Rovan did not answer immediately.

He looked around the department room, lowered the phone, and stood up with stiff movements. Two constables were arguing near the file shelf. A clerk was stamping papers. No one was watching him too closely, but that did not make him feel safer.

"One second," he said.

He walked out into the corridor and turned toward the side stairwell. Only when he reached the landing between two floors did he raise the phone again.

"I checked like you told me," Rovan said, keeping his voice low. "There is no international organization operating in the province. At least not in any record I can reach."

Adam listened without speaking.

That silence made Rovan more nervous than shouting would have.

"I am telling you what I found," he added quickly. "Nothing came up."

"You are taking me too lightly," Adam said.

Rovan swallowed.

"No, sir. That is not what I am doing."

"Then maybe I should make the investigation faster for you. You know the sister of the environmentalist, don’t you? She has already come to your department three times."

Sweat appeared on Rovan’s forehead.

The stairwell suddenly felt too narrow.

He remembered her face at once.

She had come with tired eyes and a stubborn voice that refused to break. At first the desk officers had sent her away. Later she had returned with someone from a small rights group. Rovan had avoided the front room that day, but he had seen her from the corridor.

If she received even one real clue, she would not stop.

"Please do not do that," he said. "Please. I was under pressure. I could not think properly."

"So there is something."

Rovan closed his eyes for a second.

There was no use pretending anymore.

"I found a few clues," he said. "The organizations you are talking about are not small. From what I could reach, at least two foreign groups have entered the country. I do not know if both are in this province yet, but they are active somewhere inside the country."

"And?"

"Sir, I already told you. I could not dig too deep. This is above my level."

Adam’s voice stayed calm.

"You are very cautious now. I should touch something closer. Your house, maybe. Or the woman you are about to marry."

Rovan’s anger rose with his fear, but the fear won.

The woman he was going to marry knew nothing. She knew he had money now, and she knew he had become busier, but she did not know where that money came from.

For one wild second, Rovan wanted to shout. Then he remembered the body in the forest, the photographs, the bank records, and the emails that had appeared in front of him.

He had no room to shout.

"No," he said at once. "Do not do that. I will do it. I will complete the investigation. Give me two or three days and I will bring something solid."

"One day."

Rovan went still.

"Sir..."

"Twenty-four hours," Adam said. "I do not want useless details. I want names, people they contacted, and anything that proves who they are touching."

Rovan held the railing with his free hand.

"I will try."

"You will do it."

"Yes."

Adam let the pause stay for a moment, then changed the subject.

"I also have another job for you. Your favorite kind."

Rovan did not like the sound of that.

"What job?"

"I sent information to your phone. A gang called Rust Gate Crew. Their leader is Maren Voss. I want him dead."

Rovan’s breath caught.

Adam continued before he could speak.

"Fake encounter, raid gone wrong, internal gang case, anything you can make fit. I do not care how you label it later. I only care that he is removed."

"Sir, this is not so simple. I cannot just..."

"Shut up."

The words cut through him.

Rovan stopped.

"I am not asking for your denial," Adam said. "You have done this kind of work before. Do it again."

Then the call ended.

Rovan remained in the stairwell with the phone in his hand.

For a while, he did not move.

He could kill a man. That was not the part that froze him. He had crossed that line already. The problem was movement. Men had to be placed. A reason had to be created. A superior might have to sign something, or at least look away at the right time. If he touched a gang leader without preparing the ground, the mess could fall back on him.

And now he had only twenty-four hours for the other investigation too.

He pressed his palm against his face.

The worst part was that Adam had chosen a gang leader, not some street-level man. If Maren Voss died badly, half the district would ask who moved first. If Rovan used too much force, the department would notice. If he used too little, the gang would survive and come looking.

He needed help, but asking for help meant explaining why he needed it.

That was where the trap tightened.

Somewhere else, Adam left the public phone and walked away without looking back.

He was still in disguise, and he did not go near any place connected to Wil, Rivan, or the company. He took a longer route and returned to his apartment.

His mind had already moved to another problem.

He had been using Copy and Paste more boldly with every day, but he still did not know the depth of it. Was it only simple copying, or could it store movement and force well enough to become a weapon that did not depend on one unstable spark?

Those questions had been sitting in the back of his mind for days, but the call with Rovan had pushed them forward. If every plan needed another person, then Adam would always be exposed somewhere. He needed at least one method that belonged only to him.

He locked the apartment door behind him.

Then he placed a few objects on the floor and prepared to test the power properly.