But what caught Ruthra's attention was not the variety of disguises, but the fact that the individual members of the secret group who were preparing for the secret meeting, in addition to the individual ones, were being issued a common document. This was done in a neighboring room, the entrance to which was blocked by a massive guard. Ruthra had figured it out after listening and scanning the space with his superhearing and supervision turned on.

Catching and filtering the whispering waves of the employees, sound waves reflected from objects, reflection from the glass of the cabinet window, he found one common important feature in this "vinaigrette" of data. Allegedly, they were all members of an amateur band with the ringing name "Ringing Cedars of Russia". For a moment the brain shut down, then received a "jab with an atomic needle," right at the tip of a neuron. Ruthra went into a "coma" and froze motionless. The brain was disconnected from reality, all its resources were directed toward solving the puzzle, for which a major clue had suddenly opened up.

The main clue was identical to the logical conclusion used by secret service personnel, and it read: "If you want something well hidden, put it in a conspicuous place." It turned out that there was no need to look for them, it was useless – they could be everywhere. And it was useless to calculate them – they could be out of hiding. But that was their secret. They didn't need to infiltrate anywhere, they were already there. Or rather, anyone from any service – secret, open or special – could be recruited. It was enough to suggest to the object of recruitment that he was of the same blood with them, that they were against those who wanted to destroy this "blood", to "prove" that it was those who wanted to do it who were in power – and the "client" was "theirs".

The thought of where the "tentacles" of this cosmological singularity could have penetrated took Rutra's consciousness to the moment of space-time, to the point where the timer of the Big Bang would start counting down. It turns out that this is what and who are the ZKR group, the "Ringing Cedars of Russia". They are united in spirit and blood!

The secretary's question brought him back to reality.

– Did you forget something? – He asked, looking at the shelves behind his back where suspicious items were stacked before entering the conference room.

It was forbidden to bring cell phones and any other equipment, so there were only watches, jewelry and other ornaments, notebooks, passports and the like. Even medications. Ruthra was about to answer him when his brain produced the next bit of filtered information: "…there's 14 kilometers there, if you put it in there, the explosion should cause a continental shift."

Without waiting for a reply, the secretary turned around and looked at Ruthra questioningly. With an effort of will, Ruthra gave a reply:

– No, it's fine, I was expecting you to give me Ernest Famous' email.

– Of course, no questions asked. He asked me to give it to anyone who was interested," the secretary said with an exclamation and handed Rutra a business card for the "head of the folk dance group," which had a non-geographic 800 area code phone number and an e-mail address.

– Thank you," Ruthra replied, and went to the exit, where a rotary bus was waiting for him and like-minded people of similar rank.

Ruthra's brain was almost glowing, her imagination trying to grasp the magnitude of the confrontation between the logic of what was happening and the cause and effect that had brought society to this state. The veil had evaporated, the masks had been dropped. Now it was necessary to find out who was who! To find out, it was necessary to carry out the plan, the plan that Rutra had been preparing.

My dear reader, we have passed with you the level where you learned about the top-secret organization, where information from all intelligence agencies of the world flows, were in the underground at the site "Polygon", which is a separate civilization, visited closed cities, secret laboratories, secret clubs, participated in battles and investigated in the virtual world. Now you will have to take a new turn of events, so steep that you may be washed away by a tsunami wave, literally and figuratively. Get ready, fix yourself in the seat of "Cactus" tighter, establish a connection through the chip in your head with your assistant – artificial intelligence ISU-A2, check the satellites, listen to your inner voice and be ready to see a new sky and a new land. Good luck to you!

Yesterday was a wild beast,

Today, it's a human being,

And tomorrow you'll be the one

Will usher new century

The next day, on his return from Kola, Ruthra was euphoric about his investigation, but still in a foul mood because it had not solved the main secret, but had confused things even more. It appeared the conspirators and instigators of the problem he was busy finding a solution to could be anywhere, perhaps the main bearer of the secret was not alive. Among other things, there was a lot of urgent business piling up at the facility because of all this latest operation. It was only the positivity of Rutru's outcome that made him a little calmer and allowed him to be proud of himself. All of his wanderings and conspiracy solutions, which Rutra had subjected himself to at his level, were not in vain and once again confirmed the rule: the higher your level, the harder it is to not be yourself. After the last operation, Ruthra began to understand why kings and emperors disguised themselves as commoners: to know exactly what was going on in their heads and what their subjects were thinking; Emperor Nicholas I, for example, had resorted to such methods.

Rutru was torn from his musings by Hent's call:

– Rutra Tigrovic, good afternoon, I realize you are in a bad mood, but I must remind you that professionals play by the rules, and you should know the rules.

"Without a magnifying glass I can see you're kents," Rutra thought of Henta and Jarovitovic.

The fact that Hent spoke ambiguously and in riddles did not surprise Ruthra; he was accustomed to it, and was well versed in "words that were not spoken". What did surprise and alarm him was that he addressed him so formally.

– Good afternoon. I'm listening.

– We need to get together. A big gathering of all the friends. The uniform is the same; shorts, slippers, Komsomol badge. The meeting place can't be changed. Gathering tonight, wear a hood, it might be windy or raining.

Ruthra guessed he was talking about the meeting at the board.

– Roger that. Anything to bring? A snack, maybe?

– It's all there, but you need something that's a little something, something about the eternal. I'm nostalgic for Indian movies, so if you've got something, take it.

– You know I can't refuse you, you're like a father to me.

– I'll be in touch.

– I'll be in touch.

Rutra was already in "thought," and after this he was lost in thought. Why so soon, why he did not call him, why he called and spoke "in ciphers" in an extremely encrypted network. Although it was all a game and a friendly performance. The meeting of the board was agreed in advance and carefully organized, with many distractions, up to the meeting of high-ranking officials, sometimes even presidents. Topics and reports were prepared from the collected materials by special organizations in the best centers. But still – something very serious was being planned.