by Helena Halme
Pia nodded and Anni’s father shuffled back to lean against the wall.
‘Pia, are you OK?’ Anni whispered.
Pia didn’t dare to speak. She felt close to tears but didn’t want to appear a sissy.
‘It’s OK. We can speak a bit when they’re on the vodka.’ Anni’s eyes were kind and bright. Pia didn’t see any signs of blood on her. ‘Soon they’ll come and take your ropes off – they did mine almost straightaway. Dad told me not to fight them, so they’re being really good to us.’
‘Who are they?’
‘KGB’
‘KGB!’ Pia said, but Anni put her hand over Pia’s mouth.
‘Not too loud!’
‘Sorry,’ Pia mouthed. ‘But Mr Kovtun came to the school? He can’t be…can he? What do they want with you – me?’ she said in a low voice.
Anni didn’t answer. Instead she looked over to her father who was shaking his head.
‘I don’t know,’ Anni said looking down at her hands.
Pia knew Anni was lying, but she forgave her because she knew her father had made her do it. Anni would tell her everything when her father wasn’t there.
* * *
The Russian smelled even more of alcohol when he came to fetch Pia. Her knees gave way and he called out into the kitchen for his comrade. He was a much smaller man with short, dark hair and a square jaw. They spoke Russian to each other while they carried Pia. They placed her roughly into a kitchen chair and Kovtun spoke.
‘Pia, you want to go home, yes?’
Pia nodded. She was so scared she was sure she wouldn’t be able to say a word. What did they want with her anyway? She had an unreal feeling that this was not happening, that someone was playing a joke on her. Or that she was having a bad dream and would wake up any moment. She wanted her mother.
‘So, just tell me what you did at the British Council yesterday and we can let you go home to materi.’ He drew out the last Russian word.
Pia was thinking feverishly. So the Russian was following her.
‘Iain said I could borrow English books there.’
The slap to her face came so quickly Pia didn’t have time to react. Afterwards her face burned and she tasted blood. She heard Mr Linnonmaa shout something from the next room. He was speaking in Russian, and he sounded angry. Kovtun shouted something back through the door and then appeared in front of Pia again.
‘He tell me not hurt child.’ He took hold of Pia’s chin and openly viewed her breasts. He let go of her chin and patted her on the cheek. It hurt. Pia felt her stomach tighten, she felt sick. The man moved his hand slowly down her neck and towards Pia’s chest. He stopped just below Pia’s collarbone. Pia took a deep breath in. ‘But you no child,’ the Russian man said. ‘You beautiful Finnish woman, eh?’ He turned around and said to the other man, ‘She not want a broken nose, a bruise on face, eh?’ His comrade gave a hoarse cackle. ‘She want me to be nice to her. I can be very nice to pretty Finnish girls, you know.’ The man winked at Pia. She felt she needed to pee. She started to sob, but the tears hurt her face more.
But then his tone changed, and he shouted, angrily, ‘The truth, please, Miss Finland!’ His face was so close to Pia’s, she could see the dark stubble on his chin.
Pia felt her face grow hot.
‘Iain is my mother’s friend, and he wanted me to talk to him about, about…’
The Russian man’s face looked worn, his eyes bloodshot, ‘Yes, yes, you not want a hit in face no more, yes? Speak!’
‘About the Friendship Tournament,’ Pia whispered.
‘Why?’ Kovtun asked. His face was so close, Pia was hit by his spittle when he shouted, ‘Tell me, why?’
‘I don’t know. I won’t take part, if that’s what you want. I just want to go home!’ Pia swallowed hard. The reality of the situation was too incredible: the Russian at the school turning out to be a KGB man, now shouting at her, the Colonel asking questions about Anni and her father. Pia couldn’t make any sense of it. Tears were running down her cheeks. They hurt and tasted salty on her lips.
The Russian man stood up slowly, holding Pia’s gaze as if to see if she was speaking the truth. Then he went over to his friend.
Pia watched the two men speak in Russian in low voices. They were standing at the far end of the kitchen. At the table in front of her were dirty coffee cups, several empty glasses reeking of vodka, an empty bottle of something called Stoli and a saucer full of cigarette butts. It didn’t look like Anni’s kitchen anymore. Pia’s face was aching and her wrists were hurting. She wriggled to try to move the rope around them. That hurt even more. Her movements alerted the men and Kovtun came over to the table again. This time he sat down in front of Pia and, crossing his hands, said slowly, ‘We have been watching you and will watch you. So if you tell a lie, we find out.’
Pia sniffled.
The man squeezed Pia’s chin and said, ‘Now, you a good girl. Tell me all about Iain.’ He pronounced the name strangely, as if he was disgusted with it.
‘Ok,’ Pia said and nodded. She told the man all she knew about her mother’s boyfriend. How he worked at the British Council, how he took Pia’s mother out to the cinema, how he helped Pia with her English. The Russian listened to her, smiling the whole time. His face made Pia want to scream out, but she tried to keep her voice calm. When Pia had finished, the man leant close again.
‘You and your pretty materi live all alone in big flat?’
Pia stared at him.
‘You be good gymnast. You listen to Miss Joutila. You go to competition with your school. You keep your nose out of British Council.’ The man spoke slowly, as if Pia would have difficulty understanding his words. Suddenly he stood up and kicked the chair leg. Pia toppled over. She screamed. Kovtun bent down and pushed his face into hers. ‘Any trouble and your Iain and your materi and you will pay!’
Pia wasn’t breathing. She flinched when Kovtun roughly took hold of her arm and lifted her up. The two Russians carried Pia back to the little room.
Pia sat down and let Anni wipe her nose and the tears off her face. Her body felt sore all over. Had she broken anything? She moved her shoulders and flexed her legs. It hurt, but not enough to be broken. She must have dozed off leaning against her friend, because she was startled when the door opened. Kovtun stood in the doorway.
‘Up, you, get up!’
He was holding his coat open to show his gun. They were led out of the room one by one. Kovtun took hold of Pia’s arm. He smiled at Pia, wagging his finger, ‘Remember, pretty gymnast what I say!’ His breath felt hot on her face.
Kovtun tied Pia onto the kitchen chair. She was opposite Anni’s father, who was holding himself upright and watching Pia intently.
The Russian motioned to his comrade to leave the room. Then he said, in a low voice, to Mr Linnonmaa, ‘Mr Diplomat, sorry for trouble! Your friends say we very bad boys!’ He laughed. ‘But no hard feelings, eh?’ he said and winked. He walked out of the flat and shut the door loudly behind him.
Mr Linnonmaa pursed his lips, making a shushing sound. Pia looked at the kitchen. It looked tidy. The table was empty of debris from the KGB men’s drinking and smoking. Even the curtains were drawn neatly. Apart from the faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol, it was as if no one had been there at all.
After what seemed an age, Anni’s father spoke, ‘I’m going to get myself free and then undo your ropes. It’s ok.’ He looked at both Anni and Pia in turn. They both nodded.
Pia was still too afraid to speak but Anni said, ‘Have they gone now?’
‘Yes, I should think so,’ Mr Linnonmaa said, and turning to Pia, added, ‘Are you alright? Did he hurt you?
‘What’s going on? What is this all about?’ Pia asked. She looked at Anni’s father, but he was looking down, neatly putting away the ropes. ‘You must telephone your mother, to let her know you are here,’ he said, not looking at Pia.
She turned to Anni. ‘I think I have the right to know what’s going on?’
Mr Linnonmaa seemed relieved to hear how little Pia had been able to tell the man.
‘Good girl.’ Anni’s father put his hand over Pia’s at the kitchen table, ‘It took a little longer than it should, but finally the KGB realised they were making a grave mistake holding me hostage. They should have known better!’ He was now standing upright, with his chest lifted. Pia could imagine him, giving a speech to a roomful of important people. Anni was looking up at her father proudly.
Just then Pia remembered. ‘But I don’t understand. He wants me to take part in the tournament, and last night he tried to grab me in the tram. I’m sure it was him.’ Pia glanced at Mr Linnonmaa and Anni, ‘When I was here the day before yesterday I saw him run past your flat.’
‘Really?’ Mr Linnonmaa was quiet for a moment. ‘Hmm,’ he said and again paused. ‘Don’t worry Pia, he won’t bother you anymore.’
‘But he said he was going to watch me!’
‘Will they come back?’ Anni asked.
‘No.’ Mr Linnonmaa said.
‘But now you must call your mother, and then tomorrow you two,’ he nodded to Anni, ‘will go back to school. It is past eight o’clock already, your mother must be home from work? And remember, you mustn’t talk about this to anyone, particularly not to your mother’s boyfriend, Pia.’
‘Why?’
‘Well. Let’s just say he doesn’t really need to know. The KGB is allergic to the British security forces.’
Pia was stunned into silence, British security forces?
Anni’s father added, ‘I’m going to telephone your mother and say you had some kind of accident outside. Then I’m going to walk you home.’
‘She’s going to go crazy. She’s got it into her head that I’m on drugs!’ Pia said. She was surprised how she just blurted it out.
Anni let out a cry, ‘What? But we don’t touch that stuff!’
‘No, I know, but try telling her.’ It was all too much for Pia and she started to cry. Anni came over and put her arms around Pia. ‘It’s OK, my dad will fix it. Won’t you?’ she said turning around to look at Mr Linnonmaa. He didn’t say anything for a while. He sat down again and drummed the table with his fingers, ‘Why does she think you’re taking drugs?’
Pia had stopped crying. She thought of what Mr Linnonmaa had said about Iain being one of ‘the British security forces’. She wondered if she should tell Mr Linnonmaa how the Admiral seemed to have lied to her mother about the drugs. But, her mother might have completely got it wrong. She decided she’d better not say anything until she’d had a chance to talk to the Admiral.
‘Oh, you know, she saw some TV programme,’ Pia said.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Mr Linnonmaa said and smiled.
* * *
Before she opened the door to her flat, Pia took a deep breath. Her gloves covered the marks on her wrists, but Pia knew her face must be red from the slap and puffy from the crying. All her make-up was gone. Pia had cleaned off the last traces in Anni’s bathroom. Her mother was sure to notice something was different about her. Her changed appearance would only fuel her mother’s belief about the drugs.
‘Darling, at last you’re home!’ Pia’s mother took Pia into her arms and hugged her hard. ‘Mr Linnonmaa phoned and explained everything. And,’ she took Pia’s cheeks between her hands and looked her deep into her eyes, ‘you needn’t feel ashamed!’
Pia took her coat off while her mother whizzed off to the kitchen. She was wearing her blue dressing gown and had rollers in her hair.
‘I’m making hot chocolate for you, just like in the old days when you came in from playing in the snow. Then I’ll have a look at those hands of yours. Are you bruised anywhere else? I can rub some cream on if you want. Mr Linnonmaa told me all about your accident,’ she shouted from the kitchen.
What on earth had Anni’s father told her mother? That they’d been playing outside in the snow after school? As if they were kids! Pia shrugged and suddenly felt very tired. At least she didn’t have to lie, Pia thought, and flung herself onto her bed.
9
Iain took the overnight ferry to Stockholm. The Colonel had said, ‘MI6’s budgets are atrocious, so flying is out of the question, I’m afraid’. The argument Iain had put forward for needing to be in Helsinki to keep an eye on Pia or Kovtun had fallen on deaf ears, as had the complaint about losing too much time during HMS Newcastle’s visit.
‘We’ve got a week here, we can spare you for a couple of days.’ Iain couldn’t argue. He didn’t know how many other people were on the case. That was something the Colonel had said was best for him not to be worried about. He booked a cabin and paid the extra for a two-berth to himself. The department would have to understand that he wasn’t going to travel like a bum.
The day was cold but sunny. By five thirty in the afternoon the sun had long disappeared below the horizon and the huge Silja Line ferry shimmered against the white ice-covered sea and the black sky beyond.
Inside the plush ferry, a pink-coated hostess showed him to the sparse cabin, while looking him up and down.
‘Have a good trip,’ she said unsmiling. The grey roots of her jet-black hair and her unpleasant body odour made Iain shiver as she let him pass through the heavy door. Iain put his small holdall down and took out the piece of paper on which he had jotted the name of the Stockholm police sergeant. Johan Karlsson had sounded almost unfriendly on the telephone, but that might have been his limited command of English. Iain hoped it would be sufficient to translate the file he’d mentioned. But those were tomorrow’s worries. Tonight he’d relax. Have a good meal at the famed smorgasbord, a few drinks at the bar, even a Finnish tango in the nightclub.
Iain first noticed the woman in the duty-free shop. Her lips were painted bright pink, which suited her pale colouring. She was quite short, but slim, with small features and fragile-looking bones. Iain guessed her age to be around thirty, perhaps younger. Her large eyes were lined with black make-up and she looked a little tired. She was oddly attractive to Iain, who didn’t usually like short women. She bought her full quota of drink. She filled two bags with vodka, wine and a few beers and carried her heavy shopping with difficulty. Iain wondered if it was too forward to offer to help, when she turned into a corridor and descended the stairs into the cheaper cabins.
Iain only went to the duty-free to see what was on offer. And to pass the time. Maija had told her that the prices were amazing. Shame he couldn’t tell her he was finally taking the ferry to Stockholm. She’d told him several times how pleasant the trip was, how good the food, how cheap the drinks.
When Iain walked into the nightclub he saw her again. She’d changed into a black floaty dress and high-heeled boots. The outfit suited her. The boots were shiny and made Iain feel a small twinge in his groin. She was sitting at a table alone, surveying the couples gliding on the tiny dance floor. Her legs were crossed and she was swinging the top one to the rhythm of the fast Finnish dance, humppa, the band was playing. A disco ball above the dance floor threw blotchy lights around the room.
‘Would you like to dance?’
She lifted her head in surprise. Though Iain crossed the dance floor slowly, he’d obviously not made much of an impression on her. He’d made a mistake. He lowered his hand and straightened his back, ready to turn around and lessen the humiliati
on of her refusal.
‘Oh.’ She reached her hand out and touched his. Her small hands were surprisingly strong.
She was a good dancer. By the time they’d reached the floor, a new slower tune was playing. A version of Blue Moon. She asked where Iain was from, and he told her London, to make it simpler. He told her his ex-wife was Finnish and that he was on a business trip. Luckily she didn’t ask many questions. He wasn’t keen on a complicated discussion. They moved around the floor in silence. The feel of her body made him want to take her to his cabin straightaway. The way she’d let him hold her close made him hopeful. But he decided to wait. After three songs he took her back to the table and asked if he could join her. She nodded and smiled into his eyes. They had a few drinks and danced two or three more times.
Kerttu was from Eastern Finland, but because there was no work there she had followed an uncle to Stockholm. She’d been in Sweden for only a year, but already she was earning more than she would have done in Finland. She told Iain she struggled with the language. He didn’t ask what kind of work she did in Stockholm.
Her mouth tasted of the cigarettes she smoked tentatively at the table. The way she inhaled made Iain think she had only just started. When they danced, her breasts against Iain’s chest felt soft and large, while her tiny waist was fragile in his grip.
Iain made his move. They were on the dance floor and had been kissing through most of the slow piece. Kerttu looked into his eyes and nodded. Iain paid at the bar and led Kerttu to his cabin.
Unlike smoking a cigarette, Kerttu had clearly done this before. She was willing and passionate. Afterwards, she asked if she could light a cigarette and Iain nearly laughed at the banality of the situation. But the sight of her full bare breasts in the faint light of the cabin, as she fumbled in her handbag for the lighter, looked so sexy, he could only think how lucky he was. He made love to her again, this time more slowly. She was noisier than before and he came with such power that he decided not to leave such a long time between women in future. After Kerttu had dressed, apologising that she had to work the next day and needed her sleep, Maija’s beautiful face came into his mind. He felt no guilt. He hadn’t promised Maija anything.
