Midnight Mumbai / Season 1, Episode 12
Seaface Secrets Unveiled
The auto-rickshaw’s engine sputtered like a dying animal as it jerked to a halt on the edge of Worli Seaface, the briny tang of the Arabian Sea slapping against Priya’s face through the open side. Her kurta clung to her back, damp with sweat, the cheap cotton itching where it rubbed against her skin. The driver, a wiry man with a paan-stained grin, twisted around, one hand still on the handlebar. “Yeh jagah hai, madam. Worli. Ab kya?” “Bas, rukna mat,” she snapped, her voice low, barely above the crash of waves against the concrete barrier. Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror—a cracked shard taped to the frame—checking for the black SUV that had been tailing her since Bandra. Nana’s men. Leather Jacket and Twitchy, their silhouettes burned into her mind like a bad dream. She couldn’t see them now, but the prickle on her neck told her they weren’t far. The memory vial in her pocket felt heavier than a grenade, its glass cool against her thigh through the thin fabric. Deliver it, Nana had said, his voice smooth as oil, those shark eyes watching her every twitch. Deliver it, or you’re done, Rina. She wasn’t Rina. She was Priya Kapoor, Mumbai Police, and every second she played this game, she sank deeper into quicksand. Her fingers brushed...