Chapter 1
"...the body simply vanished." The sergeant's voice quivered. "The divers couldn't find it. If there hadn't been witnesses to the jump..."
"Enough nonsense, Petrov. A drunk fan jumped into the river after the game. No body, no crime. That's all."
The hushed conversation in the police station hallway died down as Milena Vas rushed past the group of officers. Her boot heels echoed rapidly on the linoleum. Slightly frowning, she tried to balance her overstuffed bag and steaming coffee. She was running late. Again.
"What body?" She stopped abruptly, turning to her colleagues. A few drops of coffee spilled onto the sleeve of her leather jacket. "Damn it, did I mess myself up again?" She glanced painfully at the brown stains but quickly ignored them.
Petrov and the others exchanged glances. She recognized their looks – the same ones they'd given her since her arrival in Krasnoyarsk three months ago. The Muscovite. The intruder.
"Just another drunk after last night's game," one of them snorted. "Nothing that concerns you, Vas."
"They're lying." Her instinct – the same one that had made her the youngest senior detective in Moscow's Homicide Department – screamed that they were hiding something.
"One day you'll stop treating me like a rookie," she tossed out with feigned nonchalance, but her eyes remained cold. "Sooner or later I'll figure out what's going on here."
The wall clock showed 8:57. Lena cursed inwardly and dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The second floor was already buzzing with activity – phones ringing, printers humming, voices intertwining in the familiar cacophony of a police station.
The familiar scent of cologne made her freeze in place.
"Glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence, Detective Vas." Captain Sokolov's voice sounded right behind her.
Lena turned slowly. Her boss stood with his hands in the pockets of his cheap suit, his graying mustache twitching disapprovingly. A coffee stain on his tie gave an oddly domestic touch to his otherwise intimidating figure.
"I'm sorry, Captain. My alarm clock."
"Spare me the excuses." He cleared his throat – a habit that always preceded a sharp remark. "You're not in Moscow anymore, Vas. Things are different here."
"Don't remind me," she thought bitterly. Krasnoyarsk was never part of her plans. But after that case in Moscow... after everything that happened...
"It won't happen again," she said aloud, gritting her teeth.
"I hope not." Sokolov gave her a long look. For a moment, she thought she saw something else flicker behind his stern facade – concern? "And by the way, I want the report on your last case by noon."
Lena nodded and headed to her desk. The monotonous tapping of keyboards enveloped her like a fog. She set down her bag and stared outside, where sunbeams were trying to break through the clouds. Her fingers involuntarily began tapping out the rhythm of Bach on the desk – an old habit from her years with the cello. Thump-thump-thump. Like distant footsteps in the dark. Like the beating of a heart before...
"Vas!" Sokolov's voice startled her. "The report is due today. By noon. Clear?"
She sighed and pulled the folder towards her. Another day in Krasnoyarsk. Another step towards... towards what? She didn't know. But she had a feeling she'd find out soon. Something had to happen.
\ \ \*
Lena blinked several times, trying to banish the burning sensation in her tired eyes. Her hand mechanically flipped over another page from the stack of documents in front of her. It was nearing noon, and an unusual silence reigned in the police station. Almost all her colleagues had found excuses to spend the day outside, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. But not Lena - she remained glued to her desk, buried under endless paperwork.
The shrill ring of the office phone jolted her out of her self-pitying daze. She reached listlessly for the receiver, ready to take another tedious call. But the voice on the other end instantly captured her attention, making her forget everything else.
"Dispatch. I need to speak with the detective on duty," came the slightly tense voice of the dispatcher.
Her gaze darted to the empty desk of Detective Rogov, who was on call. Her pulse quickened, and a barely noticeable smile crept across her face.
"Detective Vas speaking. Go ahead."
"We have a case at the Krasnoyarsk Regional Museum. A theft has been reported, but..." his voice faltered slightly, "there's something crazy about the preliminary information."
The chair creaked as Lena leaned back heavily. She narrowed her eyes, staring into space, while her fingers tapped out a rapid rhythm on the desk surface.
"What exactly?" she asked, searching for a pen on her cluttered desk.
"Witnesses claim they saw..." the dispatcher paused for a moment, as if hesitating to continue. "They claim they saw someone fly out of the third-floor window."
The pen hovered over the paper. Ha! Fly? Are you kidding me?
"Surely you mean someone jumped?" She made an effort to sound serious, even though her imagination had begun to paint incredible scenarios, which almost made her laugh.
"No, Detective. They say he flew. Upwards."
Lena swallowed hard, feeling her throat tighten as the smile faded. Absurd! She shook her head, trying to ignore the ridiculous claims.
"Is this some kind of joke? You're joking, right?"
"No, Detective. I'm relaying the words of the officers who responded to the call."
"We'll see about this flying business. Alright. I'm heading out now." She got to her feet, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair. A spark was kindling in her eyes that wasn't there a moment ago. She quickly covered the distance to Sokolov's office. She went inside, forgetting even to knock.
"Captain, they called about a case at the museum. A theft with... unusual circumstances."
Sokolov looked up from the documents in front of him. His eyebrows furrowed.
"What kind of circumstances?"
Lena opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat. She bit her lower lip, searching for a way to explain something she herself didn't understand.
"It's not clear yet, Captain. Can I take the case? The detective on duty... is occupied at the moment."
Sokolov scrutinized her, then waved his hand.
"I hope you're not trying to postpone that report."
"Not in the least."
"Alright then, go. But you'll report to me about the case when you get back." The Captain waved his hand dismissively and returned to the documents in front of him as if he'd forgotten about the young detective's presence.
Lena spun on her heel and made for the door. She nearly smashed her nose into it. I'm acting like a schoolgirl, she thought, but didn't slow her pace. The soles of her sneakers squeaked in the corridor as she practically ran towards the exit.
Leaving the station, she rushed to her car, starting the engine with a hand trembling from impatience. The tires screeched as the vehicle merged riskily into the heavy traffic.
Lena dialed the dispatcher again, insisting on more details as she sped towards the scene of the unusual crime.
"What exactly was stolen?" she asked, weaving between cars.
"According to initial reports, a necklace is missing from the visiting Siberian collection."
"A necklace?" Lena raised her eyebrows. "Just one?"
"Yes, one."
"What's so special about it?"
"I don't have any details."
Lena pressed the gas pedal harder. Every second was precious. Images of a crowd of gawkers trampling important clues swirled in her mind.
The characteristic two and three-story buildings with red brick facades in downtown Krasnoyarsk whizzed by, giving way to more modern glass and steel constructions along Mira Avenue. Soon she would have to turn sharply onto the narrow, winding street that descended steeply towards the banks of the mighty Yenisei River, whose gray, turbulent waters reflected the low gray sky above the city. Lena's fingers drummed on the steering wheel in an uneven rhythm, and her eyes constantly darted between the road and the dashboard clock. Her heart was beating rapidly, sending shivers of anticipation through her entire body.
Approaching the museum, she quickly noticed the unusual commotion. Passersby were pointing at the building, and three police cars were haphazardly parked in front of the entrance. Lena slowed down, trying to take in the situation before arriving on the scene.
She parked carelessly on the sidewalk in front of the museum and jumped out of the car with her hand on her holster. She took a few steps forward towards the door but stopped. A few paces to the side of the museum entrance, a group of police officers had gathered around something on the ground. Lena approached and saw pieces of glass scattered in a wide semicircle. Her gaze lifted upward. Through the broken window on the third floor, a red plush curtain waved lazily.
Is that where the thief jumped... flew from? She assessed the height and immediately dismissed the possibility of someone jumping and remaining unharmed. The height was almost forty feet.
"Step back," she ordered the police officers, who immediately bustled about making way for her.
Lena stopped in her tracks, her mouth opening slightly, and her eyes widening in bewilderment at the sight before her. Deeply etched in the hard ground were the imprints of two bare feet. But that wasn't the strangest part. The footprints were too deep, as if left by someone weighing hundreds of pounds, and far too large.
"Cordon off the area," Lena commanded, her voice not even quavering. "Don't let anyone in and call the forensics team to photograph and make a cast."
She bent down to examine the footprints more closely. Her mind tried to find a logical explanation, but nothing added up. How could someone jump from such a height, leave such deep imprints, survive, and simply... vanish?
Lena felt a momentary tingling on her skin, as if the air around her had charged with invisible energy. She stood up slowly, looking around. Something wasn't right.
The photographer from the arriving forensics team approached her. Lena pointed out the footprints, and he immediately set about capturing the details.
"Detective Vas?" one of the officers called her. "The forensics team wants your permission to enter the museum."
Lena nodded to the officer. She turned once more towards the enormous footprints on the ground before heading towards the building's entrance. With each step, the feeling of being watched intensified. The hairs on the back of Lena's neck stood up. She felt her fingers curl into a fist, then relax, in an unconscious rhythm. The invisible gaze seemed to bore a hole in her back. She wouldn't turn around for anything in the world.
Chapter 2
Inside the museum building, Lena was greeted by organized chaos. Anxious staff members bustled about the lobby while police officers scurried back and forth, trying to impose some form of order. She clenched her jaw, feeling her stomach tighten with tension. This will complicate the investigation, she thought, taking a deep breath to calm herself.
"Thank God you're here!" exclaimed a woman, rushing towards her. Elegantly dressed with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she grabbed Lena's hand with a trembling palm. Lena felt goosebumps crawl across her skin from the unexpected contact.
Carefully freeing her hand from the woman's grip, Lena responded in an even, professional tone:
"Detective Vaz. And you are...?"
The woman flinched for a moment, but quickly regained her composure, nervously smoothing the sleeve of her expensive jacket.
"Forgive me. How hasty of me... I'm Olga Romanova, curator of this museum." Her voice quivered slightly, betraying her nervousness.
"Very well." Lena nodded curtly. "Enlighten me then. What exactly happened here?"
Romanova took a deep breath, trying to control the trembling in her voice. Her hands moved restlessly as she spoke:
"It's a catastrophe! They stole the most valuable exhibit from our special exhibition - an ancient necklace from the Siberian collection. It's priceless, unique..."
"I understand," Lena interrupted, noticing how the curator's eyes sparkled at the mention of the necklace. Sensing that Romanova could go on indefinitely, she quickly added, "When exactly did you notice it was missing?"
"About two hours ago... and I called immediately." Romanova swallowed hard, her eyes misting over as if reliving the moment. "I personally opened the hall this morning at 9:00. Everything looked normal. Then I heard the sound of breaking glass, and when I entered..." She waved helplessly towards the hall behind her, her voice faltering. "The necklace was gone and I... I called right away."
Lena nodded intently, recalling the information she had received from the dispatcher on the phone. "Witnesses claim they saw someone flying out of a third-floor window," he had said. A strange warmth spread through her stomach at the thought. She turned back to Romanova, raising an eyebrow slightly:
"Anything else?"
Romanova looked confused for a moment, then her eyes widened with realization.
"Oh, yes..." She lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. "I heard from your colleagues that visitors in the park across the street saw something flying out of the third-floor window. But that's absurd, isn't it?" She laughed nervously. "They must have imagined it."
Lena raised both eyebrows.
"Probably," she replied dryly and turned to a nearby police officer. She ordered sternly:
"I'd like to speak with these witnesses. Are they still here?"
The officer shook his head, standing at attention.
"No, Detective. Colleagues identified them, took their statements, and released them."
"They shouldn't have. I want to question them. Send a team to bring them to the station." She turned to the curator.
"Do you have cameras outside?"
"Of course, Detective," A hint of hope crept into Romanova's voice, "we have security cameras outside as well." She pointed to a man dressed in a security guard uniform who was standing quietly by the wall on the other side of the hall, nervously crumpling his hat.
"Yes, call him over."
While waiting for Romanova to return with the security guard, Lena turned her gaze to the interior of the museum. A strange tingling crept over her skin, causing her to shiver slightly. She stepped forward, carefully examining her surroundings.
The hall was spacious, with high ceilings and elegant architecture. Display cases with various exhibits were arranged symmetrically, illuminated by soft, directional lighting. A faint smell of dust and polishing agent hung in the air.
Lena slowly circled the room, looking for signs of a break-in. To her surprise, she found nothing - no broken locks, no tool marks. Intrigued, she approached the empty display case where the stolen exhibit had been. Standing in front of it, Lena felt the hair on her arms stand on end. The air around the case crackled with invisible static electricity.
She turned sharply to the security guard who had now approached.
"How does the security system work here?" she asked sharply and directly.
The man looked no less confused than she was, visibly sweating under the collar of his uniform.
"Everything was working normally." He swallowed hard. "We have motion sensors, cameras, and alarms on all the display cases. Nothing was triggered."
Lena raised her eyebrows incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Absolutely nothing? Not even when the window was broken?"
"Not a single signal," confirmed the guard, shaking his head. "Which is strange, because the system should have detected even the slightest movement or change in pressure."
Increasingly puzzled, Lena turned her attention back to the display case. As she stared, she noticed something that seemed odd - a slight shimmer in the air around the glass. She blinked several times, but the shimmer remained. She looked around, but no one else seemed to notice the phenomenon.
Instinctively, Lena reached out to touch the glass. Her fingers met an invisible barrier inches from the surface. Her heart raced as she realized she was encountering something impossible.
She leaned down and traced the shimmer in the air all the way to the base of the display case. Her hand froze before sliding along the edge.
"Photographer!" she called out, without taking her eyes off her discovery.
One of the forensic technicians approached quickly, camera in hand.
"What did you find..."
Lena pointed to the base of the display case, but the photographer looked at her in confusion.
"What, Detective?"
She blinked several times, staring again. Under the display case, she clearly saw a small, pulsating blue light symbol, engraved on a black disc about a centimeter in diameter... maybe a button... The symbol seemed to radiate energy. But apparently only she could see it.
"You... don't see that?" she asked hesitantly, pointing again.
The photographer shook his head, looking at her with growing concern.
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing there."
Lena stood up slowly, her mind racing. What did this mean? Why could only she see the symbol? And what did it have to do with the theft?
After suspiciously eyeing those standing around her, she directed her gaze back to the display case and... the "button" was gone. What the hell! she thought, feeling panic begin to rise in her chest. Psychosis! Just like the mysterious "flying" out the window?
Suddenly the air around her seemed to thicken. She felt something unexpected rising in her body. Her vision blurred for a moment, and when it refocused, the world around her looked... different.
The colors were brighter, the contours sharper. And everywhere around her, thin threads of light could be seen intertwining in the air, connecting people and objects in an invisible network.
Lena swallowed hard, trying to control the rising panic. What was happening to her?
"Detective Vaz?" Romanova's voice brought her back to reality. "Are you alright?"
Lena turned to the curator, trying to hide her confusion. She felt a light sweat break out on her forehead.
"Yes, just..." she paused, searching for the right words. "Do you have any information about the origin of the stolen necklace? Is there a legend, something unusual or... supernatural?"
Romanova looked at her inquisitively, but then nodded energetically, obviously pleased with the opportunity to share her knowledge.
"Oh, yes!" Her eyes shone. "This is an extremely rare artifact. According to legends, the necklace possesses mystical powers..."
But Lena was no longer listening. Her gaze was drawn to a strange figure at the other end of the hall - a man dressed in a long dark coat who seemed to blend into the shadows. No one else appeared to notice him.
The man looked her straight in the eyes, and Lena felt chills run down her spine. He smiled enigmatically and took a step back, sinking into the shadow behind a column.
Without thinking, Lena rushed after him, ignoring Romanova's surprised cry. She rounded the column, ready to confront the stranger, but there was no one behind it. Just an empty wall and...
Lena bent down, staring at a small symbol carved into the base of the wall. It was identical to the one under the display case, but this time it pulsed more strongly, as if calling to her.
She reached out to touch it, and the moment her fingers approached the symbol, she felt something awaken within her. As if a barrier in her mind cracked and a flood of images rushed into her head - a figure rising into the air, carrying a shimmering necklace.
Lena jerked her hand back, breathing heavily. Her heart was racing, and her ears were ringing. What was this? What was happening to her? And how was this connected to the mysterious theft and the "flying" thief?
"Detective Vaz?" the voice of one of the police officers startled her. "Did you find something?"
She stood up slowly, trying to hide the trembling in her voice.
"Not exactly," she replied, casting another glance at the symbol on the wall and thought, But I have a feeling things are about to get interesting... very interesting.
Lena turned to the police officer.
"Get the security camera footage from three days before the incident until now. I want to see it. And gather all the information about this necklace - legends, stories, everything. Check for fingerprints from the window upstairs."
As the officer went to the group of his colleagues to relay the orders, Lena took another look at the symbol on the wall. It was still there, visible only to her.
She clenched her fists, feeling adrenaline coursing through her body. Whatever this was, she was going to get to the bottom of it. For the first time in her career, Milena Vaz felt she was facing something that exceeded the boundaries of the rational.
\ \ \*
Lena continued to stare at the empty display case for another minute. The symbol, visible only to her, pulsed faintly as if mocking her. She shook her head, trying to disregard it and focus on the facts she could prove.
"Ms. Romanova," she addressed the curator, "could you tell me more about the stolen exhibit?"
Olga Romanova nodded vigorously, her eyes gleaming despite her obvious concern.
"Of course, Detective. We're talking about 'The Fiery Heart of Yenisei' - an ancient necklace of great occult significance."
Lena took out a notebook and began jotting down notes as Romanova continued:
"The necklace dates back to the 4th century and is believed to have belonged to a shaman woman from the tribe that inhabited these lands before the arrival of the Russians. Legend has it that the stone at its center contains part of the spirit of the Yenisei River and grants its wearer power over the forces of nature."
Lena raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting. And what's its material value?"
Romanova shook her head.
"Substantial, but not enormous. Its true value lies in its historical and cultural significance. To some collectors, it would be priceless. Not to mention certain circles involved in occult..."
Lena nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly interrupted Romanova:
"Excuse me for a moment."
She approached the display case again, peering intently at the glass. Microscopic scratches caught her attention - barely noticeable, but definitely there.
"Security guard," she called to the young man who was nervously pacing nearby. "Tell me exactly what happened last night."
The man swallowed hard.
"Well, everything was normal, Detective. The systems were working as usual, there were no alarms or..."
"And the cameras?" Lena interrupted, looking up at the ceiling.
The guard followed her gaze and turned pale.
"I... I don't understand. The cameras were on, there are recordings."
Lena frowned.
"When did you last check them?"
"The evening before I left. Everything was working normally, I swear!"
Lena felt a slight wisp of cold air near the display case. She looked around, confused - there were no open windows in the hall.
Her attention was drawn to movement in her peripheral vision. An elderly woman with a broom in hand - obviously a cleaner - entered the hall. Her sharp gaze swept over the scene before her.
Lena approached the woman.
"Excuse me, do you work here?"
The cleaner nodded.
"For thirty years, dearie."
"Did you notice anything unusual last night or this morning?"
The woman hesitated for a moment, then leaned towards Lena and whispered:
"I saw something last night. Shadows. Dancing around the necklace display."
Lena felt a slight sarcastic smile trying to break her concentrated expression.
"Shadows? What do you mean?"
"I know how it sounds, dearie. But I saw them. It was like... they came alive. And then they vanished."
Lena tried to keep her cool, but her mind was racing. First the symbol only she could see, now this... either someone was messing with her, or she was going crazy.
"Thank you," she said to the cleaner. "If you think of anything else, please let me know."
She turned to leave, but suddenly the woman grabbed her sleeve.
"Wait," the cleaner whispered, looking around nervously. "There's something else."
Lena leaned in closer, intrigued.
"Last night, just before we closed... there was a man. Strange fella. He was standing in front of the necklace display and..." she paused, her eyes widening at the memory. "And then he just... disappeared. Like he melted into thin air."
Lena's heart began to race. Part of her wanted to dismiss the woman's words as the fantasy of a tired mind. But another part - the part that saw invisible symbols and sensed strange energies - urged her to listen.
"Can you describe him?" she asked quietly.
The cleaner nodded slowly.
"Tall. Thin. Wore a long dark coat. And he had eyes... eyes that seemed to burn. I've never seen eyes like that."
Lena froze. The description matched the strange figure she had glimpsed earlier - the man who seemed to merge with the shadows.
"Thank you," she said to the cleaner, trying to hide the excitement in her voice. "This could be very helpful."
As the woman walked away, Lena remained in place. What did all this mean? A theft? Or a case straight out of The X-Files?
She turned back to the display case, staring at the pulsing symbol. Gradually, she allowed herself to consider that the investigation was leading her into territory she wasn't prepared for. Into a world where the logic and facts she had always relied on might not hold the same meaning.
With her heart pounding, Lena made a decision. She would follow this new, inexplicable lead, regardless of whether her colleagues would mock her later.
She turned to Romanova, who was still standing nearby with a worried expression.
"Ms. Romanova, I need access to the museum's archives. I'd like to see everything you have on the necklace's origin and the legends associated with it."
The curator nodded energetically.
"Of course, Detective. I'll take you to my office right away. The documents you're interested in are there."
As she followed Romanova to the office, Lena took one last look at the hall. For a moment, she thought she saw the shadows in the corners move, as if coming alive. She blinked, and the vision disappeared.
But the feeling of being watched stayed with her.