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She checks the time. “I need to go.”

I hold the batch number close to the camera.

“Start with this,” I say. “Find out where it was ordered, where it was sent, and who changed the record. Use only the paper records and files you normally handle. Don’t search outside your usual access.”

I send the number to her through the secure link.

“I’ll check the records I can reach without signing in.”

“Be careful,” I say.

“I will. Call me again tomorrow at six in the evening.”

The screen goes dark.

Alexei calls Abramov and quietly places two guards near Kira’s hospital exit and apartment.

“She won’t see them,” he says, putting down the phone. “Anyone following her will.”

“Good.” I close Marina’s messages and stand. “I’m going back to Misha.”

Alexei gathers the files into one stack. “I’ll come with you.”

We walk back to the family suite together.

The next evening, Sergei brings me to the secure annex beside the communications room. Alexei is already there with the medical bag and Marina’s messages spread across the table.

Through the glass wall, Yuri and Kirill sit at their screens. Yuri opens the secure channel and watches the connection for any sign that someone is trying to follow it.

Kira appears on the screen from her room. She wears a dark suit, and her hair is tied back. She looks toward her door before placing a stack of printed scans beside the tablet.

“I found the ambulance records,” she says. “Three ambulances left that night. One carried a heart patient, one transferred two accident victims to another hospital for scans, and one listed a trauma transfer to Zarya Medical Clinic.”

Kirill’s voice comes through the speaker. “Give me the clinic name.”

“Zarya Medical Clinic,” Kira says.

His keys begin to click beyond the glass wall. Kira sends him scans of the transfer form and the clinic details from the paper records.

A few seconds later, Zarya’s company record opens on our screen.

Petrov’s voice comes through the speaker. “Zarya appears in Chernov’s payment records. His company paid for several ambulance trips there.”

I study the list. “So Zarya may be where the false transfers ended.”

“Maybe,” Petrov says. “The payments prove the ambulances went there. They don’t tell us what the vehicles carried.”

Kira pulls another folder closer. “Check the hospital backup. I sent you copies of the deleted files.”

Kirill opens the folder. A duplicate supply form appears, dated one day before the medicine was reported missing.

“The pharmacy says the ampoules broke,” he says. “But the same batch number appears here on a transfer to Zarya.”

Kirill searches the old New Harbor archive and opens the Zarya files stored there.

New Harbor Medical Aid is listed as the clinic’s operator.

More files fill the screen. Doctor names. Patient lists. Drug orders. False treatment records. Ambulance routes. Equipment bills. Contact sheets.