CLOSED ARCHIVE (Book 1)

 We are beginning the daily publication of a fantastic detective novel in three books, ‘The Closed Archive.’

"Closed Archive" follows police captain Elena Svetlova as she investigates the suspicious death of historian Valentin Kornev, who claimed to have discovered classified documents about a secret Soviet space mission from 1967. When Kornev's daughter Anna reveals a hidden safe containing evidence of the mysterious "Zarya-7" mission and an encounter with an unidentified object in space, Elena finds herself drawn into a dangerous web of government secrets spanning decades.

This riveting thriller combines elements of historical fiction, conspiracy, and science fiction as it explores what happens when a cosmonaut's encounter with something unexplainable in the depths of space becomes a matter of national security—both in 1967 and today. With shadowy forces tracking their every move, Elena and her allies race to uncover the truth about an artifact that should not exist and the powerful people determined to keep it hidden.

Perfect for readers who enjoy Cold War mysteries, government conspiracies, and stories where the past collides dramatically with the present.

Chapter 1: "The Strange Call"

The phone rang at half past eleven at night, just as Elena Svetlova was about to fall asleep. Andrei, her husband, was quietly snoring beside her, his face buried in the pillow, not stirring at the sound of the mobile's trill.

"Svetlova," she answered hoarsely, trying to speak quietly.

"Captain Svetlova? Elena Viktorovna?" The voice on the other end sounded tense, with a slight tremor betraying agitation. "Sorry for the late call. This is Valentin Kornev, a historian from the Institute of Space Research."

Elena rubbed her eyes and turned on the night lamp. The name meant nothing to her.

"To what do I owe this late-night call, Valentin... uh..."

"Alekseevich," the voice quickly supplied. "We haven't met personally, but I desperately need to see you. Tomorrow, as early as possible. It's truly important."

Heavy breathing could be heard through the receiver, as if the man had just been running or climbing stairs.

"Has something happened?" Elena's professional vigilance immediately awakened. "If you're in danger, it would be better to contact the emergency services..."

"No, no," he interrupted. "That is... not in that sense. I've just discovered documents. Documents that could change history, you understand? And I don't know who else I can trust."

Elena mentally sighed. Another conspiracy theorist? Or a madman? But something in his voice prevented her from simply dismissing him.

"Why are you calling me specifically?"

"You handled the Klimov case last year. The Glass Quarter, remember?" Genuine anxiety permeated his voice. "I followed the proceedings. You weren't afraid to go against the system. I need exactly that kind of person."

Elena tensed. The Klimov case had indeed caused quite a stir when she exposed a corruption scheme involving a high-ranking official who had stolen valuable historical documents. But almost six months had passed since then, passions had settled, and she didn't want to stir up the past.

"Fine," she relented. "Let's meet tomorrow at two o'clock at headquarters."

"No!" Kornev almost shouted. "Just not in an official place. Please. Perhaps at the 'Academia' café near the institute? At ten in the morning?"

Elena glanced at her sleeping husband. Tomorrow was Saturday, their only chance for a peaceful breakfast together all week.

"Eleven," she said firmly. "And keep in mind, I'll only have half an hour."

"Thank you!" Kornev exhaled with obvious relief. "I'll be in the corner by the window. A gray-haired man in a brown tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. And... Captain Svetlova?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell anyone about our meeting. It's truly..." he lowered his voice to a whisper, "a matter of life and death."

The connection broke, and Elena thoughtfully looked at her phone. A classic line from a cheap detective novel—"a matter of life and death." But why then did an unpleasant chill run down her spine?

"Who called?" Andrei mumbled sleepily, turning onto his other side.

"No one," Elena turned off the night lamp and made herself comfortable. "Just another city madman. Go back to sleep."

Elena woke up in the morning with a sense of unease that not even a cup of strong coffee could dispel. Andrei, noticing her state, suggested postponing their museum visit and spending the day at home.

"No, everything's fine," she smiled. "I just need to stop by work to sign a couple of papers. We'll meet directly at the entrance to the Pushkin Museum at twelve thirty, okay?"

The "Academia" café was located in an old building across from the Institute of Space Research. Despite it being Saturday, it was full of people—scientists, graduate students, and undergraduates came here to discuss their projects in an informal setting.

Elena immediately noticed the gray-haired man in a brown jacket sitting in the corner. He was nervously tapping his fingers on the table and flinched every time the front door opened. An untouched cup of coffee stood before him, and a thick folder lay beside it.

"Valentin Alekseevich?" Elena approached and sat across from him. "Captain Svetlova."

"Thank God you came," Kornev exhaled with obvious relief. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled the folder closer. "I wasn't sure..."

He cut himself short and looked around. Elena noted the unhealthy gleam in his eyes and the perspiration on his forehead.

"Are you alright? Perhaps you need a doctor?"

"No," he smiled weakly. "I just haven't slept all night. Listen, what I've discovered... it's incredible. It concerns a secret space mission from 1967. 'Zarya-7.' It was never mentioned in official documents, but it existed. And it ended in catastrophe."

Elena mentally sighed. So it was conspiracy theory after all. But she decided to be patient—fifteen minutes of her life wasn't too high a price for this man's peace of mind.

"And how is this mission different from other secret projects of that time? As far as I know, the USSR had plenty of classified tests."

"In every way!" Kornev leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "This flight wasn't just secret, it was literally erased from history. All participants were either eliminated or forced to remain silent under threat of death."

He opened the folder and took out a photograph—a group shot of people in military uniforms and civilian suits. Standing at the back was a cosmonaut in a spacesuit but without a helmet.

"Do you recognize anyone in this picture?" asked Kornev.

Elena studied the image carefully and shook her head.

"No, I'm not a specialist in the history of cosmonautics."

"And it's no wonder," the historian smiled bitterly. "Because officially, these people never existed. This cosmonaut, Igor Velichko, according to documents, died during training. But in reality, he was in space. And he discovered something there... something that our government is still hiding."

Elena suppressed the urge to look at her watch. The story was becoming increasingly similar to the plot of a cheap science fiction film.

"Valentin Alekseevich, with all due respect, I don't understand how this relates to my work. I investigate criminal offenses, not historical mysteries."

Kornev nervously swallowed and reached for the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Two weeks ago, two men came to my office. They said they represented the intelligence services, but didn't show any identification. They confiscated some of my documents and warned me to stop 'digging.' Yesterday I noticed surveillance. And this morning I received this."

He placed a plain white envelope on the table. Inside was a sheet of paper with printed text: "STOP. FINAL WARNING."

Elena carefully examined the envelope.

"It has no postmark or address."

"It was slipped under my apartment door," Kornev nodded. "Do you understand now? They're trying to intimidate me. But the truth is too important. If something happens to me..." he fell silent and looked her straight in the eyes. "I want you to get these documents. All copies are in my safe. Here's the code."

He extended a scrap of paper with four digits.

Something in his gaze finally convinced Elena that this man was not crazy. Frightened—yes. Paranoid—possibly. But there was something genuine in his fear.

"Listen," she lowered her voice, "if you're truly in danger, we can arrange protection. I can take you to headquarters right now..."

"No!" he flinched and looked around. "I don't know whom I can trust. These documents... they concern high-ranking people who are still in power. Just... just remember the code. And if you hear of my death, take the folder before they get to it."

Kornev abruptly stood up, leaving his untouched coffee on the table.

"I must go. They shouldn't see us together for too long. Thank you for coming."

He quickly headed for the exit, but halfway there turned back:

"And be careful, Captain Svetlova. Very careful."

Elena watched him leave and looked at the paper with the code in her hand. Four digits—7-9-6-7. A simple rearrangement of the year he had spoken about.

Leaving the café, she dialed Andrei to say she would make it to the museum meeting after all. While taking out her phone, she noticed a black sedan with tinted windows slowly driving by. Behind the wheel sat a man in dark glasses, and for a moment she thought he was looking directly at her.

A strange coincidence, or was the historian's paranoia beginning to affect her too?

Elena's phone rang as she was approaching the museum. The name of Colonel Gromov, her immediate supervisor, appeared on the screen.

"Svetlova speaking."

"Elena Viktorovna, you're needed at the scene of an incident," Gromov's voice sounded tense. "Institute of Space Research, room 315. A body has been discovered there."

Elena felt goosebumps running down her spine.

"Who's the victim?"

"Professor Valentin Kornev, historian. According to preliminary data—heart attack, but there are peculiarities. Expecting you in twenty minutes."

Elena slowly lowered her phone. The strange night call, the historian's troubling warnings, and now... his death. Too many coincidences for one day.

She quickly dialed Andrei.

"Sorry, I won't make it to the museum. Work. It seems that the 'city madman' from last night's call wasn't so mad after all."

I'll continue with Chapter 2:

Chapter 2: "The Historian's Daughter"

Room 315 at the Institute of Space Research resembled the dwelling of a typical enthusiastic scientist—bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a desk covered with papers, and walls adorned with star maps and photographs of spacecraft. Only the body sitting in the armchair with its head thrown back disrupted the usual academic atmosphere.

Valentin Kornev appeared to be merely asleep. His hand rested loosely on the armrest, his eyes were closed, and his face wore an expression of surprise. That same tweed jacket with elbow patches was unbuttoned, and a half-empty glass of water stood on the desk before him.

"Preliminary cause of death—cardiac arrest," Soloviev, the forensic examiner, looked up from the body. "No external signs of violence. Died approximately two to three hours ago."

Elena checked her watch—so, shortly after their meeting.

"Who discovered him?"

"The cleaning lady," answered Gromov, standing by the window. "She came to water the plants, found him in this state, and called security. Dead for about three hours, as Soloviev says. Do you know him?"

Elena hesitated. On one hand, she didn't want to withhold information; on the other—Kornev's strange warning about not knowing whom to trust made her cautious. Even with Gromov, who had always been on her side.

"He called me last night," she finally said. "And we met this morning. He was very troubled, talking about some secret documents he had discovered. About the space program of the 1960s."

Gromov frowned. "And you didn't think it necessary to inform me about this earlier?"

"I thought he was just overwrought because of his research," Elena shrugged. "He gave the impression of a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Talked about surveillance, threats..."

"Typical paranoia," Gromov nodded. "People of his profession often become fixated on their theories."

Elena approached the desk and carefully examined its surface. "There are no papers here related to what he was talking about. No folders, no photographs."

"Perhaps they're in his computer," Gromov suggested, pointing to the laptop in the corner of the desk.

Elena opened the lid—the screen was locked, requiring a password. "We'll need to hand this over to the experts. And where is the safe he mentioned?"

"What safe?" Gromov raised an eyebrow.

"He mentioned having a safe with copies of documents."

They searched the office but found no safe. Not in the walls, not in the floor, not among the furniture.

"Maybe he meant a safe at his home?" Soloviev suggested, carefully packaging the water glass for analysis.

"Possibly," Elena nodded. "Does he have family?"

"A daughter," answered Gromov, looking through documents from Kornev's pocket. "Anna Korneva, also a historian, works in the Archive of the Academy of Sciences. She's been notified and should arrive any minute."

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and a young woman in her thirties entered, with short dark hair and an intense gaze. She was dressed in a strict black suit, as if she had already known about the mourning.

"Anna Korneva," she introduced herself, scanning the room with a quick glance that lingered for a second on her father's body before she averted her eyes. "They told me that my father... that something happened to him..."

"My condolences for your loss," Elena said gently. "I'm Captain Svetlova, leading the investigation. The preliminary version is that your father died from a heart attack, but we need to rule out other possibilities."

"Other possibilities?" Anna frowned. "You mean... murder?"

"It's standard procedure," Gromov interjected. "In cases where death occurs under unclear circumstances."

Anna slowly nodded and walked to her father's desk, automatically straightening a stack of books.

"He never had heart problems. He regularly underwent examinations, went swimming."

"Ms. Korneva," Elena moved closer, "did your father recently seem... troubled to you? Did he mention any threats or surveillance?"

Anna sharply raised her gaze. "How do you know?"

"I met with him this morning. He seemed very nervous and mentioned some important documents related to the space program of 1967."

Anna's facial expression subtly changed—something like understanding flashed across it.

"'Zarya-7,'" she said quietly. "He's been talking about nothing else for the past few months. Dad was obsessed with the idea that he had found traces of a secret space mission about which all documents had been destroyed." She shook her head. "I thought it was just another hobby. He was always a fanatic about his work, immersing himself completely in research. But in recent weeks... yes, he became very nervous. Said he was being followed, that he was being threatened."

"Did he mention specific names?" asked Gromov.

"No," Anna shook her head. "But he was absolutely certain he had found something significant. Something that 'could change history,' as he put it. Dad became very cautious, stopped using the phone for important conversations, checked if he was being followed..."

"Classic signs of paranoia," remarked Gromov. "This often happens to people immersed in studying conspiracy theories."

"My father was not paranoid!" Anna sharply objected. "He was a serious scientist, a corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences. And if he said he was being threatened, then it was true."

Elena nodded understandingly. "We will certainly check all versions, Anna. Your father mentioned during our meeting about a safe where he kept copies of important documents. Do you know where it might be?"

Anna thought for a moment. "He didn't have a safe at the institute, as far as I know. But at home... Yes, he had a built-in safe in his study. Behind the lunar surface map, if I remember correctly."

"Do you know the code?"

"No, he never told me," she shook her head, but then froze. "Although... wait. Recently he asked if I remembered the date of Gagarin's first flight. I was surprised—of course I remember, who doesn't? And he said: 'Remember just in case—April 12, 1961. It might come in handy if something happens to me.'" Anna swallowed. "I didn't pay attention to it then..."

Elena and Gromov exchanged glances. The coincidence was too obvious.

"We'd like to examine his home office and this safe," said Gromov. "If you don't mind."

"Of course," Anna nodded. "I'll take you there. Just... can I have a moment? To be with him."

She approached her father's body and carefully took his hand, which still retained warmth. Elena and Gromov tactfully stepped out into the corridor.

"What do you think?" Gromov asked quietly when the door closed behind them.

"I don't know," Elena answered honestly. "Maybe it really is a heart attack due to stress and overwork. Or maybe..."

"Maybe his fears weren't so groundless," Gromov finished for her. "And if someone really needed to silence him, staging a heart attack would be the perfect option."

"Especially if it's connected to half-century-old state secrets," added Elena.

Gromov thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "I'll request a full toxicological examination. And for now, let's go with the daughter to look at this famous safe. If there really is something there, it could shed light on the situation."

The door opened, and Anna came out. Her eyes were red but dry, and her back was straight as a string.

"I'm ready," she said. "Shall we go to my place or straight to my father's home?"

"Better straight to your father's," answered Elena. "If you don't mind."

"We'll take my car," said Anna. "I know the way."

As they were leaving the institute, Elena noticed two men in strict suits watching them intently from the entrance. One of them was talking on the phone, not taking his eyes off them.

Was the historian's paranoia affecting her, or were they really being followed?

Valentin Kornev's apartment was in an old building in the Chistye Prudy district. A typical dwelling of a Soviet-era intellectual—high ceilings, long bookshelves, antique furniture, and books, magazines, and printouts everywhere.

The home office was even more cluttered than his work one. The walls were covered with star maps, photographs of cosmonauts, and newspaper clippings about notable launches. One wall was occupied by a huge detailed map of the lunar surface.

"This one," Anna approached the map. "My father installed it a year ago when he began actively researching 'Zarya-7.'"

Elena carefully moved aside the heavy map on special hinges. Behind it was revealed a metal safe door with a combination lock.

"You mentioned the date of Gagarin's flight?" she asked, looking at the digital panel.

"Yes, April 12, 1961," Anna nodded. "But I'm not sure that's the code."

Elena pondered. If using only numbers, it would be 12.04.1961, too long for a four-digit code. Perhaps abbreviated? 1204? Or 1961?

"Do you have any ideas how he might have encrypted this date into a code?" she asked Anna.

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Dad loved puzzles, but..."

Elena remembered the paper Kornev had given her at the café. Four digits: 7-9-6-7.

"Wait," she said. "He gave me a code this morning. 7-9-6-7."

Anna looked at her in surprise. "When did you manage to meet?"

"As I said, this morning, at the 'Academia' café. He was very troubled," Elena turned to the safe and entered the code.

The lock clicked, and the door opened slightly.

"But that's not the date of Gagarin's flight," Anna frowned.

"No," Elena agreed. "It's the year 1967, reversed. The year he was talking about."

Inside the safe was a thick folder with a red mark "Top Secret. Store Eternally," several photographs, an old envelope, and a small key.

Elena carefully extracted the contents and placed them on the table. Gromov had already put on gloves and began sorting through the documents.

"This really looks like original KGB documents," he said, scanning the first pages. "But how could they have ended up with your father? These materials should be stored in closed archives."

"Dad had access to some special archives," Anna explained. "As a historian of cosmonautics, he worked with declassified documents of the Soviet space program. But these..." she picked up one of the photographs and frowned. "I've never seen these before."

The photograph showed a cosmonaut in a spacesuit against the background of some technical facility. His face wasn't covered by a helmet, and Elena recognized the man from the photograph Kornev had shown her at the café.

"Igor Velichko," she read the inscription on the back. "'Preparation for the 'Zarya-7' flight, May 1967.'"

"I've never heard of such a cosmonaut," Anna frowned. "And I know practically everyone who was in the squad in the 60s."

"Because officially he didn't exist," Elena said quietly, remembering Kornev's words. "Or, more precisely, he died during training, before making a flight."

She took the envelope from the table and opened it. Inside was an old audio cassette and a note with ink faded by time: "'Zarya-7' Communications Recording, June 16, 1967. STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL."

"But how did this get to your father?" Gromov asked Anna.

"I don't know," she shook her head. "He never mentioned it. He started getting interested in 'Zarya-7' about a year ago. At first, I thought it was just another research project for his book on the unknown pages of Soviet cosmonautics. But then he became somewhat... obsessed. Stopped talking about his work, became very secretive. And in recent months, he started talking about surveillance and threats."

Elena listened attentively, sorting through the documents. Among them were reports on preparation for some experiment, equipment lists, medical records of cosmonauts. And one strange photograph that caught her attention—a shot of outer space with a blurred, luminous object of unusual shape.

On the back was an inscription: "Object X, captured by the onboard cameras of 'Zarya-7,' 06.17.1967."

"What is this object?" she showed the photograph to Anna.

"I have no idea," she examined the image and frowned. "Looks like some optical effect or film defect. Although..." she suddenly froze. "Wait, this reminds me of... " Anna quickly went to the bookshelf and took out a thick volume with a bookmark. "Here, Dad left this in the most visible place, as if he wanted me to notice it."

It was a monograph on unidentified cosmic phenomena recorded during flights. On the bookmarked page was a chapter about strange optical effects and unexplained objects noticed by cosmonauts.

"Do you think your father believed this was... what? A UFO?" Gromov asked skeptically.

"I don't know what he thought," Anna closed the book. "But he was a rational scientist, not a fantasist obsessed with conspiracy theories. If he collected these materials, he must have been convinced of their historical value."

Elena continued to examine the documents and suddenly noticed that there was another compartment in the lower part of the folder. She carefully extracted a thin stack of papers stapled together. It turned out to be Igor Velichko's medical record marked "Top Secret."

"Listen to this," she said, scanning the records. "'Patient delivered to quarantine after returning from orbit on June 18, 1967. Demonstrates signs of acute psychosis, hallucinations, and distorted perception of reality. Claims to have 'contacted an extraterrestrial intelligence' and received 'a message concerning the future of humanity.' Physical condition: elevated radiation levels, unexplained changes in cell structure, cardiac rhythm disturbance. Recommended: complete isolation, in-depth investigation, medications to suppress mental activity.'"

"My God," whispered Anna. "If this is true..."

"It could be a falsification," Gromov reminded them. "Or a description of an ordinary nervous breakdown associated with spaceflight. It happened to astronauts."

"But if the documents are genuine, and your father discovered them," Elena said slowly, looking at Anna, "it could explain why he felt threatened. The disclosure of classified information about the Soviet space program, especially if it's connected to something... unusual... might not have pleased certain people."

"You think he was..." Anna couldn't finish the sentence.

"We don't think anything yet," Gromov said firmly. "We have no evidence that your father's death wasn't natural. But we will certainly check all possible versions."

Elena noticed the small key that was among the documents. "What might this open?" she asked, showing it to Anna.

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Dad didn't have other safes or locked cabinets, as far as I know."

Elena carefully examined the key. It was of an old design, with an unusually shaped bit.

"This looks like a key to a bank deposit box," said Gromov, taking it in his hands. "See these notches? A typical feature of keys to boxes in old banks."

"But from which bank?" asked Elena. "And what might be in this box?"

Anna rubbed her temples. "I don't know. Dad never mentioned a bank deposit box. But if it exists... there might be answers there."

Elena carefully gathered the documents back into the folder. "Anna, may I borrow this folder for the investigation? I'll give you a receipt and promise that everything will be returned to you intact."

"Of course," she nodded. "Just... be careful. If my father really encountered something dangerous..." she didn't finish the sentence.

"Don't worry," Elena smiled slightly. "It's my job to deal with dangerous situations."

As they were about to leave, Anna suddenly stopped them. "Wait. There's something else I didn't mention. A couple of days ago, Dad gave me a sealed envelope. He said I should open it only in case of his death or disappearance. I thought it was his usual overcautiousness and didn't pay attention. But now..."

She went to her bag and took out an ordinary white envelope sealed with a wax seal.

"I haven't opened it."

Elena took the envelope and carefully broke the seal. Inside was a sheet of paper with printed text:

"Dear Anna, If you're reading this, it means my fears were not in vain. I've found something that has turned my understanding of our history upside down and could have enormous significance for the future. All the documents in the safe are genuine; I've verified their origin. But the most important thing isn't there.

Contact Police Captain Elena Svetlova. I've left her the code to the safe. She can be trusted.

In bank deposit box No. 274 of the Central Repository lies another piece of the puzzle—the original logbook of 'Zarya-7' and something that I dare not describe even in this letter.

Be careful. The people behind this will stop at nothing to keep the secret.

Your father."

Elena looked up at Anna. "Now we have the box number. We just need to figure out what exactly your father meant by the 'Central Repository.'"

"I can assume it's the Central Bank on Neglinnaya Street," said Gromov. "There's a branch with a depository operating since Soviet times."

"We'll check tomorrow morning," Elena nodded and turned to Anna. "And you'd better stay with friends or relatives tonight. Just in case."

"You think I might be in danger too?" Anna looked more intrigued than frightened.

"Just a precaution," Elena answered evasively. "If your father was right about the surveillance, better not to risk it."

When they left the apartment, Elena noticed a black sedan parked across the street—exactly the same as the one she had seen near the institute. Coincidence? Or was Kornev's warning about surveillance not such paranoia after all?

"What do you think?" asked Gromov when they got into his car. "Does it seem like the ravings of a madman or a real conspiracy?"

"I don't know," Elena answered honestly. "But this historian definitely didn't give the impression of a madman. Frightened—yes. Paranoid—possibly. But there was something genuine in his fear. And now that he's dead..."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Gromov cautioned. "We're waiting for the toxicology results. And tomorrow we'll check this mysterious bank deposit box."

Elena nodded, but an inner voice told her that this case would be much more complex than it seemed at first glance. And possibly more dangerous than she could imagine.

Let me continue with Chapter 3:

Chapter 3: "The Sealed Folder"

The morning was overcast. Heavy clouds covering the Moscow sky seemed to hint: this day would bring nothing good. Elena had slept poorly during the night, tossing from side to side, and when she did finally fall asleep, she dreamed of Valentin Kornev with a frozen expression of surprise on his dead face.

"You were like an owl last night," grumbled Andrei, pouring coffee into cups. "Will you tell me what case fell upon you on a weekend?"

Elena thoughtfully stirred her cup with a spoon.

"A historian, specialist in the Soviet space program. Officially—heart attack. But the day before, he contacted me, talked about some secret documents and threats."

"And you, of course, can't simply accept the heart attack version," Andrei smiled slightly. "My detective wife is always looking for conspiracies."

"I'm looking for the truth," Elena corrected him. "And when someone warns me of danger and dies the next day..."

"I understand," Andrei nodded. "Speaking of the space program, if you need consultation on historical details—let me know. I have a colleague at my department who specializes in the history of science and technology in the USSR."

"That might be useful," Elena finished her coffee and glanced at her watch. "I have to go. Need to meet with Gromov and the deceased's daughter. We're going to check the contents of a safe deposit box."

"A safe deposit box?" Andrei became interested. "Like in a spy film?"

"So far it seems less like a film and more like strange paranoia," Elena kissed her husband on the cheek. "But we'll see what's in there."

"Just be careful," Andrei suddenly said seriously. "If this historian didn't invent the threats..."

"I'm always careful," Elena smiled. "It's my job."

The Central Repository turned out to be exactly where Gromov had suggested—in an old building on Neglinnaya Street. Anna and Gromov were already waiting at the entrance when Elena arrived.

"Good morning," she greeted them. "No problems during the night?"

"No," Anna shook her head. "I stayed with a friend, as you advised. But I still can't believe all this is really happening."

"I checked the database," said Gromov as they climbed the steps. "Box No. 274 is indeed registered in Valentin Kornev's name. Rented three months ago."

In the repository, they were met by an elderly clerk with a balding head and thick glasses. He carefully studied Anna's documents confirming her right of inheritance, and the police officers' documents.

"Everything is in order," he finally nodded. "Please proceed to the depository hall."

They descended by elevator to the basement, where rows of metal boxes gleamed with a dull light in the semi-darkness. The clerk led them to the required section.

"Here is box 274," he pointed to a metal door. "Access requires two keys—mine and the client's."

Anna took out the key and inserted it into the keyhole. The clerk inserted the second key into the adjacent hole, and they turned them simultaneously. The door smoothly opened.

Inside was a metal box wrapped in thick fabric. Elena carefully extracted it and placed it on a table in a separate room for examining the contents of safe deposit boxes.

"May I?" she asked Anna before opening it.

She nodded, not taking her eyes off the box.

Elena unwrapped the fabric and opened the lid. Inside was a thick folder with a red mark "Top Secret. Store Eternally" and the inscription "Project Zarya-7, 1967"—almost the same as the one they found in Kornev's home safe, only this one also had a seal with the KGB USSR insignia.

"This is the original," Anna said quietly. "What we found yesterday must be a copy."

Next to the folder lay a small cylindrical metal container, sealed and marked "Sample X-7, verify hermeticity and radiation level."

"Radiation level?" Gromov grew wary. "Maybe we shouldn't open it?"

"My father wouldn't store anything truly dangerous," Anna objected. "I think it's just part of the original marking."

Elena carefully opened the folder. The first document turned out to be a handwritten logbook with the emblem of the "Zarya" program. On the first page was the signature: "Flight Engineer I. Velichko."

"It really looks like the original," said Elena, carefully turning the pages. "Records from June 10 to 19, 1967."

She began to read aloud: "June 10, 1967. Launch at 04:17 Moscow time. All systems functioning normally. Entered calculated orbit at 04:32. Beginning the main research program..."

The entries for June 10-15 contained nothing unusual—standard reports on experiments conducted, orbit parameters, and the state of the ship's systems. But the entry from June 16 was completely different:

"June 16, 1967, 23:40. Unidentified object spotted at a distance of approximately 2 km from the ship. The object has an irregular shape, emits a faint bluish glow. Doesn't resemble any spacecraft or debris known to me. Transmitted a message to Earth, awaiting instructions."

The next entry was made in a different handwriting, more illegible, as if the writer's hand had been trembling:

"June 17, 02:15. Object X has changed position and approached the ship. Observing strange optical effects—the glow has intensified, the shape is changing. Earth has ordered me to take photographs and await further instructions. Feeling strange—headache, mild nausea, difficulty concentrating."

And the final entry, made almost illegibly:

"June 17, around 05:00. The object has come right up to the porthole. The glow is penetrating the ship. I hear... hear voices in my head. They're talking about... [illegible] ...danger... [illegible] ...warning... Onboard systems are beginning to malfunction. Radio communication with Earth interrupted. I..."

The record broke off there.

"My God," whispered Anna, looking at the journal. "If this is true..."

"Or the delirium of a cosmonaut suffering from hallucinations caused by oxygen deprivation," Gromov noted skeptically. "Such things happened."

"Possibly," Elena agreed. "But why then were these records so carefully classified? And why did your father consider them so important that he feared for his life?"

She turned the page—next came an official report on the mission's completion, dry and formal:

"June 18, 1967. The ship 'Zarya-7' made a standard landing in the calculated area at 06:42 Moscow time. Cosmonaut I. Velichko has been delivered to a medical center for examination. His condition is assessed as critical. Unexplained medical anomalies documented: elevated radiation levels, changes in brain activity, mental disorders. Recommended: complete classification of information about the 'Zarya-7' flight and isolation of the patient."

Following were the signatures of several officials, including KGB representatives.

"That explains everything," said Anna. "Why no one has ever heard of this flight."

"But it doesn't explain why your father was threatened," Elena noted. "These events happened more than fifty years ago. All those involved are long dead or retired."

"Unless," Gromov said thoughtfully, "this 'Object X' is still of interest today."

Elena carefully lifted the metal container. "Perhaps the answer is here."

The container was sealed but had a simple latch. Elena opened it, and the lid rose with a slight hiss, as if there had been a vacuum inside.

Inside was a small piece of metal of a strange silvery-blue color, about the size of a palm. Its surface was uneven, with an intricate pattern resembling frozen waves or crystallized liquid.

"What is this?" asked Gromov, leaning closer.

"I don't know," Elena examined the object without touching it. "But judging by the container, it's some kind of sample taken from that 'Object X.'"

Anna carefully brought her hand near the metal but didn't touch it.

"This is incredible. If this is really... something extraterrestrial..."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," said Gromov. "It could be a sample of some experimental alloy or meteorite material. During the space race, the USSR conducted numerous secret experiments."

Elena noticed that there was another small note at the bottom of the container. She carefully took it out and unfolded it.

"Sample X-7, taken from the surface of the unidentified object on 06.17.1967. Possesses anomalous properties: changes color under different lighting, inexplicably reacts to electromagnetic fields, emits weak radio waves of an unknown spectrum. Preliminary analysis showed the presence of elements not found in terrestrial conditions. Complete isolation, access strictly limited."

"Most likely, your father obtained these materials illegally," said Elena, looking at Anna. "And someone very much didn't want them to become public knowledge."

"But who could care about this now?" asked Anna. "After half a century?"

"Good question," Gromov nodded. "Perhaps there exists a structure that still deals with these investigations. Or people who don't want the truth about the events of 1967 to surface."

"Or there's something more that we don't yet understand," added Elena.

She carefully placed everything back in the metal box.

"We need to thoroughly examine these documents. And it would be good to check this sample—find out what kind of material it is."

"We have a good scientific laboratory at headquarters," said Gromov. "Soloviev could..."

He was interrupted by a sharp sound—Elena's phone vibrated, signaling a message. She took it out and frowned, reading the text from an unknown number:

"Return what doesn't belong to you. Immediately. This is a matter of national security."

Elena showed the message to Gromov.

"Looks like someone really doesn't want us to study these materials."

"And they know we've found them," Gromov added grimly. "That's bad."

"But how?" Anna looked around. "Who could have learned that we're here?"

"That's not a problem these days," said Gromov. "Surveillance cameras, mobile phone tracking, informants... They might have been following us from the very beginning."

Elena felt a chill down her spine, remembering the black sedan she had seen twice in the last twenty-four hours.

"We need to leave," she said. "And preferably not together. Anna, you'll come with me. Colonel, will you take the documents?"

"Yes," Gromov nodded. "We'll meet at headquarters in an hour."

They packed their findings and left the repository. The bank clerk saw them off with a wary gaze.

"We'll separate right after exiting," Gromov said quietly. "Elena, where's your car?"

"In the side parking lot," she answered. "And yours?"

"Around the corner. That's better if we're being watched."

They left the building and immediately saw a black sedan parked across the street. Two men sat in it, one of whom was holding something that looked like a camera with a long lens.

"Don't look at them," Gromov quietly warned. "Act as usual. We separate on the count of three. I have the documents, you have the sample."

Elena inconspicuously took Anna by the arm. "Act naturally. We're just walking to the car."

They separated: Gromov headed left, toward the intersection, while Elena and Anna went right, toward the parking lot.

"Are they watching us?" Anna whispered, gripping Elena's arm tighter.

"Yes," Elena calmly replied. "But for now they're only watching. That's a good sign."

They reached the parking lot, and Elena noticed that the black sedan slowly pulled away from the curb and moved after Gromov.

"Looks like they've decided to follow the colonel," she said. "Let's get to the car quickly."

They got into Elena's service vehicle, and she immediately started the engine.

"Fasten your seatbelt," she commanded Anna. "We're not going to headquarters; we'll take a detour to make sure we don't have a tail."

Driving out of the parking lot, Elena noticed a second black car waiting on the adjacent street.

"They have another car," she commented. "And they knew where we parked."

"Is that bad?" Anna looked simultaneously frightened and excited.

"It complicates the situation," Elena answered evasively, sharply turning into a side alley. "But I know this area, and they possibly don't."

She confidently drove the car through the labyrinth of Moscow courtyards and alleys, sometimes making unexpected turns, sometimes briefly stopping and turning off the headlights.

"Have we lost them?" Anna hopefully asked after another maneuver.

"I'm not sure," Elena answered, carefully watching the rearview mirror. "They might just be giving us the illusion of freedom, then intercept us at a predetermined point."

"So what do we do?"

"Change the route," Elena turned onto an avenue with more traffic. "We won't go to headquarters, as our observers would surely expect. I know a safe place."

She dialed Gromov's number on speakerphone.

"Colonel? How's it going?"

"There's a tail, but I'm handling it," Gromov replied. "Are you with Anna?"

"Yes, we're fine. Heading to an alternate location."

"Understood. We'll meet there in two hours."

The connection broke, and Elena again concentrated on the road.

"Where are we going?" asked Anna.

"To my husband," Elena answered. "Andrei is at the dacha now, working on an article. It's safe and quiet there, and no one will look for us in the suburbs."

"And what about me? Can I return home?"

"Not yet," Elena shook her head. "If your father was right, and the documents really are valuable to someone influential, they might search your home. It's better for you to stay with us for now."

They drove onto the ring road, and Elena checked the rearview mirror again. No signs of being followed, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone.

"What's so important about this metal sample?" Anna mused thoughtfully. "If we assume it's really... something unusual?"

"I don't know," Elena answered honestly. "But I intend to find out. If your father died because of this, we need to discover the truth."

Elena and Andrei's dacha was located in a quiet settlement thirty kilometers from Moscow. A small two-story house surrounded by pine trees, in summer it was buried in flowers, and now, at the beginning of autumn, it looked cozy and secure amid the yellowing leaves.

Andrei met them at the gate, surprised by the unexpected visit.

"Elena? What happened?"

"Long story," she answered, quickly kissing her husband on the cheek. "Meet Anna Korneva, the daughter of that historian I told you about this morning."

"Very pleased to meet you," Andrei shook Anna's hand. "Please come into the house. I've just put on the kettle."

In the living room it was warm thanks to the lit fireplace. Elena quickly explained the situation to her husband, omitting some details but emphasizing that they needed a safe place.

"So, mysterious documents about the Soviet space program, the strange death of a historian, and surveillance," Andrei summarized. "Sounds like the setup for a good thriller."

"Unfortunately, it's reality," Elena said seriously. "And in reality, people really do die."

She took out the metal container and placed it on the table.

"This is what we found in the safety deposit box along with the documents."

Anna opened the container, and Andrei with interest leaned over the strange metal object.

"I've never seen anything like it," he admitted, examining the unusual pattern on the surface. "What is it?"

"According to the documents, it's a sample taken from the surface of an unidentified object in space in 1967," Elena explained. "An object that was never publicly reported."

"A UFO?" Andrei raised an eyebrow but didn't look skeptical, rather intrigued. "Seriously?"

"In the documents, it's simply called 'Object X,'" said Anna. "But judging by the descriptions, it was something unusual. And the cosmonaut who encountered it returned... changed."

"Amazing," Andrei carefully examined the sample without touching it. "And you think Anna's father was killed because of this?"

"We're not yet sure it was murder," Elena reminded him. "But he definitely felt threatened, and now we're experiencing surveillance too. Someone really doesn't want this information to become public knowledge."

"And they know we have these materials," added Anna. "Elena received a message demanding the return of 'what doesn't belong to us.'"

Andrei looked seriously at his wife. "Are you sure you want to get involved in this? It sounds dangerous."

"I'm already involved," Elena calmly replied. "Kornev turned to me for help, and now he's dead. I must find out what happened."

"Can I help somehow?" asked Andrei.

"Yes," Elena nodded. "You mentioned you have a colleague who specializes in the history of Soviet science. Can you contact him? Find out if he's heard anything about the 'Zarya-7' project or cosmonaut Igor Velichko?"

"Of course," Andrei agreed. "I'll call right now. And one more thing..." he pointed to the metal sample. "We have an excellent materials science laboratory at the university. I could ask an old friend to look at this... unofficially, of course."

"That would be very helpful," Elena smiled. "Thank you."

"Just be careful," Anna suddenly said. "If my father died because of this, it means someone is ready to go to great lengths to preserve the secret."

"Don't worry," Andrei assured her. "I know how to be discreet. And the university is full of eccentric professors with their strange samples and theories—one more won't surprise anyone."

At that moment, Elena's phone rang. It was Gromov.

"Colonel," she answered. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Gromov's voice sounded tense. "But the situation is getting more complicated. I was summoned 'upstairs.' Very high level. They were asking about our visit to the bank and what we found there."

"What did you tell them?"

"That we're conducting a standard investigation into Kornev's death, and that the safety deposit box contained only personal documents of no interest."

"Did they believe you?"

"I'm not sure," Gromov sighed. "But for now they're pretending to believe. Elena, be careful. This case is taking a serious turn. Perhaps we should hand it over to the intelligence services."

"And allow another suspicious death to be covered up?" Elena objected. "No, I want to know the truth."

"I thought you'd say that," there was a tired smile in Gromov's voice. "Alright, we continue. But we act cautiously. The toxicological analysis will be ready tomorrow; that might give us a clearer picture. In the meantime, keep the sample in a safe place and don't draw attention."

"Understood," said Elena. "Anna and I are at my dacha. It's safe here."

"Excellent. I'll study the documents and contact you tomorrow morning."

Elena ended the call and looked at Anna and Andrei.

"It seems something is really happening. Someone 'from above' is interested in our investigation."

"Is that bad?" asked Anna.

"Let's say it confirms that your father was right to fear surveillance," Elena answered. "And that the documents he found are indeed of interest to someone influential."

Andrei silently looked at the strange metal sample.

"You know," he finally said, "if we assume this is really extraterrestrial material... it would explain such interest."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Elena stopped him. "First, we need to determine the nature of this sample and the circumstances of Kornev's death. Then we can draw conclusions."

But deep down, she understood that she was already drawn into something bigger than a simple investigation of a historian's death. And that the trail they were following could lead to discoveries far beyond the scope of an ordinary criminal case.

When they were leaving the bank, Elena noticed another detail that she didn't share with either Gromov or Andrei: among the papers in the container was a small note written in Valentin Kornev's hand: "In case of my death: look at the record in the university archive, case No. 1967-K/43-Z. There is what couldn't be entrusted to paper."

Elena thoughtfully reread this short note. So there was something else that Kornev considered so important or dangerous that he didn't dare to keep even in a bank safety deposit box. This could be the key to the whole mystery.

"Anna," she addressed the historian's daughter, "do you know anything about the university archive your father might have used?"

"Probably the Moscow State University archive," Anna answered after brief reflection. "Father was a visiting professor at the history faculty, gave a special course on the history of Soviet cosmonautics. He had access to the university's archival materials."

"Andrei," Elena turned to her husband, "could you help us with access to the archive?"

"Of course," he nodded. "I have acquaintances there. But if these are some classified materials..."

"I don't think they're officially classified," Elena shook her head. "More likely, Kornev simply hid something important there disguised as ordinary historical documents. So it wouldn't attract attention."

At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and all three jumped. Elena instinctively placed her hand on her holster.

"It's probably Gromov," she said and went to answer, but still first looked out the window.

The colonel stood at the gate, alone, with no visible signs of being followed.

"All clear," he assured, entering the house. "I checked the perimeter. There was no tail behind me."

"Anything new?" Elena asked when they returned to the living room.

"Yes," Gromov looked concerned. "I examined the documents more carefully. There's a list of people involved in the 'Zarya-7' project and in the subsequent concealment of information about it."

He took several sheets from the folder and laid them on the table.

"See here. Chairman of the commission investigating the incident with 'Object X'—KGB General Viktor Markov. He's the grandfather of the current Minister of Defense, Sergei Markov."

Elena and Anna exchanged glances.

"And here's another interesting participant," Gromov continued, pointing to another name. "KGB Colonel Leonid Zotov, responsible for security classification. He should be about 90 years old now, and according to my information, he's still alive. Lives in a retirement home near St. Petersburg."

"A living witness to those events," Elena said thoughtfully. "That could be valuable."

"One more point," Gromov took a photograph from the folder and placed it on the table. "I found this among the documents. Look carefully."

The photograph showed a group of military personnel and scientists in uniform and civilian clothes, standing near some technical facility. Judging by the date on the back, the picture was taken in May 1967.

"What's special about this?" asked Anna, examining the photo.

"Third from the left," Gromov pointed to a young officer with a serious gaze. "That's Alexander Gromov. My father."

Elena looked at her boss in surprise. "Your father was involved in the 'Zarya-7' project?"

"Apparently so," Gromov answered grimly. "Although he never told me about it. He worked in the scientific department of the KGB, dealt with space programs, that I knew. But he never once mentioned 'Zarya-7' or 'Object X.'"

"Maybe he was forbidden to?" Anna suggested.

"Or he himself didn't want to remember," Gromov said quietly. "Father died in 1985 from cancer. Before his death, he became very anxious, said strange things about 'return' and 'signal.' We thought it was delirium due to illness and medications."

Silence fell in the room. Everyone was contemplating the new information.

"This changes things," Elena finally said. "Now we have a personal connection to this story. And, possibly, a living witness to those events—Colonel Zotov."

"I can go see him," Gromov offered. "Officially—as a colleague's son, unofficially—to learn the truth about 'Zarya-7.'"

"Good idea," Elena nodded. "And Anna, Andrei, and I will try to figure out the university archive and this mysterious case No. 1967-K/43-Z."

"Agreed," Gromov stood up. "Just be careful. If they were following you at the bank, they might be watching here too. Better not to attract unnecessary attention."

"We'll be careful," Elena assured him. "We'll encrypt communication, change cars. Andrei will help us with access to the archive under the guise of ordinary scientific work."

"Excellent," Gromov headed for the exit. "I'll contact you tomorrow after meeting with Zotov. And one more thing..." he turned around. "Elena, remember: in this case, we don't know whom we can trust. Even in our own ranks."

With these words, he left, leaving the four in tense silence.

"What are we going to do with the sample?" asked Anna, looking at the metal container.

"First, we need to find out what it is," Elena answered. "Andrei, you mentioned a friend in the materials science laboratory..."

"Yes, Mikhail Levin," Andrei nodded. "He's a specialist in rare metals and alloys. If anyone can determine the nature of this sample, it's him. And most importantly—he can be trusted."

"Good," Elena made a decision. "Tomorrow morning you'll take the sample to the laboratory. And Anna and I will go to the university archive. But tonight everyone stays here—it's safer."

That night, Elena couldn't sleep for a long time. The strange case of the historian's death was turning into something much larger and more complex. A secret space mission, an unidentified object in space, a mysterious material sample... and people ready to kill to preserve this secret.

Her intuition told her that they had only begun to unravel this tangle, and that it would only become more difficult and dangerous.

And somewhere deep in her subconscious pulsed a troubling thought: what if Valentin Kornev was right? What if this strange "Object X" really was something... not of this Earth? And what consequences could this have for all of them?

With these anxious thoughts, she finally fell into a troubled sleep, in which she dreamed of the spacecraft "Zarya-7," the endless black emptiness of space, and a strange bluish glow slowly approaching Earth.

(To be continued)