and there. No stress and lots of time to drink, smoke, and observe the local wildlife.’
Snow shook his head at the fifty-something Welshman. ‘How’s Ina?’
‘Not bad. She lost her job, though.’ Jones’s wife of sixteen years was a banker – and her husband’s banker.
‘Sorry to hear that.’
‘Eh, but she got a new one with a Canadian investment group. She may have to fly out there next month. I don’t mind, it gives me a chance to rest.’ Jones’s diction was lilting and slow, as always after he’d had a few pints. ‘But great to see you, eh!’
‘You too, Mr Jones.’ Snow became serious. ‘So, how have you been this last year?’
‘Fine. We obviously skipped Crimea this summer and thought for a while of coming back to the UK. But then I saw the house prices. I can’t bloody afford to get on the housing ladder at my age! So we didn’t. Our area was pretty isolated from the violence and unrest, thank Christ. But eh, it’s a shocking business, isn’t it? Who are the Kremlin to say Ukraine can’t join the European Union? Ukrainians are good people who were led by a corrupt president. Russians are good people but… people are people, let them live.’ He waved his hand and then drained the remainder of his beer.
Snow agreed with Jones’s statement, even if the wording was a little off, but he didn’t want to get political or morose. For once all he wanted to do was sink a few drinks, reminisce, and relax. And from the look of it, Jones was several drinks ahead of him. Snow caught the attention of the barmaid, who trotted over with menus.
‘Is this your friend, Michael?’
‘This is Aidan. He used to teach with me.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Snow said in Russian. ‘Two beers, please.’
‘Is Obolon OK?’
‘Fine.’
She smiled pleasantly and returned to the bar with a wiggle that Snow tried but failed to ignore.
‘Service with a smile,’ Jones remarked happily.
‘So, what brings you to this place then?’ Snow asked.
‘One of my students, Vlad, runs it. He’s a good bloke and the beer is so cheap for Kyiv prices!’ Jones was always counting his money. His love of bargains coupled with his love of alcohol had made him an expert on the cheaper watering holes of Ukraine’s capital city.
‘I’m not surprised it’s cheap – it’s in the middle of nowhere.’
‘It’s not far from the metro and if you’re near the metro you’re near everything.’
‘That’s true.’ The beer arrived and Snow held up his glass. ‘Cheers.’
‘You too.’
‘What time does Ina want you home?’
‘Whenever. She doesn’t mind me drinking with you. Thinks you’re a calming influence.’
Snow smacked beer from his lips. ‘I thought she knew me better than that.’
The door opened and a hulking figure ducked his head to enter.
‘He’s a big boy,’ Jones noted, ‘and I thought you were tall.’
‘I am tall. He’s a giant. Do you know him?’
‘No.’ Jones returned his attention to his beer.
The giant, dressed in a tracksuit under a leather box jacket, strode to the bar and, with a booming voice, ordered vodka. He knocked back his drink in one and then demanded a beer.
Snow’s training kicked in as he scanned the bar. The other ten or so customers weren’t making eye contact with the new arrival, especially the table of women Michael had been watching. Two of them discreetly turned their chairs away. The man was dangerous, and by the way people reacted to him, known as being such.
‘Another?’ Jones asked.
‘Silly question.’ Snow winked.
‘Pani!’ Michael called out the Ukrainian word for ‘miss’, also used to mean waitress. ‘Two beers, please.’
The giant turned and leant against the bar, swivelling his large head to stare at them.
Snow involuntarily felt himself tense, ready for action. ‘So, where is this Vlad then?’
‘He’s probably in reception; it’s a family business. His dad owns the hotel; Vlad’s just taken over here and his two sisters work in both. The one at the bar is called Svetlana.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t know him?’
Jones sniggered. ‘Not the giant, the barmaid.’
‘Here.’ Svetlana brought the beers. She no longer seemed happy and hurried back to the bar.
Jones took a long swig and then stood. ‘I’m sorry, I need a slash. Bladder can’t keep up with me anymore.’
Snow continued to assess the threat and the giant continued to stare, until another man appeared in the bar. He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt with ‘Café Bar Standard’ printed on it in burgundy. On seeing the giant, he paused before walking to the bar. Snow watched as the new arrival started to polish glasses as the giant spoke to him.
‘Hokay, Vlad!’ Jones shouted as he emerged from the bathroom a minute later.
Vlad held up a tea towel but said nothing as the giant now glared at Jones.
Jones sat and noticed the expression on Snow’s face. ‘What’s up?’
‘I think the big fella is bad news, Michael.’
‘What, him? He’s just a bloke having a drink. You’ve been away too long.’ Jones produced a new packet of Ukrainian cigarettes from his jacket pocket and fiddled with the polythene wrapper.
‘Maybe.’
A glass smashed at the bar. The giant was pointing at Vlad with his index finger.
‘Shit.’ Snow sighed, getting to his feet. He’d seen enough shakedowns in his time to understand what was happening. ‘Michael, stay in your seat.’
‘What?’ Jones looked up from his cigarettes. ‘Oh, I see.’
Snow placed his empty glass on the counter. Svetlana was sweeping the floor with a dustpan and brush while Vlad stood, frozen like a rabbit in headlights. Snow spoke in Russian. ‘Two more beers, please, and…’ He studied the face of the giant. ‘…Whatever you’re having.’
The big man’s heavy forehead furrowed. ‘Vodka.’
Vlad looked between the two men as he pulled the beer and then poured a shot of vodka.
‘Two
