Somewhere in the churning, wet maze of South Mumbai, a rogue hedge fund manager named Anil Khanna was using a heritage restaurant, Brittania & Co. , as his cutout. Every Friday, Khanna ate the berry pulao at the same corner table, the ledger disguised as a tattered copy of the Mumbai Mirror under his arm. The ledger contained the names of every politician, port authority officer, and D-gang lieutenant on his payroll.
"Then it's not worth eating," XXX replied, completing the code. xxx mumbai
For the first time in fifteen years, the man who had no name felt the prickle of fear. Mumbai had swallowed him whole once before, making him invisible. Now, under the relentless rain and the watchful eyes of a thousand unblinking windows in the high-rises above, the city was spitting him out. Somewhere in the churning, wet maze of South