I sit and wait for night. Not because I can see like an owl, but because nobody else will have that advantage either. And I do know where I’m going. As I say, my visual memory is pretty good. So, step by baby step, or even crawling, I’m out of here. On my way towards home and as far as possible from this dump.

To be honest, I even snoozed for a while – my nerves weren’t up to the waiting. When I awoke, it was already dark enough outside to hide the neighbouring building. I really had no idea that it could ever get this dark in the city. One way or another, there was always light somewhere. Even when there were power-cuts, somebody always found a light of some sort. But now it was absolutely pitch black! No fires, no lights. It was even a little frightening.

Then there were the sounds. The sounds of Tarkov used to be completely different. Now even the sound of the wind on the windows sounded strange. Somewhere there’s a creaking noise of some sort. Apparently someone forgot to close a door. Then there’s the rustle of all sorts of rubbish blowing in the breeze. And no sound of footsteps of car engines whatsoever.

Still, I need to move. I won’t last long here with almost nothing to eat. And if I start gutting apartments like Makar’s gang, I’ll always be in danger of coming across someone better organized in the business. Then I’ll be back to carrying the beam again, and even that’s not the worst that could happen. Best avoided.

I decide not to leave via the balcony. What do they make doors for, after all? The lock is simple as. I wisely decide not to close it, and instead wedge the spring latch with a piece of paper to stop it snapping shut. I shove more paper in the crack between the stile and the jamb so the door won’t swing open in the breeze. Not straight away, at any rate. Do I need a place I can run to in case of danger? I do indeed, and now I have one.

It was kind of awful in the stairwell. The whistle of the wind sounded very different from the way it did in the apartment.

Carefully pushing the door to the street ajar, I listen for a while to what’s going on… No, nothing I could feel for now.

* * *

The street gives me a chilly greeting, and I mentally congratulate myself on getting hold of a leather jacket. Keeping my eyes (or rather my ears) peeled, I run to the next building. Another street, this time wider than the last. I glance around. My eyes are growing accustomed to the dark, and I can begin to make out the silhouettes of the buildings and the nearby trees. Still quiet for now. I choose my moment and quickly cross the street, coming away from the wall of the apartment building.

Nobody calls out or reacts in any way to my appearance. Great.

And off we go…

Dawn found me not so very far from my usual haunts. There was no point whatsoever in heading for any port, and obviously I wasn’t planning on going home. A meeting with Makar’s errand boys was all I needed to make my happiness complete. But I could always visit my little hidey-hole. And there was the basement office. Clearly no one had busted that open yet. The uninviting sign – “Sanitary Service Solutions” – made it all too obvious there was nothing worth looking for in there. A paper pusher’s paradise, no more. At least, that’s what’s obvious to someone who’s never been there before. Whereas I have. I can’t say I was a regular visitor, but I did pop in from time to time. True, I don’t have a crowbar, but I do have an axe. And some knowledge of the internal set-up of this particular building. If I’d been a little smarter before, I’d have managed without a crowbar. But that’s the thing with good ideas, they don’t always come exactly when you need them.

Anyway, I don’t need to break down the door. Let it stand. There’s another way in, from the opposite end of the basement. To get in there, you don’t need to break anything. The area inside is reasonably clean, or at least contains an unexceptional amount of the sort of junk and dirt that builds up in all places like that. Also, a fair amount of daylight gets through the little windows, so my progress through the narrow corridors is reasonably quick.

And what is it I’m looking for? There it is – a dark metal box fixed in the wall. At first glance, it appears to be just the sort of thing you’d expect to find in a place like this. In fact, that’s exactly what it is – installed here way back when. However, while once upon a time in the age of a long-forgotten empire it contained only telephone switchboards, nowadays… Well, yes, it’s an old communications cabinet for the local telephone network. This is where they used to put them all, before they moved them out onto the street to make servicing easier. Or rather, they installed new, more modern ones outside and left these old things to rot. It was only some considerable time later that some clever sods started to use this one as a way to connect illegally to phone lines. The extensions inside were never fully disconnected – that would have required extra work from somebody… Then there were all sorts of different organizations occupying the building, and the vast majority didn’t work at night. That’s when you could use their phone lines to connect illegally to the internet. To be absolutely clear, the lines were used by hackers sitting in the very offices I was trying so hard to get into. Although back then, they referred to these “pioneers of the internet” by a very different name.

Time passed, and the hackers grew up a little, found some money somewhere, and gradually abandoned their old habits. It was getting more dangerous, too. The government started making pointed hints. The guys in the office found a more respectable and lucrative activity – money laundering. Obviously, no actual money was brought or stored here. Here was where they cobbled together the laundry systems, enthusiastically and on a grand scale. Tarkov’s customs regime meant there was no end to the amount of dirty money that could flow in.

The wire-filled cabinet remained, nonetheless. And nobody, not even the old hands in the office, ever suspected that all that was separating them from the rest of the basement was one metal wall of an old communications cabinet. I, on the other hand, knew all about it – I’d dragged the wires there myself, or at least helped out. It was just one of any number of odd jobs I’d done back in the day. I’d even been a warehouse hand for a while, and fixed and soldered enough mechanisms to make your head spin. Why on earth hadn’t I remembered earlier?

The wall of the cabinet led, as you might expect, straight into the office storeroom. Once I was inside, it took a while to get rid of all the dust and junk I’d gathered on the climb through. I’ll have to think of a way of cleaning up in there for the future.

It was dark in the office. The electricity was turned off. Strange somehow, but it seems like someone’s choosing where to cut the power and where to leave the lights on. Never mind, there’s enough light from the windows to find my way around for now.

I didn’t go into the main office, as there was no chance of finding anything interesting there. There’s a high turnover of workers here, so very few people have time to settle in properly. But the managers’ offices, where I was usually entertained on my visits, might well have something worth searching for.

Standing in the doorway of Vitya’s office, I survey the scene in despair. It’s as if every law enforcement agency in town, followed by the tax inspector, has had a go at turning the place upside down. If they were originally after documents then it looks very much like the tax inspectors, frustrated at not finding what they were after, just grabbed every little thing they might be able to flog to make up for their losses. The wide open cupboards, desk drawers strewn across the floor, and safe door hanging on its hinges all indicate that the offices were not just abandoned in a hurry, but evacuated like they were on fire. Hmmm, not quite what I was expecting to find here.