Unnamed Clan
Prime Minister Residency, 7 Lok Kalyan Marg, New Delhi
Mr. Pradhan Virupaksha, the National Security Advisor, adjusted his frameless glasses that sat over his sunken, dark-circled eyes. He rubbed his freshly shaven face—he had shaved just before the meeting—and exhaled slowly. It had been a sleepless night, spent collating information from various arms of the government.
He ran his fingers along his pencil moustache, eyes closed, mentally revisiting key points.
After a moment, he opened them and turned to his right.
Mr. Sadayu Tilak, Secretary of RAW, sat there in a conservative charcoal-grey, single-breasted suit. Beside him was Mr. Ravi Mohan, Director of the Intelligence Bureau, dressed in a similar black suit. Both men bore the same exhaustion—dark circles beneath their eyes, files in hand, silently reviewing their notes.
They sat around a rectangular wooden table in the closed meeting room of the Prime Minister’s residence.
Behind them, a fifty-inch flat screen displayed a simple message:
Meeting starts in five minutes.
“Jeevan is ready over there, right, Sadayu?” Pradhan asked.
“Yes, sir,” Sadayu replied curtly.
“Good.”
The door suddenly swung open.
All three men stood at once.
Security personnel held the door as Mr. Bheeshma entered. He placed his phone into a glass box alongside three others. The box sealed automatically as he withdrew his hand.
He passed through a scanner fixed to the doorway. It beeped.
Bheeshma brought his hands together in a brief namaskara. The others mirrored the gesture.
“Have you been waiting long?” he asked, his tone warm.
“No, sir. We arrived about fifteen minutes ago,” Pradhan replied. The others offered faint smiles.
“Sit.”
Bheeshma took his place at the head of the table. The others followed.
“So…” He paused, resting his arms on the table. “Let’s begin.”
“Sir, Jeevan will be joining us now,” Pradhan said.
The screen flickered to life.
A man in his fifties appeared—clean-shaven, with an unassuming face.
“Good morning, Honourable Prime Minister, Advisor Pradhan, Secretary Sadayu, and Director Ravi. I hope I am on time,” he said with a polite smile.
“Right on time, Jeevan,” Bheeshma replied.
Pradhan straightened slightly.
“Let’s begin. We have gathered to discuss intelligence suggesting potential threats to various arms of our government.”
He turned briefly to Bheeshma before continuing.
“Based on information collected by Secretary Sadayu, the opposition party IPK has received funds through several shell corporations within the country. When traced, these funds lead back to multinational corporations operating in Iran, Guatemala, Chile, Congo, the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, Laos, Panama, Nicaragua, Libya, and Iraq. That is our first point.”
He paused.
“The second point…”
He hesitated.
Bheeshma looked at him sharply.
“Based on reports from police departments across the country, there has been a surge in… unnatural activities. Director Ravi has compiled intelligence from both official channels and field agents. He would like to bring this to your attention.”
Pradhan lowered his gaze as he finished.
Bheeshma’s expression tightened. He turned toward Ravi.
Ravi met his gaze, face unreadable.
Bheeshma sighed. “Mr. Sadayu—how has the investigation progressed?”
“Sir, as mentioned earlier, we traced the funds linked to IPK to entities suspected of operating under CIA influence. However, we have not yet secured the hard evidence you requested. Jeevan, however, has gathered additional intelligence through our operatives abroad.”
He turned to the screen.
“Jeevan?”
“Yes, sir,” Jeevan nodded. “I tracked financial flows from half of these MNCs and found connections to militant and anti-government groups worldwide.”
He paused.
“But the more disturbing discovery is this—the remaining MNCs are simultaneously funding the governments of those same countries.”
Silence fell.
“The money also leads to mercenaries and pirate networks across the globe,” he continued. “I’ve sent the full report to Secretary Sadayu this morning.”
Bheeshma looked at Sadayu, who gave a small nod.
“You also mentioned a clan,” Sadayu said, “You wanted to discuss it in everyone’s presence.”
Jeevan seemed to think for a moment.
“Yes… these MNCs were established around the early 2000s. While reviewing their origins, I came across references to a clan. An unheard-of name. It was called—”
He froze.
“Sadayu?” Bheeshma leaned forward.
Jeevan’s image remained still.
Then—
A thin line of blood trickled from Jeevan’s nose.
Then from his eyes.
Everyone in the room slowly rose, unease turning into alarm.
“Jeevan?” Sadayu called out.
The blood flow intensified.
“Agent Jeevan?” Bheeshma’s voice rose.
The next second—
Jeevan’s face exploded.
Blood splattered across the screen.
A collective gasp filled the room.
“Sadayu—send an operative to his location. Now!” Bheeshma ordered.
Sadayu’s body trembled. “Y-yes, sir.”
He rushed out of the room.
Silence returned—heavy, suffocating.
The remaining men slowly sat down, staring at the table, unable to process what they had just witnessed.
“Pradhan,” Bheeshma said at last, his voice low but firm, “inform Sadayu to appoint another agent. We need information on that group—immediately. They may erase all traces soon.”
Pradhan nodded and hurried out.
Bheeshma turned to Ravi.
“We will reconvene later, once this is contained.”
He stood and left without waiting for a response.
Ravi remained seated.
He flipped through his files.
Stopped.
Pulled out a single page.
His eyes fixed on a highlighted line:
Many of these unnatural activities bore the fingerprints of an unnamed clan—its presence recorded across Iran, the USSR, and several other regions between the 1970s and 1990s.
(To be continued)
Karun G Nath 
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