The boat ride back to Mumbai was silent. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, but the city was under a heavy shroud of gray clouds.
They docked at a quiet fishing slip in Colaba and moved through the back alleys to Lower Parel. The old textile mills of Mumbai, remnants of the industrial era, rose like brick giants against the skyline.
"Lower Parel Mill Number Three," Rahul said, looking at a map on his phone. "It's owned by Malhotra Corp now. Nominally, it's empty. But Rhea's scan shows high electromagnetic activity inside."
"That's the first grid transmitter," Vikram said, checking his brass knuckles. "They're using the detention center as a cover to guard the node."
"How do we get in?" Rohan asked, his voice tight. "There are guards at every gate. They have scanners."
"We use the old water channels," Vikram said. "The mills used to pull water from the underground canals. Rahul, you stay on the perimeter and watch the police frequencies. Rohan, you're with me."
"I want to kill the bastards who took my father," Rohan muttered, his fists clenching.
"We get your father out first," Vikram said, placing a hand on Rohan's shoulder. "Keep your head cool. If you rush in, you'll get us both killed. Remember your training."
Rohan took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Let's go."
They slipped into the storm drain, disappearing into the dark tunnels beneath the wet streets.