Ashes and Appointments

Vishal stood at his office window, staring at the traffic like it held the answers he needed. Early morning light spilled in through the glass, cutting across the stack of files from Raghunandan's locker.

Shilpa sipped tea beside him, flipping through one of the reports.

"This one's weird," she said, pointing to a short page. "A name pops up twice—Dr. Chaitra Ramamurthy. She's listed as a consultant in Project Raghu and also mentioned in the Mandovi land case."

"Hmm," Vishal murmured. "That's not someone from Manek's inner circle."

"No. She's a professor. Forensic science department. Bangalore."

Vishal didn't move for a moment.

Then he turned around. "Let's visit her."

Shilpa raised an eyebrow. "Should we call first?"

"We're not her students, Shilpa. Surprise tests work both ways."

The two of them reached the college campus by late afternoon.

The building was a classic government institute—yellowed walls, broken tile edges, and the constant smell of damp paper. Students rushed past them, dodging class, chasing chai, or preparing for internships that promised to pay in "experience only."

They found the department. But before they could ask anyone, a fire alarm wailed down the hall.

A guard came running past them, shouting, "Lab two! Evacuate!"

Vishal and Shilpa exchanged looks—then ran toward the smoke.

By the time they reached the scene, the fire was mostly contained. A small lab—burned from the inside out. A scorched skeleton of what looked like a microscope lay on the floor.

Outside the lab, a group had gathered.

A senior professor was sobbing quietly on a bench. "She was the only one in there… poor Dr. Chaitra."

Shilpa's face went pale.

Vishal stepped forward. "You said was?"

"She's dead," the man said, voice cracking. "She didn't make it. They say it was an accident… gas leak or something. But... she'd complained about someone following her."

The professor noticed Vishal's badge pinned to his inner coat. "Are you from CID?"

"Something like that," Vishal replied.

Shilpa stared into the burned lab. Her forensic instincts were already kicking in. "This fire was too localized for a gas explosion. There's no pressure blast. No shattered glass. It was... precise."

Vishal nodded. "Almost surgical."

They stood there a moment, watching the cleanup crew begin their slow, pointless work.

Then a soft voice behind them said, "You're Vishal, right?"

They turned.

A girl—short hair, nose piercing, dressed like a literature student who read crime novels for comfort—stood holding a spiral notebook.

"She told me about you," the girl said. "Dr. Chaitra. She said… if anything ever happened to her, give this to a man who walks like he knows too much and sleeps too little."

Shilpa blinked. "That... sounds like him."

The girl handed the notebook to Vishal.

"I think she knew she was going to die."

Back in the car, Vishal flipped through the notebook. It was filled with scribbled notes, chemical diagrams, and one page marked in red.

"Microscope #42 contains the drive.

If they burn me, they'll burn the truth.

Don't let Project Raghu die with me."

Below it, a list of initials. One of them caught Vishal's eye: RR.

"Her microscope was the target," Shilpa said. "The fire wasn't just murder—it was a data wipe."

"Someone wants Project Raghu buried," Vishal said, his voice low.

Shilpa leaned her head back. "They're not just killing people. They're killing trails."

Vishal looked out the window.

"Then we start digging deeper. Beneath the ashes."