Smith

by stewartgiles

  SIXTY ONE

  HELL HUNT

  As they left the flat and ventured out into the Tallinn night, Smith was instantly grateful for the coat he had borrowed from Stepan. It was not his usual taste in coats; it was a formal camel hair coat that made him feel like a member of the Gestapo but it was warm and it made him blend in somehow. The ferries were still coming and going from the passenger port as they walked south through the old town square. It had stopped snowing but the streets were icy and quite treacherous. There were very few people on the streets and as they walked, Smith felt like he was in a spy movie. They passed the old church of St Nicholas and Smith marvelled at the medieval architecture. It was worlds apart from York Minster.

  “Where are we going?” Smith said after they had walked for twenty minutes, “I thought you said it wasn’t far.”

  “Not far now,” Lucas replied, “you’re in for a surprise; have you ever been to a gay club before?”

  “Of course,” Smith lied, “I’m a Policeman remember.”

  Stepan and Lucas both laughed. They carried on walking past a park. They were getting further and further away from the centre of the City and Smith was becoming apprehensive. What if this is trap? He thought, what if I’m walking straight into an ambush. His paranoia subsided when they turned left into a small side street and the neon lights of G Punkt lit up half of the street.

  “Here we are,” Lucas smiled, “its Tuesday night so it will be quiet but I must warn you, there are still a few strange characters that come here every night. Stay close to us and you won’t be in any danger.”

  “Danger?” Smith’s paranoia was returning.

  “They won’t hurt you,” Lucas started to laugh again, “they might try and dance with you though.”

  It was almost pitch black inside the G Punkt club; only a few dim green and yellow lights lit the entrance to the bar area. Smith stayed very close to Stepan and Lucas as he had been told. They emerged into another room. This one was slightly better lit up. Lucas ordered a beer for Smith and some drinks Smith did not recognise for him and Stepan. They chose a seat in the furthest part of the room away from the dance floor. It was still quite early so they had the place pretty much to themselves. Smith was nervous. What would happen in this strange place tonight? He thought. He drank his beer very quickly.

  “Can I get you another drink?” he asked Lucas and Stepan, “mine’s finished.”

  “No thanks,” Stepan replied, “behave yourself at the bar though.” Lucas laughed.

  “Beer please,” Smith said to the barman. He was a man around Smith’s age and he was very tall; six foot eight at least. He put the beer on the counter.

  “How much?” Smith asked.

  The barman laughed.

  “Lucas does not pay here my friend,” he said, “but I’ll be finished at midnight if you’re interested.” He winked at Smith.

  Smith quickly picked up the beer and returned to the table.

  “I think that barman tried to pick me up,” he said as he sat down.

  “Sebastien?” Lucas, said, “I think he was teasing you, you’re not his type and it’s pretty obvious you’re not gay.”

  “Is it?” Smith said.

  “Of course, you can spot it a mile away.”

  A short man with impressive facial hair approached the table. He eyed Smith with suspicion. Lucas nodded at him to acknowledge that Smith was ok.

  “This is my good friend Alec,” Lucas said to Smith, “he is the one I was talking about; the one that knows everything. Alec, meet Jason Smith. He is a Policeman from England.”

  The man they referred to as Alec looked angry. He said something in their language to Lucas and Lucas replied with some reassuring words.

  “I apologize Mr Smith,” Alec said, “I’m afraid I haven’t got much love for the Police.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Smith agreed, “Most of them are complete arseholes.”

  Alec laughed, smiled at Lucas and sat down at their table.

  “What is it you need to know Mr Smith?” he asked.

  Smith told him everything; about the day on the beach and about what Whitey had told him and about the Face Book page that led him to believe that his sister was now in Tallinn.

  “I have heard of these people,” Alec began, “but they are very careful. I am in the fortunate position in that I have family in very high places and as you are a Policeman I will not elaborate. Do you understand?”

  “Completely,” Smith said, “but can you help me?”

  “We need to get away from this place first though,” he said, “There’s a bar in the heart of the old town square in Vanalinn. It’s called Hell Hunt.”

  “Hell Hunt?” Smith gasped, “Are you being serious?”

  “It’s Estonian Mr Smith, it means The Gentle Wolf. It has the best local beers in Tallinn and due to its name; it has become very popular with certain members of this Brain of Wolfie.”