Игорь Патанин

Seven Elephants


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all these names. Every girl."

      "Already on it," another officer appeared in the doorway. "In his computer—an entire database. Photographs, schedules, routes. He was tracking all of them."

      "And nobody noticed?" Anna turned to the principal. "Nobody paid attention?"

      "To what?" Valentina Petrovna threw up her hands in confusion. "That a teacher takes interest in his students' lives? That he helps them, supports them? We thought he was just… a good person."

      Anna's phone rang. Granin.

      "Come quickly," the old investigator's voice sounded hollow. "Someone's been in my apartment. The elephants… they're gone. All six."

      Anna exchanged glances with Dorokhov. "I'm sending a team. Don't touch anything."

      "Wait," the principal suddenly grabbed Anna's arm. "Yesterday… yesterday Igor brought a box of chocolates to the teachers' lounge. Said it was his birthday. And this morning he didn't come to work. For the first time in three years."

      "Where does he live?"

      "In the teachers' dormitory. But he's not there either. And his phone isn't answering."

      "Anna Vitalyevna!" a young officer ran up to them. "Look what we found in his locker in the changing room."

      He handed Anna a plastic bag. Inside were three red porcelain elephants—exactly like the green ones on the shelf.

      "And that's not all," the officer placed a school register on the table. "Look at these markings."

      Anna opened the register. Next to some names were colored dots: blue, green, red.

      "Red dots—next to the names of three girls from Sophia's parallel class," explained the officer.

      "Check on these girls. Immediately," Anna ordered, feeling everything inside her tighten with anxiety.

      "Also, we found documents in his home," the officer continued. "In the name of… Igor Vasilyev."

      "Vasilyev?" Anna frowned. "The same one? From Tver?"

      "Yes. Among the documents—letters of recommendation from the music school in Tver, dated twenty years earlier."

      Anna picked up one of the green elephants from the shelf, carefully examining the porcelain figurine. What did these colors mean? Why had Sokolov so meticulously marked children in his lists?

      "Dorokhov," she carefully put the elephant back in place. "I need all information about Sokolov's connections. Phone calls, correspondence, meetings. Especially with Viktor Rogov. And check everyone who signed his recommendations."

      "Already working on it."

      Another officer appeared in the doorway.

      "Anna Vitalyevna, they called from the detention center. Viktor Rogov is demanding to see you. Says he's ready to testify."

      "About what?"

      "About Sophia. And about where to find her."

      Anna gathered the documents into a folder.

      "Dorokhov, check all psychological centers and clinics in the city. Especially those that work with children."

      "Why psychological centers specifically?"

      "Intuition," Anna headed for the exit. "And one more thing—find out if Sophia or Elena Andreevna underwent any psychological therapy in recent years."

      In the car, Anna reviewed photographs of Sokolov's office. Cabinet, desk, shelf with elephants… In one of the photographs on the wall, she noticed a small framed picture: Sokolov with a group of children. And next to him—a middle-aged man in a formal suit. Something in his face seemed familiar to Anna, but she couldn't place where she had seen him.

      Anna sent the photo to Dorokhov with a note: "Find out who this person is next to Sokolov." Then she started the car and drove to the detention center.

      The story was becoming increasingly complex. The trail led into the past, to Tver, to that same case from twenty years ago. But now Anna felt that something greater was involved than simply repeating an old scenario. Something systematic, calculated, almost… professional.

      And in Sokolov's office, seven green porcelain elephants on the shelf continued to keep their secrets. Secrets whose unraveling could cost the lives of not only Sophia Velichko, but also other children whose names were marked with colored dots in the register.

      Chapter 7: In Darkness

      The first thing Sophia felt upon regaining consciousness was the cold. A piercing, damp cold that numbed her fingers and caught her breath. She tried to move, but her body refused to obey, as if it were someone else's. Her thoughts were tangled and blurred, like drawings on a fogged-up window.

      "Where am I?" The question hung silently in the darkness. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the absence of light. Shadows. Silhouettes. Some objects around her.

      Sophia strained her memory. The last thing she remembered was walking to school. The white jacket. Mom's "Have a good day." And then… a gray car? A man asking for directions? After that—emptiness.

      She tried to sit up. Her head spun, nausea rose in her throat. She managed it anyway. She felt the surface beneath her—a hard bed with a metal frame. A sheet, blanket, pillow. Next to it—a small table. Something stood on it.

      Sophia reached out and felt cold porcelain. A small statuette. Running her fingers over the smooth surface, she recognized the shape—an elephant. Just like the ones she collected at home. Only this one was… What color was it? Impossible to tell in the darkness.

      Her heart beat faster. "Viktor? Is he the one who took me?" The thought burned through her consciousness. Or was it someone else?

      Somewhere in the distance, footsteps were heard. Firm, measured—someone was approaching. Sophia froze, clutching the porcelain figurine in her hand. The footsteps stopped outside a door that she couldn't yet make out in the darkness. The sound of a key in the lock. Creaking hinges.

      A silhouette appeared in the doorway. The light came on—dim, yellowish, but after complete darkness, it seemed blinding. Sophia squinted, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a man in a formal dark suit before her.

      "Good morning, Sophia," the voice sounded gentle, almost friendly. "How are you feeling?"

      She didn't answer, continuing to grip the elephant in her hand. The man was tall, with gray temples and a neat beard. Glasses in thin frames. His gaze was attentive, studying. In his hands—a folder with some papers.

      "My name is Doctor Berkut. Alexander Viktorovich. I'm here to help you."

      "Where am I?" Sophia's voice sounded hoarse, as if she hadn't spoken for several days.

      "In a safe place," he smiled reservedly. "A temporary shelter until we prepare something more… suitable for you."

      The man came closer and sat on a chair near the bed. His gaze fell on the statuette in the girl's hand.

      "I see you've already met our little friend," he nodded at the elephant. "You know what's interesting? This elephant is green. The color of hope. The color of the future."

      Sophia looked at the figurine. In the lamplight, the porcelain indeed had a soft green hue, like young spring grass.

      "Why am I here?" she tried to speak firmly, but her voice trembled.

      "Oh, that's the right question," Berkut opened the folder. "You're here because you're special, Sophia. You passed the selection. You deserve to be part of something greater than an ordinary life."

      He took a photograph from the folder and placed it before her. In the picture, Sophia was in the schoolyard, laughing, with books in her hands. Next to it were several more photographs: Sophia with her mother, Sophia near her house, Sophia in physical education class.

      "We've been watching you for a long time," Berkut continued. "And others like you. Special children who deserve a better future."

      "My mom will look for me," Sophia tried to make her voice sound confident. "And the police are already searching."

      "Undoubtedly,"