“Possibly. Ya kisi aise insaan ka jisko purane systems ki aadat ho.” Usne folder khola, ek folded paper nikaala aur bina drama ke Rohan ko de diya. “Ye naam yaad rakhna. Victor D’Souza. Purana security contractor. Teen saal pehle campus ke CCTV upgrade aur access mapping mein involved tha. Ab officially yahan nahi hai, but files mein uska footprint hai. Agar kahin purani wiring, deleted logs, ya backdoor access ka clue mile, start yahin se karna.”
Rohan ne paper ko carefully fold kiya. “Why are you telling us this, ma’am?”
Dr. Meera ka expression ek pal ko unreadable ho gaya..
Rohan ke room ki light pehle se hi dim thi, jaise poora hostel kisi anjaane darr ko chupane ki koshish kar raha ho. Corridor mein late-evening ka shor dheere-dheere kam ho chuka tha, bas ceiling fan ki sarsarahat aur bahar campus ke gate se aati cycle-bell ki halki awaaz reh gayi thi. Desk par khuli notebook, do half-finished pages, aur ek side mein woh printout pada tha jisme Room 69 ka naam phir se red-ink circle mein tha. Rohan us paper ko ghur raha tha, par padh nahi raha tha. Dimaag kaafi der se ek hi jagah atka hua tha: Kunal.
Tabhi door par teen halki knocks hui.
Rohan ne bina uthhe hi bola, “Andar aa jao.”
Pooja andar aayi toh room ka temperature waise hi badal gaya, jaise kisi ne window khol di ho. Uske chehre par wohi familiar calm tha, jo hamesha Rohan ko ajeeb sa sukoon deta tha. Usne ek chhota sa bag bed ke paas rakha aur ek second ke liye room ka haal dekha—papers, books, pins, aur corner mein pada woh old hostel register ka photocopy.
“Tum phir usi file mein ghuse hue ho,” she said, almost smiling.
Rohan ne aankhon se paper ki taraf ishara kiya. “Aur tum bhi phir time pe aa gayi.”
“Main toh hamesha time pe aati hoon,” Pooja ne kaha, “bas log notice late karte hain.”
Rohan hansa, thoda thaka hua, thoda relieved. “Aaj waise bhi notice karne ki capacity bachi nahi hai.”
Pooja ne kuch nahi bola. Bas aage badhkar table ke paas khadi ho gayi aur usne notebook ko ek side se gently band kar diya, jaise keh rahi ho ki ab bas. Rohan ne uski taraf dekha, aur dono ke beech jo tension din bhar se jam kar baithi thi, woh achanak pighalne lagi. Bahar se kisi junior ki loud laugh aayi, phir door se footsteps. Room 69 ka number corridor ke board par chamak raha tha, aur Rohan ko ek pal ke liye laga jaise campus khud mazak uda raha ho.
Pooja ne dheere se kaha, “Tumhara face dekh ke lag raha hai ki tumne poora din kuch khaya nahi.”
“Khaya tha,” Rohan bola. “Bas dimaag ko digest nahi hua.”
“Woh toh obvious hai.”
Uski baat par Rohan ne ek halka sa exhale kiya, almost a laugh. Pooja ne ek step aur paas aakar uske saamne rakhi chair ko side mein khiska diya aur khud bed ke kinare baith gayi. Unki baat-cheet mein koi drama nahi tha, koi bada confession nahi, bas woh familiar quietness jo tab aati hai jab do log ek dusre ki presence mein apna guard gira dete hain. Rohan ne apni notebook hata di, aur Pooja ne uske haath mein fasa pen dekha jo ab bhi khula hua tha.
“Batao,” she said softly, “Kunal ke baare mein kya socha tumne?”
Rohan ne seedha jawab nahi diya. Pehle khidki ki taraf dekha, phir room ke darwaze ki taraf, jaise har corner se koi purani yaad nikal aayegi. “Wahi jo sab soch rahe hain,” he said..
Auditorium ke pichhe wali service wing ka darwaza bahut der se band tha, jaise campus ne us taraf dekhna hi chhod diya ho. Rohan ne maintenance slip ko phone ki torch ki roshni mein dobara padha, phir rusted latch ko dekha. “Yahan entry officially closed hai,” usne dheere kaha. “Matlab naturally yahin jaana chahiye.”
Kabir ne snort kiya, par awaz mein mazaak se zyada tension thi. “Tu har danger ko assignment samajh leta hai, yaar.”
Arjun ne bina haste corridor ka andaza lagaya. Darwaze ke neeche se thandi hawa aa rahi thi. “Assignment ho ya trap, andar kuch hai. Chalo.”
Imran sabse pichhe tha, chup chaap, par uski nazar har corner par thi. Usne wall pe faded direction board ko dekha—ELECTRICAL, STORAGE, OLD DUCTS—aur phir us narrow passage ko jo auditorium ke structure ke andar gahra ja raha tha. “Yeh area use kam, hide zyada hota hoga,” usne kaha.
Rohan ne torch beam rusted metal panel par daali. Panel ke corner par fresh tool marks chamak rahe the, purane corrosion ke beech ek nayi chot jaise. “Dekha? Yeh recent hai. Screwdriver ya pry bar se khola gaya.” Usne finger se edge trace kiya. “Aur yeh dust line—panel kal ya parson se zyada purana nahi khola gaya.”
Kabir ne ek kadam peeche se andar jhanka. “Kunal ka naam aise hi hawa mein nahi gaya tha.”
Damp concrete ki smell bahar ke stale corridor se alag thi—geeli, band, aur zara si metallic. Arjun ko ek second ke liye laga jaise kisi ne yahan bahut carefully saans bhi count ki ho. “Routine,” usne kaha, “campus routine. Late rehearsals, staff movement, generator checks. Kisi ne wahi use kiya.”
Rohan ne apne notes app mein kuch type kiya, phir bola, “Service wing se auditorium, phir back access, phir staff corridor. Agar kisi ko quietly move karna ho, bina main gate ke, toh yeh perfect route hai. Random nahi tha. Planned tha.”
Imran ne floor par ek faint chalk mark dikha diya, almost invisible. “Aur yeh dekho. Temporary marker. Jaise kisi ne boxes ya equipment shift kiya ho.”
Kabir ka jaw tight hua. “Matlab Kunal ko yahan se le jaane ke liye campus ke hi paths use hue. Koi outsider nahi, koi panic wala crime scene nahi. Set-up tha.”
Arjun ne panel ke andar torch daali. Andar ek narrow cavity thi—old cable routes, ek torn inventory tag, aur ek plastic strip jo kisi cable tie ki tarah lag rahi thi. “Proof,” usne murmur kiya. “Agar yeh mil gaya toh timeline ban sakti hai.”
Tabhi passage ke far end se ek halki si movement hui.
Pehle shadow, phir ek aur. Bas ek second ke liye. Jaise kisi ne dark ke andar se unhe dekh liya ho.
Sab freeze ho gaye.
Rohan ki torch ka beam thoda kaanpa. Kabir ne instinctively apna pair set kiya, jaise sprint karne wala ho. Imran ne bina awaaz ke Arjun ki taraf dekha—question nahi, warning.
Shadow ne ek aur step liya aur andhere mein phisal gaya.
Arjun ne ek nazar cavity mein pade evidence par daali, phir us disappearing figure par..