FIFTY NINE
TALLINN
Stepan and Smith took a taxi from the airport to Stepan’s flat on Sadama just before the passenger ferry port east of the old Tallinn town square. As they drove Smith was amazed at the driver of the taxi.
“If this much snow had fallen in York,” he said to Stepan, “they’d close all the roads.”
Stepan laughed.
“Life must go on,” he said, “It snows here for much of the year so we learn to live with it; I hope you’ve got some warm clothes with you, it’s going to be well below freezing tonight.”
It was dark as they parked outside Stepan’s flat. Smith could see the lights of the ferries carrying people into the Gulf of Finland and on to Helsinki, Stockholm and St Petersburg. He had never felt so out of his depth. This was another world altogether. He had heard how the Russian Mafia still had their roots here and hoped that the Brain of Wolfie was not allied to them.
As the door of the taxi opened, a wave of freezing air gushed in. Smith shivered; he would wear more clothes next time he went out, he thought. Stepan paid the driver and led Smith up the stairs of his flat. He opened the door and gestured for Smith to go inside. Thankfully, it was much warmer inside, a log fire was burning and Smith noticed that the glass in the windows was unusually thick. He heard water running from a room that must have been the bathroom. A tall man with black hair appeared in the doorway. He looked at Smith and scowled. Stepan walked towards him and greeted him with a bit too much affection for male friends, Smith thought. Stepan and the man embraced and kissed each other warmly.
“Forgive me,” Stepan broke the embrace. “This is Lucas,” he said, “Lucas, this Jason Smith, he’s from England and he’s come to look for his sister.”
Lucas said something to Stepan in a language Smith could not understand anything of. It was not Russian as he had expected but a strange language he could not place. Lucas smiled, walked over and shook Smith’s hand.
“We will help you,” he said, “I know just the man, if your sister is here in Tallinn, he will know where she is.”
“I told you,” Stepan said, “Lucas is a journalist and knows everyone. Would you like a beer?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Smith laughed.
“How much do you know of this Cult?” Lucas asked, “This Brain of Wolfie?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Smith replied, “I’ve just heard they are very powerful.”
“I’m afraid this is going to be difficult,” Lucas said, “not to mention dangerous. If what I hear is true, these people are above the law.”
“Like the Mafia?” Smith suggested.
“Worse, but I know where to start.”
Lucas took out his phone and dialled a number.
“Would you like to shower?” Stepan asked Smith as Lucas was talking on the phone.
“That would be great,” Smith said, “flying always makes me sweat; I don’t know how you do it for a living.”
“You get used to it after a while,” Stepan said, “the showers through there.” He pointed to a room to the right.
As Smith had his shower he heard noises coming from the room next door. Stepan and Lucas were speaking in their strange language but Smith could hear from the volume of their voices that something was not right. Although the water pressure was strong, Smith was sure he heard the phrase Brain of Wolfie a few times. Had he bitten off more than he could chew? He thought as he turned off the tap and dried his hair. He got dressed and opened the door again. The atmosphere seemed calmer but he could still sense that everything was not right.
“Feel better?” Stepan asked.
“Much better,” Smith replied.
He decided to come straight out with it.
“If I’m causing you any trouble,” he said, “then I’ll try and do this on my own; I don’t want to put you in any danger.”
Stepan laughed and Lucas quickly joined in. He had a hearty laugh. Smith was confused.
“Are you married Mr Smith?” Stepan said.
“No,” Smith replied.
“Girlfriend?”
“Not at the moment, why?”
“That explains it then. When I walked through the door after seven days away with a man, a reasonably handsome one at that, you can understand that Lucas here would get a bit upset. What else was he to think?”
“I don’t get it,” Smith said, “wait a minute, you’re both…”
“Gay,” Lucas said, “it’s not a rude word.”
“Shit,” Smith said, “sorry, I didn’t realise.”
“Your condolences are appreciated Mr Smith,” Stepan said, “but they’re not really necessary. This is the modern world.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Can we start this conversation again?”
Lucas laughed.
“Going back to what you said about putting us in danger,” he said, “We are Estonians; danger is in our blood. Do you realise that the Estonia you see today is less than twenty years old; we have been invaded by Denmark, Sweden, Poland, Germany and of course Russia many times but we are proud and we fight for what we believe in.”
“What language do you speak?” Smith said, “It doesn’t sound like Russian.”
“It’s more like Finnish,” Stepan replied, “it’s a beautiful language; very poetic.”
“Finish your drink,” Lucas ordered, “we’re meeting a friend of ours in fifteen minutes. We’ll walk; it’s only a few hundred metres. Do you need to borrow a coat?”
“That would be great,” Smith replied, “its bloody freezing here.”