Александр Конторович - Predator - Escape from Tarkov

There was a fairly wide range of supplies in the warehouses, although obviously there was a shortage of food. Uniforms, spare parts, and ammo they had in plenty, but to feed that number of people they had had to make excursions. So far, they had gone reasonably smoothly. In the case of shootouts, the police had the upper hand thanks to their overwhelming superior strength with automatic weapons. They didn’t have to save ammo, either. Nearly all the stores of the city police were kept here, so even with the most wasteful shooting they’d have plenty for quite a while. Moreover, they blasted off at everyone without worrying too much about who they were firing at. If you picked up a gun, you were a fair target, whatever your vocation in life. Let the archangels sort them out, here it’s every man for himself.

“Still, they’re shit out of food,” says Ivan, shaking his head. “Any ideas you have about how to get supplies will, as you can imagine, be very gratefully received.”

As it happens, I may have some good news for them on that front. Putting my tea aside, I explain it all to Ivan.

“Eat up then and we’ll go and see the chief.”

This distinguished title was held by the former commander of a squadron of the Tarkov Traffic Police, Captain Veremeyev. This short, round man turned out to be a very interesting guy to talk to. Having listened to my account of the shopkeeper I knew of, he nodded his head thoughtfully.

“It had occurred to me that somebody must be doing something of the sort. In my time I’ve been in quite a few trouble spots, and I’ll tell you this – in that type of situation, “trading posts” like that always crop up quite organically and very quickly. Obviously, you need some pretty shady operators for that sort of business. But there’s never been a shortage of them in this city, as any field officer will tell you. Thanks for the tip, we’ll send some lads to see him.”

“You’ll be met by a guard. His name’s Pavel, and his nickname’s Sledgehammer. He fully lives up to it. Just take a look at his fists and you’ll have no further questions. And there’s all sorts of interesting types hanging round on the way there.”

“Bandits?”

“More like street trash. Still, you won’t be able to stroll past them. Tell them that the Predator sent you. That’ll be enough for them to get out of the way and leave you in peace. If you give them some supplies or ammo, they’ll be grateful till the day they die. When you speak to Pavel, you should mention me. I can’t promise that it’s a solid-gold recommendation, but it’s the best you’ll get.”

The Captain frowns.

“The Predator? Who the hell’s that?”

“He’s a kind of local celebrity. He’s not really involved in the business, and he won’t bother you, but the gangbangers respect him.”

“Great,” nods Veremeyev. “We’ll go and see your shopkeeper. Do you want to come with us? The more the merrier, and safer for that matter.”

“No,” I shake my head. “I’ve still got something to deal with here. I need to find a certain person. Maybe one of your guys would know something?”

“Who’s the man you’re after?”

“He used to deal drugs and had several other lines of illegal business. He’s unscrupulous. He’ll take on anyone and he’ll sell anything. I thought the local druggies might know him, so I went to see one of them, and the little fucker ratted me out to those freaks. Well, the rest you already know.”

The Captain says nothing for a while, thinking something over.

“Those freaks are a different matter. We haven’t come across them before. Ivan told us a little about them, and we need to think about it. As for this person you’re looking for, you’ll need to talk to our field officers. We’ve got a couple who used to work these parts. If the guy used to deal, they’ll definitely know who you mean.”

“There was one guy,” nods one of the field officers I speak to, “a very cunning son of bitch, always changing his nickname. He’d open up new houses every couple of months. Not a simple guy. We never managed to get our hands on him. His customers stayed loyal and never gave him up.”

“Do you think I can find him?”

“You can try. None of us can give you a guarantee, as I’m sure you understand. I doubt very much that he’s eased off during the current chaos. In fact, I should think he’s become even more shady. Still, you can risk it if you like. He was always hanging about round the customs house, and it’s quite possible he’s still based somewhere near there.”

After a chat with the Captain, he offered to send a few men to accompany me and play along with my charade a little. Which is fine by me. It’s not as if he owes me anything. That may change after they’ve been to see the shopkeeper. That’s a whole different conversation, but until then it’s like Veremeyev is paying me a sort of advance. Plus, he’s saying thank you for saving one of his men, I suppose. For now it’s more than enough. I wasn’t expecting any favours from them. In fact, I was happy just to get fed.

For his part, Ivan threw in some ammo for my assault rifle and my shotgun. He also arranged two other useful gifts for me: in the repair workshops they changed the stock on my shotgun, replacing the old one with one of those curved fold-up things that has slots for extra shells on it. He also brought me a curious system of straps that allowed me to keep my pistol under my armpit. It turned out to be far more comfortable than the pocket I’d fashioned from an old sleeve. People do make some clever things, don’t they? And, of course, Ivan had managed to tell me a lot of useful information during our time together, and taught me some useful skills.

“Go and wait over there,” says the officer, nodding towards a little garden. “Somebody’s always keeping a lookout on that place. They see a customer and come over. Then they lead you off somewhere. That’s the way he works – if there’s more than one person, nobody shows up. We’ll wait three hours for you here, but then we’ll be leaving. Sorry.”

“Alright, you think I don’t get it? I’m grateful you got me this far, guys.”

The officer turns and nods, and my escort group heads off to the buildings across the road. While I know that they can’t actually give me any help, it warms the heart nonetheless. I also hope that whoever keeps watch over this place had a good chance to see who was accompanying me.

Half an hour passes. A chilly wind blows around the garden, whipping up columns of dirt. So far, not a soul has shown themselves. Does that mean that the officer’s information is out of date? Come to think of it, why shouldn’t it be? This was all how it worked before the chaos started, but an awful lot has changed since then. The shopkeeper’s rival may have been whacked by any one of his clients going wild from withdrawals.

“Good afternoon!”

I turn around. There’s a skinny young guy looking at me from between the branches of a decorative fir. See, it doesn’t pay to get lost in your thoughts when you’re awaiting an important meeting. I didn’t notice him approaching at all, and he could just as easily have shot me. That would have been the end of my mission.

“Greetings to you, too.”

“You here on business, or just passing by?”

“I’ve got some goods that I’d like to sell.”

“Who to, if it’s not a secret?”

“Why would it be a secret?” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “I’ve got a bit of ammo, and some rather… specific… medicine. Demand for that sort of thing’s quite limited. It’s not everybody’s business, so I’m looking for quite a specific sort of person.”

“You’re in luck,” says the boy. “Turns out there’s someone just like that not far from here. But I guess you know the rules for visiting him already?”