Blood Diamonds Tallinn Chapter 3

Diamonds and Dread

Emma’s world narrowed to the van’s dim interior, Miko’s jittery breaths, and the oppressive dark outside. Her hands clenched her backpack strap, knuckles white. Thieves. Liina’s a thief. The betrayal looped in her mind, sharper than Cheryl’s eviction texts. How had she missed it? The edgy friends, the late-night stories, the casual “hunts.” Kalamaja’s magic soured into a trap.

Miko drummed the wheel, muttering Estonian curses. Headlights caught movement—shadows darting between warehouses. Footsteps pounded closer. Emma’s pulse spiked.

“Run! Run!” Miko hissed, eyes wide.

Figures burst from the blackness: Karl first, bulky form barreling like a bull, arms pumping. He yanked the side door, hurling a bulging backpack inside. Joonas next, lanky and gasping, a ski mask shoved up on his forehead. Then Liina—last, wild-eyed and triumphant, pink scarf askew, clutching a small leather purse like a trophy.

“Go! Go!” she shrieked. Miko floored it. Tires screeched, gravel spraying as the van peeled out. Emma slammed against the seat, stomach lurching. They rocketed down Kopli’s narrow vein, engine roaring, headlights slicing through flurries. Sirens? No—just the howl of wind and the boys’ manic laughter.

Nobody spoke. Emma trembled, teeth chattering, bile rising. The purse in Liina’s lap gleamed faintly—embossed leather, expensive. Big catch. Her vision blurred; the world tilted. She gripped the door handle, fighting nausea, faintness creeping in like fog.

Joonas navigated hairpin turns, Karl panting beside him. Liina glanced back once, eyes gleaming, but said nothing. The van hurtled through Tallinn’s fringes—past flickering shipyards, under overpasses tagged with wolves—until concrete blocks loomed. Kopli’s heart: a cluster of weathered Soviet-era flats, windows glowing dimly against the night.

They screeched into a snow-choked lot behind a graffiti-scarred building. “Home,” Liina announced, breathless. The group tumbled out, hauling bags. Emma stumbled after, legs jelly, the cold slapping her face. She nearly collapsed against the van—Miko steadied her roughly. “Inside. Safe.”

Liina’s flat was on the top floor, fifth story of a creaking stairwell reeking of cabbage and damp. Graffiti wolves snarled from walls; a single bulb buzzed overhead. Emma trailed numbly, world spinning. The heavy door slammed shut behind them—steel, double-bolted. Locked in.

Liina exploded into laughter, high and unhinged, tossing the purse onto a scarred wooden table. “Kuradi head!” (Fucking yes!) Joonas and Karl joined, whoops echoing off peeling wallpaper. Wild joy rippled through them—fists pumping, back-slaps, feral grins. The room was a chaotic nest: mismatched couches sagging under wool blankets, posters of Estonian rock bands, a mini-fridge humming in the corner. A woodstove crackled, casting flickering shadows. Sauna door ajar in the hall, steam wisping out.

Emma stood frozen by the door, a stone statue amid the frenzy. Tremors racked her body; knees buckled. She slid down the wall, hugging herself, breaths shallow gasps. This can’t be real. Run. Scream. But her limbs betrayed her, faintness crashing like a wave. Black spots danced in her vision.

Liina noticed, laughter dying. She knelt, cupping Emma’s face. “Miko! She got the shakes. Fortune, sis—we hit fortune!” To Miko: “Suur õnn—vaata!” (Big luck—look!)

Miko nodded, rummaging the fridge for vodka shots. Liina hugged Emma fiercely, jumping like a kid on Christmas. “You my luck charm! American sis brings jackpot!” She bounced back to the table, unzipping the purse with theatrical flair.

Emma’s eyes widened despite the haze. Nestled inside: a velvet pouch. Liina upended it. Diamonds spilled out—raw, uncut stones glinting like fallen stars on the table. Necklaces, earrings, a brooch the size of a quail egg. Maybe a dozen pieces, flashing fire under the bulb.

“Holy shit,” Karl growled, pawing them reverently.

Joonas snatched the vodka, toasting. “Epic. Tell her, Liina.”

Liina scooped the stones back, eyes manic. “Old Town bar—two tourists, rich pricks. Russian accent, one fat, one skinny. Met in shadows near exchange. We watch. Follow to Kopli drop. Karl grabs fat one—bam!—purse rip. Joonas…” She nodded to him.

Joonas grinned, miming. “Skinny fights. I throw him down—crack!—into snow. Liina snatches loot. Clean. No cops.” He laughed, savage. “They chase little, then cry like babies.”

Emma’s world shattered. Violence. Not petty picks—armed robbery. Her stomach heaved; tears spilled hot and fast. She curled into a ball, sobs wrenching free. “No… Liina, why? You’re… you’re my sister.”

The room stilled. Laughter faded. Liina dropped beside her, arms wrapping tight. “Hey, hey, emake väike.” (Little mama.) She stroked Emma’s hair, voice softening to that Facebook warmth. “Shh. It’s okay. Kopli life—hard. Jobs shit, cops corrupt. This? Survival. Diamonds fence tomorrow—thousands euros. We eat good, sauna every night. You too, sis. No more stepmom hell.”

Emma shook her head, choking. “Robbery? Assault? I… I can’t.” Visions flashed: the “fat” tourist sprawled in snow, bruised and raging. Cops with dogs. Prison. Her dad’s voicemail unanswered. Stuck in Estonia with criminals.

Liina rocked her gently, murmuring Estonian lullabies mixed with English. “You my luck. Flew in perfect timing. Fate, ja? Cry it out. Then we plan.” The boys hovered awkwardly—Miko pouring tea, Karl pocketing a diamond for “safekeeping,” Joonas stoking the fire.

Emma’s sobs quieted to hiccups, exhaustion pulling her under. Liina’s hug felt safe, traitorous. Luck? Or curse? The diamonds winked mockingly. Sauna steam curled invitingly. Outside, wind howled off the Baltic.

Then—knock. Sharp, insistent. Three raps on the steel door.

The room froze. Liina tensed, hand flying to a kitchen knife on the table. Boys straightened, eyes darting. Miko killed the main light, plunging them into stove-glow shadows.

Knock-knock-knock. Harder.

Emma’s heart seized. Cops? The tourists?