The ramshackle Lada was indeed still sitting where Kaare had dumped it. Holger turned the key. Despite its battered appearance, it started, and soon they were on their way southwards out of the town.
‘I think you had a plan B, so where are we heading?’ Kaare asked drily as they saw the first highway signs.
‘With all the trouble we have caused in the past twenty-four hours, even the laziest policeman will be looking for us. I suggest that we drive to Estonia. That’s not the most direct route to Denmark. From Tallinn, we can get to Scandinavia by sea or by air. The chances are that the police in Tallinn will not be looking for us either,’ Holger said pensively.
‘Tallinn?’ Kaare exclaimed as he tried to get his bearings amongst the signs at the roundabout further ahead.
‘Yes. Tallinn is Denmark’s Place. Or to be more precise, Denmark’s Fortress. The direct translation is Tannin Lidna. You do know your Danish history, right?’ Holger answered with a smile as he pointed to the upcoming exit.
Holger slumped in the seat and let his mind take him back to when he, as a young boy, had imagined himself as King Valdemar. 414The Danish King had constructed a massive fortress where Tallinn stands today: Castrum Danorum. History had always interested him. In 1219, Valdemar conquered the northern part of what is now present-day Estonia. And earned the epithet Sejr – Victorious. This had been one of those passages that had fascinated him more than others. The region was only under Danish rule for just over one hundred years before being sold to the Teutonic Order of Knights. However, the Danish King had a strong influence on the cultural development of the region. King Valdemar had arrived as a conqueror, but the locals had kept the name ‘Denmark’s Fort’. The story of how Dannebrog, the Danish flag, had fallen from the heavens, giving the Danes renewed belief that they could turn the tide of war and claim victory on the battlefield, was legendary. The Danish Army had been surrounded by hordes of local fighters who had used their knowledge of the terrain to ensnare them in a trap that would have annihilated their entire army had it not been for Dannebrog’s appearance on the battlefield. It was likely a folk myth, but Holger could easily imagine Dannebrog fluttering from the sky. The story perfectly captured the flag’s incredible emotional power. On a summer’s day, Dannebrog still instilled Holger with pride.
‘Of course. Denmark’s Fort. That sounds absolutely right,’ said Kaare with a wry smile, dragging Holger mentally back into the car.
It wasn’t long, however, before they both drifted back into silence, and as the evening darkness encroached on them, they started to relax. The darkness gave them a sense of safety, albeit irrationally. Holger was still battling the images of Tatjana in his arms as the pitch-blackness made him drowsy, and the only sound 415was the humming motor of the Lada, which in a peculiar way, was soothing to his soul. The roughly five hundred and fifty kilometres ahead of them would be a ten-hour journey, but it gave Holger plenty of time to process the grief eating away at him.
Although the E20 was part of Europe’s motorway system, most of it was dreadful, and they had to adjust the speed to dodge the many potholes. As the night progressed, the signs indicated that they were approaching Narva. The weather deteriorated gradually, and although it was only mid-September, the rain turned to sleet. Kaare had slept for the last few hours, but as they passed a sign that showed that they had less than five kilometres to the border, Holger prodded him awake.
‘Kaare, we’re nearing Estonia. We’ll arrive at the border in a few minutes.’
Kaare yawned and looked sleepily out the windscreen as he tried to stretch his long legs to no avail. It was simply impossible in the confines of the small car.
‘I wouldn’t mind a full English breakfast right now,’ he said, clutching the Kalashnikov in his lap.
Once having confirmed that there was a round in the chamber, he routinely switched the safety catch and tucked it between the door and his seat.
‘It’s likely they only speak Russian, so I’ll do the talking. Just nod every so often. I’ll tell them we’re Danish labourers stationed in Dandy’s chewing gum factory. On our way to Tallinn for a couple of days’ vacation. Everybody knows that Tallinn is awash with strip clubs and beautiful women on the cheap,’ Holger said, concentrating on the road ahead.
Kaare just nodded and covered the automatic rifle with his 416jacket. The air was thick with excitement. As they entered Narva, their alertness seemed to fill the tiny car with static electricity. Even if the St Petersburg police had not alerted the post, border guards were known for their deep-rooted suspicion when checking travellers, which remained a regular part of any authority’s routine. The wall coming down many years ago had not changed this. Holger and Kaare were acutely aware that crossing the guarded border was dangerous and they were both like coiled springs.
Narva was not a large town, but in the darkness of the night, the city lights made it look larger. Instinctively, Holger eased his foot on the pedal and continued slowly along the lit streets. There was no traffic at this time of night, but a simple traffic violation would attract attention. Holger thus stopped at the red light in a deserted crossroads on the outskirts. Once the light turned green, he put the Lada in gear and moved steadily through the town towards the eastern edge. The river Narva was the actual border between Russia and Estonia. The river connected the Gulf of Finland to the north with Lake Peipus to the south. The border crossing was in the same spot as it had been for hundreds of years, right on the river’s edge. As they closed in on the border post, they saw it was bathed in light from several large floodlights. Behind the border barrier was the bridge over River Narva, and on the other side, Holger could weakly make out the contours of the monumental fortress. Throughout history, that fortress has seen untold volumes of bloodshed over this strategically important point, Holger thought, bringing them to a halt in front of the red-and-white striped barrier.
Apparently, cars did not arrive at the border post every night, as it took several minutes for the border guards to realise that they had customers. They were in no hurry to get outside. The 417guards quite understandably preferred the low, grey border post building with its wood-burning stove over the biting, snow-filled wind. When one of the guards finally emerged, he meticulously buttoned his overcoat and pulled the fur hat down over his head as he finally ventured to the Lada. Holger rolled down the window a few centimetres and smiled as the gendarme roughly tapped the windscreen.
‘We are Danes. We work in Novgorod. A chewing gum factory. Dandy, do you know it? We on our way down to Tallinn, if you know what I mean,’ Holger grinned, using his hands to gesture the shape of a woman’s figure as he ignored the suspicious glances of the guard.
‘Passport,’ the guard growled, shining his torch into the Lada.
Holger felt in his pockets for his passport until it suddenly dawned on him that it was in his jacket that Tatjana had borrowed.
‘He’s asking for our passports,’ whispered Holger, and noticed that Kaare tightened his grip on the automatic rifle beside his seat.
‘It looks like we’ve forgotten those. Not very smart, and we do apologise,’ Holger said, handing a crumpled 100-rouble note through the window.
‘Wait here,’ said the border guard as he took the note, pocketing it, and walked back to the border post building.
Through a lit window, they could see the guard discussing with his colleague; judging from their gesturing, they were not in agreement, and the colleague picked up the telephone. It felt like hours until the border guard reemerged from the guard house. This time accompanied by his colleague; both were now armed with automatic rifles, and both beelined for the little blue car, alert and ready to use force without hesitation.418
‘This is fuckin’ full on. Step on it!’ Kaare blurted as he whipped the AK up, unfolded the butt, and assumed a position for aimed fire through the windscreen.
Kaare’s order was, however, completely unnecessary as Holger had already read the situation and slammed the Lada into gear.
‘Duck!’ he shouted to make himself heard above the shrieking engine as he hammered his foot on the accelerator and the car sped towards the red and white barrier.
Kaare squeezed off the first couple of shots as the Lada, in a violent explosion of noise and splinters, shattered the barrier and raced for the bridge ahead. Thank God it’s built of rigid materials, Holger thought, catching sight in the rear-view mirror of the ruined barrier as it rolled by the wayside. But that very moment, his mind was distracted by bullets smashing into the car’s rear end. A couple breached the rear window, and Holger ducked unwittingly. Kaare resolutely knocked out what was left of the glass with his gun’s metallic folding stock and fired off a couple of short bursts at the two guards standing soaked in light beside the splintered barrier.
As abruptly as the inferno had started, it ended. Holger manoeuvred the Lada through a gentle left curve, and soon they disappeared behind the Justitia Bastion and across Peetri Square toward Tallinn.
‘Great minds, eh? Nice one!’ said Kaare, still high from the adrenaline coursing through his body.
‘Not bad,’ Holger chuckled boyishly, realising how liberating it was to laugh aloud.
‘But we’re going to have to find a new vehicle. The guards will inform the police in Estonia. The dent left by the barrier in the 419hood of the car and the bullet holes will be more than we can talk our way out of,’ Kaare continued matter-of-factly and removed the magazine from the Kalashnikov to check how many rounds he had left.
‘I’ll try to reach Tallinn before sunrise. In this weather, every kilometre we cover in this car is gold dust,’ Holger replied as he concentrated on the road.
The road was not noticeably better this side of the border, and Holger had to focus hard on his driving.
‘Anyway, the possibility of escaping by air is non-existent,’ said Kaare almost to himself as he stared through the windscreen at the blizzard of snowflakes hurtling at them.
‘Yes. And that goes for the ferries as well. The police will be all over the obvious exit points of the country,’ answered Holger, preoccupied.
Suddenly, they both felt the onset of heavy fatigue and shivered in the cold wind that blew in through the shattered rear window. The last two days’ violent events had eroded their strength, and the net was clearly closing around them. No matter how romantically being on the run was portrayed on film, the reality was markedly different. The uncertainty and constant fear of being discovered led to perpetual alertness. Stress that notoriously resulted in attrition. Both had been on survival and interrogation courses, where being on the run was part of the training. But they were only exercises, and no matter how realistic, they always knew their lives were not at risk. They also knew it was part and parcel of the exercise to be captured. The feeling of uncertainty and stress was therefore a long way from what they were now experiencing. A physical and mental burden that brought a blanket of silence upon them.420
Gradually, as they worked their way further into Estonia, the roads improved, and as they passed the town of Rakvere, a sign revealed they were just seventy-five kilometres from Tallinn. Before long, the E20 became an actual motorway, and the snow receded. As dawn sent its purplish amber across the horizon, Holger was filled with much-needed new energy.