"With your grandfather?" Alexei was surprised. "But why?"

Dinara asked Bakyt the question. He shrugged and answered.

"He doesn't know exactly. He says they would talk privately for hours. Sometimes grandfather would return from these meetings very agitated." Dinara gazed thoughtfully out the window. "Strange that grandfather never told me about this."

At that moment, Bakyt's phone rang. He answered, listening with a serious expression, then quickly said something to Dinara.

"We need to leave," she translated, jumping up. "Two black jeeps have entered the village. They're checking houses."

Alexei felt his heart beat faster.

"Damn, they found us. How?"

"It doesn't matter," Dinara cut him off. "Bakyt will lead us out through the back gate. There's a path that goes through the forest to the road on the other side of the hill. His car is waiting there."

They quickly gathered food for the journey, Bakyt took a hunting rifle and hung it over his shoulder. Dinara put on Alexei's backpack, adding bottles of water to it. Bakyt checked the windows and, making sure the way was clear, led them out through the back door. They crossed the apple orchard and approached a small gate in the far part of the fence. Beyond it, a forest began, stretching up the slope.

"Let's go," said Bakyt. "Quietly and quickly."

They walked along a barely visible path among the trees. The ascent became increasingly steep. Alexei, though in decent shape, began to breathe heavily. Urban life wasn't conducive to developing mountain endurance. Dinara and Bakyt, it seemed, experienced no difficulties, confidently moving forward.

Suddenly, distant barking reached them. Bakyt stopped and listened.

"They've let the dogs loose," he said grimly. "We need to hurry."

They quickened their pace. The path wound between trees, climbing ever higher. Sometimes it almost disappeared, but Bakyt unerringly found the way forward. Finally, they reached a small clearing on the hilltop.

"From here, you can see the village well," said Bakyt, pointing down.

Alexei looked in the indicated direction. Indeed, from this height, the village was laid out before them. Black SUVs stood near several houses. People in dark clothing moved from house to house.

"Who are they?" asked Alexei.

"Karabaev's security," Dinara replied. "At least, that's what Bakyt thinks."

"Could it just be the police?"

Dinara translated the question. Bakyt shook his head and said something.

"He says the police don't drive such cars or act so brazenly. Besides, he recognized one of them—a former special forces soldier who now works for Karabaev."

They continued on their way, now descending the opposite slope of the hill. The path here was wider and more noticeable. Soon they emerged onto a small clearing where an old UAZ stood, camouflaged with branches.

"My car," said Bakyt, removing the branches. "Unassuming, but reliable."

They quickly got into the car. Bakyt started the engine which, to Alexei's surprise, ran quietly and smoothly. Evidently, the car's appearance was deceptive, and the engine was in excellent condition.

"Where to now?" asked Alexei when they drove onto a dirt road.

"To Ermek," Dinara replied. "He should know what's happening. And if Karabaev is really hunting for the medallion, we need help."

They drove along secondary roads, avoiding main highways. Bakyt confidently steered the car through wooded hills and along mountain streams. Sometimes the road became so narrow that tree branches brushed against the windows.

"We're almost at the lake," said Bakyt after a while. "Beyond that pass, you'll be able to see Issyk-Kul."