"Very effectively. Until you." Nalini looked at her with the particular attention of a journalist who has found the source that changes a story from possible to publishable. "The files you have — the operational files, the rate card, the wellness scheme registry with the names — that's the documentation I've been missing. That's what makes this undeniable."
"How quickly can you publish?"
"Seventy-two hours if I work without stopping. Forty-eight with editorial support from the first hour, which I will have." She paused. "There are risks to you. Kalyani will pursue this legally and possibly in other ways."
"I know," Priya said.
"The active participants. Two hundred and forty-seven people who don't know what they're enrolled in. If Rao reports upward and they decide to accelerate—"
"I'm going to go to the CBI directly. Not local police. The CBI has a medical fraud section and I have a contact there. I'll move on that today, in parallel with the story." She looked at Priya steadily. "They may not move fast enough. I want to be honest about that."
"Are you safe tonight?"
"I'm going to my sister in Pune tonight."
"Good. Don't go back to the hospital." She slid a card face-down across the table. A number written in pen, not printed. "This is my personal mobile. Call me when you're in Pune."
Priya took the card. She had a career at Kalyani that was over. She had a life she was walking away from and something she was walking toward that she could not yet fully see.
She paid for the coffee. Left the café. Did not look back.
