Seven Elephants

Now the change in Berkut's face was obvious. He tensed, though he tried to hide it behind a smile.

"The names sound familiar. But, you see, that was twenty years ago. A lot of water under the bridge."

"Of course," Anna smiled back. "And what about Igor Sokolov? Was he ever connected with your center?"

"Sokolov?" Berkut frowned. "I don't recall anyone by that name. Who is he?"

"A physical education teacher at the school where Sophia Velichko studied. He's currently wanted—suspected of involvement in the girl's disappearance."

Berkut shook his head.

"I don't know him. But if he was acquainted with Sophia, perhaps she told him about her problems. Teenagers often trust teachers more than parents."

"What problems could you be referring to?" Anna became alert.

"I'm speaking hypothetically," Berkut spread his hands. "Not knowing the girl personally, I can't say anything specific. But as a specialist, I can suggest that if she became a victim of abduction, then perhaps something preceded it. Perhaps she herself was looking for a way to leave home."

"Are you suggesting Sophia might have run away voluntarily?"

"I'm just considering all possible scenarios. Professional habit," Berkut smiled. "But I'm glad I can be useful to the investigation. If you need consultation on psychological aspects of the case, I'm always at your service."

Anna nodded, carefully observing the expression on his face. Too smooth. Too professional. As if he had been expecting this conversation and had prepared thoroughly.

"One more question, Doctor Berkut. Are you familiar with collecting porcelain figurines? Elephants, in particular?"

It was a shot in the dark, but the reaction exceeded all expectations. Berkut momentarily froze. His right hand, resting on the desk, trembled slightly.

"Funny you should ask," he quickly composed himself. "I do actually have a small collection. Not elephants, though, but porcelain dogs. Why does this interest you?"

"In the apartment where Sophia lived, we found a collection of porcelain elephants. It might be connected to the disappearance."

Berkut shook his head.

"I'm afraid I can't help you there. Although… porcelain figurines are often used in art therapy. They can reveal a lot about a person's inner world."

"How exactly?"

"The choice of figurine, how one handles it, its placement in space—all of this reflects subconscious processes. But again, not knowing Sophia personally, I can only theorize."

Anna stood up, feeling she wouldn't get anything more from this conversation. Berkut was too cautious, too much in control of himself.

"Thank you for your help, doctor. We'll be in touch."

"Always happy to assist justice," Berkut walked her to the door. "And, Detective Sviridova… good luck to you. Cases like these always leave a mark on the soul."

Leaving the center, Anna called Dorokhov.

"He knows more than he's saying. Denies knowing Sokolov, but visibly tensed at the mention of Tver and porcelain elephants. And also—I saw a patient's chart with a blue circle, like the markings in Sokolov's register."

"I have news," Dorokhov's voice sounded excited. "I checked the connections. Elena Andreevna was indeed a patient at the 'New Life' center. Two years ago, a course of therapy for increased anxiety. And guess who referred her there?"

"Viktor Mikhailovich Astakhov."

"Exactly. Moreover, there are records showing that Sophia also underwent 'diagnostics' there. Only three sessions. Then the mother discontinued the therapy. And here's what's strange—there are colored markers in both electronic charts. The mother's is blue. The daughter's is green."

"Wait for me. We need to speak with Elena Andreevna urgently."

Consciousness returned slowly, as if rising from the depths of a dark lake. Sophia opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for several seconds, not understanding where she was. The room. The same room with concrete walls. But something had changed. The walls… drawings had appeared on them. Colorful images of elephants—dozens, perhaps hundreds of figurines, drawn as if by a child's hand.

She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't cooperate well. Her head was spinning, her mouth was dry. What had they injected her with?

"You're awake. Good."

Sophia turned her head. In the corner of the room, a girl about her age sat on a chair. Thin, with short dark hair and large eyes.

"Who are you?" Sophia's voice sounded hoarse.

"My name is Katya," the girl stood up and came closer. "Katya Voronova."

Sophia tried to make sense of what she heard. Katya Voronova. She had heard that name somewhere. Somewhere…

"Have you been here long?" Sophia asked, trying to collect her thoughts.

"Very long," Katya sat on the edge of the bed. "Almost twenty years ago."

"What?!" Sophia sat up abruptly, overcoming her weakness. "But that's impossible! You're…"

"I'm fifteen. I'm always fifteen," Katya smiled sadly. "It's hard to explain. You're under the influence of drugs right now. That's why you can see me."

Sophia stared at the girl, trying to understand what was happening. A hallucination? Effects of the injection? Or was she simply going insane?

"I don't understand…"

"Of course you don't," Katya picked up the green elephant from the nightstand. "I left you that message. 'Don't trust. Run. K.' I hoped you could get away before they started the procedures."

"What procedures? What's happening?" Sophia's voice was filled with panic.

Katya sighed, stroking the porcelain figurine.

"Berkut and his 'collectors'… they don't just kidnap children. They create their collection. Special children, as they say. Children whose souls will belong to them."

"I don't understand…"

"Berkut developed a drug. He calls it the 'key.' This drug alters consciousness, makes a person suggestible. And then… then they take a part of you. Your memories, your emotions, your will. And in return, they leave emptiness. Or something foreign."

Sophia felt as if her insides had frozen.

"They turn people into puppets?"

"Worse. They turn people into collectors. Just like themselves. Viktor Rogov, Igor Sokolov—they were the first. The first test subjects. And now they help Berkut find new… exhibits."

Sophia tried to digest what she'd heard. It sounded like nonsense, like the plot of a science fiction movie. But something told her that Katya was telling the truth.

"If you've been here for twenty years… why do you still look like a teenager?"

Katya smiled sadly.

"I'm not here. Not exactly here. My body… it's dead. Long dead. And what you see is just a projection. A reflection in your consciousness, altered by the drugs."

"You're a ghost?" Sophia moved away, feeling a shiver run through her body.

"No. More like… an echo. Berkut calls it 'residual consciousness.' When they take a person's essence, something still remains."

Chapter 9: Threads of Fate

Elena Andreevna met Anna in her apartment, exhausted by sleeplessness and waiting. Dark circles under her eyes, pale face, nervous movements—she looked like someone on the verge of a breakdown.

"Has something happened?" she asked as soon as Anna crossed the threshold. "Have you found Sophia?"

"Not yet. But I have new questions," Anna walked into the living room. "This is very important. Have you ever visited the 'New Life' psychological center?"

Elena Andreevna froze for a second.

"Yes. A couple of years ago. Viktor recommended it, said I had increased anxiety because of work. Why?"

"And Sophia was there too?"

"Several times. Three or four sessions," Elena Andreevna frowned. "But we stopped going. Sophia didn't like the psychologist. She said she felt uncomfortable during the sessions. What happened?"

Anna took out Berkut's photograph.

"Is this the psychologist you saw?"

Elena Andreevna looked at the picture and nodded.

"Yes, Doctor Berkut. He's a very well-known specialist. Viktor said there was a waiting list several months long, but we managed to get in through connections."

"What happened during the sessions? What did he do with you? With Sophia?"

"Standard therapy," Elena Andreevna shrugged. "Conversations, tests. With Sophia, he conducted some kind of art therapy… Something involving animal figurines. And he prescribed me pills."

"What kind of pills?"

"I don't remember the name. Small white pills. They were supposed to reduce anxiety. I took them for about a month, but then stopped—they made me feel somewhat… detached. As if I were looking at the world through a cloudy window."

Anna felt her pulse quicken.

"Elena Andreevna, these sessions, the pills… when exactly was this?"

"About six months before I met Viktor," she thought for a moment. "No, that's not right. We knew each other, but not closely. He was just an acquaintance from a mutual social circle. And then, when I was already seeing Berkut, he started showing more attention. Asking me on dates, giving gifts…"

"Don't you find that strange?" Anna asked carefully. "Berkut. Viktor. These pills."

Elena Andreevna slowly sank into a chair, her face suddenly growing even paler.

"You think… all of this was connected? Viktor and Berkut… they were working together?"

"We have reason to believe so," Anna moved closer. "And another person—Igor Sokolov, the physical education teacher. They may have been planning Sophia's abduction for a long time."

"My God," whispered Elena Andreevna. "I let him into our home. I myself…"

"It's not your fault," Anna said firmly. "They manipulated you. Possibly even with drugs."

Elena Andreevna suddenly raised her head, panic flashing in her eyes.

"The elephants!" she exclaimed. "Sophia's first elephant appeared after a session with Berkut. He gave her that figurine himself. Said it was… that it was a symbol of her potential."

"What color was this elephant?"

"Green," Elena Andreevna whispered. "Bright green."

Anna made a note in her notebook.

"Is there anything else that seems strange to you? Even the smallest detail could be important."

Elena Andreevna closed her eyes, remembering.

"There was one time… Sophia returned from a session with Berkut somewhat… different. Detached. She spoke slowly, as if struggling to find words. I asked if everything was all right, and she said: 'I saw Katya. She was special too.'"

"Katya?"

"Yes. At the time, I thought she was talking about another patient at the center. But now…"

"Katya Voronova," Anna said quietly. "The girl Viktor Rogov killed twenty years ago."

The phone rang in the kitchen. Elena Andreevna absently rose to answer it. A minute later, she returned even paler than before.

"It was him."

"Who?"

"Berkut. He said that Sophia is fine. That she…" Elena Andreevna's voice trembled. "That she's undergoing 'necessary transformation.'"

Anna jumped up.

"Did he give an address? Say where she is?"

"No. Only that… that soon I'll receive word from her. And that I should be prepared for her to change."

Anna quickly dialed Dorokhov's number.

"Urgently trace the call to Elena Andreevna's home phone. Just now. And put out an APB on Alexander Berkut. Immediately!"

Hanging up, she turned to Elena Andreevna.

"Have you remembered anything else? Did Berkut ever mention places he goes to? A house outside the city, a country home?"

Elena Andreevna rubbed her temples, trying to concentrate.

"Once… he talked about a sanatorium. Some old sanatorium he wanted to turn into a rehabilitation center for children with psychological trauma. A former Soviet sanatorium somewhere in the forest."

"Name? Address?"

"I think 'Pine'… or 'Forest'… something like that. But once I saw documents on his desk. Something related to property registration. There was an address: Sosnovskoye Highway, kilometer 115."

Anna was already dialing Dorokhov's number.

"Check the sanatorium at kilometer 115 of Sosnovskoye Highway. Possibly a former Soviet facility, now presumably owned by Berkut. Organize a tactical team. And request a search warrant for all properties connected to Berkut."

Rain poured down, turning the road into a slippery gray ribbon. Anna kept peering at the road signs through the wet windshield. Kilometer 112… 113… The turn to the old sanatorium should be somewhere around here.

Dorokhov sat beside her, reviewing documents.

"'Forest Glade' Sanatorium opened in 1978. Specialized in treating neuroses and psychosomatic disorders. Closed in 1996 due to lack of funding. In 2010, the property was sold to a private individual. Guess who?"

"Berkut," Anna answered, slowing down before a sharp turn.

"Almost. A company called 'New Path.' But its sole founder is Alexander Viktorovich Berkut. All documents in order, all permits obtained. Officially—a rehabilitation center for children and adolescents with mental trauma. But for the past five years, no activity. Electricity bills are paid, taxes are filed, but it's as if there are no patients."

"As if," Anna repeated. "Or they're simply not officially registered."

At the 115th kilometer, a sign appeared: "'Forest Glade' Sanatorium—2 km." Half-erased letters, a rusted arrow. Anna turned onto a narrow road leading into the forest.

"Is the tactical team in position?" she asked.

"Yes. Waiting for our signal. They've secured the perimeter but aren't moving in yet."

After two kilometers, they reached a high fence. Once-white concrete panels were now covered with moss and graffiti. The gates were locked with a massive padlock. To the left of the gates was a small door with an intercom.

"What's the plan?" Dorokhov looked at Anna. "The warrant will only be ready in an hour."

"No time to wait," she took out her pistol, checked the magazine. "Position the team. On my signal—move in."

Anna approached the small door and pressed the intercom button. Silence. She pressed it again. After a few seconds, a raspy voice answered:

"'Forest Glade' Sanatorium is closed to visitors."

"Police!" Anna said loudly. "Open up, we have questions."

Silence. Then the sound of a lock being opened. The door opened slightly.

Anna exchanged glances with Dorokhov, who was already coordinating the tactical team's actions over the radio. He nodded. She pushed the door and entered.

The sanatorium grounds looked neglected. The asphalt paths were cracked, with grass growing through them. The fountain in the center of the circular alley had long stopped working; rainwater had collected in its basin. In the distance stood a three-story building—the main building, once painted white but now gray.

Anna walked slowly along the alley, keeping her hand on her holster. Not a soul around. Only the sound of rain and rustling leaves.

A person stood at the entrance to the building. Tall, wearing a dark raincoat with a hood. When Anna came closer, he pushed back his hood, and she recognized Igor Sokolov.

"Detective Sviridova," he smiled slightly. "Doctor Berkut is expecting you."

"Where is Sophia Velichko?" Anna drew her pistol and aimed it at Sokolov.

"She's safe. Inside," he didn't look frightened or surprised. "Doctor Berkut knew you would find this place. He… foresaw your arrival."

"Hands behind your head. Slowly. And take me to Berkut."

Sokolov complied, smiling strangely.

"You don't understand, detective. This isn't just a meeting. It's… an invitation."

Dorokhov appeared behind Anna, weapon at the ready.

"The team is in position," he whispered. "Give the signal?"

She hesitated. If they started the raid, Sophia's life could be in danger. They needed to find her first, ensure her safety.

"No. I'll talk to Berkut first. Keep the team on standby."

Anna nodded to Sokolov:

"Lead the way."

Chapter 10: Labyrinth

Inside, the sanatorium building was not nearly as abandoned as it appeared from the outside. Dim lamps illuminated a long corridor with several doors on both sides. The air was dry and warm, with a slight scent of antiseptic—like in a hospital. Each step echoed hollowly.

"Where are we going?" asked Anna, keeping her pistol aimed at Sokolov's back.

"To Doctor Berkut's office. Third floor, west wing," he spoke calmly, as if conducting a tour. "A surprise awaits you there."

"What kind of surprise?"

"You'll see," Sokolov smiled slightly. "The doctor has prepared everything very carefully."

They climbed a wide marble staircase to the second floor. Here the corridor split in two—right and left. Sokolov turned right, toward another staircase.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Anna, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why all of this?"

Sokolov stopped but didn't turn around.

"You wouldn't understand. No one understands until they experience it firsthand," he spoke quietly, as if sharing something intimate. "What Doctor Berkut does isn't just an experiment. It's… human evolution. A chance to become something greater. To see beyond the ordinary."

"You kidnap and torture children," cold contempt sounded in Anna's voice. "Is that evolution?"

"You're mistaken, detective. We don't cause them pain. We… liberate them. It's like taking off a heavy backpack after a long day. Only the backpack is the limitations of one's own personality."

He moved forward again, continuing to speak:

"Doctor Berkut has found a way to go beyond individual consciousness. To touch something… greater. You can't even imagine what opens up there, beyond the boundary."

Anna caught strange notes in his voice—a mixture of religious ecstasy and fanaticism. It seemed Berkut was truly not just a leader to them, but something of a guru.

They climbed to the third floor. It was noticeably brighter here—modern lighting fixtures, fresh paint on the walls. Nothing resembled an abandoned sanatorium. Sokolov stopped in front of large double doors at the end of the corridor.

"The doctor is waiting for you inside," he stepped aside. "Alone."

"That's not happening," Anna gripped her pistol tighter. "Open it."

Sokolov shrugged and pushed the door. Behind it was a spacious office with panoramic windows overlooking the forest. Modern furniture, elegant design, paintings on the walls. And books—hundreds of books on shelves from floor to ceiling. Alexander Viktorovich Berkut sat behind a massive dark wood desk.

"Anna Vitalyevna," he smiled, rising to meet her. "I'm glad you accepted my invitation."

"Where is Sophia Velichko?" Anna aimed her pistol at him, not wasting time on pleasantries.

"Safe, I assure you," Berkut gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite his desk. "Why don't we talk first? There's so much I'd like to tell you."

"I'm not going to play your games," Anna remained standing in place. "Where is the girl?"

Dorokhov, who had quietly entered the office behind Anna, kept Sokolov at gunpoint.

"Maybe we should search the building?" he suggested. "The team is ready."

Berkut sighed with theatrical disappointment.

"How banal. I expected more understanding from you, Anna Vitalyevna. But if you insist…" he pressed a button on his desk. "Igor, escort Detective Sviridova to the laboratory. Show her our guest."

"Dorokhov, stay here," Anna ordered. "Don't take your eyes off him. And call for backup."

She followed Sokolov, who led her down the corridor to an elevator at the end of the wing. The metal doors slid open with a soft hiss. Inside were only two buttons: up and down. Sokolov pressed "down."

"How many levels are underground?" Anna asked, not expecting an answer.

"Three," Sokolov unexpectedly replied. "The doctor repurposed the old bomb shelters. The result is… impressive."

The elevator seemed to descend forever. Finally, the doors opened, and Anna saw a long, brightly lit corridor. Sterile cleanliness, white walls, closed doors with small windows. Like a hospital. Or a prison.

"What is this place?"

"The transformation laboratory," Sokolov moved forward. "The most important work happens here. Here, personalities… are restructured. They take on a new form."

He stopped at one of the doors and looked through the small window.

"Look. Your Sophia."

Anna pushed him aside and peered through the glass. Inside was a small room with white walls. On a hospital-like bed lay Sophia. Her eyes were closed, and on her head was a strange device with numerous wires, resembling a helmet. Next to the bed stood medical equipment: monitors, IVs, some devices Anna had never seen before.

"What have you done to her?" Anna grabbed Sokolov by the collar, pinning him against the wall. "Open the door! Immediately!"

"She's just sleeping," he replied calmly. "The drug works gently. No pain, no violence. Only… transformation."

"Open this damn door!"

Sokolov took a key card from his pocket and swiped it through the reader. The lock clicked, the door opened slightly. Anna pushed Sokolov away and burst into the room.

Sophia lay motionless, but her chest rose and fell evenly—she was breathing. Anna checked her pulse—steady, strong. There was an injection mark on the girl's arm.

"Sophia? Sophia, can you hear me?" Anna gently shook the girl's shoulder.

No response. Her eyes moved rapidly under closed lids, as if dreaming. Her lips moved silently.

"What did you inject her with?" Anna turned to Sokolov, who stood in the doorway, watching with curiosity.

"The 'Key.' That's what Doctor Berkut calls his invention. A drug that opens the doors of perception. Makes consciousness… pliable. Ready for changes."

"What are the side effects?"

"Nothing dangerous. Dizziness, weakness, sometimes hallucinations," Sokolov shrugged. "Sophia is just dreaming. Special dreams, in which her consciousness is restructured, taking on a new form."

Anna began disconnecting the sensors from the girl's head. Carefully removed the strange helmet. A mesh of electrodes remained on Sophia's head, thin wires entangling her skin.

"What's the antidote? What neutralizes the drug's effect?"

"Time," Sokolov smiled. "Just time. In a few hours, she'll wake up. New. Renewed."

"You're monsters," Anna checked the girl's pupils. They responded to light—a good sign.

"No, we're visionaries. Pioneers. Those who see the future of human consciousness."

Anna pulled out her radio.

"Dorokhov? I've found Sophia. Basement level, west wing. She's unconscious but alive. We need a medical team and…"

A sharp pain in the back of her head interrupted her sentence. The world momentarily darkened. When her vision returned, Anna found herself on the floor. The radio had flown aside. Sokolov stood over her, holding a metal tray—evidently what he had hit her with.

"Sorry, detective, but Doctor Berkut insisted that you also become part of the experiment," Sokolov put the tray on the nightstand and leaned toward her. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt. Quite the opposite."

Anna tried to reach for her gun, but her body wasn't responding well. Her vision was doubled. Sokolov easily intercepted her hand and took her weapon.

"Why…" she managed with difficulty. "Why do you need this?"

"The doctor believes you're an ideal candidate for the next phase of the experiment. Strong personality, sharp mind, unshakable will," he helped her up and sat her on a chair next to Sophia's bed. "People like you are rare. And experiments need… quality samples."

The sounds of gunshots and shouts came from the corridor. Sokolov turned toward the door, then back to Anna. His face reflected doubt.

"Stay here," he closed the door and turned the key in the lock.

Anna tried to stand, but the room spun before her eyes. Concussion? Seemed like it. She focused on her breathing, trying to clear her mind. The radio lay several meters away from her. If she could reach it…

At that moment, Sophia moaned and opened her eyes. A foggy, unfocused gaze slid across the room and stopped on Anna.

"You… came," the girl's voice was weak, barely audible. "Katya said you would come…"

"Katya?" Anna leaned closer. "Which Katya?"

"Katya Voronova," Sophia spoke slowly, as if choosing her words. "She's here… with us. Has been for a long time. Waiting."

The sounds of fighting in the corridor grew louder. Someone shouted commands, footsteps could be heard. It seemed the raid had begun.