The Gathering in Delhi

August 30, 2010

Confidential Government Facility, New Delhi

The air inside the meeting room was unnaturally cold. The central air conditioning hummed softly, its low drone the only sound cutting through the silence. The room itself was sterile—windowless, soundproofed, designed for conversations that were never meant to leave its walls.

A long, polished mahogany table stretched through the center, its surface reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights above. Around it sat men who rarely found themselves on the defensive—not just politicians, but the architects of the Indian economy.

At the head of the table, Prime Minister Dinesh Mishra sat still, his fingers interlocked as he watched the men before him. His normally measured expression was tinged with something unusual—frustration. To his right, Home Minister Sanjay Goel flipped through a thick intelligence report, his sharp eyes scanning each line with growing irritation. Next to him, Finance Minister Rajeev Thakur leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

Across the table sat the true power players.

Viren Malhotra, head of Titan Steel, was the first to break the silence. His neatly combed silver hair and gold-rimmed glasses gave him the look of a man who had seen everything. Yet, tonight, he looked unsettled.

"This can't be real," he muttered, tapping the edge of a thick document in front of him. His voice, though even, carried a note of disbelief. "We have dominated the domestic steel market for decades. We've seen competitors rise and fall. But this?" He shook his head. "No company grows this fast. Not without—"

"—external backing," Girish Mehta of Omnitech Industries finished for him, his tone laced with quiet anger. "We've looked into it. There are no foreign investors, no hedge fund buyouts, no government subsidies. But somehow, they are outselling us, outproducing us, and outmaneuvering us at every turn."

Rajdeep Khanna of IndiInfra Corp leaned forward, flipping through the financial sheets. The numbers were staggering. Eastern Earth Steel had captured 40% of Jharkhand's mining sector in just six months. Their production rate was double that of their nearest competitor, yet their prices remained lower.

"This isn't just a business expansion," Khanna said, his voice low. "This is a full-scale takeover."

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

The Prime Minister finally exhaled, his voice measured. "How bad is it?"

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then, Goel pushed a document across the table.

"Bad," he said simply. "If they continue at this pace, Titan Steel and Omnitech will collapse within the next twelve months. IndiInfra Corp's contracts are already shifting—major construction projects are now favoring Eastern Earth's supply chains."

Viren Malhotra's fingers clenched around his pen. "That's not possible," he said, though he already knew it was.

Girish Mehta's jaw tightened. "We've spent decades establishing those supply chains. The government has always prioritized our companies—our contracts." His voice dropped. "How did we lose them?"

Rajeev Thakur spoke next, his voice calm but firm. "They're not playing by the old rules," he said. "They own everything. From raw material extraction to final product delivery, every step of their supply chain is under their control."

A tense silence followed.

It was an unspoken truth among India's top industrialists that business was built on political favors, strategic delays, and quiet deals. Supply chains weren't just about efficiency—they were about control. If Eastern Earth Steel had cut through all that, it meant one thing:

They had no weaknesses.

The Home Minister cleared his throat. "And there's one more issue," he said. "We still don't know who owns them."

The weight of those words hit the table like a stone.

The Finance Minister flipped through the intelligence report, his expression grim. "Eastern Earth Steel is registered under Echelon Industries." He exhaled slowly. "And Echelon is a fortress. Offshore shell companies in Singapore, Switzerland, Dubai. No board members. No paper trail."

Goel's fingers tapped against the table. "Whoever is behind this doesn't want to be found."

Another silence.

Mishra steepled his fingers. "That's impossible. Every company has a financial backer. Every entity has a weak point."

Khanna exhaled sharply. "Not this one."

For a long moment, no one spoke.

The air in the room grew heavier.

For the first time in modern Indian history, the most powerful men in the country were facing an opponent they couldn't see.

And that terrified them.

The room felt colder than before. The silence had changed. It was no longer frustration—it was realization.

This wasn't just an industrial dispute. This was an invasion.

Prime Minister Dinesh Mishra let his gaze travel across the faces of the men seated around him. Titans of industry, masters of political maneuvering—men who had controlled India's economic destiny for decades.

And yet, for the first time, none of them had an answer.

Sanjay Goel, the Home Minister, was the first to break the silence. His voice was tight, controlled, but beneath it, there was a sharp edge of unease.

"What are our options?"

No one spoke immediately.

Then, Rajeev Thakur, the Finance Minister, exhaled slowly. "Legally? None."

The words dropped into the room like a stone.

Girish Mehta of Omnitech Industries shook his head. "That's not possible."

Thakur folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "It's very possible," he said. "Their tax records are flawless. Their environmental compliance is spotless. They operate with greater efficiency than any of our existing industries."

Khanna of IndiInfra Corp leaned forward, his voice quiet but heavy. "Then we change the laws."

Goel nodded sharply. "Exactly. If they won't break the rules, we rewrite the rules."

The Prime Minister's eyes narrowed.

"That," Aditya Pratap, the Chief Minister of Maharashtra, said finally, "would be the biggest mistake of your career."

The room stilled.

Mishra's gaze shifted toward Pratap. The younger man had been silent for most of the meeting, watching, listening. And now, when he finally spoke, there was steel in his voice.

Pratap leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "If we suddenly change policies just to cripple a company that is winning by the rules, what do you think will happen?"

His dark eyes locked onto Mishra's.

"We will send a message to every international investor that India punishes success."

Another silence.

Mishra's fingers tapped against the polished wood. "That's an oversimplification."

"No," Pratap said. "It's the reality." His voice was controlled but sharp. "We've spent years convincing the world that India is the next great industrial powerhouse. That this is the best place to invest, to manufacture, to grow."

His eyes moved across the room.

"If we move against Eastern Earth Steel now—if we sabotage them purely because they're better than our existing corporations—every foreign investor will reconsider their position. They will lose trust in our markets."

Girish Mehta frowned. "So we just sit back and watch them consume us?"

Pratap's lips pressed together. "I didn't say that."

Mishra studied him carefully. "Then what are you saying?"

Pratap exhaled. "I'm saying we need to understand what we're dealing with." He turned toward Goel. "You said there's no ownership trail."

Goel nodded. "Correct. Echelon Industries is a black hole. We've traced it through Singapore, Switzerland, Dubai—dozens of shell companies, all leading to nowhere."

Pratap's fingers drummed lightly against the table. "And yet… they operate as if they are untouchable."

A pause.

Then, Goel nodded slowly. "Because they are."

---

The Hunt for Echelon

Rajdeep Khanna rubbed his temple. "Then we need to find out who's behind them."

Viren Malhotra adjusted his glasses. "We have connections. Foreign intelligence agencies, economic advisors, trade networks. If we put pressure on our international allies, we will find a name."

Goel sighed, shaking his head. "You think we haven't tried?"

Malhotra hesitated. "What do you mean?"

Goel gestured toward the thick intelligence files. "RAW has been investigating this for three months. We have used every contact, every backchannel." He looked around the room. "No leaks. No names. No corporate affiliations."

His voice dropped.

"It's as if they don't exist."

A heavy pause.

Mishra's fingers tightened. "That's impossible."

"No," Goel said. "That's intentional."

The industrialists exchanged glances.

For all their power, they had never encountered an opponent they couldn't study, manipulate, or control.

And now?

They were facing something beyond their reach.

Khanna exhaled. "Then what do we do?"

---

The New Economic Reality

Mehta tapped his fingers against the table. "We need leverage. There must be a way to pressure them."

Thakur's voice was quiet. "And what if there isn't?"

That was the real question.

Titan Steel, Omnitech, IndiInfra—they had all grown powerful because they understood the rules of business. They knew how to delay approvals, influence policies, secure exclusive contracts.

But Eastern Earth Steel wasn't playing their game.

And that meant one thing—they had built something beyond their control.

Khanna's jaw tightened. "This isn't just about steel. If we don't act now, we won't control anything anymore."

The Prime Minister's voice was quiet. "Then we have no choice."

Goel's fingers curled into a fist. "We take them down. By any means necessary."

The decision had been made.

But none of them realized it was already too late.

---

A Phone Call in the Night

The meeting ended just before midnight.

The room emptied one by one, the tension following each man into the humid Delhi air.

But Aditya Pratap didn't leave immediately.

Instead, he stepped into a private hallway, pulled out his secure phone, and made a call.

A few seconds later, a voice answered. Calm. Controlled.

"It's late, Pratap."

Pratap's grip tightened around the phone. "We need to talk."

A pause.

Then, the voice on the other end spoke again.

"I know."

The meeting had ended, but the weight of it lingered. The industrialists had left with no clear answers, only the unsettling realization that they were no longer in control.

The ministers, however, remained.

Inside the now half-empty conference room, Prime Minister Dinesh Mishra, Home Minister Sanjay Goel, Finance Minister Rajeev Thakur, and Maharashtra CM Aditya Pratap sat in a strained silence.

Goel was the first to speak.

"We can't allow this to continue."

His voice was cold, decisive. "If we let them grow unchecked, they will dismantle the economic framework we spent decades building."

Mishra exhaled slowly. "So what's the plan?"

Thakur leaned forward. "If we can't stop them legally, we hit them where it hurts." He slid a new document across the table.

Proposed Economic Reform Directive— Special Tariff Adjustment on Raw and Processed Steel Exports

The numbers were clear. A 20% export duty.

Goel nodded. "We make Indian steel more expensive for global buyers. Force them to rely on domestic contracts. Limit their growth."

Mishra remained silent, his gaze flicking toward Aditya Pratap.

The Maharashtra CM had not spoken yet.

Because he knew exactly what this meant.

Pratap's voice was sharp when he finally spoke. "You realize what this will do?"

Goel's brows furrowed. "It will slow them down."

"No," Pratap shot back. "It will cripple our own industrial credibility."

His hands curled into fists against the table. "Do you think foreign investors won't notice? Do you think countries that rely on our steel—Japan, South Korea, the UAE, even the United States—won't retaliate?"

Thakur exhaled. "It's a risk we have to take."

"No," Pratap said again, his voice colder now. "It's a mistake."

A sharp silence stretched between them.

Goel leaned forward. "Then what do you suggest? That we just let them win?"

Pratap's jaw tightened. "You still don't get it, do you?" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "This isn't about winning or losing. This isn't a business dispute. This is a fundamental shift in economic power."

Mishra's gaze was unreadable. "And you're saying we should do nothing?"

Pratap clenched his jaw. "I'm saying we should think." His voice dropped. "Before we burn our own house down."

Goel's voice was cold. "You don't have the final say."

Mishra sighed, rubbing his temple. "Put it forward."

Thakur nodded. "The 20% export duty will go into effect next quarter."

Pratap exhaled sharply, but he said nothing. The decision had been made.

But deep down, he knew.

This was the beginning of something far worse.

A Phone Call in the Night

The meeting had ended, but Pratap wasn't done.

As he stepped outside into the dimly lit corridor, the humid Delhi air thick against his skin, he pulled out his secure phone. There was only one person he needed to call.

The line rang twice before it was answered.

A calm, measured voice spoke. "It's late, Pratap."

Pratap closed his eyes for a second, then spoke.

"The government just declared war on Eastern Earth Steel."

A pause.

Then, the voice on the other end responded, quiet, amused.

"I know."