I go down the stairs and enter the tunnel leading to the bar.
The guard gives me a strange look, but still lets me pass.
But I don't go into the bar itself, I won't drink yet.
I stop at the passage leading to it and sit on a stone, pulling out the murdered director's PDA from his bag and turning it on.
Hmm, the third PDA I've looked through, and it's not password-protected again.
"System," I quietly say to my assistant, so the guard doesn't hear. "Will I be able to hack PDAs and other equipment?"
Yes, user. You just need a higher hacking skill rank and appropriate equipment and software for these purposes.
Okay, as soon as possible, I'll take care
of this issue.
I start studying the contents of Spielberg's communicator.
Some marks on the map, possibly trails to other territories or some stashes, but I doubt that a stalker who has been here for less than a year will have much useful information, in any case, I'll need to transfer it to my PDA, I'll study it in more detail later.
But there are many entries in the notes, but I won't read all of this now, I open the last one.
Note from 05/14/2011, 01:37.
Damn! I didn't want to kill the old man, but he just pissed me off! At the end, he even started kicking me out, saying I needed to calm down. Then a blackout, and he's lying dead on the floor. Good thing we didn't shout, or we would have attracted attention. I carefully left his house and went around the town counter-clockwise, the guards didn't notice me. I need to figure out who to blame.
I think this evidence will be enough for Sledak, it's time to move.
I reload the shotgun, check the Makarov, I have enough ammo.
When I get to the base, I'll sell everything unnecessary.
And I'll need to stock up for a trip deeper into the Zone, there's not much to catch here anymore.
I get up and pick up the director's bag and hang it on my back, next to my bag.
It's a bit heavy, but bearable.
I head for the exit, and the guard's voice stops me:
"Aren't you going into the bar?"
"No, not in the mood, but I'll come tomorrow," I promise him and head towards the stalker base along the same path I came here.
As soon as I find myself in the Abandoned Town, I immediately go to Shtolts in the garage to check if my PDA is charged.
The stalker is there, and as soon as he sees me, he hands me the PDA.
Almost without moving from the spot, I turn it on and transfer all the files from Spielberg's PDA to it via Bluetooth.
"Ah, here he is, our newcomer," Sledak calls out to me, and I turn around, seeing a bald stalker in front of me in the company of Zhuk.
Shtolts, seeing who had arrived, greeted them briefly and left almost immediately. "Why didn't you come to me right away, huh? I had to go myself, it's good that the stalkers said you showed up."
"I needed to transfer the files from the PDA," I honestly admit and hand him the device that has become useless to me. "And I dealt with the killer."
"You're so nimble," he grunts, taking Spielberg's PDA. "You caught the killer and got lucky with the loot. You left lightly with a half-empty bag, and you came back loaded. Come on, tell me everything."
Sledak turns and walks towards the central building, entering it.
Zhuk and I follow him, finding ourselves in a small office with two cabinets on the opposite wall from the entrance, a table, and a few chairs.
"Sit down," the stalker says and sits at the table, taking a thermos from under it. "Would you like some tea?"
"I won't refuse," I agree to the drink and a few moments later take a cup of hot tea, settling into a chair and dropping my bags by the wall.
"So, tell me, how did it go? Couldn't you take Shtyr alive?" he asks, taking a sip from his mug and taking out a cigarette.
"It wasn't Shtyr," I take Shtyr's PDA from my backpack and hand it to Sledak. "When I arrived, the poor guy had already bled out, stabbed in the back, nothing vital was hit, but he couldn't help himself. But Shtyr saw who it was, and even managed to record it."
"So, alright, but this," he points to the two devices, "I'll read later. But now I'm interested in listening to you. Who was it?"
"Spielberg."
"Really? And why did he need to do that?" Sledak grunts, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Some kind of disorder, it seems," I spread my hands. "Honestly, I don't know, but when I talked to him yesterday, he seemed quite adequate, and today he behaved differently. He said that Old Man and Shtyr weren't the first kills on his account, he also broke his girlfriend's head in the outside world out of jealousy."
"Mda, that turned out stupidly," the stalker sighs. "Only I don't quite understand why he had to kill Shtyr? He could have calmly gone to the Cordon, no one would have been able to prove anything."
"He wanted to blame it on him. Like, he killed the old man and disappeared somewhere. And besides me, no one knows where he was going. And how many stalkers actually climb around the Boiler Room?"
"Not anymore," Zhuk replies from behind me. "Before, many used to climb there, but there's nothing to catch there anymore. Where, you say, is Shtyr lying? We need to send a couple of guys to bury him, it wouldn't be right to leave him like that."
"On the second floor in the large building of the Boiler Room."
"Alright, kid," the stalker says, putting his glass of tea on the table. "You did well dealing with the villain yourself, of course. But it's better not to take unnecessary risks. Now you can go, but don't leave the camp, okay? Barmaley will come in the evening, you'll tell him everything and in as much detail as possible. You'll be called."
And keep quiet for now, no one but us knows where and why you went.
It's better for the leader to announce everything in the evening, so there are no unnecessary problems.
I nod at the end and leave the office, going down to the basement and heading towards Piróg.
I'm hungry, and I need to ask about a secluded spot where I can sort through my loot without prying eyes.
After having stew with crackers for lunch, I went into the small room behind the merchant.
It looked more like a personal room: a small space, in the far corner there was a bed, a chair, a table, and a desk lamp, as well as various boxes.
"This is my room," Piróg explains. "You seem like a decent guy, but I'll still say, just try to steal anything. I have everything recorded, where and what is located. And I'll definitely check everything after you."
"Everything will be in the best order," I assure him. "And do stalkers often ask for this?"
"Yes, constantly," he replies, turning at the exit of the room. "No one wants to show off their wealth, it's the Zone, after all. Here, in the camp, everyone is friends, but they still look like hungry wolves at those who are doing better. If you show something particularly valuable to them, then that's it, wait for trouble. Nothing will be done to you in the camp itself or nearby, but if you go a little further away, then your hand definitely won't tremble. The beasts work quickly there, they won't find you."
"And are there no storage facilities or cells for something like this?"
"There might be somewhere, but not here, I can still keep an eye on things, and the guys help with that, but I definitely can't be personally responsible for storing things. Alright, you sort things out here, and I'll go."
I close the door behind Piróg and go to the table, moving the contents of both bags onto the table.
I put all the weapons and ammunition in one corner of the table, whistling slightly.
I won't need to buy pistol ammunition in the near future, but I'll have to buy a holster for the Fort, it's too big for the one I have now.
And I should also ask about a holster for the shotgun.
Separately, I set aside the stew, crackers, and pasta with buckwheat, I won't have to spend money on food for a while either.
So, but these flasks, the pot, and the cutlery are better to sell, and I don't need extra weapons either.
I put everything I intend to sell into one bag and go to Piróg.
"I'm done," I stop at the counter, sitting on a chair and lifting the bag. "I want to sell. Will you calculate it?"
"Well, let's see what you have," he takes the bag in his hands, opens the neck, looks inside, and whistles. "Wait a couple of minutes, I'll do an appraisal and tell you how much I'm willing to pay."
Piróg picks up the bag and goes into the same room I just came out of.
But I didn't have to wait long for him, he returned quite quickly and without the bag.
"I'm ready to pay you five thousand, I'd give more, but the TT pistol is in a very bad condition, I can sell it to some newcomer," he says. "Will you take cash or do you need something from the merchandise?"
"Do you have holsters for the Fort Twelve and a shotgun?" I put the pistol on the counter, showing it.
"Yes, but only for the pistol. Honestly, I've only seen a holster for a shotgun a couple of times, but the guys made them themselves."
Piróg walks away and rummages in one of his cabinets, pulling out a belt holster for the Fort. "Here, take it, just thread the belt. I'll give it to you for a thousand, do you take it?"
"Yes, of course. I'll take the rest in cash," and I receive four thousand in hand.
In total, I have eight thousand on hand now.
I'll need to ask the experienced ones what will be useful for the trip to the Cordon.
I go to my bunk, shove the bag under the bed, and lie down comfortably.
I need to see what interesting things Spielberg had in his PDA.
I flip through his maps, but I realize that I'm not very familiar with the terrain, and the designations are unclear to me.
I'll have to ask someone for consultation.
What if there's an anomaly marked there, and I go there?
But the notes were more informative so far.
From them, I learned that Spielberg meant "half a year in the Zone" as being in the more northern regions.
And he was in the Zone from the beginning of June to mid-November and left here to wait out the winter, not wanting to winter on the Cordon with the stalkers.
Note from 11/05/2010, 15:10.
And I was provoked to quarrel with the Hunter, it's good that I managed to hold back and not grab anything. He would have finished me off in an instant. I feel like I won't have a life here for the winter. I'll have to leave for the Predbannik.
Note from 11/10/2010, 10:05.
I stole the Hunter's rifle right from under his nose! He'll know not to mess with me, the bastard. I'll have to hide it securely in the Predbannik.
Note from 11/10/2011, 19:37.
I hid it in one of the houses
closest to the tunnel by the bar. Now I can have a drink.
I have to go to Belka tomorrow anyway, so I can stop by for the rifle.
Good acquaintances in the Zone are more important than weapons.
I turn off the communicator and put it on the nightstand, stretching on the bed.
I notice a stalker walking towards me.
Tall, slightly plump, and with a very impudent face.
"Opa, newcomer, I see you've gotten rich, huh?" he begins, settling on the next bed. "And you got a Fort, and a hunting knife. And you didn't share, that's not right."
"What do you want?" I don't understand who this is, and why he's bothering me.
He doesn't think I'll just give him something, does he?
"You don't live by the rules, greenhorn," the stalker says, casually flashing a stiletto in front of me. "You need to chip in to the common fund, three thousand, and you'll respect us, and you'll be pleased."
"Hey, Afyerist!" Piróg shouted. "Leave the guy alone, if I see you bothering newcomers again, I'll go to Barmaley!"
"Alright, alright, don't yell, Pirozhok," the stalker chuckles, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture, and addresses me. "Live for now, friend. But look around..."
Afyerist?
Something familiar.
I grab the PDA from the nightstand and flip through the notes, ah-ha.
It's him.
The guy who cheated my predecessor out of a reward for courier work from Krokhobor.
Well, I really need to be more careful.
I feel like this stalker will play a dirty trick.
I get up from the bed and go outside, but Zhuk intercepts me.
"Barmaley is waiting for you," he says. "Let's go."
Well, let's go, let's see the leader of this community.
We climb the stairs to the second floor with the stalker.
I glance at Sledak's office, but he's no longer there, apparently, he's already with his boss.
On the second floor, I was met by an open door and Barmaley sitting on a chair.
He can't be called otherwise.
A magnificent red beard and the same mustache, a large nose and a piercing gaze, a sailor's shirt worn on a wide chest.
"Well, hello, newcomer," the leader of the stalkers begins in a bass voice.
Sledak sits in a chair at the other end of the wide and well-furnished office. "Sit down, we have something to talk about."
"And hello to you too," I do as I'm asked.
"The guys briefly outlined what happened," I look around at these "guys," they look more like "men" than guys. "You worked quickly, well done. But, what I don't understand is how you found that Spielberg. Will you share?"
"Shtyr wrote that Spielberg wanted to visit the village," I shrug, it's strange why Sledak didn't ask this, but oh well. "He, of course, deceived him and could have gone in any direction afterwards, but I had to start somewhere. In the bar, I learned that he had a stash or something like that on the ledge, in one of the houses, he often hung out there. I went to look, but I was unlucky, he found me first. I managed to distract him and shoot him."
"And they gave him to you for free?"
"For a favor," I answer Barmaley. "Tomorrow I'll have to go to Belka and take something to Krokhobor."
"Hmm, so, that's how it is," Barmaley says, tapping his fingers on the table. "Tomorrow morning, you'll come here, I'll also have some correspondence to give to Belka. I won't shortchange you on the reward. And for killing Old Man too. I could have given you the old man's house for use, but no. There's a house and a workshop there, and we have a technician in mind who could move in there. But I can give you a body armor, second class protection. Will that do?"
"Of course," I naturally agree, I thought I'd have to spend money on armor, but here it is, falling into my hands.
It's not very good, as I understood, but it's better than nothing.
"Good, I'll write you a receipt now, Piróg will give it to you," he takes a notebook from the corner of the table, writes something, signs it, and tears off a sheet. "Here, take it. Now you're free."