She turned away, brushing aside an unbidden tear.
"We need to go," she added in a firmer voice. "Karabaev's men won't stop searching."
Alexei nodded, tucking the medallion under his shirt. They descended from the hill and headed toward the nearest village, moving along goat paths to avoid encountering pursuers. By noon, they reached a small settlement where Dinara, using the local language, managed to buy some food and water, and arrange for a shepherd to drive them to Cholpon-Ata in his old truck.
"Do you think this is safe?" Alexei asked as they bounced along the rough road in the open truck bed filled with hay. "Karabaev is surely searching for us all along the shore."
"That's the point," Dinara replied, covering her face with a scarf against the dust. "He won't expect us to return to a major tourist center. Besides, Uncle Ermek has a house on the outskirts. We can rest and decide what to do next."
Alexei nodded, though a strange feeling of unease wouldn't leave him. The loss of Rustam's book was a serious blow—it contained important information about the treasure's location and the "Key of Solomon." Now they were left with only the medallion and fragments of knowledge that Dinara had received from her grandfather.
By evening, they reached the outskirts of Cholpon-Ata. The shepherd dropped them at a crossroads and, after receiving payment, drove off, raising a cloud of dust. Dinara led Alexei along a narrow path that disappeared into a thicket of poplars and willows.
"Uncle's house is half a kilometer from here," she explained. "Away from the main development, right by the lake."
They walked in silence, watchfully looking around. Twilight descended on the land, painting everything in silvery-blue tones. The air was filled with the scents of water, sun-warmed stones, and flowering herbs.
Ermek's house turned out to be a small single-story structure with a spacious veranda facing the lake. Old apple and cherry trees grew around it, and a small pier with a boat tied to it stood at the water's edge.
"Strange," Dinara frowned, approaching the house. "No lights, though Uncle's car is in the yard."
Alexei tensed. Something wasn't right. It was too quiet; even the birds weren't singing in the garden.
"Wait," he held Dinara back by the arm when she was about to step onto the veranda. "Let's look around first."
They circled the house, peering through windows. Inside, it was dark and seemingly empty. But when they approached the back door leading to the kitchen, they heard muffled voices.
"That's Uncle," Dinara whispered, listening. "But who is he talking to?"
They carefully crept up to the window and peered inside. In the kitchen's half-darkness, illuminated only by the dim light of a table lamp, Ermek sat at the table. Opposite him was a man in a dark jacket, whose face they couldn't make out.
"I did everything I could," Ermek's voice reached them. "I brought them to Rustam, as you asked."
"But they escaped," his companion replied coldly. "And the old man died without revealing all the details to us."
"That's not my fault!" Desperation sounded in Ermek's voice. "I didn't know they would run away! I thought you just wanted to talk to them, study the medallion…"
"Don't lie to me, Ermek," his companion cut him off. "You knew perfectly well what was happening. You knew that Karabaev would stop at nothing to get the 'Key of Solomon.'"
Dinara froze beside Alexei, her eyes widening with shock and the pain of betrayal.
"I thought I could protect them," Ermek continued. "Wanted to negotiate with Karabaev… so no one would get hurt."
The man in the dark jacket laughed sharply:
"Negotiate with Karabaev? Are you that naive or just stupid? This man will destroy anyone who stands in his way." He leaned forward, and the lamplight momentarily illuminated his face. Alexei recognized one of those who had been with Karabaev in the cave. "Now you must correct your mistake. Find your niece and that Russian. Bring them here."
"And then?" Ermek asked quietly.
"Then Karabaev will decide what to do with them."
Dinara backed away from the window, her face contorted with pain. Alexei embraced her shoulders and carefully led her away from the house.
"My own uncle," she whispered when they had gone far enough. "How could he? After everything grandfather did for him…"
"Judging from what we heard, he didn't want anyone to get hurt," Alexei carefully noted, though he too was shaken by what they'd overheard. "It seems he's confused and afraid of Karabaev."
"That's no excuse," Dinara said sharply. "He brought us to grandfather, knowing that Karabaev's men could appear at any moment. He…" her voice broke. "He's guilty of grandfather's death."
They moved even further away, deeper into the coastal thickets, and sat on a fallen tree to decide what to do next.
"Where to now?" asked Alexei. "We have no money, no transportation, no safe place."
Dinara gazed thoughtfully at the lake, shimmering in the last rays of sunset.
"I have a friend in Karakol," she finally said. "From university days. He works as a curator at a museum. We could try to reach him."
"How far is it?"
"About a hundred and fifty kilometers along the eastern shore of the lake."
Alexei whistled:
"On foot, we'd be walking for days."
"There are buses," Dinara objected. "But using public transportation is risky. Karabaev's men are surely checking all routes."
"What about a boat?" Alexei nodded toward the lake. "Your uncle has a boat. We could…"
"Steal it?" Dinara smiled bitterly. "Why not. After what he did, it would be fair."
They decided to wait until deep night, then sneak to the pier and take the boat. Until then, they remained in the coastal thickets, watching Ermek's house.
Close to midnight, a black SUV pulled up to the house. Several people got out, among whom they recognized Karabaev. The oligarch quickly ascended the veranda and entered the house.
"This doesn't look good," Alexei muttered. "Looks like Karabaev decided to personally control the situation."
Half an hour later, the SUV left, taking Ermek with it.
"Now," Dinara said decisively. "While no one's there, we need to take the boat."
They quickly descended to the pier. The boat turned out to be a small motorboat, powerful enough to cross the lake quickly. Alexei, who had some experience operating such vessels, quickly figured out the engine.
"Full tank," he reported. "We'll have enough to reach Karakol."
Dinara untied the ropes securing the boat, and they slowly moved away from shore. When they were at a sufficient distance, Alexei started the engine, and the boat slid across the dark water, leaving a foamy trail behind.
The night was moonless, stars hidden behind clouds, which worked in their favor—they were difficult to spot from shore. They kept at a distance from the shore, but close enough to see the lights of coastal villages.
"What will we do next?" Alexei asked, shouting over the engine noise. "We don't have Rustam's book, no detailed information about the treasure…"
"We have the medallion," Dinara replied. "And something else."
She took a small notebook from her jacket pocket.
"I wrote down some of grandfather's stories when I visited him last summer. Not everything, of course, but the main details about the treasure's location and the 'Key of Solomon.'"
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