This couldn't be a coincidence.
Alexei glanced at the clock—almost midnight. Too late for a call. But he couldn't wait until morning. He found Dinara's number in his contacts and pressed the call button. After several rings, a sleepy voice answered:
"Hello?"
"Dinara, it's me, Alexei. Sorry for the late call."
A pause.
"Alexei?" Her voice held surprise and wariness. "What happened? Are you all right?"
"Yes… no… I don't know," he answered honestly. "I found something in my grandfather's archives. Something related to the expedition to Issyk-Kul in 1954. And it seems your grandfather was involved as well."
Another pause, this time longer. When Dinara spoke again, her voice sounded much more composed:
"What exactly did you find?"
Alexei hesitated. Was it wise to tell her about the medallion over the phone? Something told him it wasn't the best idea.
"I'd rather show you in person. I can fly to Bishkek in a couple of days."
"Are you serious?" Her voice mixed disbelief and interest. "After three years of silence, you suddenly decide to fly to Kyrgyzstan because of some old expedition?"
"Dinara, this is important. I can feel it. My grandfather concealed something all these years, something connected to your family."
She was silent for so long that Alexei thought the connection had been lost. Finally, she said:
"All right. Come. I'll meet you at the airport. But, Alexei…"
"Yes?"
"Be careful. Don't tell anyone about your discovery. And… try not to attract attention."
It sounded strange, even alarming. But before he could ask what she meant, Dinara continued:
"And about what was between us…" her voice softened. "That's in the past. Right now, only this… discovery matters. Get to Bishkek, and we'll talk."
With those words, she hung up, leaving Alexei bewildered. He looked at the medallion lying on the desk. In the dim light of the desk lamp, the silver seemed almost alive, pulsating. As if the ancient artifact had awakened after a long sleep and was now waiting to see what would happen next.
Alexei carefully folded the medallion halves together. They joined with a barely audible click. He put the chain around his neck and hid the medallion under his shirt. The cold metal quickly warmed from his body heat.
"What did you find, Grandfather?" he whispered, looking at the portrait. "And why did you hide it for so long?"
The rain outside had turned into a downpour. Drops pounded against the glass with such force that it seemed as if someone was persistently asking to come in. Alexei approached the window and drew the curtains. A strange feeling of unease wouldn't leave him. It was as if he had taken the first step on a path leading into the unknown, and now he couldn't turn back.
He took his phone and booked a flight to Bishkek for the day after tomorrow. Then he began gathering necessary documents and things for the trip. His gaze fell on a stack of recently received bills—for utilities, taxes, apartment mortgage. Life in St. Petersburg had never been cheap, and the salary of a research fellow at the Archaeological Institute was not the highest.
A cynical thought flashed: perhaps the medallion really did lead to some treasure? Money wouldn't hurt right now.
But immediately he felt ashamed of this thought. His grandfather had dedicated his life to science, not treasure hunting. And if he had preserved this medallion and passed it to his grandson, there must have been some deeper meaning.
