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 general 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 mull
ed 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.
She turned to look at her daughter, now reading on her stomach with her feet kicked up. Mari felt fairly comfortable-the place was safe, at least. And, for
once she had time to read. But something still nagged at her.
She picked up her book again, but was still unable to focus. She tried to pinpoint what it was that didn’t seem right, but came up empty. Her instincts told her that something was wrong. Well, damn right something’s wrong when she and her daughter are holed up in the woods hiding from murderers. But everything would work out, she assured herself. Joutsamo and Takamäki-indeed the entire police force-were on their side and would do everything in their power to protect them. The bodybuilder downstairs would keep them safe here and have droves of cops on the place if necessary. Everything was okay. Look at it like a free vacation, she told herself. Read a few classics and relax. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Kind of like a Mediterranean vacation without the swimming pools and beaches-just a hotel room and a book.
Mari wasn’t so sure about her attempts at being positive.
An incoming text message announced itself. Laura gave a passing glance as Mari got up, walked to the coat hooks at the door and fetched her phone out of her coat pocket, but the girl’s attention soon returned to her book.
Mari read the message-it was from her boss, Essi Saari: Hi. I chatted with the police. Lay low as long as you need. It’s paid leave. Good luck!
Mari read the message over and over again. Of course she was happy that her employer was being supportive, even promising to pay her, but “lay low as long as you need?”
Lay low-the wording seemed about as appealing as these four oppressive walls. The rules stated that she could go out in the yard, but no further.
“Who was it from?” asked Laura.
“Work.”
The girl stared at her mom for a while. “You know, this is actually kind of exciting. Kinda like a movie, you know…witnesses hiding out in a hotel room. The only person that ever knocks is room service, except for the one time that the killer comes to the door.”
“Stop it,” said Mari. Just then, a knock came at the door. Both of them startled.
“Don’t open it,” whispered Laura.
The knock came again. Mari shuddered, not that there was anything to worry about-this place definitely didn’t have room service. She slipped the door chain into the slot, unlocked the door and peeked through the gap.
“Hi,” said a dark-skinned woman with a smile. She looked about forty, wore an afro and had a three-inch laceration running down her cheek. The wound was old enough that the stitches were gone. She spoke with an accent. “I make some coffee. You like some?”
Mari didn’t know how to react. Were they allowed to speak with others here? The rulebook forbade revealing any personal details. Not even your own name.
The woman smiled, though her scar made her expression rather gruesome. “I’m Agatha. Come, come. It’s okay. I been here now two months. I know rules.”
Mari nodded. Agatha, huh? Was that her real name? “Laura, honey. I’m going to have a cup of coffee. I’ll be over in the common room.”
Laura looked up. “You’re leaving me? Can’t
I come?”
“Oh…of course.”
Laura slipped a bookmark into her book.
Mari turned and smiled at the woman waiting at the door. “Alright. We’ll be right there.”
Agatha had apparently put the coffee on before knocking on their door, as it was already waiting when Mari and Laura reached the common area. The chairs and table were a newer vintage than those in the rooms.
“You have beautiful girl,” said Agatha, her back turned toward them as she poured the coffees at the counter. Laura looked embarrassed.
“Yes,” said Mari, not knowing what else to say.
“Does she like coffee?” asked Agatha.
Mari glanced at Laura, who rolled her eyes as if to say that ‘no, isn’t there any tea?’ Mari shrugged. “No, she doesn’t.”
“What about tea?” said Agatha, turning to look at Laura.
Laura nodded with a smile. “Thanks.”
Agatha returned the smile, took a tea bag from the cabinet, put it in a cup and doused it with hot water from the pot. “It is no worry, but we pay for tea and coffee together. Easier for us if each just pays five euro per week, no matter if
we drink tea or coffee. These I will buy,” said Agatha, and she gave Laura her tea. A bowl of sugar was on the table, and Laura added a couple of spoonfuls.
Agatha sat down at the table and gazed at Mari with her dark eyes. “So…what is your story?”
Mari hesitated. “I can’t say. The police…”
Agatha laughed. “Yes, we are not supposed to
talk. But here you have to. Or you go crazy. We are all here in same boat.”
Mari wasn’t so eager to break the rules, however, so she turned the question around. “What’s your story?”
“How long version you like?” Agatha smiled, and she continued without waiting for a response. “I tell you shorter one so your daughter not fall asleep. I am a Turkish Kurd and I come to Finland four years ago with my husband and my daughter. My husband had bad situation in Turkey, and we got residence permit. Life here was quite good. I got a job and Nabila, my daughter…”
“How old is she?” asked Mari.
“Six, now.” A flicker of sadness showed in the woman’s eyes. “She is not here.”
“Why not?”
Agatha raised her finger and smiled. “I will get to that. A year ago Nabila was in day care, and around same time Hamid get mixed up in some crimes. They steal some things and get caught by the police. Hamid got arrested, but got out quite soon. That starts a big fight. I tell him we have to obey the law for Nabila sake, but Hamid…he is very bitter because he cannot find work. Our fight just gets worse and worse, and so I go to get divorce. It takes forever, but finally the court gives me a divorce and papers to give me custody of Nabila.”
A pretty familiar story, thought Mari, but she just nodded.
“Hamid does not approve, so my friend at work told that I should get a restraining order. Well, this does not help much. Hamid just violates it, and they start deportation process because of his crimes. His hatred for me just grows. So I have to send Nabila back home to Turkey to be safe with my mother. When Hamid finds out about it, he tries to kill me. The police came in time, and Hamid goes to jail again. I was moved here because Hamid has many friends, and the police think I’m in danger.”
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