Offshore Islands by John Francis Kinsella
Kennedy together with Barton boarded the Sally Anne ferry boat in the port of Helsinki at four thirty on the Friday afternoon. Björn Naseman, Erikkson’s assistant, had been instructed to book them a twenty-four hour mini-cruise to Tallinn in Estonia. Once arrived in Tallinn they were to meet Demirshian an Armenian, and Lauristin an Estonian. The object, according to Erikkson’s plan, was the exchange of one million real Swedish kronas against five million counterfeit US dollars.
“It’s been set up like an army operation,” Erikkson had told Barton.
I hope it’s not the Swedish army again, Barton had thought to himself regretting his involvement in another of Erikkson’s crazy plans. It was risky enough trying to offload the fakes, but putting his head into the lion’s mouth by coming to Estonia was over doing it. He had outlined the deal to a weary Kennedy, who only half listened, tired after his arduous week of drinking, eating and whoring in Russia. Barton had taken care to omit the fact that the dollars were counterfeits as well as the exact sums involved. Barton told him disingenuously that the arrangement was designed to avoid Estonian currency exchange regulations.
The ferry was the simplest way to arrive in Tallinn, in the guise of plain tourists. There were no passport formalities required other than providing the Bottens’s travel agent in Helsinki with their basic passport details, name, date of birth, date of issuance of the passport and its number. There was nothing simpler, they became part of a group visa, the group consisted of several hundred Finns, out for a weekend of drinking and dancing, with six hours in Tallinn as an excuse.
The travel agent, who had accompanied them to the port, presented them with an envelope, after the check-in formalities that he had accomplished on their behalf. It contained four tickets, two for Mr and Mrs Kennedy and two for Mr and Mrs Barton. He apologised explaining that there had been a misunderstanding handing them four boarding passes, two cabin keys, four tickets for a bus trip in Tallinn, and four boarding passes for the return trip from Tallinn.
“I’m sorry about this mix up, it’s too late to change things now, too complicated,” he laughed. “Just present your own boarding passes, keep all the other tickets with you in the same envelope all the time, on board and in Tallinn. When you get back I’ll have to get the reimbursement for them, OK!”
They boarded the ship, each presenting his own tickets and were pointed to the lift that brought them down to the fourth deck. They checked into their cabins, 412 and 414, on the port side with a view onto the sea. They busied themselves settling in until the ship weighed anchor, slipping out of the port with hardly a sound or vibration from the engines some thirty minutes later.
Kennedy knocked on the door of Barton’s cabin.
“Come in, the door’s open.”
“Hey, how’s things?”
“Great, what about you?”
“What was all that about the tickets.”
“No idea, the stupid sods are incapable of making a simple reservation, just hang on to the other tickets we’ll give them back on Monday.”
The two cabins were identical, modern and comfortable, fitted with two single beds, a separate bathroom and a large TV. The ship was only one year old, constructed by Rauma Shipyards in Finland, according to a brass plaque they had seen as they had boarded.
“The only thing now is to find one of those Estonian girls they told us about to fill the other bed,” said Kennedy laughing, feeling a little more relaxed, pleased to have ‘escaped’ from Russia.
“Let’s forget about that for this trip we’ll do that on the way back.”
“I’m only joking.”
“Good, what about a drink, let’s find out where the bars are.”
They found a bar on the ninth deck, where there were already a few Finnish couples seated at the tables with large glasses of beer before them. The bar was not only for drinking but was also a discotheque which would no doubt liven up later in the evening after the holiday makers had settled in and eaten.
They ordered a couple of drinks at the bar, a beer for Barton and a coke for Kennedy, then they took a table facing the view as the Sally Anne gracefully left the Port of Helsinki behind them. Endless rocky pine covered islands slipped past, here and there they saw the traditional summer and weekend homes of Finns, houses built of ochre painted clapboard not far from the water’s edge, where small jetties led down to the moored outboards.
Very few of the passengers were not Finns. The two day trippers had agreed to keep a low profile so as not to attract unwanted attention, to behave simply as curious foreign tourists, as they were in a manner of speaking.
They had more than twelve hours ahead of them before they arrived in Tallinn. The distance between Tallinn and Helsinki was only eighty kilometres and the sailing time was normally not much more than three hours, but speed was not the objective of the boat’s passengers, what was more important to them was a night of drinking duty free beer and dancing. The excessive taxes imposed by the Finnish government on all alcoholic drinks, made even beer a luxury and the mini-cruises were the traditional excuse for a vast binge.
They dined in one of the restaurants sampling a nondescript Scandinavian salad buffet, followed by the invariable and unimaginative Finnish poached salmon. It was towards ten fifteen when they left the restaurant and they decided to take a stroll to explore the huge ship with its shops and bars.
They then headed towards one of the bars for a nightcap, it was crowded and they sensed an air of excitement and anticipation in the revellers. With the first few notes of a traditional Finnish tango - almost a national dance - the would be dancers headed towards the disco floor in a frenzy, jumping on the pre-selected partner and in the case of pre-emption grabbed the next nearest female, as though it were the last dance of all time. The women almost never refused an invitation, that would have been un-Finnish.
Pushing their way towards the bar they ordered drinks, surveying the surroundings in the never changing habit of the prowling male, and the eternal hope of an easy catch. There were not many unaccompanied women, which was to say those that were available were either to young or worse too old. They settled down to discussing the task ahead before calling it a day and returning to their cabins.
Kennedy was awoken by the sun streaming through the large panoramic window, the weather seemed to have changed for the better, he checked his watch, it was just after seven. The distant throb the boat’s huge engines had discernibly increased in tempo, the nights coming and going in the Baltic had ended, they were finally headed towards Tallinn.
He joined Barton for breakfast in the restaurant, where they checked out the map of the city. The tour included a bus ride to the city centre nearby the post and telegraph office, from there they were to walk to the main square of the old town, a green Moskowitz taxi would be waiting to take them to the Olympia Hotel.
Chapter 59
Tallinn
“It’s been set up like an army operation,” Erikkson had told Barton.
I hope it’s not the Swedish army again, Barton had thought to himself regretting his involvement in another of Erikkson’s crazy plans. It was risky enough trying to offload the fakes, but putting his head into the lion’s mouth by coming to Estonia was over doing it. He had outlined the deal to a weary Kennedy, who only half listened, tired after his arduous week of drinking, eating and whoring in Russia. Barton had taken care to omit the fact that the dollars were counterfeits as well as the exact sums involved. Barton told him disingenuously that the arrangement was designed to avoid Estonian currency exchange regulations.
The ferry was the simplest way to arrive in Tallinn, in the guise of plain tourists. There were no passport formalities required other than providing the Bottens’s travel agent in Helsinki with their basic passport details, name, date of birth, date of issuance of the passport and its number. There was nothing simpler, they became part of a group visa, the group consisted of several hundred Finns, out for a weekend of drinking and dancing, with six hours in Tallinn as an excuse.
The travel agent, who had accompanied them to the port, presented them with an envelope, after the check-in formalities that he had accomplished on their behalf. It contained four tickets, two for Mr and Mrs Kennedy and two for Mr and Mrs Barton. He apologised explaining that there had been a misunderstanding handing them four boarding passes, two cabin keys, four tickets for a bus trip in Tallinn, and four boarding passes for the return trip from Tallinn.
“I’m sorry about this mix up, it’s too late to change things now, too complicated,” he laughed. “Just present your own boarding passes, keep all the other tickets with you in the same envelope all the time, on board and in Tallinn. When you get back I’ll have to get the reimbursement for them, OK!”
They boarded the ship, each presenting his own tickets and were pointed to the lift that brought them down to the fourth deck. They checked into their cabins, 412 and 414, on the port side with a view onto the sea. They busied themselves settling in until the ship weighed anchor, slipping out of the port with hardly a sound or vibration from the engines some thirty minutes later.
Kennedy knocked on the door of Barton’s cabin.
“Come in, the door’s open.”
“Hey, how’s things?”
“Great, what about you?”
“What was all that about the tickets.”
“No idea, the stupid sods are incapable of making a simple reservation, just hang on to the other tickets we’ll give them back on Monday.”
The two cabins were identical, modern and comfortable, fitted with two single beds, a separate bathroom and a large TV. The ship was only one year old, constructed by Rauma Shipyards in Finland, according to a brass plaque they had seen as they had boarded.
“The only thing now is to find one of those Estonian girls they told us about to fill the other bed,” said Kennedy laughing, feeling a little more relaxed, pleased to have ‘escaped’ from Russia.
“Let’s forget about that for this trip we’ll do that on the way back.”
“I’m only joking.”
“Good, what about a drink, let’s find out where the bars are.”
They found a bar on the ninth deck, where there were already a few Finnish couples seated at the tables with large glasses of beer before them. The bar was not only for drinking but was also a discotheque which would no doubt liven up later in the evening after the holiday makers had settled in and eaten.
They ordered a couple of drinks at the bar, a beer for Barton and a coke for Kennedy, then they took a table facing the view as the Sally Anne gracefully left the Port of Helsinki behind them. Endless rocky pine covered islands slipped past, here and there they saw the traditional summer and weekend homes of Finns, houses built of ochre painted clapboard not far from the water’s edge, where small jetties led down to the moored outboards.
Very few of the passengers were not Finns. The two day trippers had agreed to keep a low profile so as not to attract unwanted attention, to behave simply as curious foreign tourists, as they were in a manner of speaking.
They had more than twelve hours ahead of them before they arrived in Tallinn. The distance between Tallinn and Helsinki was only eighty kilometres and the sailing time was normally not much more than three hours, but speed was not the objective of the boat’s passengers, what was more important to them was a night of drinking duty free beer and dancing. The excessive taxes imposed by the Finnish government on all alcoholic drinks, made even beer a luxury and the mini-cruises were the traditional excuse for a vast binge.
They dined in one of the restaurants sampling a nondescript Scandinavian salad buffet, followed by the invariable and unimaginative Finnish poached salmon. It was towards ten fifteen when they left the restaurant and they decided to take a stroll to explore the huge ship with its shops and bars.
They then headed towards one of the bars for a nightcap, it was crowded and they sensed an air of excitement and anticipation in the revellers. With the first few notes of a traditional Finnish tango - almost a national dance - the would be dancers headed towards the disco floor in a frenzy, jumping on the pre-selected partner and in the case of pre-emption grabbed the next nearest female, as though it were the last dance of all time. The women almost never refused an invitation, that would have been un-Finnish.
Pushing their way towards the bar they ordered drinks, surveying the surroundings in the never changing habit of the prowling male, and the eternal hope of an easy catch. There were not many unaccompanied women, which was to say those that were available were either to young or worse too old. They settled down to discussing the task ahead before calling it a day and returning to their cabins.
Kennedy was awoken by the sun streaming through the large panoramic window, the weather seemed to have changed for the better, he checked his watch, it was just after seven. The distant throb the boat’s huge engines had discernibly increased in tempo, the nights coming and going in the Baltic had ended, they were finally headed towards Tallinn.
He joined Barton for breakfast in the restaurant, where they checked out the map of the city. The tour included a bus ride to the city centre nearby the post and telegraph office, from there they were to walk to the main square of the old town, a green Moskowitz taxi would be waiting to take them to the Olympia Hotel.
Chapter 59
Tallinn