Frowning, Ruban flicked through the photos. The first few depicted a man in his mid-thirties accompanied by a skinny teenaged boy and a little girl, slightly younger than Hiya. The boy’s eyes looked unfocused, and in many of the pictures he appeared to be shy of the camera. Aside from these minor details, however, they looked like a normal, close-knit family. A doting father posing for photos with his kids.

The man did look oddly familiar. Ruban pulled out his own cellphone and clicked open the browser. Soon, he was comparing current, publicly-available pictures of Kushal Mayiti with the man in these old photos. The resemblance was undeniable. Kushal no longer sported the moustache he’d favored in his younger days, and some bald patches had appeared near the front of his head. The lines around his eyes and on his forehead were more pronounced than they had been, all those years ago.

But there was no doubt in Ruban’s mind that he was looking at the same man, at different stages of his life.

As he continued browsing the photos on Vikram’s tablet, Ruban realized it was some sort of a digital family album. The earliest photos had obviously been scanned from their analog versions, while the more recent ones were higher-quality, digital images.

The pictures depicted the boy and the girl as they grew into young adults, before slowly morphing into the current, middle-aged versions of themselves. Likewise, Kushal evolved over time from a weary thirty-something into the vivacious, energetic old man who was well-known across the country.

From the recent photos, it was obvious that the little family was just as close now as it had been all those decades ago. The last picture Ruban saw was of an aged Kushal sitting on a massive armchair, while both his children – Tej and Dhriti – sat on the floor by his feet, laughing joyfully.

Ruban handed the tablet back to Vikram, his brow furrowed. “Am I supposed to conclude that Kushal Mayiti got custody of an eight-year-old Dhriti after both her biological parents had died? That makes less than no sense.”

Vikram responded with a nonchalant gesture. “It’s unusual, that’s for sure. But both of Lata’s parents had died before Dhriti was born. And as for the father, Ravi Pathak…he apparently came from one of the affluent northern mining families. Very traditional. They didn’t approve of his marriage with Lata. Disowned him on the day of the wedding, and refused to acknowledge either his wife or child as part of the family.

“So, by the time they died, they had no family left to take custody of their daughter. Kushal Mayiti was apparently the only one willing to do so. He stepped in. And since he was still technically married to the mother,” Vikram continued, sounding ambivalent. “I suppose no one thought to counter his claim. They probably thought it’d be better than an orphanage, which was the only real alternative.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, as they each tried to process what they’d just learned. Ruban pulled up the wiki page on Dhriti Pathak, then her website. Neither had any mention of Kushal Mayiti, or her connection to him. He tried a few more well-known online sources. Every account of Dhriti’s past – at least the ones easily available on the internet – ended with a recounting of her parents’ death when she was eight years old.

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The years after that were largely glossed over, with minimal details about the school and college she attended, her academic records, involvement in extra-curricular activities, etc. There was almost no mention of her personal life or family connections, during these years.

It was as if Dhriti had existed in a complete social vacuum from the day her parents died, up until the time she entered politics as a student leader in the final year of college.

“Somebody put a lot of effort into erasing her connection with Kushal Mayiti from the public consciousness,” Ruban muttered.

Simani cast a pleading look in Ashwin’s direction. “Tea?” she implored, in a voice barely above a sigh.

Ruban grunted, trying to stifle his laughter. She didn’t look it, but Simani had a dramatic flair, and could put her skills to excellent use when needed.

Seizing the opportunity, he and Vikram put in their own requests for rejuvenating beverages.

Ashwin disappeared into the kitchen. And reappeared ten minutes later, carrying a tray laden with snacks and four steaming mugs.

“I feel like I might be gaining a few kilos just by breathing these in,” Vikram moaned. Not that he allowed those feelings to keep him from grabbing a handful of the crunchy, savory pastry strips Ruban’s dad used to call nimki.

Taking a leisurely sip of his coffee-infused hot chocolate, Ruban felt himself sink deeper into the sofa. “They had the means to do it, I’ll give you that.” He forced himself to focus on the case once more. “But I still don’t see why Dhriti or Kushal would take such a massive risk, by targeting a Hunter as well-known as Simani. They don’t strike me as stupid people. Surely, there are less hazardous ways to oppose the alliance with Vaan.”

Ashwin picked up his own mug. Whatever he’d made himself, it smelled vaguely of roasted cardamom. “It might be because of Tej Enterprises,” he said, taking his first sip.

Ruban’s ears pricked up. “Tej Enterprises,” he repeated slowly. “Shit, how did I not make that connection immediately? It’s named after his son, isn’t it?”

Tej Enterprises was a large feather refinery situated in the western outskirts of Ragah. It was one of Kushal Mayiti’s many businesses. In fact, it was the first business of his that actually made him any real money. But that was decades ago, and Kushal had started and scaled many more businesses since. These days, his name was associated primarily with World News Now, at least among the general public.

The reason Ruban knew about his connection to Tej Enterprises, and the feather refining industry, was because the Hunter Corps had often worked with him in the past. The company was frequently contracted by the IAW to refine the Aeriel feathers collected by the Hunter Corps, and prepare them for sale at the quarterly auctions.

The South Ragah Division typically used a different refinery, one that was closer to their territory. But Tej Enterprises processed almost all the feathers collected by the West, North, and Central Divisions.

“There are rumors that Tej Enterprises raked in substantial profits last year,” Vikram said, washing down a fistful of nimkis with his coffee. “Refining the feathers illegally collected by the mafia. Some even say the company collaborated directly with the Qawirsin. And that Janak Nath personally visited their premises to oversee some of the operations.”