"The incidents become less of a warning and more of a solution," Dev said.
Arjun stood. He went to the window. The street was doing its evening thing — the children from the corner school, the vegetable vendor packing up, the ordinary machinery of a neighbourhood that knew nothing about the particular crisis happening in a second-floor office above it.
"Does she know?" he said. "Does she know that he knows she found something?"
"You've been with her for a week. You'd know better than I would."
He thought about the five days. About the question at the coffee place — anyone whose access you're uncertain about? — and the almost-imperceptible pause before no. She hadn't lied. But she had considered it. Which meant there was something in the question that had landed somewhere.
"She knows something," he said. "She doesn't know the full picture. But she's aware of something — something she's not sure how to deal with." He turned from the window. "I have to tell her. But I need the evidence first. Solid enough to be actionable." He picked up the Kapoor file. "And in the meantime I have to be closer to her. The observation distance isn't enough anymore."
Dev looked at him carefully. "She's not going to like that."
"No," Arjun said. "She's not."
