I'm a Master in India

Anand has been released from prison, but he was severely tortured. The doctor said it would take at least three months of rest for his body's functions to return to normal.

His arm, in particular, suffered a severe fracture. Fortunately, it wasn't delayed too long, otherwise, it's hard to say if he'd be able to eat with his hands in the future.

Ron told him to rest assured and wait until he had fully recovered. Rajiv is temporarily in charge of the medicine business, and Luca has also stayed in Mumbai.

After leaving the hospital, Ron got back into the car and headed straight for the Bandra police station with a large entourage.

Since encountering assassins on the road two days ago, his traveling group has become increasingly large.

Not only were there vans in front and behind, but there were also taxis mixed in, making it impossible for outsiders to know who his people were.

Ron had said this wasn't over. The first thing he wanted to do after rescuing Anand wasn't to seek revenge on The Palace.

Instead, it was to deal with the assassins. The gang had truly angered him this time.

As a businessman, he was friendly to others. He never proactively caused trouble and certainly wouldn't touch the gang's gray areas.

Apart from cooperating with Merck, Ron is now doing entirely legitimate business.

If it weren't for the lack of dollar channels, he would have been the cleanest businessman in Mumbai long ago.

But it was useless; gangs never needed a reason to find trouble with people.

Apart from various illegal businesses, kidnapping and extortion were also major sources of their income.

Ron's ability to reach this point unharmed was key to his various connections and the tacit understanding between the legal and illegal worlds.

However, some gangs are now unable to sit still. They can't help but reach out, wanting to make a big deal.

Mumbai has countless gangs, and no more than three dare to reach out to him.

Ron has roughly guessed who it is, and now needs final confirmation.

Arriving at Ajay's office, he was, as usual, dealing with various shooting incidents.

As India's most developed city, Mumbai is not peaceful every day.

"Your friend has been found?" Ajay looked up from his desk.

"At Arthur Road Jail. It was done by the Haines Road police station."

"Haines Road?" Ajay frowned.

"The Palace," Ron softly uttered a word.

The Palace is on Haines Road, only a few hundred meters from the police station.

"Sorry, I couldn't be of much help." As a police officer, Ajay was unaware of what his colleagues there were doing.

"It's not your fault. That's not your jurisdiction, and you've done your best."

Haines Road is in South Mumbai, and Ajay's police station is in West Mumbai; the two are completely unrelated.

Especially after he was marginalized by Thackeray, his influence and power significantly decreased, and those colleagues might not give him face.

Furthermore, Indian police stations don't have computer systems; you can't just type in a prisoner's name and search for them directly.

All case files are recorded on paper, and some stubborn police officers don't even bother to register Dalit prisoners after arresting them.

In their eyes, the lives of these vermin aren't even worth writing down a couple of sentences.

Although Ajay took on Anand's missing person case, it was impossible to make progress in a short time.

Fortunately, the person was found, and one file can be closed from his mountain of case files.

"So what is it today?" he asked.

"Help me look up a person. Mumbai police stations should all have records."

"Who?"

"An assassin, possibly a repeat offender."

Ron took out a sketch, which he had specially commissioned someone to draw.

Many people around him that day saw the assassin, so by piecing together their descriptions, they basically restored the man's appearance.

"He looks somewhat familiar," Ajay frowned.

"Anil said this kind of assassin is definitely not new. He must have a criminal record at the police station."

"Wait for me," Ajay called a subordinate and gave a few instructions.

All police stations in Mumbai would receive files on assassins with more than two lives on their hands, and they would be placed on a special watch list.

Indeed, the subordinate was only gone for two minutes before returning to the office with a file.

Ajay opened it, looked at it briefly, and handed it to Ron.

"Muhsin, with seven and a half lives to his name."

"Mumbai police have never caught him even once?"

"There are five detention records," Ajay pointed them out to him.

"I don't understand," Ron frowned, "Can such a serious homicide offender be released after being imprisoned?"

"He was bailed out," Ajay's tone was somewhat helpless.

"Bailed out? An assassin can be bailed out?" Ron's eyes widened.

"Yes, just as you understand it. The police will call their Boss and ask how much he is willing to pay to keep his assassin safe."

"The Indian police station is the biggest gang."

"That's because he didn't fall into my hands," Ajay's voice turned cold.

"How many police officers like you are there in Mumbai?"

Ajay fell silent. He knew Ron was right; the reality was even more brutal.

Those police officers not only release murderers, but they also haggle over bail money with gang leaders.

If the price isn't agreed upon, the police torture the assassin, letting the gang Boss listen the whole time until the other party agrees.

"I'll make a copy of this file," Ron shook the document in his hand.

"I advise you not to be so impulsive. You know whose man he is," Ajay advised.

"Of course, 'Muhsin' is a typical herder name, the Dawood Gang."

"They are very influential in Mumbai," Ajay reminded him.

"I heard Dawood has fled to Baba Sheep?"

"His subordinates are still here, and his left and right deputies have also remained in Dubai, making it convenient to remotely command operations here in Mumbai."

"No matter how harshly you deal with them, they can't do anything to you."

"Because I'm a police officer. Also, didn't you see the police car parked outside my house? I don't even dare to take my kids to the zoo."

"I know, relax, I'm just giving him a warning," Ron signaled him to calm down.

"In any case, if you must take action, send him to me," Ajay sighed.

"Okay," Ron nodded.

He felt Ajay's goodwill. It was only right for the police to arrest murderers, and any accidental injuries during the process were also reasonable.

Back in the car, Ron carefully flipped through the file.

The person in the photo was that assassin, no doubt, he remembered that face.

Muhsin, born in the Malpudan Slum, a place where herders from Bihar gather.

Young herders throughout the community are involved in gangs; it's like this in every household. They have no money and like to hang out in bars, so gangs can easily command them with a wave.

The lower ranks of the Dawood Gang are all such young people.

What the Shiv Sena said was right: in the Slums, herders are indeed more likely to commit crimes.

Ron didn't care about the Dawood Gang or herders. Whoever wanted to mess with him, he would mess with them first.

There is only the saying of being a thief for a thousand days, not guarding against a thief for a thousand days.

He was willing to put off the matter of The Palace to deal with the assassin first.

This was a ticking time bomb; if it wasn't defused, doing anything else would be restricted.

Muhsin was plain-looking, making it hard for him to attract girls. Because he was short, he was often bullied by his peers when he was young.

Even nearby gangs were unwilling to recruit him when he grew up, so he could only smuggle gold near Andheri.

After his wallet fattened up, he would eagerly splurge at bars.

Later, when the Indian Government fully liberalized the gold trade, gold smuggling was impacted, and Muhsin lost his source of income.

He went all out and simply robbed a bank in Gujarat, and was even caught by the police.

Many media outlets reported on this at the time, and his photo was posted everywhere.

That was one of the rare highlights of Muhsin's life, and he often bragged about it proudly.

After being caught, he paid a bail of fifteen thousand rupees to see the light of day again, but the money robbed from the bank was all taken by the police.

During the days waiting for trial, a fellow inmate gave Muhsin a phone number and suggested he talk to Shakir.

Shakir is the second-in-command of the Dawood Gang. He appreciated Muhsin's boldness and naturally brought him under his wing.

Muhsin's first operation was three years ago, targeting a liquor dealer. His competitor had commissioned the job.

Muhsin stabbed him fourteen times, but the man survived. It was attempted murder, so it was only counted as half a life.

Later, he committed more and more murders, but only seven were officially filed.

The Dawood Gang consists of many branches, and members of each branch are largely unaware of the tasks of others. Instructions are issued from Dubai, and they only carry them out.

Muhsin's weekly expenses were around ten thousand rupees, a small portion for calls, five thousand for marijuana, and the rest sent to his family.

When he was in urgent need of money, he would "take orders" to kill, for twenty thousand rupees per life, half paid beforehand and the other half afterward.

After several consecutive years, he was already a veteran assassin in the gang and no longer needed to be on the front lines.

There are only two outcomes for gang assassins: one dies violently on the street, and the other transitions to a behind-the-scenes role.

Muhsin was on the verge of retiring. His current daily work mainly involved extortion and kidnapping.

The Dawood Gang has clear divisions of labor; real estate and the entertainment industry each have dedicated personnel, as do murder, kidnapping, and extortion.

To many people, the Dawood Gang is Mumbai's de facto tax bureau.

Builders, directors, and investors all pay taxes to Shakir.

If a command comes from Dubai, no matter who pleads, even a Member of Parliament is useless; you must obediently pay the money.

Muhsin recently took on a big job, kidnapping a certain important figure, with a reward of two lakh. The order came directly from Dubai.

He needed this money because he was getting married, and his fiancée was his cousin.

He had to raise enough money for the wedding expenses. Getting married in India inevitably involves a big celebration, and gangs are no exception.

Muhsin planned to completely retire after completing this job. Not transitioning to behind the scenes, but leaving the assassin profession altogether.

He planned to find a job at a factory and live an honest life. He heard a place called Sur Electrical Appliances was good.

He just didn't know if they hired herders; he hated those crazy Shiv Sena people.

Because this wasn't a murder, Muhsin didn't do as much research as usual.

He just inquired about the target's schedule, then followed along, scouting locations, preparing to find the right moment to kidnap the person.

However, the target was very vigilant, and his security team made it impossible to act.

Muhsin risked approaching once on the street and was immediately detected.

That taxi suddenly crashed into them, disrupting all their plans.

If it weren't for his partner's help, it's questionable whether he could have escaped.

Muhsin felt ruthless inside. Kidnapping was too difficult; next time, it would be better to just use a gun.

Two days later, the commotion had passed. He was preparing to discuss the next plan with his partner.

It would be best to have Dubai change the order, not kidnapping, but murder, which would be much simpler.

Muhsin left his residence in Malpudan; he was going to a certain poker club on Grant Road.

That was their agreed meeting place. The Boss was one of their own, a former retired member of the gang.

But just after leaving the house, Muhsin suddenly stopped.