“Let’s think about that later,” said Takamäki. “For tonight, the situation is under control.”
* * *
Joutsamo was sitting in a recliner in the living room, while Mari and Laura were on the sofa. An episode of an American legal drama was playing on the television.
“I’m glad you were able to come,” said Mari.
“Yeah,” said Joutsamo. Lehtonen had called her in a panic after opening the letter. Initially, she’d had trouble understanding what had happened, but ultimately the extent of the threat had come to light. Takamäki had sent Joutsamo to their apartment and launched some kind of an operation. What exactly that was, Joutsamo didn’t know, and she didn’t want to talk details within earshot of Mari and Laura.
“Have you guys been following this series?” said Joutsamo, attempting to take their minds off the case. They had already gone over it once, and Joutsamo had assured her that, although it was unfortunate, it was rare and gave little cause for worry.
“Off and on,” said Lehtonen. “So what happens now?”
“Well, the Boston lawyer is probably…”
“No, I mean with our case.”
Joutsamo smiled. “Pretty soon you guys will go to bed. I’ll be here on the sofa, and we also have an officer posted at the entrance. That’s about it.”
“And tomorrow?”
“We’ll talk about that with Lieutenant Takamäki in the morning.”
“I have an English test tomorrow,” Laura
chimed in.
“We’ll have to see about that. It’s possible you’ll both get a day off.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Mari, her arms outspread in obvious frustration.
“That Laura’s not going to school and you’re not going to work.”
Mari stood up. “I’ll get your sheets.”
FRIDAY,
DECEMBER 15
CHAPTER 20
FRIDAY, 7:45 A.M.
PASILA POLICE HEADQUARTERS
Takamäki was sitting in the slightly more spacious, but equally joyless office of his direct supervisor Karila, chief of the VCU. Both men were nursing cups of coffee.
“Shitty deal,” said Karila.
“It is.”
“We just don’t have the numbers for an operation like that. It would tie up two officers during the day, one for the girl and one for the mom. Evenings and nights we might be able to make do with one. Once you figure in all the shifts, you get six, seven cops. Or eight if mom and daughter are out separately in the evening.”
Takamäki took a sip of coffee. He had come to the same calculation the previous evening. “A good ten percent of our entire unit.”
“Damn right. Of course we can’t just leave them to fend for themselves.”
“We don’t really have any official witness protection program, but maybe we could rig one,” said Takamäki. “We could get her an apartment in another city and help her get a job.”
“Wasn’t there some working group looking into witness protection?” Karila asked between sips of coffee.
“Yeah, but they didn’t come up with anything concrete. Just suggestions due to lack of funding. Nowadays that famous Kennedy quote might go more like: ‘Ask not what you can do for your country, ask what you can not do because of the economy.’”
“Right.”
“Besides, we have no idea how long this will last or how serious it’ll be. For now we’ll take it seriously, of course, but Lehtonen is just a random citizen that testified in court, not an informant or a biker trying to get out of a gang.”
“True,” nodded Karila.
“The easiest thing might be to send them to a safe house for a few days or a couple weeks. In the meantime, we’ll try to resolve the threats.”
Karila thought for a moment. “Do you think they can be resolved? If word’s out already, then…”
“I have a few ideas,” said Takamäki. “First thing we do is put Korpi in solitary, so at least he can’t be doling out orders. And then there’re a few other things…” he said, and listed the alternatives.
* * *
An hour later, Takamäki was ringing the doorbell of Lehtonen’s apartment. Joutsamo came to the door in track pants and a white T-shirt.
“Good morning,” said Takamäki with a smile.
Joutsamo looked at him dejectedly and raked her fingers through her dark hair. She invited him in and he hung his coat on the hook and went into the kitchen where Mari and Laura were eating breakfast. Takamäki greeted them both and sat down in an empty chair at the table.
“Let’s cut right to the chase,” he said. Initially, Takamäki had wondered whether he should talk to Mari without Laura present, but the situation affected them both, so Laura’s participation was helpful.
“Fine by me,” said Mari.
“The threats against you are being taken very seriously, and we’ve opened an investigation. Your safety is our number one priority. Number two is to stop the threats, and number three is to apprehend those responsible. We strongly suspect that this is related to your testifying against Risto Korpi.”
“Well, that’s pretty obvious,” snorted Mari. Laura sat beside her, watching quietly.
Takamäki was unfazed by the comment. “Unfortunately, we have no proof of that. We made little progress on the investigation overnight, but we’re expecting some results from the crime lab today, among other things. But these have to do with priorities two and three. Right now we should talk about number one.”
“What about it?”
“How to protect you,” said Takamäki. He had decided not to give her any choice in the matter. “We’re going to have to move you two out of this apartment.”
“Move?”
“Yes. Whoever is threatening you obviously knows your address, so it’s not safe to stay here.”
“So where? And for how long?”
“There’s a safe house in Kirkkonummi. You’ll get your own room and Laura will have a private tutor. I’ll talk personally with your employer about the situation. I can’t say how long it will be, probably a matter of weeks, but at least until the threat against you has been eliminated.”
Lehtonen was quiet. “And what if you can’t
do that?”
“Then we’d have to look for a more permanent solution. We could relocate you to another city. Of course, we’d assist you in finding housing, schools and employment. But I doubt it will come to that.”
Lehtonen looked to Joutsamo. “What do you think?”
“I think the safe house sounds like a good idea.” Of course, Joutsamo had little choice but to say so.
Takamäki went on. “Of course, this is entirely voluntary. We can’t force you to go.”
Mari turned to Laura. “And what do you think?”
Laura shrugged. It was unlikely her English test had any bearing on the matter. “I guess it’s okay.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” said Mari. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as your bags are packed. They’ve got washing machines and bed linens there, so you won’t need any. Pack any personal hygiene items, clothes, school books and reading material.”
Mari nodded.
Takamäki turned back to Joutsamo and handed her a packet of papers. “Go through these with Mari and Laura before they leave. The squad downstairs will take them, but you should go along.”
* * *
Their bags were packed within half an hour.
“I really don’t know about this,” said Mari as she paused at the kitchen door. Joutsamo was sitting at the table with the packet of papers Takamäki had given her.
“It’s what’s best for you and Laura. It’ll also give us a little more freedom to concentrate on the case.”
“I suppose,” said Mari. “What’s with the papers?”
“These are instructions that I’ll need to go through with you and Laura.”
Mari called for Laura.
“These are just some gen
eral dos and don’ts. First off, under no circumstances should you reveal your location to anybody. That’s the most important rule. Not to friends, not to anybody. And no texting,” said Joutsamo, glancing at Laura, whose eyes betrayed her alarm. “Once at the safe house, you’ll be known as Mari and Laura Virtanen.”
“Virtanen?” said Mari.
“Yes. No need to change your first names. You may not leave the safe house without an escort. Not to the store, not to the newsstand. Nowhere alone. If you want to buy something you’ll have to fill out a form at the front desk, they’ll purchase the items in bulk.”
Joutsamo continued down the list. “All contact with the outside must be kept to a minimum. If your location is compromised, you’ll be moved right away. Let’s see…then I have what looks like an American list of safety measures. Not sure if this is any use to you, but since my orders are to go through them, that’s what we’ll do.”
Lehtonen didn’t say anything.
“Says here that women tend to sit in the driver’s seat for a while before they start the car. That’s an opportune time for attackers to strike by opening the driver’s side door. So what you should do is lock the doors and leave promptly.”
“I don’t have a car,” said Lehtonen.
“Right,” said Joutsamo, continuing down the list. “Let’s see…if once you’re in the car, a man somehow surprises you and demands to be driven somewhere, do not obey. You should drive straight into a wall and then escape on foot. Your seatbelt and air bag will protect you, but the attacker in the back seat will be stunned by the impact.”
“What if he’s in the front seat and has an air bag?”
Joutsamo ignored the comment. “Then it says that you should check the vehicle beforehand, as well as the surrounding area. If a lone man is sitting in an adjacent vehicle, you should not go near your car. If there’s a van parked on the driver’s side, you should enter your car through the passenger door, because an attacker might be waiting behind the sliding door of the van.”
Both Lehtonens were silent.
Joutsamo kept her eyes on the paper. “No stairs, only take elevators.”
“That seems a bit paranoid,” said Mari.
“Better paranoid than dead,” said Joutsamo.
* * *
Corrections Officer Salo rapped on Korpi’s cell door with his billy club. Already the previous evening, Korpi’s cellmate had filed for transfer to the protective ward, so Korpi was alone inside. Not having been placed in any programs yet, he got to lie around in his cell.
Salo had brought two additional guards along in case of any trouble. He didn’t wait for Korpi to open the door, just swung it open. Korpi was lying on his bunk, apparently asleep.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” said Korpi, his eyes still closed.
“Get up.”
Korpi sat up on the edge of the bed. “Huh. Three of you, eh? Where we headed?”
Salo sighed and glanced at the paper in his hand.
“Based on prison ordinance eighteen, section five, paragraph one, the warden has ordered that you be placed in solitary confinement.”
“I don’t recall just now what the wording was in that paragraph,” said Korpi. “Perhaps you could refresh my memory.”
Salo read off of the paper. “Says here: ‘An inmate may be kept in isolation from the rest of the prison population if such is necessary to prevent the inmate from seriously endangering another’s life or well-being.”
“So whose well-being have I seriously endangered?”
“Doesn’t say here.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere.”
Salo glanced at his partners. “Korpi, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The end result will be the same: you in solitary.”
Korpi just lay back on his bunk without a word.
“Have it your way,” said Salo, and he radioed for more backup.
“Should we put him in cuffs?” asked one of the backups.
Salo nodded. “Hands and feet.”
The three guards set upon the struggling Korpi. One of them pinned Korpi’s hands and upper body to the floor while the others cuffed his ankles. Then they tossed him onto his belly, wrenched his hands behind his back and slapped the cuffs around his wrists.
CHAPTER 21
FRIDAY, 1:20 P.M.
KAARELA, NORTH HELSINKI
Suhonen lay in the same ditch as he had three months earlier. Then the soil had been wet, but now it was frozen, albeit mostly devoid of snow. To stay dry, he had spread a military style rain poncho over the ground, which was now thawing from the warmth of his body.
Suhonen was wearing a parka, snowpants, boots and a thick, dark stocking cap. He also had a backpack, camera and a few birding field guides. Although it was unlikely that anyone else would be out here in the woods, the birding enthusiast disguise had come in handy on many occasions.
His camera was equipped with a telephoto lens, useful because it also functioned as a telescope. Legally, his actions could be viewed as electronic surveillance, but since he never took any pictures, there was never any proof.
Jere Siikala was in the house. When Suhonen arrived to survey the place around nine in the morning, the lights had been on. He hadn’t had to wait long: by nine-thirty, he had observed Siikala moving about in the kitchen. It appeared that Guerrilla had made some coffee, after which there had been no more activity.
Nobody had left the house, nor entered it. The same Mazda that was used in Tomi Salmela’s murder was parked in the driveway. In October, the police had returned the car to the executor of the estate, but apparently Siikala had reacquired it.
Suhonen thought lying around here was a bit silly, but such was necessary because the offense was too minor for the police to obtain a phone tap. Siikala had probably acquired a new phone anyway, if he even used one anymore.
Since Siikala wasn’t an official suspect yet, Suhonen’s only job was to keep an eye on him and follow him if he went anywhere. So far he hadn’t.
Time dragged on. Suhonen spotted a chickadee on a tree branch and he aimed the camera toward it, but the bird flew off.
He had already mulled over his relationship with Raija. It had gradually deepened to the point that they were considering moving in together. He wasn’t sure it was what he wanted. In a way, he did, but in another, he didn’t. At any rate, the matter was not up to him alone.
Right now, their relationship was about having fun, but Suhonen suspected that after the move, more mundane issues would emerge. He guessed that the biggest risk to their relationship would be that he’d end up working too many evenings and nights. That just might grate on her in the long run, though now she claimed it wouldn’t be a problem.
Or maybe Suhonen was just afraid of commitment. He wasn’t entirely sure.
A movement in the kitchen window interrupted his thoughts. Suhonen raised the camera and looked through the lens. Siikala was toiling at the stove. Suhonen lowered the camera. If the guy was making lunch, he wouldn’t be leaving for at least thirty minutes.
Suhonen took his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Takamäki’s number.
“Hello,” answered Takamäki.
“It’s Suhonen.”
“Well?”
“Nothing. He’s still in the house. Making lunch right now.”
“Hmm.”
“Kinda hungry myself, but my sandwich ended up freezing out here.” Suhonen’s voice wasn’t so much resentful as it was probing. “How long do you want me out here?”
“If you have a better idea, I’d like to hear it. Siikala’s our only lead right now. If you ask me, we ought to keep an eye on him.”
“I guess. At some point I’ll need a shift change, though. Feet are starting to go numb.”
“Okay. Kulta will be there around three. Let’s do shifts every six hours, say at three and nine.”
“Would be nice to get that phone warrant if we’re gonna sink this much time into it. At least we’d have his
number then. It’d help.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Takamäki, and he hung up the phone.
Suhonen lay back down in the ditch to think about what he should think about.
* * *
Mari Lehtonen was sitting on the bed with her feet atop a coarse woolen blanket, reading a book. Laura sat in a similar position along the opposite wall of the smallish room, which resembled a hotel room in as much as it had two beds, a desk, television and a small bathroom. The décor was more barren than the average hotel room’s, though timeless: it had been out of fashion for at least thirty years. On first glance, Mari had wondered if the furnishings had been bought on clearance from some thrift store.
The window opened onto a gloomy snow-starved spruce forest.
The safe house was a largish building with rooms off of a long hallway: about twenty units with a common area and a kitchen in the middle.
Joutsamo had escorted the mother and daughter to the safe house. It was still unclear to Mari what sort of place this was; it didn’t seem like the police ran it. Rather, it appeared to be some sort of hideout for people who had found themselves targets of serious threats. As they were escorted inside, the only other person they encountered was a thickly muscled guard. Apparently such was needed to keep out any intruders. The guard sat in a booth next to the entrance, dressed in a track suit, and accompanied by a network of security cameras. He had greeted Mari and given her a printout of the house rules.
Mari put the book down—she couldn’t concentrate. For lunch, they had had sausage soup, and it was still several hours till dinner. Nothing else was happening. Just outside the door to their room was some kind of weekly schedule. Today, it included some conversation groups, a cooking class, and art and music classes for kids, but Laura was probably too old for those.
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