The next evening, Ruban burst into Simani’s room at the hospital, the DNA results in hand.

Vikram – who’d been seated on the bedside chair, conversing softly with his wife – turned around. One look at Ruban’s face and he smiled grimly. “It’s a match, isn’t it?”

Simani perked up, leaning forward on the bed, as if trying to catch a glimpse of the file in Ruban’s hand. “It’s the same person? The one who pushed me is the same person who broke into your flat? Are we absolutely sure of that?”

“Yes, but there’s more.” Ruban seated himself on the stool beside Vikram. “I had the lab compare the DNA results to the recorded DNA profiles of every Hunter in the Central Ragah Division.”

“What?” Vikram exclaimed. “Why?”

“How did you manage to get the permission?” Simani demanded. “I’d imagine the Division Chief would’ve had something to say about that. She’s intransigent at the best of times.”

Ruban smirked. “Who says I asked her? This was cleared directly by Raizada himself. No Division Chief would dare question the IAW Director.”

“But why would Raizada have agreed to that?” Simani asked.

“Because Ashwin requested him to.”

Vikram and Simani stared at him, flabbergasted.

Ruban bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing out loud. Taking pity on his friends, he elaborated. “Ashwin’s offered to stand a public trial for his role in Simani’s…accident.” Almost involuntarily, his eyes flicked to her. “But he had two conditions. First, that the IAW approve the comparison of these DNA results,” he held up the file in his hand. “With the profiles of all the Hunters of the Central Ragah Division. And secondly, that the trial must only be covered by CXN and WNN.”

“What? But that makes no sense,” Vikram said. “Those are two of the networks most hostile to him and the Vaan alliance.”

“Who cares about that right now?” Simani interrupted, turning to Ruban. “Did you get a match? From the Central Division, I mean? Did you find what you were looking for?”

Ruban nodded grimly. “It was Lt. Atbin Siyal.”

When both husband and wife stared blankly at him, Ruban elaborated. “The floppy-haired kid who kept following us around the fairgrounds.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Simani’s eyes lit with recognition. “That guy? But he’s—”

“Barely more than a teenager?” Ruban said, his tone impassive. “Yeah, I’m starting to think those are the most dangerous ones. Isn’t that what everyone said about Ashwin when he first showed up?”

“But why would he have pushed me in front of that shell?” Simani’s tone was bewildered. “I’d never even met him before that Hunt. At least not that I remember.”

“He could’ve been bribed,” Vikram posited. “Or brainwashed into it. Depending on who’s pulling the strings here. Because this whole operation certainly wasn’t planned and executed by some kid barely out of Bracken.”

“No,” Ruban agreed. “Whoever planned this, they didn’t just want Simani dead. They wanted it to look like she’d been killed by an Aeriel—”

“Preferably by one particular Aeriel,” Vikram said, his eyes narrowed. “They took great pains to make sure it’d look like it was Ashwin who’d killed her.”

“Damn. That’s why the kid was dogging our steps from the start,” Simani mused. “Although he seemed more interested in you than me, Ruban. I thought he was just starstruck. So many of the younger ones are, these days, when they see you. It seemed harmless to me. What made you suspect him?”

“I didn’t suspect him. It’s just that…” Ruban sighed, rubbing his temple. “I received a note from Ashwin, last night. Or, at least, I’m pretty sure it was from Ashwin.” Extracting the note from his back pocket, he related the events of the previous night at the guesthouse. “It’s what made me think of matching the DNA results to the profiles of the Hunters from the Central Division. Although I still don’t know what connection there could be between the attack at the fair and the Kanla Park lynching.”

Vikram frowned, taking the note from Ruban. “Could it be…” he paused, grabbing his phone from the bedside table and flicking through it. “Could it be that the person – or group – that paid off our young lieutenant is also the one funding HAVA and the other anti-Vaan cults?”

“Huh?” Simani blinked at her husband. “How’d you arrive at that conclusion?”

Vikram shrugged. “It’s the only way the reference to the reinforced sifblade makes sense, in this context. Atbin Siyal works for the Central Ragah Division, yes? Well, if they could bribe him to try and kill you, what’s to say they haven’t been paying him to do other things? Like smuggling reinforced sifblades to civilian cults such as HAVA.”

Ruban grunted impatiently. “Only the Division Chiefs have reinforced sifblades—”

“Has the Chief of the Central Ragah Division made public use of her reinforced sifblade since the Kanla Park lynching?” Simani interrupted him, her tone speculative. “’Cause I’m sure we’d have heard of it through the grapevine, if she had.”

“Are you suggesting they – whoever they are – have the Chief of the Central Ragah Division in their pocket?” Ruban tried hard to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

“Either that,” Simani said. “Or she really likes our young lieutenant. Enough to risk her own career covering for him.”

Vikram took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Now, if only we had some proof to back up these incredible theories.”

Ruban’s lips twitched as he reached into his pocket once more. “On that front, I wouldn’t be too disheartened if I were you.” Pulling his phone out, he flicked through it until he’d opened the video app. “You might yet find yourself pleasantly surprised.”