The name Vikram gave them was Karan Khurana.
Aarohi stared at the photograph on the screen. The young politician from the Dixit dinner. The one who had kissed her hand a moment too long. The one who smiled like he owned the world.
"Karan Khurana is Council?" she asked.
"He is The Scholar's protégé," Vikram said. "The Scholar handles information. Blackmail. Intelligence. Karan is being groomed to take over when The Scholar retires."
Kabir stood beside her, his arms crossed, his face grim. "Karan is the son of a cabinet minister. His family has been in politics for three generations."
"Which makes him untouchable," Aarohi said.
"Which makes him useful to the Council." Vikram leaned back in his chair. "Karan feeds information from the government to the Council. In return, the Council funds his campaigns and eliminates his rivals."
Aarohi thought about the dinner at the Dixit residence. The way Karan had looked at her. The way his smile had never reached his eyes.
"He was at the gala," she said. "He was standing with Volkov and Khanna."
"Karan is at every event. He is the Council's eyes and ears in Mumbai's elite circles." Vikram's voice was tired. "If you want to hurt the Council, start with him."
Kabir looked at Aarohi. "Can you get close to him?"
She thought about the next charity event. The one Riya had been planning for weeks. Karan Khurana would be there. He was always there.
"Yes," she said. "I can get close to him."
Kabir nodded. "Then we have a plan."