Allan Martin - Death in Tallinn

The Colonel sighed. “Well, just give as little as you can. At least this has saved us from concocting the stuff about a Lithuanian gang. We’ll have a press conference in a day or two.”

There was plenty to do the rest of the afternoon. At six, Larsson popped her head in to say the team, were going for a post-case drink at a bar in Kuninga Street and they hoped he’d come along. He said he’d drop in at some point. His days of a night’s drinking with colleagues were past, however, he thought it important that the boss put in an appearance. But didn’t overstay his welcome.

Lembit dropped him back at the Imperial just before half past six. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. By seven he was feeling cleaner and more refreshed, and headed for Kuninga Street. Better to pop in there early than late.

The bar was in a basement, and he guessed it was one frequented by police personnel. Having hung up his coat, he soon spotted Lesser, Sõnn, Ilves, Mürakas, Maslov, Kadakas and Larsson sat round a table, eating blood sausage, pickled gherkins and fried potatoes. “Tonight’s special,” said Larsson as Hallmets sat down. “That’ll do me too,” he replied, and ordered a beer along with his food.

The atmosphere was relaxed rather than celebratory. Hallmets knew the feeling of relief when a case was finally tied up. You couldn’t really cheer until the judge had passed sentence. But he guessed there would be few sentences after this one. Heinrich and Albrecht von Langenstein were dead, as was Kleber. The survivors of the battle at the stables would face the heaviest sentences. The distillery operatives had surrendered as soon as the police entered the barn; their sentences would be fairly light. He suspected laura Vaher would never come to trial. He wondered if she would move away, or stay on at the estate.

Hallmets’ biggest regret was that they hadn’t nailed Lepp, who appeared to have got away scot-free. He was no doubt out of the country by now. He wondered whether the colonel had given a helping hand there. But he might be tempted to return to Estonia one day. And then there would be a reckoning.

“So, you’ll be off back to Tartu soon?” asked Sõnn.

“As soon as we get things tied up,” said Hallmets, “But you and Lesser will get most of that done. Thanks for your help.”

“Our pleasure,” said Lesser, “But I suspect we’ll see you again. What with Vaher gone and Lind soon to retire, they’ll be wanting somebody to head up the CID here. My bet’s on you, chief.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Sõnn.

“Well, let’s just see what happens,” muttered Hallmets.

Twenty minutes later he made his farewells and left them to it.

Back at the hotel, he phoned Kirsti to let her know how things stood, indicating that he’d be back in a day or two. “And looking forward to it,” he added.

Hallmets was in no hurry to go in the next morning, and reached his office just after nine. Maslov and Larsson were both there, looking tired. He guessed the get-together had stretched well into the night. There was no sign of Kadakas.

He’d picked up a paper on the way in, and saw Kallas’s scoop on the front page under the headline ‘ Baltic German Plot Foiled!’ with the sub-heading, ‘Exclusive Report from Jaan Kallas.’ The story described how police, led by Chief Inspector Hallmets, had, after painstaking work piecing evidence together, swooped on the Heinaküla estate to uncover an illicit distillery. Kallas commented that it was ironic that this plant, built using the very latest distilling technology, was producing vodka of a better quality than most legal stuff. He referred readers to page five where the paper’s drinks connoisseur would discuss the quality of Leikari vodka, and report on the demand from retail outlets that it be produced legally. Kallas then reported on the gun battle as police fought with ‘armed conspirators’ to seize a consignment of weapons, ‘ of the very latest type, ’ purchased with the profits of alcohol smuggling and brought into the country illegally. Hallmets wondered who else Kallas had talked to at the scene.

‘What was the aim of the conspiracy?’ asked Kallas, ‘Nothing less than the overthrow of the state!’ He reported that a number of Germans had been killed or captured and this pointed clearly (to Kallas at least) to a conspiracy among the Baltic Germans to regain power in Estonia. Kallas hinted that the German government would probably have been sympathetic to the conspiracy, had it succeeded. He pointed out that one of Herr Hitler’s top advisers was Alfred Rosenberg, born in Tallinn, the son of a wealthy Baltic German merchant. ‘This man, who fled to Germany in 1919 when General von der Goltz and his mercenaries were defeated by our army of independence, is no doubt encouraging German landowners in the Baltic states to foment trouble and destabilise the governments, in the vain hope of seizing power again for themselves. But, just as the Reds were foiled in their attempted coup in 1924, so the former rulers have now been thwarted through the intelligent investigation and prompt action of our police. We salute Chief Inspector Hallmets as the saviour of our nation.’

Hallmets permitted himself a smile. He turned to page five to see a detailed description of the captured distillery, along with a discussion by the paper’s drinks expert of the smell, taste, texture, and afterfeel of Leikari vodka, pronouncing it one of the best vodkas he had encountered, and agreeing with suggestions that the distillery be brought into legal production. He also quoted an unnamed ‘police expert on illegal alcohol’ who endorsed his opinion of the vodka, and also mentioned the important achievement of the smugglers in sourcing quantities of the hitherto unobtainable Three Monks brandy from Georgia. Hallmets read this bit out loud, watching Maslov as he blushed, chewed his pencil, and buried himself deeper in his form-filling. For the morning was taken up with all the paperwork that inevitably follows a major case, and the three of them plodded through it with dogged determination. Lesser and Sõnn were no doubt doing the same thing in their own offices.

He had lunch in the canteen with Maslov and Larsson. No-one spoke much. Hallmets sensed the anti-climax that can accompany the pen-pushing that follows the conclusion of a case.

“Guess Oleg and I will be off home soon,” said Larsson, after they’d eaten. “Back to chasing pickpockets on the beach at Pärnu for me.”

“And I’ll be picking drunken Russians out of the gutter in Petseri again,” added Maslov.

“Don’t be too depressed,” said Hallmets, “You’ve done well, both of you, and that will be recorded, I can assure you. It’s not for me to say, but I don’t think either of you will be too long back in Petseri or Pärnu. Good people should be well used. Our police have a high reputation, and it’s especially important that after these events we demonstrate that we’re using the best people in the best way. Eva, I also think we really need to work hard giving women a bigger role in the police force.”

“You’ll have to do a lot of persuading on that one,” said Larsson, “There have been women police in Sweden since 1910, and in Germany even before that. I’m not the first here, but we’re not even in double figures yet. There are still too many men here who think a woman should be cooking his meal and digging up his turnips, while he sits in his living room swigging vodka.”

Hallmets had just got back to his office, when Marta announced Lieutenant Kadakas to see him. The lieutenant was back in a crisp army uniform.