They left the café and walked towards the passenger entrance. Neither of them noticed the green car in the car park. Alec paid for their tickets; they walked up the companionway and boarded the ferry. Smith followed Alec through various corridors until they came to a restaurant. Alec chose a seat by the window. An announcement in Estonian was heard over the loudspeaker and was repeated in Finnish. Alec looked around anxiously. Smith looked out of the window and froze. It was not the icy weather that had glued him to the spot; it was the sight of the sea outside. His eyes seemed to glaze over and he stared at nothing in the distance. His face was very pale.
“Mr Smith,” Alec was concerned.
Smith did not hear him; he continued to stare vacantly into the depths of the Gulf of Finland. He was abruptly brought out of the stupor when he found himself being violently shaken.
“What’s wrong?” Alec said, “Are you ok?” He was very worried now.
“What happened?” Smith’s eyes had returned to normal and colour returned to his cheeks.
“You were out of it for a while there,” Alec said.
“The water,” Smith said, “I have this thing about the sea; it’s like a phobia I suppose. It all started the day my sister disappeared.”
“Then it can stop right now.” A woman was standing behind them
Smith turned to see the woman from the bar standing there. The one who gave him the note that had almost had him killed; his sister, Laura. They looked at each other carefully, each one scrutinising the other’s face like they were observing a new species. She looked very different to when Smith had seen her at the Hell Hunt Bar; she was without make up and her hair was hidden inside a thick woollen hat. She was much paler than Smith could remember from their childhood in Fremantle but her eyes were Laura’s. This was definitely his sister.
The engines of the ferry started to growl into action, the companionway was removed and the mooring ropes were being untied one by one. They were safe and on their way to Finland.
“I’m thirsty,” Alec said, “I’ll get us some drinks and leave you in peace; I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”
Smith did not know where to begin. He had thought about it non stop since he had been given a glimmer of hope by Whitey in Leicester. What would she look like now? Would she even recognise him? What had she been doing all these years? So many questions but none of them seemed to come to him at that moment. It was Laura who broke the silence.
“So, you Loon,” she said, “aren’t you going to give your little sister a hug?”
It seemed to come from nowhere. It started in his throat and then the numbness spread up through his cheeks and finally it reached his eyes. His lips began to shake and then the tears came. He could not stop them. Laura put her arms around him and held him for what seemed like hours. Neither of them even noticed that Alec had put three beers on their table and disappeared again. Smith finally broke the embrace. He wiped his eyes and looked at Laura. She showed little emotion. She’s become hardened, Smith thought.
“Why didn’t you get in touch?” Smith asked her, “We thought you were dead.”
“It wasn’t that easy,” she said, “I didn’t even know where I was let alone have the means to find you.”
“What happened that day on the beach? Where did these people take you?”
“Like I said, I don’t know; I don’t even remember much about it.”
“Where have you been all this time?” Smith’s questions were flowing now.
“All over the place,” Laura said, “do you mind if I smoke?”
“Go ahead,” Laura was not a little girl anymore.
She lit a cigarette and offered him one.
“No thanks,” he said, “didn’t you miss us?”
“They have this way of becoming your family,” she inhaled deeply. “It was only as I got a bit older than I realised what was going on but by then it was too late.”
“What do you mean?”
Laura laughed.
“Don’t you see,” she said, “nobody can leave. People have tried of course but they are never heard of again.”
“I’m going to take you away from this Wolfie maniac,” Smith was determined. “You can stay with me in York; he won’t find you there.”
“He will find me anywhere. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you last night.”
Smith looked out of the window; the lights of Tallinn were far behind them.
“We’re safe now,” he said, “Once we get to Finland, we can get to the airport and get on the first flight to England.”
“I heard you were living in England,” she said.
“I was deported there shortly after you disappeared. Our mother wasn’t exactly a model parent but that’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it one day”
Alec returned to the table.
“We’ll be in Helsinki in just over an hour,” he said, “What are you going to do when you get there? I’ve done all I can for you.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done Alec,” Smith said, “we were just talking about it; I’m going to get us the first flight to England where we’ll be safe.”
Alec suddenly looked anxious.
“We’ve got trouble,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Smith said, “We’re nearly there.”
“Three men have just walked in, they’re standing at the bar now.”
Smith looked round. One of the men was the one who handed Wolfie the gun that nearly ended Smith’s life.
“Shit,” he said, “how did they know?”
He looked at Laura.
“Don’t look at me,” she said, “I did everything I could to make sure I wasn’t followed.”
“It doesn’t matter how they knew,” Alec said, “We’ve got to figure a way out.”
“Do you think they’re armed?” Smith said.
“Of course,” Alec replied, “wait here.”
Alec approached the men at the bar. They nodded respectful greetings to him but they looked suspicious. Smith saw them speak. Alec opened his arms in a pleading gesture but the stern faces of the men gave Smith little hope. Alec returned to their table.
“Wolfie wants to speak to you,” he said.
“Wolfie’s here too,” Smith was devastated. “Where is he?”
“On the other side of the bar; I suggest you speak to him.”
Smith stood up and took Laura by the hand.
“Let’s go and reason with this lunatic,” he said.
“Just you,” Alec ordered.
The look on his face made Smith let go of Laura’s hand.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Smith said, “then we can put all this behind us.”
He smiled at Laura and she smiled back. Smith could see that the smile was not genuine.
Wolfie was by himself at a table on the far side of the restaurant. Smith thought this unusual; Wolfie was never without his gorillas for protection.
“Jason Smith,” Wolfie said as Smith sat down at his table, “you’re either very stupid or very brave, although to me they both amount to the same thing.”
“I’m taking my sister home with me,” Smith came straight to the point.
Wolfie laughed. It was a different laugh this time; it was quite sinister.
“Jason Smith,” he said, “I do not normally give people a second chance and now I’m going to give you a third one. You will get off this ferry in Finland and go home. Do you understand?”
“I’m taking Laura with me,” Smith repeated.
“You have two choices Mr Smith. Choice one, you can go home to your life and forget about all of this. You will no doubt have regrets but you’ll be alive.”
“And what about choice two?” Smith asked.
“Choice two involves you persisting in this fantasy where you take your sister back to your perfect life and you live happily ever after. If you insist on this choice, you and your sister will be taken outside the ferry, shot and fed to the fish in the Gu
lf of Finland. Maybe you will meet your little friend Stepan in heaven.”
“You killed Stepan?” Smith was shaking.
“Only after he’d told us where you were,” Wolfie smiled, “he endured a surprising amount of pain before he cracked. I was surprised. I thought he’d crack when we cut the first finger off.”
Smith felt sick.
“You’re a mad man,” he said, “you can’t get away with this.”
“Choice one or two Mr Smith?” Wolfie demanded.
“Can I say goodbye to my sister?” Smith asked.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea; I’ll have one of my men retrieve your bag. He will make sure you make it off the ferry safely and he will direct you to Vantaa airport. You need to be careful; there are some nasty people out there. Good bye Mr Smith and I hope for your sake that we never see each other again.”
SIXTY NINE
DEJECTED
Thursday 14 January 2009
Smith was dog tired. He had been travelling for almost twenty four hours. After the ferry trip from Tallinn he had been escorted to Vantaa airport in Helsinki; his escort had made sure he boarded the first flight to Heathrow airport. From there he had caught a bus to East Midlands where he had parked his car. A two hour drive later and he had arrived outside his house. He parked the car and breathed deeply. He felt utterly dejected. He sat in his car and put his head in his hands. The trip to Tallinn had exhausted him; his sister was alive but, as he sat there outside his house he was even further away from her than he was before. He opened the car door and walked towards his house. As he put the key in the lock he decided on a plan of action for the remainder of his leave; he would drink as much as possible and forget everything that had happened. He would forget that he ever found his sister; he would forget that he was responsible for the death of poor Stepan and he would forget all about Tallinn. Theakston ran towards him as the door opened.
“Hello boy,” Smith sighed.
He patted the puppy half heartedly on the head. Thompson was nowhere to be seen. Smith was glad; he needed time to himself. Time to forget.
Smith took a Robert Johnson CD out and put it in the machine. He opened his bag and took out the bottle of Jack Daniels he had bought at the duty free shop in Helsinki. He opened it and took a long swig straight out of the bottle. He winced as the bourbon burned his throat. Theakston was at his feet wagging his tail.
“Go away,” Smith said but the puppy did not understand.
Smith sat at the couch with the bottle. Theakston managed to jump up and tried to snuggle up but Smith pushed him away. He took another swig from the bottle. He took out his phone. The Face Book message icon was flashing on the screen. He dialled Whitton’s number but cancelled the call immediately. He threw the phone on the table and emptied a quarter of the bottle down his throat. Theakston was still trying to snuggle up to him but Smith ignored him. The puppy did not know what was wrong and nuzzled his nose up against Smith’s leg. Robert Johnson was singing about hell hounds on his trail. Smith looked at Theakston, put the bottle on the table and picked the puppy up and put him on his lap. Tears started to flow at an alarming rate and a fit of uncontrolled sobbing followed. Theakston put his paws on Smith’s chest and licked his face.
“I’m sorry boy,” Smith sobbed, “you’re all I’ve got.”
Smith realised he had not eaten anything since the lunch at Stepan’s flat. He stood up and walked to the kitchen with Theakston following at his feet. He opened the freezer and cursed; it was empty. Thompson had eaten everything. He fetched his phone from the living room and dialled the pizza shop’s number. While he waited for the pizza he decided to take a bath. He took the bottle of Jack Daniels upstairs with him. Theakston lay on the mat next to the bath the whole time. The warm water of the bath made him feel sleepy so he got out, dried himself and went back downstairs. Robert Johnson was standing at the Crossroads. This is my life, Smith thought, standing at the crossroads waiting for the devil to take me to hell. There was a knock at the door. Smith realised he did not have any money for the pizza. He answered the door and a teenager with bad acne stood there with the pizza. Smith took it.
“I’ll have to pay you later,” he said, “I don’t seem to have any cash on me.”
“Sorry mister,” the boy said, “no money, no pizza.”
He tried to take the pizza back.
“I said I’d pay later,” Smith was starving and he was feeling quite drunk.
“I’ll drop the money off at the shop tomorrow.”
The boy was adamant.
“Give me the pizza,” he demanded.
“Piss off,” Smith was in no mood to argue with a boy.
He closed the door in the boy’s face.
“I’m calling the police,” the boy said from behind the door.
“No bloody respect,” Smith said to Theakston as he sat down with the pizza. Theakston started to beg.
“Since when did you acquire a taste for pizza?” Smith asked him.
He tore a piece off and handed it to Theakston.
There was a knock at the door again. Smith picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels and went to answer it. Two policemen in uniform stood there. Smith took a large swig from the bottle.
“Evening all,” he said. He was feeling really drunk now. “Lovely evening for it ossifers.”
“I’m afraid we’ve had a complaint Sir,” one of the policemen said.
Smith did not recognise either of them.
“That’s the trouble with the world today,” Smith said, “everybody complains too much.”
“Have you been drinking Sir?” The other officer asked.
Smith looked at the bottle in his hand and laughed.
“Have been?” he said, “you don’t know the half of it. Guilty as charged. You may now arrest me for being drunk in charge of a dog. It’s a far cop.”
He patted Theakston on the head.
“Sir, we have had a complaint from the pizza shop. It seems you ordered a pizza and took it without paying.”
Smith let out an almighty belch.
“Excuse me,” he said, “Pepperoni. I admit it but I’m afraid you no longer have a case as the evidence has been eaten.”
“I think you’d better come with us sir,” the policeman said.
“Where too?” Smith asked, “I’ll get my coat.”
“Down to the station.”
“The station? That’s a horrible idea; I’m still on leave. I have a few days left. Now if you don’t mind, I’m tired. Do you realise what drinking half a bottle of this stuff does to you? Good night.”
He closed the door behind him.
There was a knock on the door again. Smith opened it.
“That was quick,” he said, “Did you catch the bastards that stole that pizza?”
“Sir,” the policeman was becoming impatient, “I’m arresting you for stealing a pizza and for being drunk and disorderly.”
“Piss off,” Smith said.
He took another drink of Jack Daniels. He tried to close the door behind him but one of the officers put his foot in the way.
“Do you know where I was yesterday?” Smith said, “Didn’t think so. I was in the middle of a bloody spy novel that’s where I was and now I come back for some peace and you want to arrest me for stealing a pizza. Fuck off.”
One of the policemen tried to grab Smith’s arm. Theakston started to bark at him. Smith pulled away and the policeman stumbled.
“Add assaulting a police officer to that,” he said.
“You or me?” Smith said, “And I don’t call that assault. This is assault.”
Smith swung a punch at the officer. The man stepped to the side and Smith fell on the ground.
“What the hell is going on?” It was Thompson; he had just finished his shift.
“This man is refusing arrest Sir,” the policeman said.
He knew Thompson.
“What’s he done?”
“He stole a pizza and then he tried to pu
nch me; he’s obviously drunk.”
“I’ll handle this. Thank you officers, you can be on your way now.”
“But Sir,”
“I said I’d handle it.” He closed the door behind him.
“Bloody pigs,” Smith said.
He walked back through to the living room and collapsed on the couch.
“What the hell was that all about?” Thompson called to him but from the snoring noise coming from the living room it was obvious that Smith could not hear him.
SEVENTY
DEEP BLUES
Friday 15 January 2009
Smith was back in Tallinn. He realised he had left his phone in Stepan’s flat. As he walked up the stairs he could hear noises from inside. The door was left slightly ajar and Smith peeked through the crack before he went in. Stepan was sitting at the table and he was not alone. A man was asking him something in Estonian. Stepan looked scared and he kept repeating the same few words. The man’s voice became louder but still Stepan just kept repeating himself. The man suddenly forced his elbow into Stepan’s face with such a force that Stepan seemed to have been knocked out for a few seconds. When he came to the man took his arm and slammed it on the table. He said something and when Stepan did not reply he took out a knife and sliced it through Stepan’s little finger. Stepan screamed and the blood spurted from the stump where his finger had been. Smith could not move. He wanted to help Stepan but he was glued to the floor; he could not even scream out. Somebody grabbed hold of him and shook him.
“Smith,” Thompson said, “wake up.
Smith woke with a start.
“Holy crap,” he said, “where am I?”
“You’re on the couch in the living room,” Thompson said, “you were screaming; that must have been some dream.”
Smith stood up. He felt like he was going to pass out.
“I’m going to be sick,” he said.
He rushed up the stairs and just made it to the toilet in time. When he was finished, he washed his face and looked in the mirror. His eyes were more bloodshot than they had ever been and the bags under his eyes made him look like an old man.
“I made you some coffee,” Thompson said when Smith came back down; “you look like shit by the way. I have to get to work.”
The York Trilogy: The First 3 DS Jason Smith Detective novels Page 27
