Abhimanyu Rai Chauhan navigated the bustling streets of Jaipur with a quiet intensity, his gaze unwavering as he cut through the crowd. The vibrant colours, the rhythmic sounds of the city—these were things he cherished about Rajasthan. But today, there was no time for admiration. He was here on a mission, one that brought together his roles as Captain of the Indian Army and the crown prince of Barmer. He felt the weight of both titles as he made his way to the grand haveli of Manohar Rathore, a man who could shift the political tides in a single word.

The sun was relentless, beating down on the sandstone streets, casting sharp shadows, and intensifying the warmth of the city. Abhimanyu’s military training had accustomed him to far harsher conditions, yet he welcomed the cool shade as he stepped through the iron gates of Rathore's estate. He cast a quick glance at the imposing structure—a relic of power and legacy, much like its owner.

At the entrance, Manohar Rathore stood with an air of reserved dignity, his piercing eyes scrutinizing Abhimanyu as he approached. Rathore’s frame was still imposing despite his age; his presence exuded authority that not even the years could diminish. Abhimanyu remembered him from his childhood—a towering figure whose political prowess and strategic mind had left a lasting impression.

“Ah, Abhimanyu,” Rathore greeted, his deep voice echoing slightly in the grand hall. There was warmth in his voice, but also an unmistakable edge. “It has indeed been a while since we’ve had a royal visitor here.”

“Too long, sir,” Abhimanyu replied, bowing his head slightly in respect. “Though it seems some things remain unchanged.” His gaze swept over the intricate carvings and regal decor, hallmarks of the Rathore family’s rich legacy. He straightened and met Rathore’s eyes, a silent acknowledgement passing between them that today’s visit was far from casual.

Rathore’s expression was inscrutable as he nodded. “Yes, some things never change. And yet, the world around us seems to be shifting faster than ever.” His words held a certain gravitas, as if foreshadowing the conversation they were about to have.

Abhimanyu followed Rathore inside, his footsteps echoing in the quiet halls of the haveli. The place was a museum of Rathore’s lineage, with paintings of ancestors gazing down from the walls, their expressions stern and proud. Despite the grandeur, there was a weight in the air—a tension, perhaps, or maybe the invisible burden of secrets accumulated over centuries.

They arrived at a shaded terrace overlooking the estate’s lush gardens, a quiet oasis amidst the city’s bustle. Rathore gestured to a set of chairs. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he offered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before raising a questioning brow at Abhimanyu.

Abhimanyu declined with a polite shake of his head, opting for water. He wasn’t here to indulge; he needed clarity. They engaged in some light conversation, discussing family, the political climate, and recent developments in Rajasthan. But both men were too seasoned to pretend these were the reasons for the meeting.

Finally, Abhimanyu decided it was time to address the real purpose of his visit. He leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

“Lala Gehlot,” he began, his voice steady. “I hear his name often these days, and not always in respectable company.” His words hung in the air, deliberate and heavy.

Rathore’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of interest breaking through his otherwise calm expression. He took a slow sip of his whiskey as if giving himself time to consider Abhimanyu’s words.

“Gehlot,” he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of disdain. “He’s a man who’s made his empire on manipulation and fear, a master at keeping his hands clean while others do his dirty work. I suppose you didn’t come here just to share gossip?”

Abhimanyu allowed himself a slight smile. “No, sir. I wouldn’t be here if it were just idle talk.”

Rathore’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued. He leaned forward, his tone soft but intense. “Then tell me, Abhimanyu. Why are you here? And why bring Gehlot’s name to me?”

Abhimanyu took a measured breath, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve come across something… significant. Proof that Gehlot’s ambitions reach far beyond politics. We have evidence—transactions, documents, and connections that link him to dangerous international networks. Arms dealers, corrupt officials, people who have no loyalty to this country.”

Rathore’s expression darkened, his fingers tightening around his glass. “Arms dealers,” he repeated, the words tinged with disgust. “So, this isn’t just about political manoeuvring. This is treason.”

“Precisely,” Abhimanyu replied. “And if Gehlot’s actions go unchecked, it could compromise the nation’s security. The man is playing with fire, and it’s only a matter of time before someone gets burned. I’ve seen the damage firsthand—good soldiers, good people, caught in the crossfire of his ambition.”

Rathore’s gaze was intense, his voice low. “And what do you propose? Men like Gehlot don’t go down easily. He has allies in powerful places, and they’ll defend him as long as it serves their interests.”

Abhimanyu’s eyes gleamed with determination. “That’s why I’m here. There’s something we have in our possession—a red box. Inside it are documents that detail Gehlot’s dealings, his network, his secrets. But there’s one issue—the box is secured by a cypher. A code we need to crack before we can access the information.”

Rathore’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of the red box. “The red box… I’ve heard about it for years. People have been trying to find it, hoping it held the key to his undoing. And now you have it.”

Abhimanyu nodded. “Yes. But without the cypher, it’s useless. And even once we unlock it, we need to proceed with caution. We can’t simply expose him; he’s too deeply embedded. We need to shake his foundation, make him feel vulnerable. That’s where you come in, sir.”

Rathore studied him for a long moment, as if weighing the risks. “You want me to stir the pot, make him nervous,” he concluded, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Create unrest, pressure him from within.”

“Exactly,” Abhimanyu replied. “You have the influence, the connections. And more importantly, you have the resolve to take him on. I know your history with men like Gehlot, men who abuse power. This is your chance to end it.”

Rathore leaned back, a slow smile spreading across his face. It was a smile that carried a hint of malice, a dangerous promise. “Gehlot’s downfall has been a long time coming. The man has made enemies across Rajasthan, people who would rejoice at his fall. But we need to play this carefully.”

Abhimanyu’s expression was resolute. “I know the risks. But with your guidance, we can make him unravel from within. Once we have the cypher and unlock the box, we’ll have everything we need to expose him.”

Rathore took a thoughtful sip of his whiskey, his gaze fixed on some distant point. “Gehlot is a parasite,” he said softly, almost to himself. “A man who’s fed on the fears and struggles of others, all the while hiding behind his allies. Yes… perhaps it is time for someone to remind him that power is a fickle thing.”

The two men sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their unspoken agreement settling over them. Rathore finally broke the silence, his voice firm and resolute.

“I’ll help you,” he said. “But we need to be subtle. If Gehlot suspects even a hint of this plot, he’ll retaliate with everything he has. His allies will protect him, and he’ll turn the full force of his resources against us. We need to be the ones who make the first move on our terms.”

Abhimanyu nodded, his mind racing with the possibilities now that Rathore was on his side. “Understood. We’ll start small, create pressure, and let him feel the ground shifting beneath him. And once we have the cypher and the evidence is decoded, we’ll expose him.”

Rathore’s eyes gleamed with the thrill of the hunt. “Leave the stirring to me,” he said, his voice smooth and assured. “I know the right people, and I know how to start a rumour without anyone tracing it back to us. Gehlot’s allies will start asking questions. Politicians talk, especially when their own interests are at stake.”

The conversation continued, each man outlining their roles in the plan. Abhimanyu felt a surge of anticipation. They were aligning themselves against a powerful adversary, but with Rathore’s experience and influence, he felt the odds beginning to tilt in their favour.

As the night grew darker, they finalized the details. Rathore’s parting words stayed with him long after he left the haveli.

“Gehlot thinks he’s invincible,” Rathore had said, his voice cold. “But every empire has a weak spot, a crack. All we need to do is find that crack and widen it," Rathore had finished, a dark gleam in his eyes.

Abhimanyu felt a chill run through him. The man beside him was far more than just a political power; he was a strategist who understood the art of dismantling an enemy piece by piece. Rathore’s gaze lingered on the distant skyline, his voice soft yet intense.

"Gehlot will make a mistake. Men like him always do when they feel the walls closing in. That’s when we strike. He’ll scramble, look for allies to save him. And as he tries to mend his crumbling empire, we’ll have the evidence in hand to bring him down."

Abhimanyu nodded, his mind already running through the steps they needed to take. "I’ll reach out to my contacts, keep a close watch on his movements. The moment he senses danger, he’ll tighten his circle, but he’ll be forced to expose parts of his operation he’s kept hidden."

Rathore leaned back, his voice contemplative. "You know, Abhimanyu, power is a strange thing. Gehlot took it by force and fear, thinking he could hold it forever. But true strength lies in the loyalty of those who follow you, not in fear. We may be bringing him down, but remember: this isn’t just about revenge. It’s about setting things right."

As Abhimanyu rose to leave, he felt the weight of their task. This was more than a mission or a duty; it was a reckoning, one that would shake the foundations of the world they both came from.

"Good night, sir," he said, pausing at the threshold of the grand haveli.

"Good night, Captain," Rathore replied, his gaze steady. "And remember: stay vigilant. We’re only just beginning."

With a final nod, Abhimanyu stepped into the cool night, his mind sharpened and his resolve firm. They would find the cracks in Gehlot’s empire. And when they did, there would be no turning back.

He had played his part here, and now, with Rathore at the helm of power politics, they could concentrate on the Red Box. He hadn’t wanted to share that information with Rathore, but it was the sure shot way luring the ex politician and to bring him into fold.

He turned his steps back towards KMA, where Rajveer and Col Chandra awaited his return. They had much to do, and time was running out.

As Abhimanyu walked briskly through the cool Jaipur streets, his mind replayed every moment of his conversation with Rathore. The Red Box was a dangerous card to play, but he knew he had no choice. Rathore needed something irresistible to bring him back into the arena, and the promise of toppling Gehlot’s empire was too tempting for the old political lion to resist.

The winter chill sharpened the air, hinting at the onset of the season, while the sounds of bustling vendors and rickshaws faded as Abhimanyu reached his vehicle. His destination was the Kanchenjunga Military Academy (KMA), where his team—Rajveer and Colonel Chandra—waited for his return. He knew they would be eager to hear how the meeting had gone, and there was no time to waste.

---

When Abhimanyu pulled up to KMA’s heavily guarded gates, Rajveer was already waiting for him, leaning casually against one of the Academy’s stone pillars. His face broke into a grin when he spotted Abhimanyu, but there was a flicker of unease behind the smile.

“Back in one piece, Captain?” Rajveer greeted him, a hint of relief in his voice. “So, the meeting?”

Abhimanyu stepped out, stretching his legs. “It went as well as it could. Rathore’s on board, but he’s wary. He wants proof. The Red Box is our leverage, but we’ll need the cypher cracked if we want it to mean anything.”

Rajveer’s grin faded, and he gave a low whistle. “That’s going to be tricky. I’ve been working on the encryption, but this isn’t just a simple code. Naveen set it up himself, and he knew what he was doing.”

As they walked toward the Academy’s secure briefing room, Colonel Chandra joined them. He looked up from a set of blueprints, greeting Abhimanyu with a firm handshake.

“Good to have you back, Captain,” Chandra said in his steady, gravelly voice. “I take it Rathore agreed to the terms?”

Abhimanyu nodded, settling into one of the leather-backed chairs around the polished oak table. “He did. But he’ll want proof soon. He’s already stirring the waters in his circles, which buys us time—but if we can’t unlock the Red Box, Rathore might cut his losses. And we’ll lose our best shot at shielding ourselves politically.”

Colonel Chandra tapped his finger on a map spread across the table, his expression thoughtful. “We have a small window to get this right. Gehlot has ears everywhere. Once he senses the shift, he’ll retaliate. We need that box decoded, the evidence gathered, and a swift plan in place.”

Rajveer set his laptop on the table and began typing rapidly. “I’ve been running algorithms on the encryption, but this isn’t just brute-force material. There’s something eerily familiar—almost like it’s based on an old military code.”

Abhimanyu studied the symbols and strings of code on the screen. "Anything could’ve been on Naveen’s mind when he set this up. After all, he was desperate then.”

Rajveer leaned back, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he considered. “Gehlot was close to military circles; he might have connections that know these codes. Could it be a variation of an old wartime cypher?”

Chandra rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Possibly. Some of those codes were used by black-market arms dealers back in the ’80s and ’90s—dealers selling to rogue states and militias. If Gehlot’s encryption is based on that, we’re dealing with a professional who covered his tracks well.”

“Not Gehlot’s code, sir. Naveen’s.” Rajveer’s tone was pensive. “We’re overlooking a crucial factor. This is Naveen’s code—the same Naveen who once worked closely with Lala, through me. Naveen didn’t share my idealism. Lala saw him as a child, a friend of his charity case. But Naveen was cunning—brilliant but calculating.”

Colonel Chandra’s gaze sharpened. “You’re saying Lala Sahab might’ve been the one who introduced Naveen to these codes?”

Rajveer nodded slowly. “Lala wasn’t Defence Minister then, but he was in close circles with the top brass. He might’ve thought Naveen was just a protégé, but Naveen took those codes and re-engineered them. The encryption we’re seeing now is his adaptation of those old codes.”

A brief silence settled over the room as they absorbed the implications. Then Abhimanyu spoke, his voice hardening. “Is there a chance Naveen shared this with Lala?”

“No,” Rajveer replied firmly. “Naveen was guarded. He’d share ideas with me but kept his methods to himself. The encryption? It’s safe to say Lala doesn’t know it exists.”

Colonel Chandra’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “So, Major, can you crack them?”

Rajveer’s face turned determined. “I’ll need those old codes, sir. If we can pull intel on wartime cyphers, I’m confident I can reverse-engineer Naveen’s version. Like Sherlock Holmes said, ‘What one man can invent, another can discover.’”

Colonel Chandra’s expression hardened into resolve. “Then we go deeper. Major Rajveer, keep the algorithms running, but start tracing Gehlot’s old military contacts. If he used similar codes, we may find patterns or old links. Someone out there might’ve helped him set it up.”

Rajveer nodded, fingers flying across the keyboard. “I’ll dig through old intel, see if I can trace any connections to known dealers or smugglers. If there’s a link between Gehlot’s dealings and these codes, we might get a lead.”

Colonel Chandra turned to Abhimanyu, his gaze intense. “Gehlot’s reach runs deep, Captain. If we pull on this thread, he’ll feel it. We must be ready for his counterattack.”

Abhimanyu leaned back, a cold determination in his eyes. “We’ll have to split up. Colonel, can you reach out to some of your contacts—the ones who know underground networks? We need information on any connections Gehlot might have. Rajveer and I will keep working on the cypher and tracking down possible suppliers.”

The three worked late into the night, each focused on their task with the precision and resolve of soldiers on a mission. The atmosphere in the secure briefing room was thick with tension, and every passing hour felt like a countdown toward a confrontation.

~~~°~~~

A/N:

Done! The noose is tightening and a lot many things are going to tumble out soon. How did you all like this part? Do let me know.

Please read, review and vote.

Love ~Flavia