Europe in Winter (The Fractured Europe Sequence)(41)

“I should tell you the story of how your father was born in two places at once,” Juhan mused.

“I should tell you that nothing about my father would surprise me,” Rudi said, topping up their glasses.

Juhan picked up his glass, looked at it for a moment, then emptied it in one and put it back on the table for another refill. “We were in our twenties. That was a wild old time, you have no idea.”

Rudi lit a small cigar, offered the tin to Juhan, who shook his head. “I have some idea,” he said.

“You never lived under the Russians. It got pretty surreal. Once upon a time you had to get a permit from your workplace to buy a car, and the Party had to approve it, and when it arrived it would most likely be some piece of shit Lada that cost you three years’ pay.” He picked up his glass and waggled it above the table until Rudi refilled it. “But the Finns now, the Finns were having a wild old time, buying cars and just giving away the ones they didn’t want any longer. And when we kicked the Soviets out everybody wanted a car, didn’t matter how crappy it was. Me and your father, we went over the border this one time and we bought an old Saab from this bloke on the other side for three bottles of vodka.” He drained his glass again. “Damn thing caught fire the moment we drove it back into Estonia.”

“You were saying,” Rudi murmured, refilling the glass again and wondering when exactly the old man would start getting drunk, “something about my father being born in two places.”

Juhan nodded. “Your grandfather’s family came from Parnu. Your grandmother’s came from some godawful village out east, I can’t remember where, but both families wanted Toomas to be born where they came from. It was important to them, the gods only know why. This caused a lot of friction between the two families, so your grandfather came up with this plan.”

Rudi sat forward and leaned his elbows on the table.

“Your grandfather, he was an interesting man. Knew a lot of interesting people. Knew a lot of interesting things about a lot of interesting people. So he had a word, and called in some favours, and lo and behold, on the day of Toomas’s birth there were two birth certificates. Both identical, apart from the place of birth. One in Parnu, the other in... wherever it was, somewhere near R?pina, I think. And your grandfather could show his parents one certificate, and his wife’s parents the other one, and everyone was happy.”

Rudi thought about it. “I can think of any number of ways that could go wrong,” he said.

Juhan shrugged. “They got away with it. For years Toomas had two passports.”

“What?”

“Two passports. You don’t have an uncommon surname, the place of birth was different, all the forms were in order, the authorities never checked.”

“So where was he born? Parnu or R?pina?”

Juhan chuckled. “Neither. He was born in Viljandi.”

“So he had three birth certificates.”

Juhan shook his head. “The birth was registered in Parnu and R?pina. Officially, he was born in two different places.”

Rudi sat back and downed his vodka. “Jesus Maria,” he muttered. “I come from a family of con artists.”

“Anyway, he showed me the two birth certificates this one time, and are you going to top my glass up for me or do I have to do it myself? Thank you.”

“You were going to tell me,” Rudi said, putting the bottle back down on the table, “about Toomas and the Frenchmen.”

“Mm,” said Juhan. “Yes. The Frenchmen.” He picked up his glass and, with miraculous self-control, managed to only half-empty it before looking thoughtful. “Toomas and I were working as guides at Kadriorg. The band had split up; I needed the money. One day Toomas turned up for work and told me he’d been contacted by this Frenchman who wanted to hire us as guides for him and his friends.”

Because this seemed to require a response, Rudi said, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you and Toomas, in particular?”

Juhan shook his head. “I never found out. Do you want to hear this or not?”

Not particularly, no. “Sure. Go on.”

“I need a piss. Back in a minute.” Juhan got up from the table, jacket zippers jingling, and walked to the bathroom without the slightest hint of a weave or stagger or stumble. Rudi looked at the bottle, which was three quarters empty – most of it now inside Juhan – and shook his head. Most of his father’s friends had been legendary drinkers, but they always said it was just part of being an Estonian male.

He took out his phone and called up its news browser and flicked through the front page articles. Community, Community, Community. Reports about the ongoing talks at the UN, travelogues from writers who had visited the Community, recipe books, films, novels, fashions. Starbucks was opening another fifty franchise operations around the Community; an American firm was in discussions about providing new-generation coal mining machinery. The edges between the nations were beginning to blur. He wondered what the Presiding Authority thought about it all. He didn’t bother Googling Mundt or murders in the Sakha Republic; if Smith had been telling the truth about a news blackout he wasn’t going to find anything in the public record, and he didn’t have any resources of his own that far east. He looked at the package Juhan had brought with him, sitting on the other side of the table. It was wrapped in somewhat aged brown paper and it was about the size of a box of chocolates. He reached out and picked it up speculatively. It was heavier than he’d expected. He put it back down.