Nalban, meanwhile, was cleaned—temporarily—with a 50-crore emergency fund. The water is clearer now. The kingfishers have returned. But the anglers say the fish are still fewer than before. And some nights, the old-timers claim they see the ghost of Bhola Nath sitting under the tamarind tree, holding a tin of tobacco, watching the water—waiting for the next lie to float to the surface.
That same night, three men on a black Pulsar followed Roshni home. As she unlocked her gate in Lake Town, one of them approached. "You should stick to fashion shows, didi," he said, and before she could scream, he smashed her phone and the USB drive under his heel. Then they broke her right index finger—the one she used to type—and vanished.
The CM called a press conference. She looked pale. "Some rotten apples," she said. "We will cut them out."
The leak came from an unlikely source: a night guard named Bhola Nath. Bhola had worked at the Nalban pumping station for eleven years. One night, during a vicious Nor'wester ( Kalbaishakhi ), he saw something that broke his loyal silence.
And ACP Sen? He resigned. He now runs a small tea stall near Nalban's entrance. On the wall behind his stall, there's a faded newspaper clipping: "Guard's Murder Exposes 1,200-Crore Lake Scam."
Roshni was hospitalized. ACP Sen visited her. His face was gray. "They know, Roshni. Debu has moles in my own station. Without the USB, we have nothing."
"Bhola sees nothing."
The guard's blood turned to ice.
The vendor pulled out a dog-eared copy of Byomkesh Bakshi: The Sleep Murderer . Hidden inside the spine, wrapped in plastic, was the second USB drive.