Александр Конторович - Predator - Escape from Tarkov

“I’m standing here on my own, aren’t I?”

“What about the guys who’ve just moved in to those buildings?”

“They’re my escort. A kind man asked them to accompany me here and wait for my return. They’re not planning to go any further with me. That’s not their orders.”

The boy nods understandingly.

“And what’s the grand title of this kind man? Maybe it’s somebody I know? Then you could say hi to him for me.”

I think for a second. Obviously, I don’t actually know any of the dealer’s regular customers. If I throw out any old name it could be a mistake, as I don’t know what sort of relationship the dealer might have with anybody.

“It was Mishka Dronov that told me about this place.”

“Driller?”

“I’m not sure. That’s not a name I know him by. I only know his real name. We’ve been friends for a long time, and helped each other out more than once.”

The boy stays silent for a while. He tips his head, just like he’s listening for something. It’s only then that I notice the thin, transparent wire running from his left ear under his collar. That’s an earpiece, isn’t it! I’ve seen similar gadgets before. When the big cheeses in the corporation came to visit, their bodyguards used to run around with those things stuck in their ears.

“Yes, we know someone by that name,” confirms the boy. “True, he hasn’t been to see us for a while. How’s he keeping?”

“Well, he was fine the day before yesterday, that I can tell you. He was even speaking clearly and comprehensibly. I left him something for his health.”

“I see. And who supplied you with the escort? That’s not a cheap service these days.”

“That’s another guy. They call him the Predator. I did him a good turn, and this is his way of paying me back.”

The boy nods. Apparently, he has no more questions. He makes an inviting gesture with his hand.

“This way, then. I hope your escort understands that it’s not a good idea to follow us.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. And Mishka warned me all about it. They’ll stay where they are.”

The boy doesn’t say anything more, just turns and starts to walk across the square. I straighten my shotgun and follow him.

You could say that part of my mission is now complete. The dealer’s still around and in business. All other information I gather will be a plus. Still, I can’t go home just yet.

Leaving the square, we head into the narrow streets of the old city. Here, on the border between residential areas and the industrial zone, nothing new has been built – it’s not a prestigious neighbourhood. The streets are very varied: some narrow, some wide; some relatively clean, some covered with litter. All attention here was focused on the custom house and the goods that came through it. For that reason, there were a number of warehouses of all sorts, most of them no longer in use. Hardly anyone lived here anymore, and those that remained weren’t the sort to take much care about clearing up their yards.

We turn into a courtyard, go through a doorway, and find ourselves in front of a flat door.

“Leave your weapons here,” says the boy with me.

“All of them?”

“Preferably. The shotgun and the rifle, definitely.”

I look around. Behind us, standing to the left of the front door, is a guy with a sawn-off. He’s not pointing it at me yet, but… And a little further to the side, but not far enough to block a clear shot, are two more, both of them armed. These ones only have pistols. I put my shotgun on the table, and unstrap Shorty from my backpack. I look inquiringly at the boy who brought me in.

“I don’t want to seem mistrustful, I really don’t. However…”

I lay my pistol down as well.

“Do you want to look in my backpack, too?”

“No, but you’ve got a knife. I can see the point sticking out under your waistcoat.”

“This?” I open one side of my waistcoat. “You want me to take this off?”

Here he hesitates. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“No, that’s enough. Everything you leave here will be looked after. Don’t worry, nothing will go missing. We do everything by the book.”

A blindfold appears in his hands.

“You want to cover my eyes?”

“Yes.”

We’re moving downwards, and some sort of stones crunch under my feet. Clearly this isn’t a normal tunnel. It’s damp. I can feel the higher humidity all over my skin. We turn, a door scrapes, and I feel a hard floor beneath my feet. It’s drier here, and a little warmer.

“You can take off the blindfold.”

A fairly narrow but quite long room. Bright bulbs hang from the ceiling. So, they’ve got electricity here. We’re in the far corner of the room, the boy who brought me is standing to the right behind me. In front of me is an office desk with a man of indeterminate age sitting behind it, dressed in military-style jacket and trousers. There’s a hood over his head, and he’s leaning forward, so I don’t see much of his face.

“You want to see me. Why?”

“I’ve got some things you might want to buy.”

“Many people do. But I don’t welcome everyone here.”

“I won’t argue. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Here the man lifts his head and looks at me intently. His face is somewhat strange – high cheekbones, tight skin, fierce eyes that look straight through you, narrow lips, and a sharp nose. There’s something distasteful about his appearance.

“Yes, I have my reasons not to deal with a large number of people. I only do business with those I’ve known for a long time, or with customers that someone can vouch for. I don’t know you, so who can vouch for the fact I can trust you?”

“I’m going to assume my word won’t be enough. I told your man the name of one person, and he confirmed that it’s familiar to you.”

“What name exactly?”

See? It looks like my trick’s beginning to pay off. It’s one I’ve used many times before. You provide your opponent with some well-known and easily confirmed facts, then you throw something else in among them. Something that, to put it nicely, isn’t obviously reliable. And your opponent swallows it all at once without thinking.

“Well, you know Dronov, don’t you? He’s an old customer of yours.”

The thin man stays silent for a while.

“As a customer, I’d say he’s too old. And he’s managed to make a whole string of mistakes that don’t speak well of him. So that’s not the best recommendation.”

“You don’t trust him because he’s started working with people that you don’t like?”

At this, the man stands up. Turns out he’s taller than me. Behind me there’s a metallic click. Has the boy who brought me gone for his gun?

“Sorry, but how does that concern you? That’s entirely my business, and I heartily recommend you keep your nose well out of it.”

Instead of answering, I undo my waistcoat and pull one side open.

“Want to take a look at it?”

The man stands silent for a while, then returns to his seat.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Well, if I told you it was a gift, would you believe me? Unfortunately, it wasn’t just you that Driller let down. He treated some old friends very badly, too. Then we had to get involved. I don’t think your former customer will be giving you any more problems. There aren’t many people who can afford to cross the Predator.”

For a while, he drums his fingers on the desk. Then he looks up.

“Very well. We’ll see about that later. What do you want today?”

“Nothing in particular. I want to become your customer, that’s all.”

“Have you brought anything?”