Closed Archive. Book 1 (4,5,6)

Chapter 4: "Witness from the Past"

The morning was gray and damp, typical for Moscow autumn. A light rain tapped unpleasantly against the window as Elena, Anna, and Andrei ate breakfast in the kitchen of the country house.

"Today we have two missions," said Elena, sipping her coffee. "Andrei will take the sample to the laboratory, while Anna and I will go search for German Severov."

"Severov?" Andrei asked. "I think I've heard that name somewhere."

"Very possible," Anna nodded. "German Nikolaevich Severov was one of the leading engineers in the space program during the 1960s. My father mentioned him several times in his notes. According to the documents, he was directly involved with the 'Zarya-7' project—responsible for communication and observation systems."

"And he's still alive?" Andrei asked in surprise.

"If the database is correct, yes," Elena replied. "He must be around 85 years old now. He lives in the village of Krasnaya Gorka, about 30 kilometers from here. According to the information I managed to obtain, after retiring in 1991, he has practically no contact with former colleagues and leads a reclusive lifestyle."

"This might be difficult," Anna remarked. "If he doesn't communicate with people, he's unlikely to want to talk with us."

"There are two factors in our favor," Elena placed a photograph on the table, found among Kornev's documents. It showed two middle-aged men in field conditions, against the background of some technical equipment. "First, judging by this photograph and the notes on the back, your father and Severov knew each other personally. And second, we have information that might interest the old engineer."

After breakfast, they split up: Andrei headed to Moscow with a metal container carefully packed in an ordinary sports bag, while Elena and Anna took Andrei's car and drove in the opposite direction, toward the village of Krasnaya Gorka.

"Are you sure we're not being followed?" asked Anna, nervously glancing around.

"I can't be absolutely certain," Elena answered honestly, "but I've taken precautions. Andrei's car won't attract attention, unlike my official one. And we've chosen a route through forest roads where surveillance would be very noticeable."

The village of Krasnaya Gorka turned out to be a typical dacha place: small houses mixed with newer cottages, narrow streets, and a low fence around the perimeter. At this time of year, with the cold weather setting in, many dachas were already empty, and the village seemed half-abandoned.

"Severov's address is Lesnaya Street, house 17," said Elena, checking the notes on her phone. "Should be somewhere around here."

They found the house at the very end of the street, almost at the edge of the forest. It was an old but sturdy wooden structure, covered with dark varnished wood, with a small front garden overgrown with withered grass. Light smoke curled from the chimney, indicating the owner's presence.

"Looks inhabited," Anna remarked as they approached the gate.

Elena pressed the old-fashioned doorbell button, but was met with silence. She tried again, with the same result.

"Maybe he can't hear?" Anna suggested. "At that age, hearing problems are common."

Elena decisively opened the gate and walked along the path to the front door. She knocked—loudly and insistently.

"German Nikolaevich!" she called. "German Nikolaevich Severov!"

Shuffling footsteps were heard behind the door, and finally an elderly voice: "Who's there? What do you want?"

"German Nikolaevich, we're from Valentin Kornev," Elena replied. "We really need to talk to you."

After a long pause, the sound of a bolt being moved, and the door opened as far as the chain would allow. In the gap appeared a wrinkled face with piercing blue eyes under bushy gray eyebrows.

"Kornev?" the old man asked suspiciously. "What does he want? Why didn't he come himself?"

Elena and Anna exchanged glances.

"German Nikolaevich," Anna said gently, stepping forward. "I'm Anna Korneva, Valentin Alekseevich's daughter. And this is police captain Elena Svetlova. My father... died two days ago."

The old man's eyes widened, and for a moment real fear flashed in them.

"Died? How?"

"The official version is a heart attack," Elena replied. "But there are reasons to believe that's not the case. German Nikolaevich, we really need to talk. It concerns the 'Zarya-7' project and Object X."

At these words, the old man flinched as if from an electric shock.

"Leave," he said sharply. "I don't know anything about any project."

He tried to close the door, but Elena managed to put her foot in the gap.

"German Nikolaevich, we understand your concerns. But if Valentin Alekseevich was killed because of information about 'Zarya-7,' then you might be in danger too. We're here to help."

The old man froze, and then unexpectedly asked: "How did you find my address?"

"From the pension fund database," Elena answered honestly. "I have official access as an investigator."

"And who else knows you're here?"

"Only my immediate superior, Colonel Gromov, and Elena's husband," said Anna. "We've been very careful."

Severov hesitated for several seconds, and then, as if making a decision, removed the chain and opened the door.

"Come in quickly. And move your car away from the house—park it around the corner, on the forest road."

Elena nodded and quickly went to reposition the car as the old man requested. When she returned, Anna was already inside. Severov closed the door behind Elena and carefully locked it with several locks.

Inside, the house was surprisingly modern: light walls, new furniture, a large TV on the wall, and most surprisingly, several monitors showing images from external surveillance cameras.

"Paranoia?" Elena asked, nodding toward the monitors.

"Caution," Severov replied curtly. "Please sit down."

They walked into a spacious living room-kitchen where cups and a teapot were already on the table.

"So Valentin is dead," Severov said, pouring tea. It wasn't a question, but a statement. "And you think it was murder?"

"We have reasons to think so," Elena confirmed. "First, he called me the day before his death, was very troubled, and spoke of threats. Second, we've already noticed surveillance after we began the investigation. And third, there are some strange circumstances in his death that our medical examiner is studying."

"I warned him," Severov sighed, sinking into an armchair. "Told him not to dig so deep. Some secrets are better left untouched."

"What secrets are we talking about?" asked Anna. "What's so special about the 'Zarya-7' project?"

The old man looked at her intently, then shifted his gaze to Elena.

"You've already found the documents, haven't you? Otherwise you wouldn't have come to me with specific names."

"Yes," Elena nodded. "We found documents in a safe at your home and in a bank deposit box. As well as a sample of material that, according to the records, was taken from 'Object X.'"

"A sample?" Severov leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. "Do you have it?"

"It's in a safe place," Elena answered evasively. "We want to understand what's happening before deciding what to do with this sample."

The old man leaned back in his chair and remained silent for a while, as if making an important decision.

"Alright," he finally said. "I'll tell you what I know. Not because I trust you, but because Valentin was my friend. And if he was really killed because of this... people should know the truth."

He took a sip of tea and began his story:

"The 'Zarya' project was a series of experimental space flights that weren't publicly announced. The goal was to test new surveillance and communication technologies. I worked as the chief engineer for communication systems and was responsible for receiving and transmitting data from orbit. Everything went normally until the seventh mission. 'Zarya-7' was launched on June 10, 1967, from the Baikonur Cosmodrome. There was one cosmonaut on board—Igor Velichko, an experienced pilot who had completed two successful flights before."

Severov paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

"The first six days of the flight went according to plan. Velichko performed standard experiments, tested the new long-range radio communication system we developed. And then... on June 16, around midnight Moscow time, I was receiving the regular communication session. Suddenly Velichko reported seeing a strange object not far from the ship."

"Object X?" asked Elena.

"We didn't call it that yet," Severov shook his head. "The first reaction was: it's probably an American spy satellite. The USSR and USA were in the midst of the space race, and we were constantly monitoring each other. But it quickly became clear that this was something else. The object emitted a strange glow and moved in a way that didn't correspond to any known spacecraft."

"How did it not correspond?" Anna clarified.

"It could sharply change direction and speed without visible inertia," Severov explained. "Stop instantly, hover in place, and then move again. This contradicted all known laws of physics. But the strangest thing began when the object approached Velichko's ship."

The old man fell silent again, breathing heavily. It was evident that the memories weren't easy for him.

"What happened then?" Elena asked carefully.

"Communication was interrupted for almost three hours," Severov answered. "When it was restored, Velichko was... changed. He spoke incoherently, inconsistently. He reported strange light penetrating the ship, voices in his head, visions. We thought he was hallucinating due to oxygen deprivation or psychological stress. But then we realized that something had actually happened."

"What exactly?" Anna leaned forward, completely captivated by the story.

"The object flew right up to the ship's window and, according to Velichko, began to 'communicate' with him. Not with words—with images, sensations that arose directly in his consciousness. He said he received some kind of 'message,' the meaning of which he couldn't fully understand. Something about Earth's future, about an impending danger, and that 'they would return.'"

"They?" Elena asked. "Who?"

"Velichko didn't know," Severov shook his head. "Or couldn't explain. He just kept repeating that 'they are watching us' and that 'they will return when the time comes.' Our leadership decided that the cosmonaut had gone mad and ordered the ship to return to Earth immediately."

"And they succeeded?"

"Yes," the old man nodded. "On June 18, 'Zarya-7' successfully landed in the designated area of Kazakhstan. But Velichko was... in a strange state. Physically—exhausted, but without visible damage. Mentally—on the verge of breakdown. He was immediately placed in a closed medical center for examination. And there they discovered unexplainable anomalies."

"What anomalies?" asked Elena.

"Elevated radiation levels in the body, changes in brain activity, new neural connections that couldn't have formed naturally," Severov listed. "And also a small metal fragment on his spacesuit, attached to the outer shell. That's the same sample that Valentin found."

"And what did they do with Velichko?" asked Anna.

"Officially, he died a month after returning from the effects of radiation poisoning," said Severov. "The body was cremated, the family was paid compensation and made to sign a non-disclosure agreement. The 'Zarya-7' mission never existed. All records were classified or destroyed. All project participants were forced to remain silent under threat of being charged with treason."

"And unofficially?" Elena looked intently at the old man.

Severov sighed heavily.

"Unofficially... Velichko didn't die. At least, not then. They kept him in a secret medical facility, studied him. I saw him last in 1970. He was alive, but... not quite himself. He continued to talk about the message, about the return of 'them,' about how humanity should prepare."

"Prepare for what?" asked Anna.

"He couldn't explain clearly," Severov shook his head. "He talked about some kind of test, about a choice that humanity must make. About how 'they' are evaluating us, our readiness for contact. All this sounded like the ravings of a madman, but... there were moments of clarity when he predicted events that later actually happened. For example, he predicted the Chernobyl nuclear disaster 16 years before it occurred. And the fall of the Berlin Wall."

Elena and Anna exchanged glances.

"And where is Velichko now?" asked Elena.

"I don't know," Severov answered honestly. "After the USSR collapsed, I lost access to information. But if he's alive, he would be about 90 years old now."

"And the sample?" asked Anna. "What can you tell us about it?"

"It was studied by the best scientists of that time," Severov replied. "And they couldn't determine its composition. It contained elements that aren't in the Mendeleev periodic table. Moreover, it demonstrated strange properties: it reacted to electromagnetic fields, changed color and temperature without visible cause, emitted weak radio waves of an unknown spectrum. Some researchers believed that the sample... wasn't from Earth."

"Do you believe that?" Elena asked directly.

Severov was silent for a long time, and then quietly said:

"I believe what I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. And I saw a changed person who received knowledge he couldn't have obtained anywhere on Earth. And a material that doesn't correspond to anything known to science. Draw your own conclusions."

"Why then did you discourage Kornev from investigating?" asked Elena.

"Because I knew how it might end for him," Severov answered grimly. "The 'Zarya-7' project isn't just classified—it's erased from history. Most participants died under strange circumstances within 15 years after the incident. I survived only because I kept my distance and never spoke about it. Until Valentin found me a year ago."

"How did he find you?" asked Anna.

"Through old archival documents," Severov explained. "He was a persistent researcher. He showed me photographs he found in some secret archives, named names. At first I denied everything, but he knew too much. So I told him part of the truth—hoped it would satisfy his curiosity. But he dug even deeper. And apparently uncovered something that cost him his life."

Elena thoughtfully shook her head.

"But who would care about this now? After more than half a century?"

"Those who continue the research," Severov replied. "You see, the sample isn't just a strange material. If it's really of non-Earth origin, it could become the basis for a technological breakthrough that would give an unimaginable advantage. Quantum computers, new energy sources, materials with unseen properties... Those who control this research will gain power that's hard to imagine."

"And you think such research continues?" asked Anna.

"I'm sure of it," Severov nodded. "The stakes are too high to just forget about it. The question is who exactly is conducting it and how far they've progressed."

"Can you name names?" asked Elena. "Who might be interested in keeping this secret today?"

Severov was silent again, considering the question.

"I think we should start with those who were on the original commission investigating the incident," he finally said. "Especially those whose relatives now hold high positions. For instance, Sergei Markov, the current Minister of Defense. His grandfather, KGB General Viktor Markov, was the chairman of that commission."

"We've already learned this from the documents," Elena nodded. "What else can you tell us?"

"There's something more," Severov rose from his chair and approached the bookshelf. Moving aside several books, he extracted a small metal box. "I kept this in case something happened to me. But now I think it will be more useful to you."

He opened the box and took out an old magnetic audio cassette and a small silver key.

"On the cassette is the original recording of the communications with Velichko during his contact with 'Object X.' I made a copy secretly, risking my life. And the key is for a special safe at the Space Research Institute, where I hid my personal notes about the project many years ago. There's information there that I don't dare speak aloud even now."

Elena carefully took the cassette and key.

"The Space Research Institute? Where Kornev worked?"

"Yes," Severov nodded. "Perhaps that's where he found the first clues. In the basement of the institute there's an old storage area, section 12B. There, in the wall, behind a panel marked 'Technical Maintenance,' is a safe. No one knows about it; I installed it myself in 1975 when I worked there as a consultant."

"Thank you," Elena said sincerely, putting the items in her bag. "This is very valuable information."

"Just keep in mind," Severov warned, "if you really want to get to the truth, you'll have to confront very influential people. People who will stop at nothing to keep their secrets."

"We understand the risk," Elena replied seriously. "But if Kornev was killed because of this, we must find out the truth."

"There's one more thing you should know," Severov lowered his voice. "The message that Velichko received... He said that 'they' would return after fifty years. And would look for the sample—as a kind of 'beacon,' signaling our readiness for contact."

"Fifty years from 1967..." Anna quickly calculated. "That's 2017. It's already passed."

"Yes," Severov nodded. "And that's exactly why interest in this story is particularly high now. If Velichko wasn't mistaken, and 'they' really were planning to return, then it's already happening. Or will happen soon."

Suddenly all the monitors in the room went dark simultaneously, then lit up again. On all of them was the same image: a black car, slowly driving past the house.

"They're here," Severov said quietly, turning pale. "They've found you."

Chapter 5: "Traces of Radiation"

"Where's the emergency exit?" Elena reacted instantly, rising from her seat.

"Through the basement," Severov was already moving toward an inconspicuous door in the corner of the kitchen. "I prepared it long ago, just in case."

Elena glanced at the monitor, trying to memorize the car's license plate, but it had been deliberately splashed with mud.

"You go first," she commanded, drawing her service pistol. "I'll cover."

Severov opened the door, behind which was a steep staircase leading down. Anna, grabbing her bag, followed the old man. Elena brought up the rear, periodically looking back and listening.

The basement turned out to be unexpectedly spacious and clean. One of the walls was sliding—behind it was revealed a narrow tunnel leading toward the forest.

"I converted a bomb shelter," Severov explained, noticing Elena's surprised look. "In the seventies, everyone here had them. Then people forgot, but I... I remembered."

The tunnel was lit by dim LED lamps and had concrete walls—clearly a modern construction.

"How far does it go?" asked Elena, bending down to avoid hitting her head on the low ceiling.

"About two hundred meters," Severov replied. "It exits into an old shed at the edge of the forest. From there, you can discreetly make your way to the road."

They moved quickly, as much as the old man's condition allowed. Elena walked last, occasionally stopping and listening to see if anyone was following them. But only their own footsteps and Severov's heavy breathing could be heard.

Finally, the tunnel ended with a small ladder leading to a hatch in the ceiling. Severov, grunting, climbed up and pushed it open. Inside the shed it was dark and dusty, but daylight filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls.

"Wait," Severov carefully approached the door and looked outside. "Clear. But we need to hurry. Where's your car?"

"Beyond the forest, on the old forest road," Elena replied. "Do you think they might have found it already?"

"Possibly," the old man nodded. "But we have the advantage—we know the area better. Go through the forest; I'll show you a shortcut. And stay away from the roads."

They left the shed and quickly moved deeper into the forest. Despite his age, Severov moved confidently, clearly knowing the way well. After a few minutes, they heard the sound of car engines from the direction of the village.

"They're searching," Severov said quietly. "But they won't come here—too obvious."

The forest was sparse, pine, with a soft carpet of fallen needles that muffled the sound of footsteps. They walked for almost half an hour until they finally emerged onto a small clearing, beyond which a dirt road was visible.

"Your car should be somewhere there," Severov pointed in a direction. "I won't go any further. I need to return by another route and check on the house."

"That's too dangerous," Elena objected. "Come with us."

"No," the old man said firmly. "If I disappear, it will only confirm their suspicions. I'll go back, say I was in the forest, gathering mushrooms. They won't be able to prove anything."

"But if they find out you spoke with us..." Anna began.

"They won't find out," Severov replied confidently. "I've been playing this game for too long. And I know how to act like a senile old man." He unexpectedly winked. "Besides, I've already given you the most important things."

Elena looked at him with doubt but realized that persuading the old engineer would be impossible.

"Promise to be careful," she said. "And keep your phone on. I'll call you every day, and if you don't answer, we'll come."

"Agreed," Severov nodded. "Now go. And remember—whatever you learn, be prepared that the truth may be more complex and frightening than you can imagine."

With these words, he turned and quickly disappeared among the trees. Elena and Anna headed toward the road.

The car was still where they had left it and, fortunately, appeared untouched. They quickly got inside, and Elena, without turning on the headlights, started driving.

"Do you think they'll find us?" Anna asked quietly, nervously fidgeting with her seatbelt.

"It's possible," Elena answered honestly. "But we have the advantage of time. And we'll change our route—not go directly to Moscow."

She turned onto a country road and drove in the direction opposite to the capital.

"Where are we going?" asked Anna.

"To Zvenigorod," Elena replied. "My old friend, a radiology expert, lives there. He can help us with the cassette that Severov gave us. And possibly tell us something about the unusual radioactive element found in your father's body."

"In my father's body?" Anna asked in surprise. "You didn't mention this before."

"I only received the information from Solovyev, our forensic expert, this morning," Elena explained. "He discovered traces of an unusual radioactive element in your father's tissues. Very weak radiation, safe for others, but clearly not of natural origin."

"Do you think it's connected to 'Object X'?" Anna looked both concerned and intrigued.

"Possibly," Elena nodded. "Especially considering what Severov told us about the elevated radiation levels in Velichko after his contact with the object. My friend Igor is a specialist in rare isotopes; he worked in the nuclear industry before retiring. If anyone can determine the nature of this radiation, it's him."

They drove for about an hour on country roads, avoiding main highways. Elena changed direction several times to ensure they weren't being followed. Finally, they entered a small cottage settlement on the outskirts of Zvenigorod.

Igor Dmitrievich Lebedev's house looked ordinary: a two-story brick cottage with a neat garden. But Elena knew that the old scientist had an impressive laboratory in the basement, where he continued his research even after retirement.

They parked at the gate, and Elena called her friend.

"Igor Dmitrievich? This is Elena Svetlova. I need your consultation. Urgently."

"Lenochka?" there was surprise in the elderly man's voice. "Has something happened?"

"Long story," she replied. "We're at your house. May we come in?"

"Of course, of course!" exclaimed Lebedev. "I'll open up right away."

The gate opened, and a tall, thin man of about seventy, with a neat gray beard and lively intelligent eyes behind round glasses, came out to meet them.

"Lenochka!" he embraced Elena. "It's been so long! And this lovely young lady is...?"

"Anna Korneva," Elena introduced her. "The daughter of a historian who recently died under suspicious circumstances. We're investigating his death and really need your help."

"Come into the house," Lebedev immediately became serious. "You'll tell me everything in detail."

Inside, the house was simply but tastefully furnished. Many bookshelves, comfortable furniture, and, unexpectedly, modern computer equipment on a desk by the window.

"Tea? Coffee?" offered the host.

"Better get straight to the point," Elena replied. "Time is precious."

She briefly outlined the events of the past few days, omitting some details but specifically noting the unusual radioactive element in Kornev's tissues and the story of contact with "Object X."

Lebedev listened attentively, not interrupting, occasionally adjusting his glasses or making brief notes in a notebook.

"Very interesting," he finally said when Elena finished. "And you say Solovyev found an unusual radioactive element? Do you have the analysis results?"

"Only preliminary ones," Elena took a folder from her bag and handed it to him. "Here's a copy of his report."

Lebedev quickly reviewed the papers, occasionally grunting and shaking his head.

"Yes, this is indeed unusual," he said. "Judging by the radiation spectrum, this is not a natural radioactive element. Moreover, I'm not sure it can be found in Mendeleev's periodic table."

"What does that mean?" asked Anna.

"It could be a transuranic element, artificially created," Lebedev explained. "Or..." he paused, "or indeed something of non-Earth origin. In any case, the radiation is very weak and specific. Similar to what was used in some experimental spacecraft in the 60s."

"In the 'Zarya' project?" Elena clarified.

"Possibly," Lebedev nodded. "I wasn't directly connected with the space program, but I heard about some secret developments. The use of exotic isotopes for life support and communication systems was common practice at that time. But this one..." he looked at the report again, "this emits in a very unusual spectrum."

"Could such radiation cause a heart attack?" Elena asked directly.

Lebedev pondered.

"In high doses—undoubtedly. But judging by these indicators, the level is too low. Although..." he scratched his beard, "if the exposure was prolonged, and the material accumulated in the body... theoretically possible. Especially if the person had predispositions to cardiovascular diseases."

"Father had no heart problems," Anna said firmly. "He had regular check-ups."

"Then this looks even more suspicious," Lebedev nodded. "I would like to conduct my own tests. Do you have tissue samples?"

"No," Elena shook her head. "But there might be something else." She took from her bag the magnetic cassette that Severov had given them. "Here's a recording of communications with cosmonaut Velichko during his contact with 'Object X.' Can you listen to it?"

"Magnetic tape?" Lebedev took the cassette with visible interest. "How archaic! Fortunately, I still have a working cassette player. One moment."

He went to the next room and returned with a worn cassette player, which he placed on the table.

"Let's see what's here," he said, inserting the cassette and pressing the play button.

At first, there were only interference and hissing, then a broken male voice came through:

"...Center, this is 'Zarya-7'. Confirming visual contact with the object. Distance approximately two kilometers and decreasing. The object has a... strange shape, doesn't resemble any known spacecraft. Emitting a bluish glow."

The voice of the dispatcher, distorted by interference: "'Zarya-7', take photographs of the object. Don't take any actions. Repeat—no actions."

Again the cosmonaut's voice, now more tense: "The object is changing trajectory. It's... it's approaching the ship! The speed of trajectory change is impossible for a normal... Oh God! It's right by the window!"

Strong interference, then the cosmonaut's voice, but different now—as if the person was in a trance: "The glow is penetrating inside the ship. I... I hear... voices in my head. They're saying... saying about..."

The recording was interrupted for several seconds, then the voice appeared again, but barely distinguishable due to strong interference: "...warning... danger... fifty years... coordinates... they will return..."

And again interference, this time prolonged. When the cosmonaut's voice returned, it sounded more normal, but very tired: "Center, this is 'Zarya-7'. The object has moved away. I... I don't quite understand what happened. But they... they transmitted a message to me. Information. I must tell..."

The recording ended there.

Silence reigned in the room. Elena, Anna, and Lebedev exchanged glances.

"What do you think about this?" Elena finally asked.

"If it's a forgery, it's a very high-quality one," Lebedev said slowly. "Recordings of this age have characteristic distortions and degradation of the magnetic layer that are difficult to imitate. I would say it's authentic."

"And the content?" asked Anna. "How do you evaluate what the cosmonaut said?"

"Hard to say," Lebedev answered thoughtfully. "He could have been hallucinating due to oxygen deprivation or psychological stress. Such things happened to cosmonauts. On the other hand..." he adjusted his glasses, "in the history of space exploration, there are known cases of unexplained observations. Many cosmonauts reported strange objects they saw in orbit. But official science always found rational explanations: space debris, optical illusions, psychological effects."

"And you?" asked Elena. "What do you think?"

Lebedev was silent for a long time, and then replied: "I'm a scientist. And as a scientist, I must say that without objective evidence, one can't draw conclusions about the extraterrestrial origin of this object. But..." he paused, "I'm also a person who has worked long enough in classified projects to know: the Universe has far more secrets than we can imagine. And some of them, perhaps, are better left untouched."

Elena looked at her watch: "We need to move on. Andrei should have taken the sample to the laboratory, and I want to know the results of the analysis."

"Sample?" Lebedev asked with interest. "The one from 'Object X'?"

"Yes," Elena nodded. "My husband took it to the materials science laboratory, to his colleague."

"Be careful with that sample," Lebedev warned. "If it really has the properties you mentioned, and can emit in an unusual spectrum... we don't know what effect it might have on a person with prolonged contact."

"Do you think the sample is somehow connected to my father's death?" asked Anna.

"Possibly," Lebedev nodded. "If your father worked with it for a long time or stored it without proper protection, theoretically, it could have affected his health. But to confirm or refute this theory, additional research is needed."

They thanked the scientist and prepared to leave. At the door, Lebedev stopped Elena.

"Listen, Lena," he said seriously. "I've known you for a long time, since you used to run over to visit us with your father. You've always been a stubborn and brave girl. But this case..." he shook his head, "it might be more dangerous than you think. If what this cosmonaut said is true, if 'they' really were supposed to return after fifty years... it has already happened or is happening now. And someone very influential doesn't want anyone to know about it."

"I understand the risk," Elena replied. "But if Kornev was killed because of this, I must find those responsible."

"Just be careful," Lebedev squeezed her hand. "And keep me informed. I can be useful."

They left the house and headed to the car. The sky was overcast with clouds, and a light rain began to fall.

"Where to now?" asked Anna as they got into the car.

"To Moscow," Elena replied, starting the engine. "We need to meet with Andrei and find out what the sample analysis showed. And also..." she paused, "we need to check that safe at the Space Research Institute that Severov mentioned. There might be answers to our questions there."

On the way, Elena called Gromov and briefly told him about the meeting with Severov and the recording they had listened to.

"Interesting," said the colonel. "I've learned something too. Tomorrow I'm going to St. Petersburg, to Colonel Zotov. He's the only remaining living member of the commission that investigated the 'Zarya-7' incident."

"Be careful," Elena warned. "They've already followed us. They might be following you too."

"Don't worry," Gromov replied confidently. "I'm an old wolf, not so easy to track down. See you the day after tomorrow; I'll tell you what I managed to find out."

It was evening when they finally entered Moscow. Elena decided not to risk going to her home or to the dacha—too obvious places where they might be expected. Instead, she headed to a small apartment in a residential area, which she rented for covert meetings during complex investigations.

"Andrei should already be there," she told Anna. "I warned him by phone."

Her husband was indeed waiting for them in the apartment, and judging by his excited appearance, he had news.

"You won't believe what we found," he said as soon as they entered. "Mikhail is simply in shock! He's never seen anything like it!"

"What exactly?" asked Elena, taking off her jacket.

"This sample..." Andrei shook his head, "it doesn't correspond to any known material on Earth. Mikhail conducted spectral analysis and found elements that don't exist in the periodic table. Moreover, the material exhibits strange properties: changes color under different lighting, reacts to electromagnetic fields, and, most surprisingly, emits weak radio waves in a range not used by any Earth technology."

"This confirms Severov's words," Elena nodded. "What else did you learn?"

"Mikhail says that if he had to make a conclusion about the origin of this material, he would say it's... not from Earth," Andrei appeared both excited and embarrassed. "I understand how this sounds, but..."

"Actually, it's consistent with everything we've learned today," said Elena and briefly recounted their meeting with Severov and the story about Velichko's contact with "Object X."

Andrei listened without interrupting, and as the story progressed, his eyes widened more and more.

"Incredible," he finally said. "If all this is true... it could be the most important discovery in human history."

"Or the most dangerous secret," added Anna.

Elena took from her bag the key that Severov had given them.

"Tomorrow we'll check what's hidden in that safe at the Space Research Institute. There might be answers to our questions."

"I can help," said Andrei. "I have access to the institute as a guest lecturer."

"Excellent," Elena nodded. "But first I need to stop by the police station and talk with Solovyev. I want to know the details about the radioactive element he found in Kornev's body."

They decided that Andrei and Anna would stay in the apartment while Elena would go to the station alone—it was safer that way. If anyone was being followed, it was most likely her.

"Be careful," Elena said, already standing at the door. "Keep your phones on and don't open the door to anyone."

"But how will we let you in?" asked Andrei.

"I have a key," Elena smiled. "And a special knock: three short, two long."

She left the apartment and went down the stairs, avoiding the elevator—too easy a trap. Outside it was already dark, and a light rain was falling. Elena carefully looked around before heading to her car but didn't notice anything suspicious.

At the police station it was quiet—most of the staff had already gone home. Only in the laboratory was there still light, and Elena found Solovyev there, bent over a microscope.

"Ah, Elena Viktorovna!" he looked up. "I was just about to call you. I have news on the Kornev case."

"Anything interesting?" asked Elena, sitting down beside him.

"More than interesting," Solovyev nodded. "I conducted additional tests on the radioactive element found in Kornev's tissues. And discovered something strange."

He showed her printouts of the spectral analysis.

"Here are radiation peaks that don't correspond to any known isotope. Moreover, this element isn't just present in the tissues—it actively interacts with the cells, changing their structure."

"What does that mean?" Elena frowned.

"I can't say for certain," Solovyev shrugged. "But it looks as if this element purposefully modified Kornev's DNA. And the process seems to have accelerated shortly before his death."

"Accelerated?" Elena asked. "How is that possible?"

"Theoretically, if the element was activated by some external influence..." Solovyev said thoughtfully. "For example, a certain type of radiation or electromagnetic field. But this is already in the realm of science fiction."

Elena remembered Severov's words about how "they" were supposed to return after fifty years and use the sample as a kind of "beacon."

"What if it's not fiction?" she said quietly. "What if this element was indeed activated deliberately?"

"You mean... murder?" Solovyev raised his eyebrows. "Using an exotic radioactive element? Technically possible, but it would require knowledge and technology accessible to a very narrow circle of specialists."

"Or to those who have access to materials of extraterrestrial origin," Elena hesitated, and then decided to share the information: "Georgy Pavlovich, I have reason to believe that Kornev was researching classified materials about the Soviet space program of 1967. A program during which contact with... something unusual might have occurred."

Solovyev looked at her with disbelief: "You're talking about..."

"I don't know exactly what yet," Elena shook her head. "But all the evidence points to Kornev discovering proof of contact with something that official science chose to hide. And this 'something' might have left a trace in the form of an unusual radioactive element."

"Fantastic, but..." the expert thoughtfully tapped his finger on the table. "I admit, faced with these analysis results, I myself began to think of non-standard explanations. This isotope... it's not just unusual, it's theoretically impossible according to our understanding of nuclear physics."

"There's something else," Elena placed a flash drive on the table. "Here's a digitized audio recording from 'Zarya-7,' the ship on which the alleged contact occurred. I'd like you to analyze this recording—make sure it's authentic, not a forgery."

"Of course," Solovyev nodded. "I have special equipment for analyzing audio files. But, Elena Viktorovna..." he lowered his voice, "if all this is true, you realize you're touching on matters of national security? This is no longer a simple murder investigation."

"I understand," Elena replied seriously. "But if Kornev was killed to conceal this information, I must find those responsible. No matter how high up they are."

When Elena left the station, it was completely dark. The rain had intensified, and she raised the collar of her jacket as she headed to her car. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dark figure slipping between parked cars and instinctively placed her hand on her holster.

But it turned out to be just a stray cat, which with a dissatisfied meow jumped into the light and disappeared into an alley. Elena exhaled—her nerves were on edge.

She got into the car and called Andrei: "I'll be there soon. Is everything alright with you?"

"Yes," her husband replied. "Anna is resting, and I'm studying the documents you found. There's a lot of interesting material. Especially in the reports about Velichko's medical examination after his return."

"What specifically?" asked Elena, starting the car.

"Changes in brain activity. The appearance of new neural connections that can't be explained by natural processes. And something else strange—periodic flashes of telepathic activity."

"Telepathic?" Elena asked. "You mean he could read minds?"

"Not exactly," Andrei replied. "Rather, he periodically showed the ability to receive information that he couldn't possibly know. For example, he predicted a power station accident two hours before it happened. Or accurately described the contents of a sealed envelope brought by one of the doctors. This matches what Severov told us."

"Indeed strange," Elena agreed. "I'm coming to you; we'll discuss everything in person."

Hanging up, she drove off. Despite the late hour, Moscow's streets were congested, and the trip took longer than she had calculated. When Elena finally parked near the building where the safe house was located, it was almost eleven in the evening.

Climbing the stairs, she felt a strange uneasiness—intuition, developed through years of service, suggested that something was wrong. Reaching the right floor, Elena slowed her pace and listened.

Silence. Not a sound from the apartment where Andrei and Anna should have been. This could mean nothing—perhaps they were just resting or speaking quietly. But something made her alert.

Elena drew her gun and silently approached the door. She listened again—still quiet. Then carefully inserted the key and slowly turned it, trying not to make noise.

The door opened slightly, and Elena saw that the apartment was dark. She cautiously slipped inside, keeping her weapon ready.

"Andrei?" she called quietly. "Anna?"

No response. Elena turned on the flashlight on her phone and illuminated the hallway. Everything looked normal, but the silence was oppressive. She slowly moved into the living room.

And then her heart skipped a beat—in the dim flashlight she saw signs of a struggle. An overturned chair, scattered papers, a knocked-over lamp. And on the floor—a dark stain that looked like blood.

"Andrei!" she called more loudly, turning on the main light. "Anna!"

The stain indeed turned out to be blood, but not much—more like a cut than a serious wound. Elena quickly checked the other rooms—no one. Neither Andrei nor Anna. Just scattered belongings and clear signs of forceful intrusion.

She returned to the living room and noticed a piece of paper on the table, weighted down by a mug. It was a note, printed on a computer:

"You know too much. They are safe as long as you follow our conditions. Wait for instructions. No police."

Elena felt everything inside contract with horror and rage. Andrei and Anna had been kidnapped. All because of this cursed investigation. Because of secrets from fifty years ago that someone desperately tried to preserve.

She dialed her husband's number—the phone was turned off or out of network range. The same with Anna's number.

Her first impulse was to call Gromov, raise the alarm, mobilize all police resources. But the note warned: no police. If the kidnappers were indeed connected with influential structures, an official investigation could only harm the hostages.

Elena sat down on the sofa, trying to collect her thoughts. Panic wouldn't help. She needed to act coolly and methodically.

The first question: who could have known about this apartment? A very limited circle of people. Herself, Andrei, possibly Gromov, though she wasn't sure she had ever mentioned the specific address to him. Had someone been following them? Or...

A sudden thought struck her—a traitor. Someone from within had leaked the information. Severov mentioned that Gromov's father had participated in the "Zarya-7" project. Could the colonel himself be involved? No, that was too far-fetched. Gromov had always been on her side, always supported her even in the most difficult investigations.

Elena began systematically searching the apartment for clues. In the bedroom, she found Andrei's phone—it was lying under the bed, as if it had been thrown aside in a struggle. The phone was unlocked, and on the screen was an open document—part of a report on Velichko's medical examination. Andrei had evidently been studying it when the attack occurred.

Scrolling through the document, Elena saw a highlighted paragraph:

"The subject demonstrates signs of altered consciousness after contact with Object X. Periodically falls into a trance, during which he speaks of 'return,' 'signal,' and 'coordinates.' On July 16, 1967, during one of these trances, the subject uttered a sequence of numbers which, when decoded, turned out to be coordinates of a point in Siberia, Lake Baikal region. An expedition sent to these coordinates discovered an anomalous zone with elevated radiation levels and strange magnetic anomalies. Further research classified by order of the commission."

Lake Baikal... Elena pondered. This could be an important clue. If "they" were really supposed to return after fifty years, and if the sample indeed served as a kind of "beacon"... could they have returned to the same place?

Suddenly Andrei's phone vibrated—an incoming message from an unknown number:

"North shore of Baikal. Cape Rytiy. 48 hours. Bring the sample. Only you. No one else. Or they die."

Elena felt her heart racing madly. Did the kidnappers know what she had just been thinking about? Or was it just a coincidence?

In any case, she had no choice. The sample was with Andrei's colleague, Mikhail, in the university laboratory. She needed to retrieve it and head to Baikal. Alone, without support, without preparation.

It was clearly a trap. But she saw no other way to save Andrei and Anna.

Elena quickly gathered the necessary items, including documents from Kornev's safe and from the bank deposit box. Then she called Solovyev:

"Georgy Pavlovich, I need your help. And not a word to anyone, especially at the station."

"What happened?" the expert asked anxiously.

"Andrei and Anna have been kidnapped," Elena replied briefly. "I have 48 hours to get to Baikal with the sample. I need information about the area—Cape Rytiy on the northern shore. And also..." she hesitated. "I need a weapon that's not registered in my name."

"Elena Viktorovna," Solovyev's voice sounded shocked, "this is a serious violation..."

"I know," she interrupted. "But the lives of two people are at stake. And possibly, something more. I'm not asking you to break the law, just... help me however you can."

After a pause, Solovyev replied: "Alright. Come to my home. I'll gather all the information about the area. And maybe..." he hesitated again, "maybe I can help with your other request as well."

Elena thanked him and ended the call. Then she once more searched the apartment for any clues that might help identify the kidnappers but found nothing substantial.

As she was leaving, she cast a final glance at the bloodstain on the floor. Whose was it—Andrei's or Anna's? Or possibly one of the attackers? It remained a mystery. Like much else in this strange, complicated case, which had begun as an investigation into an unusual death and had turned into a chase after a secret that could change humanity's understanding of its place in the Universe.

Elena closed the door and stepped out into the night, determined to find and save the people close to her. And possibly uncover a secret that had been hidden for more than half a century.

Chapter 6: "Forbidden Archive"

Solovyev's call came just as Elena was getting into her car.

"Elena Viktorovna, the blood analysis from the apartment is ready," the expert's voice sounded tense. "It belongs neither to Andrei nor to Anna Korneva."

"So one of the kidnappers was injured," Elena felt a faint glimmer of hope. "That's good news."

"There's something else," Solovyev continued. "I checked the DNA against the database, and there's a match with a classified section. A military one."

"Were you able to get a name?"

"No, access is blocked. It requires authorization of a very high level. But the fact itself... this confirms the version of serious structures being involved."

"Thank you, Georgy Pavlovich. This is important information."

Elena disconnected the phone and for a moment closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Military, ministry, kidnapping... everything pointed to a large-scale operation directed against her and her investigation. But before heading to Baikal, she needed to learn more. And the key to this, possibly, was in the sealed safe at the Space Research Institute.

Despite the early hour, Moscow's streets were already bustling. Elena drove carefully, constantly checking for surveillance. The morning sun barely penetrated through heavy clouds, promising a rainy day.

The Space Research Institute was located in a massive Soviet-era building on the outskirts of Moscow. Elena parked a block away and observed the entrance for some time. Ordinary employees hurrying to work, no suspicious individuals or cars nearby.

At the entrance, she showed her credentials and explained to the guard that she was conducting an investigation related to Professor Kornev's death. The mention of the deceased historian's name caused a noticeable reaction—the guard tensed and called someone before allowing her inside.

"You'll be escorted to the head of the archive department," he said, nodding toward a thin middle-aged man who was already hurrying toward them across the spacious lobby.

"Mikhail Rivkin, head of archives," the man introduced himself, extending his hand. The handshake was damp and uncertain. "How can I help the police?"

"Captain Elena Svetlova," she showed her credentials. "I'm investigating the circumstances of Professor Kornev's death. I need access to the archival materials he was working with recently."

Rivkin noticeably tensed.

"Of course, of course... Although I must warn you that some materials are classified and require special clearance."

"I have the necessary authority," Elena calmly replied, taking out an official order signed by Gromov. "This concerns a murder investigation."

"Murder?" the archivist's eyes widened. "But officially..."

"The official version is being revised," Elena cut him off. "Please take me to the archive."

Rivkin led her through the long corridors of the institute to a basement room where the archive was located. Along the way, Elena noticed that the man was constantly wiping sweat from his forehead, despite the coolness in the building.

The archive turned out to be a large hall with rows of metal shelves extending into the distance. Dim lighting and the smell of old paper created an atmosphere of frozen time.

"Which materials specifically interest you?" asked Rivkin, nervously adjusting his glasses.

"Everything related to the 'Zarya-7' project, 1967," Elena answered directly, carefully observing the archivist's reaction.

The effect was instant—Rivkin turned pale, and his hands noticeably trembled.

"I... I'm not sure we have materials with that name," he mumbled, averting his gaze. "Need to check the catalog..."

"Please check," Elena nodded. "And I also need access to section 12B. I know Kornev was working there shortly before his death."

Now Rivkin looked truly frightened.

"How do you know about section 12B? That's... that's a restricted storage area. Even I don't have full access."

"From a reliable source," Elena replied. "And I have reason to believe that the information stored there is directly related to Professor Kornev's death."

Rivkin nervously shifted from foot to foot, clearly not knowing what to do.

"Listen," Elena softened her tone, "I understand your position. But this is a matter of life and death. Not just Kornev's. There are other people in danger right now."

Something in her voice, perhaps the genuine concern, made the archivist make a decision.

"Alright," he exhaled. "I'll show you section 12B. But I must warn you—some materials were removed two weeks ago."

"Removed by whom?" Elena quickly asked.

"A person from the ministry," Rivkin lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "He had special highest-level clearance. Markov was his name. Sergei Markov."

Elena felt goosebumps run down her spine. Markov—the surname of the Minister of Defense, whose grandfather had headed the commission investigating the 'Zarya-7' incident.

"What exactly did he take?"

"Most of the documents on the 'Zarya' project," Rivkin replied, leading her deeper into the labyrinth of shelves. "Original reports, medical records, photographs. He left only duplicate materials and supporting documents. Said there was a revision of national security archives being conducted."

They reached a heavy metal door with a code lock. Rivkin entered a combination, and the door opened with a quiet hiss.

Section 12B turned out to be a small windowless room, filled with old metal cabinets. In the center stood a table for working with documents, covered with a thick layer of dust.

"This is where materials of special secrecy were stored," Rivkin explained. "Mainly on classified space programs of the 60s and 70s. Things that didn't make it into the official history of space exploration."

Elena began methodically examining the cabinets. Many were empty or contained only scattered documents. On some shelves, there were only dusty rectangles—traces of recently removed folders.

"When exactly did Markov come?" she asked, continuing her inspection.

"Twelve days ago," Rivkin replied. "It was... unusual. Normally such requests go through official channels, with prior notification. But he appeared personally, with security. Demanded immediate access and complete secrecy about the contents of the section."

"And when was the last time Kornev worked here?"

"The day before Markov's visit," Rivkin nervously adjusted his glasses. "He spent almost the whole day here. I think... I'm almost certain that his visit and Markov's arrival are connected."

Elena nodded, continuing her inspection. In one of the cabinets, she noticed a small metal panel with the inscription "Technical Maintenance"—exactly what Severov had mentioned.

"Could you bring me the remaining materials on the 'Zarya' project?" she asked Rivkin. "And the visitor log for the section for the past year."

"Of course," the archivist nodded, clearly relieved at the opportunity to leave the tense atmosphere of the room. "I'll be right back."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Elena quickly approached the panel. It was screwed to the wall with four bolts, but one of them turned out to be just a prop—it easily unscrewed with fingers. When Elena removed it, the panel gave way slightly, revealing a small niche containing an old-style safe.

Elena took out the key that Severov had given her and inserted it into the keyhole. The key fit perfectly, and the safe door smoothly opened. Inside lay a thick folder in a worn leather binding and a small metal box.

Elena quickly checked the contents of the folder—it was a personal diary, judging by the handwriting, belonging to Severov. The entries began in 1967 and continued until the early 90s.

There was no time for detailed study, so Elena simply grabbed the folder and the box and put them in her bag. Then she closed the safe, returned the panel to its place, and just managed to move to the opposite wall when the door opened and Rivkin returned with several folders in his hands.

"Here's everything that's left on the 'Zarya' project," he said, placing the materials on the table. "Mostly administrative documents, equipment lists, protocols of communication system tests. Nothing about the substance of the missions themselves."

"And the visitor log?"

"Here," Rivkin handed her a thin notebook in a worn cover. "All the records for the past year. But I should say that some visits might not have been recorded... especially if people with special authority came."

Elena flipped through the log and indeed found numerous entries about Kornev's visits. Starting from last autumn, he had come to section 12B almost weekly. The last entry was dated the day before his death.

"What's this?" she pointed to a strange notation next to the last entry: "12B/SV-67."

Rivkin frowned: "Strange. That's not my notation. Perhaps Kornev wrote it himself. But what 'SV-67' means, I don't know."

Elena pondered. SV could be Severov's initials, and 67 could refer to 1967. Perhaps Kornev had found Severov's hidden cache and left an encrypted note about it.

She began reviewing the documents Rivkin had brought, but as he had said, they contained only technical information, not of particular interest to the investigation. However, in one of the folders, she discovered a list of 'Zarya' project staff with their roles and clearance levels. It included German Severov as the chief communications systems engineer. And also Alexander Gromov, her superior's father, in the position of "security service representative."

"Rivkin," Elena turned to the archivist, "have you been working at the institute long?"

"Almost twenty years," he replied. "I started as a junior staff member in the 90s."

"Then perhaps you've heard something about the 'Zarya' project from senior colleagues? Any rumors, unofficial stories?"

The archivist was visibly nervous, constantly glancing at the door as if afraid someone might be eavesdropping on their conversation.

"There were various rumors," he finally said quietly. "About secret experiments, unexplained phenomena in space. The old-timers, after a drink, sometimes remembered strange things. But specifically about 'Zarya-7'..." he shook his head. "They wouldn't even whisper about that. Too dangerous a topic."

"And do you know anything about a cosmonaut named Igor Velichko?"

Rivkin turned even paler: "How do you know that name? It... it doesn't exist in the official lists of cosmonauts."

"But you know it?" Elena insisted.

The archivist lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper: "When I first started working here, one of the old archivists, a very elderly man, once let something slip. He said there was a cosmonaut whose name was erased from history. Who saw something in space that he shouldn't have seen. He named the name—Igor Velichko. I thought then it was just an old man's tales. But then..." he swallowed, "then I found a photograph in an old archive. A group photo of the cosmonaut team from 1965. And among them was a man, labeled as I.V."

"And what happened to this photograph?"

"It was removed during a planned revision in 2002. Along with some other materials. They said they contained errors and inaccuracies, not suitable for storage."

Elena nodded thoughtfully. Everything pointed to a systematic destruction of traces of Velichko's existence and the 'Zarya-7' mission. But why? What did the cosmonaut discover in orbit that his name is still being concealed?

"I need to make copies of these documents," she said, pointing to the folders. "Is that possible?"

"We have a copying room next to the archive," Rivkin nodded. "But... it's against the rules. Documents shouldn't leave section 12B."

"This is an official investigation," Elena reminded him. "And people's lives are at stake."

After brief hesitation, the archivist agreed: "Alright. But quickly and without extra witnesses."

They left section 12B, carefully closing the door, and headed to the copying room. On the way, Elena noticed surveillance cameras in the corridors and mentally noted that her visit was likely already recorded by security. If Markov indeed controlled the situation, he would soon learn of her interest in the 'Zarya' project.

In a small room with copying equipment, Elena quickly made copies of all documents that might be relevant to the case. She was particularly interested in the staff list with their contact information—perhaps some of them were still alive and could tell more about the events of 1967.

"Thank you for your help," she said to Rivkin, finishing her work. "I greatly appreciate your assistance."

"You don't understand what you're getting into," the archivist suddenly said seriously. "These aren't just old secrets. People are still dying because of them."

"What do you mean?"

Rivkin lowered his voice: "Two archive employees who worked with documents on classified projects from the 60s died under strange circumstances in the last five years. Officially—accidents. But I knew them. They were healthy and careful."

"And aren't you afraid?" Elena asked directly.

"I am," he answered honestly. "But I just do my job. Don't ask questions, don't delve into classified materials without permission. That's why I'm still alive. But Kornev... he dug too deep."

"And for that, he was killed?"

"I don't know for certain," Rivkin nervously looked around. "But that man, Markov... when he came to take the documents, I heard him talking on the phone. Something about 'liquidating the leak' and 'controlling the situation.' I didn't think much of it then, but after Kornev's death..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Elena understood. Another confirmation that the historian's death was no accident. And that the people behind it occupied very high positions.

"Rivkin," Elena lowered her voice, "I can provide you with protection if you fear for your safety."

The archivist smiled bitterly: "From such people, there's no protection. They'll reach you anywhere. No, I'll just pretend I don't know anything. That's the best protection." He was silent, and then added: "But there's something else you should know. Kornev wasn't just researching documents here. He mentioned several times some special storage facility in the Moscow region. A military object where original materials on 'Zarya-7' might be kept. And..." he hesitated, "possibly, Velichko himself."

"Velichko?" Elena didn't hide her surprise. "But he must be over 90 now!"

"If he's alive at all," Rivkin nodded. "But Kornev was convinced that the cosmonaut was kept in a special medical facility for study. And that this practice might have continued even after the USSR's collapse."

"Do you know where this storage facility is?"

"No, Kornev didn't mention a specific location. Only that it's somewhere in the Moscow region, in a closed area. A military object with the designation 'IS-67'."

"IS-67"—possibly "Research Station, 1967," Elena thought. Another lead worth checking. But now her priority was saving Andrei and Anna. And for that, she needed to get to Baikal within 48 hours.

"Thank you for the information," she said, shaking the archivist's hand. "I'll be very careful with it."

"And you be careful," Rivkin replied. "Those who hide the truth about 'Zarya-7' will stop at nothing."

Leaving the institute, Elena immediately noticed a black car with tinted windows parked opposite the entrance. Behind the wheel sat a person in dark glasses, who was watching the doors too intently. The surveillance was no longer even hidden—they wanted her to know: she was being watched.

Elena decided not to return to her car—too risky. Instead, she quickly crossed the street and entered a metro station, losing herself in the crowd of morning passengers. Now her path led to the university where Andrei's colleague, Mikhail, worked. She needed to retrieve the sample of material from "Object X" and prepare for the trip to Baikal.

Time was running out, and the danger increased with each hour. But now Elena at least had Severov's diary and, possibly, other important documents in that metal box. They might contain answers to questions she was only beginning to formulate.

What really happened during the 'Zarya-7' mission? Who or what was the mysterious "Object X"? And why, more than half a century later, was someone willing to kill to keep this secret from being revealed?