Helsinki White

by James Thompson

  Milo’s father is dead but apparently was something of a character—Milo’s mother once stabbed him for philandering—but Milo seldom mentions him. However, he taught Milo to sail. He fires up the engines, gives instructions, and we’re out on the open sea in just a few minutes. Milo can be an aggravating fuck, but his confidence with all things technical can be reassuring at times, and this is one.

  He’s dog sick from pontikka overdose, pukes over the rail a few times. Sweetness is no better, even by his standards he got shitfaced and looks like death. In addition to being sick from drinking, they’re covered with cuts and bruises from fighting. Milo has a butterfly Band-Aid holding his eyebrow together. Both of them have black eyes. Milo limps. Sweetness has a fat lip, split open but short of needing stitches. Neither holds a grudge, though. Instead, they laugh about it. It was just what they needed. Men are like that sometimes. Sweetness finds the bar and hair of the dog.

  After a couple hours, we find the island, tie the boat off at the dock next to an older, smaller and somewhat dilapidated vessel. We walk up a winding path to the so-called summer cottage. I would guess it’s about a hundred years old, and as Saukko said, “cottage” is a misnomer. It’s bigger than a house, too small to qualify as a mansion.

  We find no one here, but someone was here, a while ago. The garbage wasn’t taken out. Dirty dishes left in the sink. And Saukko was right about the gamekeeper. His cottage is empty. His belongings are in the house proper. I guess at a certain point, maybe after some years went by, he realized that the place was forgotten, that he was employed but forgotten too, and moved into a lovely remodeled home in an idyllic setting. We take a walk around the grounds, both forest and meadows are behind the home, the ocean view in front of it.

  The gamekeeper must have lived in peace and comfort, until one day a bad man or men came and ruined it all. We find four shallow graves behind the house. A little scooping and kicking away dirt with our hands and feet reveal four bodies in late decomp, consistent with about a year since death. A grown man and three children. The gamekeeper and Kosonen’s three kids. So they were kept here as blackmail to force their father to carry out the kidnapping. There’s still no solid proof that Antti was behind it, but I’d give good odds on it.

  A hypothesis forms of its own accord, just hits me all at once. Killing three children wouldn’t come easy to an inexperienced killer. I think he had an accomplice or accomplices. In this investigation, I’ve come across three men I believe capable of the crimes that have occurred. One of them is here with us now. The other two sell heroin and pâté.

  My guess: The gamekeeper was murdered straightaway. Antti hid out here on this island while he was supposedly kidnapped. His job was to kill Kosonen, come back here with the money, wait for his accomplice or accomplices, divide up their ten million euros, and then they would go their separate ways and he would disappear, begin life anew under a different identity.

  But he didn’t wait. He had another boat he had stolen from his father, an Ocean Master 310 Sport Cabin, according to the manifest. He abandoned the children to his partner or partners in crime to deal with them and left. Realizing they had gotten fucked, they killed the kids—they were witnesses, after all—and set about finding Antti and their money. They’re still looking, most likely why Moreau is here, because they enlisted him, offering him Antti’s share. They killed Kaarina to punish Antti and, if my guess is right, are now just making foie gras and waiting for this to all play itself out.

  Lisbet Söderlund. How does she fit into this and why was she murdered?

  Her death wasn’t what Saukko asked for, but was the kind of symbol he sought in order to relinquish his million euros. He and Jesper talked about selling heroin to sedate the black masses. I’m in charge of cleaning up drugs in Helsinki. I proved myself more than capable. Moreau told me the lesson learned is that narcotics are needed but must be controlled. The interior minister told me that he believes men adroit at one task are nearly always adroit at others and gave me an additional task, the skank sheet, hinting at additional responsibilities. He and others believe I’ll find the money. It will disappear. Saukko will never get it back.

  I think they all know the pâté peddlers murdered her, and that Antti has the ten million euros. Plus the other promised million in exchange for “a display of dedication to racist policies” makes eleven. This money is to be pooled and divided among various interests. Am I reading too much into this, or are the Legionnaires to have the heroin importation concession, the neo-Nazis the wholesale concession, our immigrant population to be the target consumer market, this money also to be shared? As I’ve learned, the amounts involved in dope are huge, and even small pieces of the pie could make many men rich. And I’m to be Finland’s drug czar, discouraging other narcotics entrepreneurs around the country, as I have in Helsinki? I’m to be a cop in name, but Finland’s narcotics power broker in truth, much as the former Legionnaires are foie gras dabblers in name but heroin kingpins in reality.

  It’s so insidious that it’s difficult to conceive, but I believe it entirely possible.

  Saukko won’t like it, but the discovery of the children’s bodies rightly goes to Saska. I call him, suggest he come here in a police helicopter, chopper them home and concoct a tale to explain the breakthrough in the case.

  The question remains: Where is Antti? I think he’s hiding somewhere, just waiting to be forgotten. We leave so we can be out of the way when Saska makes his fake break in the case, and go back to Saukko’s mansion.

  Saukko is so thrilled that the hunt is on again after a year that he doesn’t even gripe about Saska’s involvement. Saukko insists I hunt to the north. I give in and ask him for a map of his foundation properties. After some searching, he produces one.

  I also call the interior minister and explain the situation. I ask him if he can make arrangements to use the radio-controlled pilotless planes as during the original search for Antti, to avoid his suspicion should he be in northern Åland. I tell him the type of craft we’re looking for.

  Some of the islands have rock shelves or caves on their coasts. Small craft could be hidden there, invisible from above. I suggest the Border Guard send vessels to circle all the islands and ensure Antti hasn’t hidden his boat in such a place.

  “No, Inspector,” the interior minister says, “these are not good ideas. They limit our options. The Border Guard would have to arrest Antti. If you were to take him into custody, our options would remain open.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as his father is a powerful man and might prefer if his son doesn’t rot in prison, no matter what he’s done. He would be in great debt to us if we made that happen. If you find Antti, call me, and I’ll instruct you as to what’s to be done.”

  I hear myself sigh. Corruption has no limits among the powerful, even when it involves murder. My previous self would have expressed outrage. I’ve hidden my emotional stunting through the remembrance of emotions. I notice that my memories of them are fading, growing more distant.

  “I want you to go, Inspector, and circle each and every island yourself. If you fail to find him, I’ll consider your suggestion.”

  “You understand,” I say, “that this is a wild-goose chase. He would have had to winter there, and it would have taken a great deal of time and preparation for him to do that. The only reason I think it remotely possible is because his father has the means to search to the ends of the earth for him, and this desolate area fills the bill.”

  “I understand, and I agree with you. But after all, he also has resources. He could have made a home winter-worthy in secret.”

  “Very well,” I say and ring off.

  I ask Saukko if I can use his yacht again tomorrow to continue the search, say that it will likely be an overnight trip, and he’s happy to oblige. He wants to come. I suggest that it might be best for all if this was kept strictly police business. If we were to find Antti, his emotions would run high and might lead to something that could im
pede prosecution. He grudgingly agrees. Finding Antti there truly is only a shot in the dark. He’s abandoned his wife and children, so he wanted out bad. His father has pretty much every resource in the world at his disposal to find Antti. If he really wants to disappear, as I said to the minister, it has to be somewhere at the ends of the earth. It’s a thousand-to-one shot, but northern Åland pretty much qualifies.

  37

  Moreau rides with me back to Helsinki. I tell him he can’t come with us tomorrow. “It’s a snipe hunt, but if we should find Antti and the money, I won’t be able to explain your presence. Maybe you could be at Saukko’s side in his moment of triumph. He’d like that.”

  Moreau agrees. I ask where I can drop him off.

  “I’m staying at that little hostel your wife runs, Hotel Kämp.” I drop him off, pick up more baby formula and go home. Kate looks ghastly. She’s drinking a glass of water with two hands. Her hangover is so bad that she trembles.

  I pick up Anu, bounce her on my knee, and tell Kate all I’ve learned. She couldn’t give a fuck less.

  “Is something the matter, besides your hangover?” I ask.

  “Where should I begin? Maybe we should talk about how I’ve ignored my child for days while I stayed drunk.”

  I’ve learned that in marriage there are times to console with hugs, and times when they aren’t wanted. Right now, it’s the latter.

  “Kate, you tried to run with the big dogs. The people you’ve hung around with the past few days drink a lot. You don’t and couldn’t keep up. Maybe you should have learned from your mistake the first time. But last night, drinking pontikka, it happens to everybody. Anni told me you didn’t even drink very much of it. You’re not a bad mother, you just had a very Finnish learning experience.”

  By the look on her face, I think Kate would be yelling at me now if she wasn’t too sick to manage it. “Have you considered the possibility that I’ve been drunk because I’m so fucked-up that I’m not in control of my actions, even at the expense of our child, and that maybe the reason I’m so fucked-up is you?”

  I thought my work might be affecting her, but not to this extent.

  “You met us at that bar yesterday and Sweetness had blood coming out of puncture wounds in his knuckles. Now, why do I think he got those by knocking out someone’s front teeth?”

  “I’m investigating a murder of historic proportion and dealing with evil people—the kind of people who cut an innocent woman’s head off—trying to solve it. I’m doing whatever I deem necessary.”

  “Is it necessary for you to commit crimes that could put you in jail, and do you see that you’re working with buffoons that don’t have a fucking clue what they’re doing? You came to me with this song and dance about a black-ops thing that was supposed to help people, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no because I thought you might die. But these black-ops actions aren’t to help people, they’re to generate graft for corrupt politicians. I put up with all this because you gave me a choice and I agreed to it in the beginning and I kept my word. I was wrong. We should have left and gone back to the States. You and your team are dupes and pawns, and you’re going to pay a high price for your stupidity.”

  I’ve never seen her like this, so bitter.

  She says I’ve become like the people I swore to combat and have broken my oath to uphold the law. “You’ve gone astray,” she says. “You’ll end up dead or in jail. I’m disappointed, disillusioned, I’ve lost respect for you. You have to change, to be the good man I married.”

  “I’m trying to make things right,” I say.

  “Arvid is dead,” she says. “Your surgery changed you. And everything that came after has changed all of us.”

  “Kate, this hasn’t gone the way I planned, either. Yes, I’ve been duped and used as a pawn. I’m also disappointed and disillusioned. Had I known where this road would lead, I never would have taken us down it. I made a mistake. And yes, I know brain surgery has affected me. I can’t help that. I’m doing the best I can. I’m going on a wild-goose chase tomorrow. We’re going to spend a couple days cruising around Åland. Come with us. It will do you good. And if we should by some miracle happen to find Antti Saukko, the man we’re looking for, you’ll see that we’re still policemen, not just murderous thugs. The sun and sea air will do us all good.”

  She smirks, skeptical. She considers it, her face almost a sneer. “OK,” she says.

  38

  It’s a warm today. The sky blue. A perfect day for sailing, and we have hours until we reach the islands of northern Åland. Saukko had his cook stock the boat with enough food for an army. Saukko thought of everything, from fresh fish bait to a box of the figurado cigars we had smoked. I guess I did a good job of convincing him I liked them. The sea is calm, and I hope the trip will smooth the waters between Kate and me as well.

  After I solve this murder, and I’m near to it, I’m going to solve my work-related problems as well. I didn’t become a cop to be a thug. Time will fix this. I’ll accumulate dirt on powerful people so they can’t hurt me without destroying themselves. I’ve collected much skank, I’m close to it now. Then I’ll do my job on my own terms or just walk away. Resign. Do as Kate said. Take her back to the States with the money I’ve stolen and collect stamps.

  Kate and I slather on suntan lotion, make sure Baby Anu is sun-protected head to toe, and sit side by side in deck chairs that fold out so you can lie down in them. Her hangover fades and her mood improves, and after a while she hooks her little finger around mine. We snack, sun, drink soft drinks, let Milo do all the work. I notice Sweetness isn’t boozing. I wonder if the change in his relationship with Jenna has sobered him up. The sea was crowded with all manner of craft when we left Helsinki, but the farther north we go, other vessels are fewer and farther between.

  Life on a small island in Åland must be interesting. Waterworld. An alternate way of living. Inhabitants take boats to the grocery store, to bars in the evening if they want to socialize. Everywhere.

  Milo has the map, and after several hours he tells us we’re now in waters that contain the islands donated by Saukko’s foundation, and it’s time to start watching. Some are only specks of rock, some are large. Kate softens, her bitterness dissipates. At a certain point, we go downstairs to a cabin and make love. When we come back up, the yacht is moored near a largish island. A dock juts out into the ocean, but beside and behind the dock is a cave. Its roof is several yards high and it goes about twenty yards back under the island. We’re on the south side of the island, and this end of it is lightly forested and around a hundred yards across.

  Inside the cave are a twin-engine fishing boat and a Jet Ski. Whodda thunk? We’ve really found Antti.

  “We saw no hurry and waited on you,” Milo says. He edges the yacht up to the dock. Sweetness hops over to it and ties us off.

  I doubt we’ll need them, but we don bulletproof vests and the rest of our gear. After all, if my theory is correct, Antti did kill a man. We follow a narrow path and the smell of cooking meat. We walk about fifty meters and find a big ramshackle hut in a clearing with two people outside it in folding chairs, making dinner on a grill. One is Antti. He’s wearing a tie-dyed shirt, shorts and flip-flops. The other is a pretty woman in her mid-twenties, about eight months pregnant.

  Antti smiles. “Damn, it’s been a year. I thought you’d have stopped looking by now. And we were going to leave next week and move to Fasta Åland where there’s medical care, before Mari gives birth. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m sorry to say this,” I tell him, “but I have to arrest you.”

  “For what?”

  OK, we can play this out if he wants. “The faking of your kidnapping, your sister’s actual kidnapping, the theft of ten million euros, and the murder of Jussi Kosonen.”

  He sits back, crosses his legs and sips at a beer. “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about. I was kidnapped and released. When they released me, I decided I didn’t want to go back to my
old life. I came here with Mari for the peace and quiet, waiting to be forgotten. There’s no crime in any of that.”

  “I’m pretty sure that when we search, we’ll find the ransom money. That’s our proof.”

  “Search to your heart’s content,” he says.

  Mari hasn’t said a word, but she looks scared. “Are you OK?” I ask her. “Do you need anything?”

  “Just for you to go away.”

  “Let’s start inside,” I say. “Antti, would you please accompany us?” I want to keep an eye on him.

  What we find inside startles me. He’s built a small but lovely modern home with all the amenities, and then camouflaged the exterior with boards from old fishing cabins.

  “This is great,” I say. “I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks,” Antti says. “I did everything myself in my spare time. Took me five years. I’ve been waiting to get away from my old life for a long time.”

  “Couldn’t you have found an easier way?”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

  He’s so relaxed and amiable that we ignore procedure. We don’t cuff him. No nothing. Like idiots. I bend over to look under the bed. A gunshot scares me so bad I almost piss myself. The bullet whizzes past me and shatters a window on the other side of the bedroom. The next round hits me in the side. The bulletproof vest stops it, but the shot knocks the wind out of me. Milo was drawing his pistol as Antti took aim at his head. And then boom after boom after boom, all hell breaks loose and Antti jerks like a puppet until half his head flies off and he falls. Then Sweetness stands over him and dumps the remainder of his ammo in Antti’s face until his .45s are empty.

  After sixteen rounds in the chest, face and head, there isn’t much of him left. It’s a real fucking mess. His girlfriend tries to come in but Milo pushes her out so she won’t see it.

  For a couple minutes we all just stand there, uncertain what to do, then a familiar voice repeats the phrase I first heard it utter. “I hope I haven’t interrupted you at an inopportune moment.”