Pistachio stared at the screen of his phone. Malik's breath was gasping through a gas mask, which was only half put on. The right hand of Pistachio was holding the "Garden" folder, a collection of the most rotten parts of the country; the left was holding the life of his partner.
Saraswati moved nearer; her smell was a combination of old parchment and dried roses. "Justice always pays with a sacrifice, Pistachio. Think over: one good man you love, or thousands of scoundrels who have brought misery to millions of lives? "
Pistachio neither destroyed the folder by fire nor gave it to them. He took the third way - he forcibly uploaded one, a random file, to a public server. The internal network of the police department gave up instantaneously. During the digital turmoil that ensued, he found Malik's location signal - not at the crematorium, but at a secret bunker under the National Monument (Monas).