Vengeance hh-2

by Jarkko Sipila

  The saloon doors creaked again, and a short-haired man stepped in. Sami Aronen, the Skulls’ weapons expert, bellowed, “Larsson!” The men went through the same patting ritual.

  Aronen was a few years older than Larsson. The size of his biceps and the lack of a beer belly showed he was in excellent shape. Close-shaved hair and three-days of stubble capped off his steely looks.

  “Good to see you again,” said Aronen.

  “Same.”

  Niko and Aronen formed the gang’s current nucleus, since half of the members were doing time. Larsson trusted both as much as he trusted anybody.

  Aronen had been a member for a couple of years now. He had served in Afghanistan with the Finnish peace-keeping forces some years ago, but was discharged after punching a Swedish officer in a bar fight. When a sergeant hits a captain, he’ll take the blame, regardless of the reason.

  As luck would have it for Aronen, the Finnish forces were in Northern Afghanistan’s ISAF-operation under Swedish command and the loud-mouthed captain happened to be the unit’s judge advocate officer-Aronen never stood a chance. He was one of the few Skulls that had never been in prison. For the swing at the Swedish officer, he was fined and received a dishonorable discharge from the Finnish Army, where he had worked as a weapons specialist in several regiments.

  Larsson drank his Pepsi straight from the can.

  “Larsson, let’s sit down,” said Niko, gesturing toward the wooden tables in front of the bar. “I wasn’t sure when you’d get here, so I asked the others to come over at half past twelve.”

  * * *

  Suhonen was sitting in the same Customs control room at the West Harbor as he had on the previous night. The director of port security had arranged to replay the video of the previous evening’s passengers. Then, the undercover cop had seen it live, now he could see it on tape.

  Unlike in real life, video allowed him to pause, rewind and fast forward. The previous evening, the police had only been looking for a woman in a red coat, but another mule had also disembarked. Who? They had spotted Karjalainen, the junkie, but what about after Marju Mägi?

  The director hadn’t asked why Suhonen wanted to see the footage again. It had been enough that Suhonen had asked for it. They also had footage of the parking lot, which Suhonen and Toukola hadn’t needed the night before. All of the footage was on a hard drive, so Suhonen could switch between cameras and zoom in on passengers.

  The director had also shown Suhonen how to print the images. They could be emailed as well.

  Before leaving the control room, the director had lamented the fact that facial recognition software wasn’t fully functional yet. In the future, cameras would be able to identify people based on their facial structure. Facial metrics-the distance between one’s eyes or between one’s nose and ears, the length of one’s chin measured from the bottom lip-were unique to each person. Every person with a driver’s license or passport photograph, for example, would receive a unique facial ID. Computers would be able to match that ID to individuals captured on security camera footage. However, the director knew that the current systems still had a 25 percent failure rate, even under near-laboratory conditions

  With corresponding legislation, the technology would be implemented in Finland. He had surmised that the legislation would be passed under the guise of counter-terrorism. If passengers could be positively identified before boarding, those deemed dangerous could be picked up then. It would be even better if the system were integrated with the police database.

  That done, it was only a matter of determining who would be deemed dangerous, thought Suhonen. A history of nights in the drunk tank probably wouldn’t qualify. At least the shipping lines would make that argument, since they’d lose their best customers.

  The footage swirled on the screens. Karjalainen, the junkie, wobbled across the monitor and Suhonen printed off a screenshot. Same with Marju Mägi. The shot could be used as evidence in court, but Toukola probably wouldn’t need it. A short while later, Suhonen watched as he and Toukola were trailing Mägi in the concourse. He tried to track Karjalainen outdoors, but the man had escaped the cameras. The outdoor wide-angle lens showed the cops escorting Mägi into the van.

  Then Suhonen reviewed the footage of the remaining passengers in the gangway, but saw no familiar faces. Perhaps it would help if people were identified on screen, along with their criminal histories. Perhaps it would be nice if they integrated the software with people’s movements based on their cell phone signals, as well as their credit card purchase histories. In principle, this was all fully possible.

  Passenger traffic thinned out, then dried up completely. Suhonen hadn’t noticed any suspicious passengers. On the other hand, Marju Mägi wouldn’t have aroused any interest without the tip from Estonia.

  Suhonen pondered the situation. His friend, Salmela, had directly implicated himself in a drug smuggling operation. The twenty ounces already found would earn him the same punishment as Mägi: about two and a half years. Salmela wouldn’t survive another prison term-he barely seemed to be surviving on the outside.

  Suhonen would have to pump Salmela for more details about his connections to the Skulls.

  CHAPTER 9

  FRIDAY, 12:30 P.M.

  SKULLS’ COMPOUND, HELSINKI

  Eight men were seated in the main room of the Skulls’ headquarters. Larsson sat on a tall stool next to the bar, the others around the tables. Larsson glanced at Aronen, who nodded.

  “Except for Steiner, looks like everybody is here, so let’s get started,” Larsson said in a calm voice. “I’ve known many of you for a long time. A few faces are new to me, but I can say this: We’re all brothers. If that weren’t true, none of us would be here. If anyone feels otherwise, then now is the time to leave.”

  His bald, tattooed head glistening, the vice president scanned his throng of toughs. Nobody moved.

  “There you have it. No hesitations, no sideward glances. That is how the Skulls operate. Each of us is an individual, but the individuals constitute one brotherhood. Trust is our cornerstone. Together, we are what we are.”

  He had mulled over this speech many nights in his cell. There, it had seemed perfect, but now he questioned whether it was too sentimental.

  The men’s eyes were riveted on Larsson. Good, at least nobody was laughing. If someone had even dared smile, Niko would have slammed the guy to the floor and put a boot through his teeth.

  “This is not news to you, but I want to talk about it because it’s important. Each of you is my brother. That means that even if my life is going to hell, I can still be happy about your successes. There is no envy amongst us.”

  Larsson held another pause then continued. “It means that no matter how hungry I am, you’ll always get half my food. If someone needs money, I’ll give half my own. If someone hits you, I’ll hit him back-no questions asked. If someone steals from you, I’ll beat the shithead to the ground. There is no right and wrong, only brotherhood. I am ready to die for any of you. And you should be ready to do the same.”

  “We have plenty of dead heroes, and there will be more. The S.W.A.T team shot Korpela just last year. Kahma and Jyrkkä suffered the same fate a few years earlier. They acted on our behalf without thinking of themselves and fearing nothing. Brotherhood always took precedence. They thought about us. Each of you must be ready for anything.”

  “Do you understand?” Larsson asked, nearly shouting.

  They all nodded emphatically.

  “Ready for anything. That’s not an easy task. If you’re in a situation, think about Korpela, Kahma and Jyrkkä. Korpela was taking care of the firm’s business when a traitor ratted him out to the cops. He took one with him.”

  “Kahma and Jyrkkä were in the same boat. Prison or death were their alternatives. They weren’t afraid of the decision. We must honor that.”

  Larsson couldn’t take this any further, since he himself had been in the same situation a year and a half ago. A gun in his hand, he had s
tared down the barrel of a S.W.A.T officer’s submachine gun. He could have raised his weapon and gone the way of Korpela, Kahma and Jyrkkä, but chose prison by dropping his piece. That was then. No longer would he be subdued.

  “If one of us is locked up, we’ll take care of his wife and children. If his family doesn’t have money for rent, food or kids’ hockey, we’ll help. The brother in prison would do the same for you.”

  “There will be no lies among us. If you fuck up, take the responsibility, and don’t pass it to a brother. We will not steal from each other. No empty promises-keep your word. If you have a dispute with a brother that can’t be settled otherwise, bring it to me. Nobody will talk to the cops, under any circumstances.”

  “Any questions?” Larsson asked before continuing.

  Nobody spoke. Larsson scanned from one man to the next, his gaze resting on each man long enough for them to feel it.

  “If we stick to these principles, things will go well. Now for a few announcements,” Larsson said in a more relaxed voice.

  “Our president is doing life in Turku. If you happen to be going that way, make sure to drop by. From experience, I can tell you that the place is dull as hell. The inmates are pent up in tiny cells and friends are few and far between. But if you do go there, keep it clean-all conversations are recorded, and, of course, wind up with the pigs.”

  The audience sat silently, listening to Larsson’s address.

  “The same applies, of course, to all of our other brothers across the country. Niko has a list of who is locked up where. If you have nothing else to do, then you should hit the road and go see your brothers. You all know visitations have to be worked out with the Gestapo in advance. It’s not a good idea to just show up and pound on the door of the brig.”

  Some tense chuckles rose from the crowd.

  “I’ll be meeting one-on-one with each of you in the coming week so we can discuss how I can help you in more detail, and how you can help the brotherhood. Be direct and honest with me about any possible problems.”

  Larsson’s voice rose once again. “You are all my brothers and I’ve got your backs, just as you’ve got mine and every other brother’s.”

  The speech ended and the men applauded.

  * * *

  Suhonen was sitting at his usual seat on the window sill in Takamäki’s office at the VCU. The detective lieutenant was at his desk; Sergeant Joutsamo sat on the other side.

  “Wasn’t this case already transferred to Narcotics?” asked Joutsamo.

  Suhonen had briefed them on the events of the last couple of days, except for his meeting with Salmela.

  “Come on now,” said Suhonen. “Our unit knows the Skulls best. We’ve been going at it with them for the past three years. You should know, of all people,” he added.

  Takamäki scowled at the undercover cop. Three years back, Joutsamo had shot and killed a Skull named Mika Kahma when the burly gangster had charged her. Takamäki had been there, too. In the same clash, a S.W.A.T. team sniper had dropped Raimo Jyrkkä, one of the gang’s leaders.

  “Yes, I know them,” Joutsamo said. “As we all do. Complete shitheads.”

  Neither Takamäki nor Suhonen had anything to add to that assessment.

  “But,” she continued, “As far as I’m concerned, we don’t have the resources to go after them now. Unless we can let the routine cases slide, we just don’t have enough personnel. I’d go after Larsson and his goons right now with a horse and a six-shooter, but I just have too much paperwork.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Suhonen said.

  “These aggravated assaults, rapes and so-called ‘routine cases’ are burying us. The cases are backed up so badly that some may never be solved, since we can’t even tend to the basics.”

  “When is Kirsi due back?”

  “Next week,” Joutsamo replied. Police work paid little, but the vacations were long. This, in turn, hobbled the team’s ability to strike quickly. Kirsi Kohonen, a veteran officer in Takamäki’s group, had worked through the summer, delaying her month-long vacation until October. Now she was in Australia riding horses.

  Suhonen was quiet. He had been the one to recommend the Australian adventure, having taken a several-month sabbatical there a few years ago. He had no qualms with Kohonen. People could do whatever they wanted on their vacations.

  “Well, Kirsi will be back soon-that should help.”

  “But we don’t have the resources to take on the Skulls unless Karila can shift our whole unit onto the case,” Joutsamo continued.

  Captain Karila was Takamäki’s boss, the head of the VCU.

  “If we’re on the right track, he’ll give us some slack,” Takamäki remarked.

  Suhonen cut in from the window sill. “Anna is right. This is a Narcotics case, at least in principle. But we have an opportunity to make it something bigger. Felony extortion is clearly within the VCU’s mandate.”

  Joutsamo turned to look at him. “Do you have someone in the scope who’s willing to testify against the Skulls for felony extortion?”

  “Well,” Suhonen backpedaled. “Not yet, but it’s a possibility.”

  “I’d like to hear the whole story here,” Joutsamo said, visibly irritated. “It’s a little frustrating to discuss resource allocation here as an outsider when the facts are being withheld from me.”

  Takamäki turned back to Suhonen.

  “Relax, Anna,” said Suhonen, a strained calm in his voice. “You know how these gangster cases go. If we had an obvious crime, it’d be easy: Take down the suspect and wait for a confession.”

  “Quit the bullshit, Suhonen. I don’t have time for it.”

  “Well, then why don’t you go solve those train station beatings and let us have a conversation.”

  “OK, peace,” Takamäki intervened. “I can’t have two of my best cops bickering like this.”

  Joutsamo spoke up again. “We’re not bickering-it’s a matter of priorities. What do you want us to investigate? You have to resolve this, Kari. If you actually turn us loose on the Skulls, I’ll promise to shoot half of them before they ever make it to court. In the meantime, I don’t want to see a single stabbing, beating or back-seat rape case.”

  Suhonen thought it best to keep his mouth shut.

  The VCU officer responsible for allocating cases across the various units appeared at the door. He was in his forties and wore a flannel shirt.

  “Listen, Kari. I’ve got a seventy-eight-year-old woman, found dead. Based on the report, no crime suspected. She died at home, so just a routine cause-of-death investigation. I’ve been calling it out here in the hallway, but nobody seems interested. So what now? It’s your unit’s turn.”

  Takamäki looked at Joutsamo and Suhonen.

  “Nobody interested?” Takamäki wondered. “Hell, I’ll go myself.”

  The case officer raised his eyebrows.

  “What, you don’t think a detective lieutenant can handle a dead grandma case?”

  Takamäki stood up and marched out. Suhonen and Joutsamo glanced at one another. From the hall, they could hear Takamäki asking him, “Where can I find a crime scene bag?”

  * * *

  The meeting at the Skulls’ compound continued.

  “Anyone have any issues?” Larsson asked, his eyes wandering over the crowd.

  “Something your brothers can help with?”

  Nobody answered. The VP’s gaze stopped on Osku, the short one with a goatee.

  “Osku? Problems?”

  Osku’s eyes darted over to Niko, who nodded.

  “Well, not anymore. The brothers already stepped up.”

  “In what way?”

  “Last Tuesday some guy tried to hit on my girl at the bar, so this morning, me, Niko and Roge dropped by to teach him a lesson in manners.”

  “What kind of lesson?” Larsson probed.

  “A few hooks and kicks to remind him what he’s allowed to do and what not,” Osku said. Roge sniggered as if to affirm the story. “We b
usted the window of his car, too, just to make sure he doesn’t forget. I think he learned his lesson.”

  Larsson nodded. “Okay, very good. That’s exactly how we do it. We got your back…but in these types of situations we should think about the brotherhood, too.”

  “Uhh, how’s that?” Osku asked.

  “Good question,” Larsson said without the slightest hint of condescension. “If something isn’t clear, ask. There are no stupid questions. Creativity is important, too. What kind of car was it?”

  “A red Alfa Romeo.”

  “Okay. In that case, a creative solution would’ve been to make the guy sign the title over to us. What do you think? Would’ve he signed the papers?”

  Osku glanced at Roge. “Yeah, I think he would’ve. It didn’t even cross my mind.”

  “Next time I’m sure it will. Anybody else have anything to report?”

  One of the men spoke up. “I’m protecting an auto repair shop over there in Pitäjänmäki. They had a burglary a week ago. Typical breaking and entering. The place was ransacked and some money, cell phones and tools were stolen. The owner asked me to take care of it, and I suspected a couple of local junkies. So I paid them a visit, seized the goods and returned them to the owner.”

  “Good,” Larsson said. “Builds customer loyalty-maybe he’ll recommend us to his friends.”

  Nobody else had anything to report.

  “Couple more things. One. From now on, we need a guard on duty during the day as well. Two. This place is a mess,” he said, glancing at Aronen.

  “Sami’s making a guard-duty schedule and cleaning rotation. You can clean it yourself or get somebody trustworthy to do it for you. Questions?”

  Nobody had any.

  Larsson invited Aronen and Niko into his office. Some business was best conducted behind closed doors.

  * * *

  Suhonen had heaped his plate with macaroni casserole and salad from the police cafeteria. He found an empty table and sat down.

  Hell, the undercover policeman thought. It was a tricky situation. His friend Salmela was tangled up in a dope smuggling operation that Suhonen should probably tell Narcotics about. On the other hand, that wouldn’t help the ex-con turn over a new leaf. Salmela wouldn’t be able to cope with the two-and-a-half year sentence-he would tie one end of his sheet to the bars and the other around his neck.