"The Key of Oblivion"

VII

The service entrance near the boiler room turned out to be more than just a point of entry, but a portal to another world. Outside, a quiet October night. Inside, a resonant, spacious realm of tiles, old pipes, and the scent of dust, mingled with the subtle aroma of expensive perfume, lingering here from the days when the complex was teeming with life.

Alan walked ahead, holding his telescopic baton at the ready. His knife remained in its sheath - a last resort. Each of his steps was brief and precise, his gaze searching for movement in the dim light of the long corridors. Olga followed behind him, a silenced pistol held at arm's length but ready to move. Her usual melancholy had given way to a cold concentration - there was no room for diplomacy here. Jake brought up the rear, his earpiece pressed to his ear, his face illuminated by the flickering light of his PDA.

"Not a soul," Alan whispered, peering around the corner. "No guests, no staff. It's as if they've vanished into thin air."

"Don't get too excited," Olga responded quietly. "Silence can be louder than screaming."

Jake suddenly raised his hand, freezing them.

"Movement. Two patrols, crossing our route twenty meters ahead. Wait."

They pressed themselves against the wall, blending into the shadows, until distant footsteps faded away.

But as they advanced, the strangeness grew. The boy, listening to the radio, frowned.

"They... they're not just searching. They're fighting. Requesting reinforcements in the north wing, reporting losses..."

Soon, they began to find traces of this conflict themselves. In one corridor, they came across two stunned thugs in identical uniforms, neatly stacked on top of each other. In another, a body with a gunshot wound, still oozing blood.

"There's someone here," Alan growled, clutching his baton. "A third party. And he's cutting them up like rotten meat."

"The system..." Jake pointed at the screen, "it doesn't see them. The cameras record the enemy, but the one incapacitating them isn't there. Like a ghost."

Olga slowly ran her finger over the dusty surface of the console.

"I sense... mockery. Someone very confident and enjoying it."

Meanwhile, in the shadows of a side corridor, Longreath's henchman, Marlowe, lurked. He hadn't seen the attacker, but he had seen his work - lightning-fast and merciless. And now he watched Alan and his companions, moving with the coordination of special forces. He froze, afraid to betray his presence with even the slightest sound.

Examining room after room, they finally reached their destination - a luxurious apartment on the top floor. The door was ajar.

Alan pushed the door open. All three froze on the threshold.

The scene that met their eyes was strange. Five more of Longreath's men lay on the floor, in unnatural positions. A tall, slender figure in a dark, form-fitting suit stood against the far wall, her back to them. In her hands, clasped in graceful fingers, was the very object. It was an oblong crystal, a dull green in color, resembling a gigantic uncut jewel. It was encircled by a band of silvery metal, covered in intricate embossing. The ornamentation on the metal was eerily familiar - the very same aqueduct bridge with a central arch, spanning a hilly valley, exactly like the bas-relief in the castle.

The figure turned. A mocking, serenely cold woman with piercing green eyes peered out from under the hood. Her hand moved so quickly that they barely had time to react - something flashed in the air, and with a dull thud, a thin throwing knife lodged itself in the doorframe above the man's head.

The group darted for cover - behind a massive sofa. But there was no further attack.

"Calm down," came a calm, melodic voice. "If I wanted to put you down next to those idiots, you'd be holding your breath."

Alan, flushed, clutched his baton, but the woman stopped him with a gesture.

The stranger slowly approached, still holding the artifact.

"My name is Alice. I'm a collector. I specialize in things that shouldn't fall into the hands of the likes of Lothrip Longrith."

She pronounced the name with a hint of disdain.

"So this is our target," Olga said quietly, not lowering her pistol. "And our prey."

"Your goal is to prevent this from falling into Longreath's hands," Alice retorted. "Mine is similar. The difference is, I know what it is, and you don't. And you'd better not mess with that knowledge. Let me go, and I'll disappear. You'll accomplish your task without getting your hands dirty. Well, almost."

The three exchanged glances. Alan was clearly irritated - he'd been deprived of the fight and the spoils. Olga felt a slight disappointment - the secret was slipping away, unsolved. But her eyes betrayed agreement. Jake, pale but with a brightened expression, nodded almost imperceptibly. The main thing was that Longreath wouldn't get the crystal.

"Get out," Alan growled hoarsely. "Before I change my mind."

Alice smiled, as if she'd gotten exactly what she wanted.

"It was nice not to have to deal with you."

With light, almost silent steps, she glided to the balcony door leading to the fire escape and vanished into the night, taking with her the solution to this strange October night.