Nothing but the Truth hh-3

by Jarkko Sipila

  Suhonen stepped into the entryway, which was littered with shoes, clothing and garbage. One of the SWAT officers was standing in the doorway on the left. “Empty bedroom,” he said as Suhonen came up.

  The entry hall ended at the bathroom door, with the living room on the left. A rotten smell permeated the apartment. Suhonen entered the living room, which had every mark of a typical gang hideout. A couple of mattresses on the floor with a blanket and a worn-out sofa on the opposite wall. On the floor in the corner was a small television playing some crime drama.

  One of the SWAT officers stood at the end of the sofa with his weapon at the ready while the other pressed the barrel of his shotgun against the head of a man lying there. The aggressive approach had been agreed upon in advance.

  “Harri Nieminen?” said Suhonen as he came abreast of the officer holding the shotgun.

  The man on the sofa didn’t respond. He had the brawny build and square jaw of a boxer. His hair was closely cropped and he wore a gray, hooded sweatshirt with the GYM logo.

  Suhonen tapped the officer with the shotgun on the shoulder and he withdrew the barrel some four inches.

  “Where’s Matti Ahola?”

  “Matti?” the man rasped.

  “You heard me.”

  “I dunno. Haven’t seen him for days.”

  “Where’d you see him last?”

  Nieminen thought for a second. “Some bar over on the east side. Had a couple beers with him.”

  “I need an address.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Something bad.”

  Nieminen was still lying on the sofa, his eyes darting from one masked cop to the next, then to the guns trained on his face. “That bad, huh?”

  Suhonen nodded. “He’s been working for Korpi. Korpi’s causing trouble, and we’re looking for his associates. Do you work for him?”

  “Uhh…no.”

  Suhonen just waited. Nieminen squirmed on the sofa for a while before speaking up, “Anything else?”

  “The address.”

  “Fuck if I remember. Shit. I don’t know…at some point he had an apartment over in Kannelmäki. In those old buildings by the Maxi store, or what used to be the Maxi. Just across from it on the other side of the turnabout.”

  Suhonen nodded. He knew the spot: Kanteletar Street 4.

  “He had some broad there who rented the place. First stairwell looking from the street, maybe fourth floor. Yeah, that’s it.”

  Suhonen wrote down the address and tapped the officer with the shotgun, who began pulling back out of the room, the barrel fixed on Nieminen until he had ducked behind the wall. The other gunman still had a submachine gun aimed at the man’s forehead.

  “Alright. If you see or hear from Ahola, give me a call,” said Suhonen, and he put a scrap of paper with his number on the arm of the sofa. “That way you won’t have any problems. And steer clear of Korpi. Lots of heat on him.”

  Nieminen nodded. “I can see that. Shouldn’t be hard to do with him in prison.”

  Suhonen wasn’t exactly reassured, but it wouldn’t take long before word of these shakedowns got out. “Good bye,” said Suhonen, and he turned to leave.

  “What about that door? Who’s gonna pay for that?” shouted Nieminen from the sofa, a submachine gun still staring him down from the doorway.

  “Call customer service at the Helsinki police department. Hours are eight to four-fifteen,” said Suhonen. Then he left.

  Two of the SWAT cops were already in the stairwell when Suhonen came out with the last. “Next stop Vartiokylä,” said Suhonen. “Another apartment building on Arho Street. Over there by the parking lot at the end of the road.”

  * * *

  Takamäki and Joutsamo were in the VCU break room when the theme song for the Channel 3 nightly news struck up on the television. “I can hardly wait,” droned Takamäki. He had a bad feeling about this.

  An image of a police barricade came up on the screen as the headline announced that a bomb had been found in front of a murder witness’s home. The next headline mentioned a bombing in Turkey, but the detectives weren’t interested.

  Now the anchor appeared on screen. “A car bomb was discovered today on Porvoo Street in Alppila. According to our latest reports, the incident was a retaliation against Mari Lehtonen, a witness at a recent murder trial. Last Wednesday, Lehtonen testified against gang boss Risto Korpi, leading to a murder conviction and life sentence. At the trial, Lehtonen linked Korpi to the scene of the murder.”

  The picture cut to the minister of the interior as he was addressing an audience. Römpötti’s voiceover mentioned the minister’s recent emphasis on witness protection. “Witness protection is a key component of solving serious crimes,” the minister thundered.

  The picture cut back to the police barricade on Porvoo Street, and Römpötti’s narration continued. “So says the minister. But what about in real life? After Helsinki resident Mari Lehtonen testified last Wednesday in a murder trial resulting in a life sentence for gang boss Risto Korpi, a car bomb was discovered in front of her apartment building this morning. The threats began a couple of days earlier when Lehtonen’s daughter received a note threatening to abduct her.”

  Lehtonen’s scrambled face appeared on screen. “I’m very disappointed in how the police have handled the situation. It seems that to the police we’re part of the problem, and they solve it by sweeping us under the rug.”

  Römpötti went on, “Lehtonen was disappointed when the only option presented to her by the police was that she and her daughter go into hiding. The Helsinki VCU provided her with a safe house, which she was prohibited from leaving.”

  Lehtonen came back on, “If I fulfill my civic duty and testify, it shouldn’t mean that my daughter and I become pariahs to be hidden away indefinitely by the police machinery.”

  Römpötti asked her, “Wouldn’t that make more sense in this situation?”

  Lehtonen answered, “I decided to stop being afraid. This Korpi’s the criminal, not me. I’m just an ordinary citizen trying to do my civic duty. If society expects citizens to testify in court, then it needs to be able to protect them. Maybe this safe house might work for some criminal, but not for an ordinary citizen. I’m very disappointed in the police’s performance.”

  Römpötti’s face appeared on screen. “At high profile speeches, the interior minister trumpets the role of witnesses, but in practice the authorities are powerless. Mari Lehtonen helped the criminal justice system convict a murderer, only to be offered her own sentence in return. According to our exclusive sources, the police have even considered having Lehtonen committed to a mental hospital for refusing to comply with their wishes. So first a witness, then a mental patient. Nobody from the Helsinki PD agreed to appear on camera to answer our questions.”

  The screen cut back to the news anchor, who encouraged viewers to follow the discussion on the morning talk show.

  Joutsamo shot Takamäki an inquiring look across the coffee table.

  “Not good.”

  “Mm-hm. Somebody from here should have answered their questions.”

  “Apparently Skoog didn’t feel up to it.”

  “I guess not. But with that minister priming the pump, the shit’s really gonna hit the fan,” said Takamäki.

  “You think Römpötti did it on purpose?”

  “Absolutely. Without an answer from us, she just kept going up the ladder. The minister doesn’t know anything about the case,” said Takamäki. “If I were a betting man I’d say the boss’ phones are ringing off the hook right now. First the police commissioner will get a call, then he’ll call the commander and on and on all the way to Deputy Chief Skoog, and from there the shit will pour right down the back of Lieutenant Takamäki’s collar.”

  “But Skoog was supposed to be in charge of media.”

  “I’m not really worried about the media or getting yelled at. I’m more worried about how Korpi’s goons are gonna react. Might be pouring fuel on the f
ire.”

  “Or not,” said Joutsamo.

  “How not? Don’t tell me you buy this bit about publicity protecting her?”

  “No, but the bad guys like it when the cops get smeared on TV.”

  “I dunno… I’d say she’s lucky they scrambled her face… But, I have been thinking about it a little. It is true that we don’t have any tools other than the safe house. Having the SWAT team running tactical raids and arresting everyone we can think of can’t be standard procedure every time we face this situation.”

  Joutsamo could see where Takamäki was going. “In other words we need to think twice before using witnesses.”

  “Maybe… I don’t know. We can’t isolate ourselves, but at the same time we have to preserve the public’s trust. Anyway, I’d better have another cup of coffee. Won’t be long before my phone starts ringing.”

  Before he made it to the coffeemaker, his phone rang. At least it was easy to pass the reporters on to Skoog, who had “volunteered” as the media contact. After a while, there was a lull in the calls and Joutsamo brought him a cup of coffee.

  The fourth call was from a very enraged Skoog.

  “What the hell,” he blustered. “How is this possible?”

  “Free press?” suggested Takamäki with a smirk. Joutsamo, the only other person in the break room, was sitting across the table.

  “Don’t fuck with me. This is a major crisis. That reporter made a laughing stock of the minister and that’s bad news for all of us.”

  Takamäki didn’t respond-he was waiting for Skoog’s threat to transfer him to some rural district to process gun permits.

  The silence made Skoog hesitate. He didn’t want to hesitate. He’d been lambasted, and now he wanted to lambast someone else. “Answer me! How is this possible?”

  “Didn’t you watch the broadcast? Lehtonen talked to a reporter. What more do they need?”

  “So where’d Römpötti hear about having Lehtonen committed? She didn’t know about that part.”

  “How should I know?”

  A foreboding silence prevailed. “There’s a mole on your team. Find out who it is!”

  “You know…” said Takamäki, the irritation audible in his voice now. “I think we’ve got enough to do around here without launching an internal investigation.”

  “Well… I want a full report for the minister by nine A.M. outlining everything that’s happened and when.”

  “Fine.”

  “This won’t be good for your career.”

  “So where’ll it be… Lapland or someplace else?” said Takamäki in a weary voice.

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t you always threaten to transfer us to the backwoods whenever something goes wrong? I’d just kind of like to know what district you think is at the bottom of the bucket.”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  “Actually, I do. But I have some real work to do here. We have a witness who wants…uhh…needs protection.”

  Takamäki was getting tired of the conversation, and his coffee was getting cold.

  “You’re in deep shit.”

  “Is there anything else? I got work to do.”

  “No,” said Skoog, and he hung up the phone.

  Takamäki tasted his coffee. Still warm enough. “Y-eaah…”

  “Well?” said Joutsamo.

  “Nothing,” he smiled. No point in burdening Joutsamo with the details. She’d already heard enough. “The chiefs are taking out their rage on everyone else, meaning all of us here in the field. No point worrying about it.”

  “No?”

  “Not if your conscience is clean,” he said. “In any case, Skoog wants a report on the case to give to the minister. Would you have time to do it?”

  Joutsamo nodded. “Sure, I’ll be burning the midnight oil anyway.”

  “Don’t make it too long. Two, three pages max. The attention spans at the ministry can’t handle anything longer. So no unnecessary details or confidential material. No addresses, for example, since it’ll be passed around the ministry and political circles. Who knows where it could end up.”

  “Got it,” said Joutsamo.

  “Oh yeah, and one more thing,” said Takamäki. “Let’s put another patrol car in front of the Lehtonens’ building tonight.”

  “Just in case the publicity stirs up any nutcases, huh?”

  He nodded. “Damn, we’re like a medical team trying to treat somebody who’s asking us to pull the plug.”

  * * *

  Mari Lehtonen was at home, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV with her legs folded beneath her and a glass of red wine on the coffee table beside her. She had just watched the news, and Laura, tired from the long day, was already asleep. It felt good to be home.

  Mari got up and looked out the window onto the street below where a blue and white cruiser was parked. Despite her hard feelings, it still felt comforting. She thought about the news story, which had been rather critical. Joutsamo and the others were doing their best, of course, and maybe her words were too harsh. In the actual interview, Lehtonen had made it clear that her grievances weren’t against any particular officer, but against the system in general. Römpötti had edited that part out. For a moment, Lehtonen considered calling Joutsamo, but decided against it.

  Mari returned to the sofa, took a sip of wine and thought about the coming Monday. Most likely she would go to work as usual, and Laura to school. She would have to schedule her day so she could bring the girl to school and get off early to pick her up. That would be best, no doubt.

  Her attempts to analyze her own feelings fell short. Home felt good, if a little scary. Her eyes went to the handbag on the coffee table.

  She didn’t feel tired yet, and was flipping through the channels when the phone rang. It was her ex-husband, Anton Teittinen. After a brief deliberation she answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s Anton. Sorry to bother you.” Mari could hear what sounded like the din of a bar on the other end.

  “No worries.”

  “Listen, you were great on TV, even if I couldn’t see your pretty face.”

  She couldn’t decide whether to be warm or cold, so she settled on neutral. He had, after all, helped them out earlier. “Yeah, well…”

  “I’m serious,” he went on. “You really put those pigs in their places. Fucking right on, you know.”

  Lehtonen didn’t respond.

  “But listen. There’s something I wanna talk to you about,” he said. “I got a call from a couple buddies who wanna help out. You know, be kinda like bodyguards for you two since the cops flopped so bad. These guys are definitely not Korpi fans…very much the opposite.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Mari. Anton’s buddies sounded shady, and she didn’t really want bodyguards, just a normal life. What she definitely didn’t want was to end up in the crossfire between two gangs.

  “Come on,” he urged her. “Yes, they have criminal records, but that could make a good story: Ex-cons protect a witness when cops fail.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure…”

  “Seriously. Give it a chance,” he persisted. “Might take some of the heat off you on the streets if people hear these guys got your back. Don’t ya think?”

  Mari didn’t want to say yes, but she did anyway. “Alright. That’s fine with me, but tell them to stay on the street-nobody comes inside my place. If we come outside, they can walk in front or behind, but nobody follows Laura into school or me into work.”

  “Of course not. Trust me…it’ll be great. Just like an American president with the Secret Service and all,” he said and hung up the phone.

  Mari took a sip of red wine as the same feeling of defeat that she had known so well during their marriage descended. Anton had always known how to twist her arm to get his way. After a divorce, several moves, and a restraining order, she had finally managed to break free of him, and now he was shouldering his way back in because Mari was too tired to argue.r />
  MONDAY, DECEMBER 18

  CHAPTER 27

  MONDAY, 8:00 A.M.

  MARI LEHTONEN’S APARTMENT

  Just inside the door of the convenience store across the street from the Lehtonens’ building was a newspaper stand boasting the word hero in one of its headlines. Just beside the headline was a scrambled screenshot from Mari’s TV interview; the subhead read Murder Witness Marked for Death.

  Mari Lehtonen hadn’t seen the paper, nor the headline. She was at the breakfast table, drinking tea with her daughter and discussing their plans for the coming day. Some danger was unavoidable, but they couldn’t let it bother them. Mari had also instructed Laura on what say to her friends at school, the main message being that life was to go on as normally as possible. Mari would answer the inevitable questions at work in the same way.

  * * *

  Kulta and Kohonen were staked out in a car in front of the building-the same Peugeot 206 that Suhonen had used a day earlier. With such an ideal spot, the car had never been moved. Another police car, this one a cruiser, was posted just in front of the entrance.

  Kohonen yawned. She’d been arranging phone taps at the station till midnight, hurried to bed, then

  risen again at six. She and Kulta had climbed into the stakeout vehicle at seven. Division of labor between the two was clear cut: Kohonen had the girl, Kulta the mom. Neither were allowed to get any further than thirty feet. The previous evening, Takamäki had worked out the details with Laura’s teacher and Mari’s employer. The police were not to enter any classrooms nor Mari’s cubicle area, but were to wait outside in the hallway and reception area. Mari hadn’t responded to Takamäki’s calls.

  Kulta fixed his eyes on a car pulling into a parking space in front of the building. A man wielding a camera got out of the driver’s side door and a youthful, dark-haired woman stepped out the passenger side. Reporters, thought Kulta. The media circus had begun. By 8:30, three cameramen and three reporters had gathered in front of the building, with one of the patrol officers tending the crowd. Kulta had asked Takamäki for advice, but had received none.