Bakyt stopped the car, and they got out. Ermek quickly descended from the veranda and embraced Dinara. Then he shook Bakyt's hand, saying something grateful. Finally, he turned to Alexei.

"Welcome, Alexei Igorevich," he said in clear Russian with a slight accent. "I've heard a lot about you from Dinara. And, of course, I knew your grandfather. He was a great man."

He firmly shook Alexei's hand. Ermek had an open face with deep wrinkles from sun and wind, penetrating dark eyes, and a thick, slightly graying mustache. He was dressed simply but neatly—in jeans and a plaid shirt like Dinara's.

"Thank you for the invitation," Alexei replied. "And for your hospitality."

"Come inside," said Ermek, gesturing toward the veranda. "You must be tired from the journey. Dinner is ready, and I have excellent cognac."

They climbed to the veranda. Inside, the house proved spacious and cozy. A large living room with a fireplace, walls hung with photographs of nature and wildlife, bookshelves from floor to ceiling, and a large wooden table already set for dinner.

"Dinara, show Alexei Igorevich to his room," said Ermek. "Meanwhile, Bakyt and I will take care of the car. We need to hide it in the garage so it doesn't attract attention."

The men went out, and Dinara led Alexei up the stairs to the second floor. There was a corridor with several doors.

"This is where the reserve staff live when they're working on long-term projects," she explained. "But now they're all out in the field, so the house is at our disposal." She opened one of the doors. "Here's your room."

The room was small but comfortable. A bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a window with a view of the lake. On the walls hung photographs of local fauna—snow leopards, argali sheep, golden eagles.

"Make yourself at home," said Dinara. "The bathroom is across the corridor, the second door on the right. Come downstairs when you're ready."

She was about to leave, but Alexei stopped her.

"Dinara, wait. You still haven't told me why you were recording our conversation at the museum."

She froze for a moment, then closed the door and turned to him.

"You noticed," it wasn't a question but a statement.

"Yes," Alexei nodded. "And I turned off the recorder."

Dinara sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I don't just work at the museum," she admitted. "I also consult for a government commission on cultural heritage protection. We track attempts to illegally export artifacts from the country." She looked Alexei in the eyes. "When you called and told me about the medallion, I had to report it. It's part of the protocol." She lowered her eyes. "But when I saw that it was truly what you described… I decided to wait. To understand what it was first."

"You don't trust your superiors?" asked Alexei, sitting down beside her.

"It's not about trust." Dinara shook her head. "It's just that lately, some of the commission's decisions have been… strange. Valuable artifacts were transferred to private collections for 'study.' Documents were forged. Reports of thefts weren't properly investigated." She raised her eyes to Alexei. "And behind many of these stories stands Karabaev's name."

"You think he's bribed commission members?"

"I'm certain of it. But there's no proof." Dinara stood and walked to the window. "So I decided to act at my own risk. I wasn't sure if I could trust you, which is why I recorded our conversation." She turned to him. "I'm sorry."

Alexei was silent for a while, considering what he'd heard. Then he nodded:

"I understand. In your place, I'd probably have done the same."