

“Can’t we go on our own?” Sravani sounded a bit annoyed.

“We can but going out with friends will be more joyous.” Rudro replied.

Before Sravani could say anything, Rudro’s phone rang and he got up answering the call.

“Hello, Rudro speaking.”

As he listened to the caller on the other side, Rudro’s jaws tightened. Finally, he told the caller, “I will see in 30 minutes.” Then he called up someone and asked the person to meet him at the Safdarjung Tomb and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He kissed Sravani and told her, “I will be late, don’t wait for me, have your dinner.” He drove off in his XUV 700 and reached the Safdarjung Tomb stopping on the service lane while waiting for his contact to show up. The weather of New Delhi hung heavy with the promise of rain, but for DCP Rudro, it felt like the suffocating silence before a thunderstorm.

ACP Ananya Singh, knocked on the window of Rudro. She had reached completely unnoticed by Rudro and he liked it. Rudro unlocked the car and she climbed in; to outsiders, it may have looked like a man meeting his girlfriend as they talked animatedly inside the car. Rudro took out a small chit and handed over to Ananya who looked at it in confusion, the chit had only three words written on it, “Mustafa, Tiger, 72 hours”.

“What does this mean?” Ananya asked.

“Mustafa is the code name for the terror outfit across the border, Tiger is likely the Home Minister and 72 hours is obviously the ticking clock. But I don’t know when this message was intercepted and how much time has already elapsed.”

Rudro started the engine and said, “We are going to find out soon.”  

It took him twenty minutes of fast driving to reach the dingy hotel in Paharganj. He asked Ananya to wait in the car while he went inside. He knew the room he wanted to visit and went straight to the second floor and knocked on the door. The door opened about 6 inches and was stopped by the chain. He looked at Rudro and smiled opening the door fully for him to enter.

“I am glad I could reach out to you.”

“Well, in our trade luck do play a role, you were lucky that I was home otherwise my phone would have switched off. But tell me how did you come across this news.”

“Sir, with due respect, a good agent never reveals his source. But I can tell you that it came from deep inside the organization. The person risked his life to pass on this to me. If he is caught he will face a torturous death. We have now 70 hours left to stop the incident.”

Rudro’s gut, honed by years of sniffing out trouble in the capital’s underbelly, screamed at him. This wasn’t a routine threat. “Mustafa” was a known terror outfit, infamous for its meticulous planning and brutal efficiency. “Tiger” was an internal codename for a major target—something big, something public. The “72 hours” was a ticking clock.

He thanked the man and asked him to dig further to find out the target and the place.

“The information is confirmed. We have to find out the engagement details of the top brasses in the govt for next three days immediately.” He told Ananya.

“I will get on the job now.” Ananya assured him and went to her car which had followed them earlier and waiting at a distance.

Rudro called up Col. Diwakar Pandey and informed him of the situation. After about 15 minutes discussion Rudro was able to convince Col that the matter is serious enough for the STF to get involved rather than leaving it to the local police to handle. Colonel asked him assemble his team but instructed him to be in the background and let the senior member of the team to front the operation. ACP Ananya Singh, a sharp analyst with a photographic memory, and Sub-Inspector Akash Verma, a tech-savvy whiz, were his right and left hands. They worked through the night, cross-referencing intel, monitoring digital chatter, and analyzing the cryptic message.

Ananya’s breakthrough came at 3 AM. “Sir, there’s a G-20 summit day after tomorrow with many state heads attending. The keynote address will be delivered by the Prime Minister of Italy, a known voice against the terror organization. Both our PM and HM will be attending the session.”

“Where?” Rudro asked, his voice low and intense.

“She’s scheduled to address a public gathering at the Bharat Mandapam.”

The pieces started to fit together. A large public gathering, a high-profile target, and a terror group that specialized in spectacular, high-impact attacks. The attack would be brazened, designed to cause maximum chaos and destabilize international relations.

Akash, meanwhile, had found a digital ghost. A single, encrypted photo uploaded to a dead-end server. It was a picture of a crowded market, unremarkable at first glance, but his software detected anomalies. A small, seemingly random collection of people in the background, all wearing similar hats, their faces obscured. Their movements were synchronized, their gazes fixed.

“That’s not Bharat Mandapam, sir,” Akash said, zooming in on a street sign. “This is a photo from Sarojini Nagar market. It was taken this morning.”

A cold dread washed over Rudro. The G-20 summit was a feint. The actual target was a soft one, a place where people felt safe. Sarojini Nagar, a bustling hub of life and commerce, was a perfect place for mass casualties. The terror group was planning a secondary, more devastating attack to cause panic while the authorities were focused elsewhere.

With the clock ticking down, Rudro split the team. One unit headed to Sarojini Nagar, the other to secure the Bharat Mandapam area. Rudro himself led the charge into the crowded market. Navigating the labyrinth of stalls and shoppers, he used the image as a guide. They spotted them—three men, their eyes darting, their hands clutched around backpacks that looked unusually rigid.

“Alpha team, proceed with extreme caution,” Rudro’s voice crackled over the radio. “Suspects sighted near Gate 1. Move to intercept. No shots fired unless absolutely necessary.”

The operation was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Rudro’s team, disguised in plain clothes, moved in with practiced precision. They closed in on the three men, who realized they were cornered. The older man of the group dropped his backpack on the ground and pulled out a gun and pointed it towards the policeman near to him. Rudro tried to aim his gun on the man but the policeman came between them. Taking advantage of the situation, one of the other two made a break for it, but Rudro grounded him with a single shot on his leg and then sprinted across to the fallen man finding the hidden detonator in the man’s palm before he could detonate the bomb. Meanwhile, the older man shot the policeman before quick bursts from Ananya Singh’s gun killed both terrorists. There was a flash of red light pulsed ominously from the fallen backpack of the third terrorist. Rudro’s heart stopped for a moment and jaws hardened. Ananya Singh went over to the fallen man and relieved him of the detonator. The bomb squad, which has been waiting at a distance, came in and defused all three bombs. The bombs had more than enough fire power to bring down half the market.

“Don’t. Move,” Rudro hissed, his knee on the man’s chest as the downed man tried to sneak away.

A tense silence descended, broken only by the distant cries of street vendors and the blaring siren of the ambulance. The three bodies were transferred to the hospital while the forensic team came and cordoned off the area to collect valuable clue. Unknown to Rudro, Colonel Diwakar Pandey had a chat with Ananya Singh and given her a two-word instruction, “No prisoners.”

Ananya Singh gestured Rudro to come and look at the other two dead terrorists. Rudro, put the handcuffs on the man before going to the fallen men. As soon as Rudro reached the spot, the man got up and tried to run but Ananya took an aim shot him on the head, killing him on the spot. A wave of confusion turning into a collective sigh of relief as the truth slowly dawned on the public.

“Why did you do that? The guy was injured and couldn’t have gone far. We could easily have captured him.” Rudro was angry and demanded an answer from Ananya.

“What was the point of arresting such scums? He was a low order operative only, would have been of no use to us. I am sure he wouldn’t have any information beyond this op. Whereas, we have ensured the safety of the city.” Ananya Singh defended not revealing the instructions of Colonel Diwakar Pandey.

Yes, the city was safe. The G-20 summit went off without a hitch. The news hailed the ATS team of Delhi Police lead by ACP Ananya Singh and SI Akash Verma as heroes, their faces plastered on the front pages. But Rudro knew the real victory wasn’t in the headlines. It was in the silence of a market that didn’t explode, in the laughter of people who were still alive, and in the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. He looked out at the city from his 10^th floor balcony, a sprawling, chaotic, and beautiful beast. A single tear of relief rolled down his cheek, a testament to the price of peace. The storm had passed, but he knew another one was always on the horizon. He’d be ready.