As all the officers and staff watched the video clips and photos sent by Vidya, a heavy silence fell over the room. Shock spread across their faces—none of them could believe what they were seeing. The policeman who had earlier struck Rajesh suddenly yelled as the footage ended.
"What is this supposed to prove? Why are you showing us all this?" he barked, then turned to the senior officer. "Sir, are we really going to believe this man? I think it's all fabricated. We should just put him in jail."
The senior policeman remained calm. He looked at Rajesh and asked, "Who is this woman—Vidya?"
Rajesh replied, "I don't know, sir. But from the footage, it's clear all the videos were taken from one camera—hers. She must've recorded them herself."
The senior officer nodded. "You're right. She's likely a captive too, abused by the same gang of gamblers and goons."
"Please, sir," Rajesh pleaded, his voice trembling, "we have to act fast. My sister's life is in danger—and the lives of the other women too."
The senior officer stood firm. "We'll save your sister."
Their exchange clearly irritated the officer who had previously hit Rajesh. His attempts to interrupt grew more desperate, but the senior officer saw through him. He realized the man's resistance came not from logic, but ego—the truth would expose his earlier mistake. Calmly but firmly, the senior ordered him to stay behind at the station. It was humiliating.
At around 6:00 a.m., the team departed with Rajesh. Their first stop: the abandoned factory where Rajesh had found the phone. The mission was declared top secret. Any leak could tip off the goons, whose network was strong enough to erase every trace—even with photos and video evidence.
Upon arrival, the officers stepped out of the jeep and surveyed the rundown site. One subordinate noted, "Sir, this factory was shut down two years ago after its owner, Vikrant Malani, died."
The senior officer narrowed his eyes. "Strange. Why would the phone be here? Let's investigate."
He ordered his men to scatter and search the area. Rajesh stayed close to him and pointed. "This is the spot where I found the phone... and where I saw the man behind all of it. But—"
"There's nothing here now," the senior officer said after scanning the surroundings. "No signs to help us trace them."
Just then, a voice cried out, "Sir! Sir!"
They rushed toward the sound and found an officer holding a man by the arm. "He tried to run when he saw us," the officer explained. "But the factory's been shut down for years—what's he doing here?"
The senior officer confronted him. "Who are you? What do you know about this place?"
Terrified, the man refused to speak. "If I say anything, they'll kill me and my family."
Rajesh stepped forward, desperation in his eyes. "If you don't tell us, they'll kill my little sister. Please... think of her as your daughter. Or your wife. If someone took them from you—what would you do?"
The worker hesitated, then finally broke. "They took her in a truck."
"Where is it now?" the senior officer demanded.
"I don't know," the man said, shaking, "but... I remember what it looked like."
Rajesh leaned in. "What did the truck look like?"
The man replied, "It was white... with blue."
The senior policeman narrowed his eyes. "White and blue… trucks like that are mostly seen coming from outside the country. Hmm. Let's check where this truck went. Did you see how many trucks were loaded from here?"
The worker shook his head. "No, sir. I didn't count. But I remember clearly—last night, there was only one truck, and they loaded everything into it here."
The senior officer nodded. "Alright. Thank you. I'll keep my word—your family will be safe. Don't worry."
The worker gave a silent nod.
As they left, the senior officer turned to his men. "Listen, we still don't know where that truck went. So we need a solid route. First, we go to Vikrant's house. Something's off. All this trafficking and kidnapping seems tied to Vikrant somehow. But remember—he died in a car accident two years ago. Still, we'll speak with his family."
Everyone agreed.
Some time later, they reached Vikrant's house. The senior officer instructed, "Only two of you come with me. The rest, stay back and remain in disguise."
The group obeyed.
The policemen approached the house. An old woman opened the door. They stepped inside. The senior officer spoke gently, "Namaskar, Maaji. My name is Patel. We're here to ask you something about your son—Vikrant."
She invited them in and offered them seats. After a few minutes, a young woman arrived with a tray of tea. The senior officer's eyes followed her curiously.
"Who is she?" he asked softly.
"She's my granddaughter," the old woman replied.
Rajesh leaned forward slightly. "Ah... so she's Vikrant's daughter. I see."
He continued, "Maaji, we need to ask—was Vikrant's company running well, or had it already closed?"
The old woman answered, "Yes, the factory closed two years ago. Nothing belongs to us from there anymore. It's just abandoned junk now. Nothing more."
The senior officer noticed the sadness in her eyes—heavy, sunken, and filled with silent tears. He softened his tone.
"Just one last question, Maaji. Did you know of any other sites your son worked at?"
She shook her head. "Sorry, I can't help you with that. I don't know."
The officer gave her a gentle smile, stood up, and thanked her politely. Then they quietly took their leave.
Just as they were about to leave, the young woman called out from behind.
"Sir… I think I know something," she said softly.
The senior policeman turned. "You do?"
She nodded and beckoned them to follow. They walked behind her as she opened the door to a room.
"This was Vikrant's room. I think you might find something here," she said.
The old lady approached from behind, her voice uncertain. "But these are just old things. What do you expect to find here?"
The senior officer replied calmly, "Let's take a look anyway, Maaji. If you don't mind."
She gave a hesitant nod but then asked, "Why are you all so desperate to ask about my dead son? Is he—?"
"I believe your son may have been involved in something," the officer said gently. "We're just looking for proof. That's all." He offered a polite smile.
They began searching the room. After a while, they came across a file. Inside were photographs—images of a factory, dumps, and storage houses. In that moment, they found what they had been searching for.
The senior officer thanked the old woman and the young girl, then quietly led the team out.
Once inside the police jeep, he looked at Rajesh. "I think your sister will be saved."
Rajesh exhaled in relief.
---
Now, in the present, they had reached the site. After hearing everything, Madhu—his sister—looked at him with teary eyes. "Thank you, Bhaiya… you came to save me."
But then she asked, "Where is Vidya?"
Rajesh replied, "Yes… I've been wondering that too. And this place—this doesn't look like the one from the video."
The senior officer beside him said, "Don't worry. This is just the beginning. Let's get some answers."
The police had already rounded up the remaining goons. One by one, they began interrogating them—forcefully—but none spoke a word.
Madhu stepped forward. "Maybe… maybe if they see the videos, they'll talk."
The senior officer pulled out a spare phone and inserted the SIM card. He played the videos for the goons.
Their eyes widened in fear. Panic spread across their faces.
Rajesh stepped closer, his voice boiling with anger. "You all know exactly where that place is. Come on—speak! Don't you feel any shame for what you've done? If there's even a shred of morality left in you, then tell us where this site is!"
One of the goons finally broke. "If we tell you… he'll kill us. Not just kill—he'll torture us, piece by piece. Then feed our bodies to his dogs! Don't you get it?!"
The senior officer snapped. Without a word, he stormed forward and began kicking the man viciously in the face until the goon collapsed, lifeless.
"You'll all die like this," he roared. Grabbing another by the mouth, he hissed, "Because my daughter is missing too. If I lose control, I'll kill all of you before he does. But if you tell us where the hell this place is… maybe, just maybe, you'll live."
The group of goons exchanged terrified glances. One of them finally muttered through cracked lips, "It… it's the factory. Lalan Raj's factory. In the countryside of Delhi."
A stunned silence followed.
The entire team froze in shock.