The Man Who Died

by Antti Tuomainen

  Suvi is tall, conscientious, full of initiative, and doesn’t talk much. Her attention to detail has saved me on numerous occasions. She is a twenty-seven-year-old mother of two, who went back to college to get a qualification in commerce after her husband died of solvent abuse. The moustachioed Raimo told me the story. It was the same conversation in which he described Suvi as hot. Besides biodegradable punnets, I have no desire to know what goes through Raimo’s mind when he looks at Suvi.

  When the clock reaches twenty-nine minutes past two, I stand up and walk to the conference room at the end of the corridor, glancing neither at the area we call the factory floor on the left nor into the two other offices on the right.

  I sit down at the head of the table. People file in and take slightly longer than usual in deciding where to sit. Nobody wants to sit next to me.

  Taina sits down at the other end of the table, slightly to the left, almost at the very end of the room. She fiddles with her phone, opens the folder in her hands then turns her attention back to her phone, making sure not to look at me, even accidentally.

  And, like every class that was ever held, the seats are filled from the back of the room.

  The last two members of staff to appear, Petri and Suvi, end up sitting in front of me. I give Petri a wink. He instantly turns away and stares out of the window. I look at each of the staff members in turn, smile and greet them.

  From twenty years of work experience I know just how uncomfortable – how downright terrifying – such work meetings can be, especially those called at such short notice, which almost always heralds unpleasant news: streamlining the business (redundancies); fusion (redundancies); looking into a recent spate of theft of company property (redundancies); or a reassessment of company strategy (going into liquidation).

  I begin.

  ‘Great that you could all make it. This is all very last minute, I know. But if needs be, we can all act quickly, isn’t that right?’

  It isn’t really a question and I don’t expect an answer.

  ‘As you all know, we have a competitor this summer. We’ve talked about it before, and I’m sure you’ve discussed it among yourselves. The big question is: what now? What should we do?’

  I look at each of them in turn. I have to observe them carefully while at the same time getting them to trust me and work with me. It’s going to be a challenge.

  ‘Do you want me to take minutes?’

  Suvi’s question is relevant. I nod, and at that she twists a pen in her long fingers, clicks the ballpoint out at the end and, in the same motion of the hand, begins making her first notes on the page.

  ‘To answer my question, we’re going to carry on doing things as we have in the past, but now we’re going to do everything that bit better. We still have the best workers, the best pickers and the best product. What’s more, we have something our competitors do not: experience. I’m aware that some of you – perhaps all of you – have been approached with job offers. It’s only natural. And so, I’d like to make you a promise, right here in front of everyone. Whatever they promise you, I promise to offer you something better, one way or another. If they contact you again, please tell me about it.’

  A pause, short but effective. For what I am about to say next, I want their undivided attention.

  ‘And another thing: we’re going to increase our production, but we’re going to keep our expenses and our staffing numbers as they are.’

  I glance at Taina. Her face is bright red. She looks like a weightlifter going for a personal best: her entire body oozes exertion as her back brandishes a hundred-kilo bar in the air. Raimo sits opposite her, stroking his moustache, seemingly unable to make his whiskers stay in place.

  I couldn’t possibly be more the centre of attention. Even Petri, who is clearly terrified at the thought of meeting my eyes, has turned to look in my direction and sits staring somewhere at the base of my ribcage. This time I don’t pull my stomach in. I am what I am.

  ‘At first that means everybody will be involved in the harvesting process, at least for the first few crucial weeks.’

  Taina looks at me with the same expression of bewilderment as she had over dinner the previous evening. Raimo gently clears his throat, leans forward in his chair.

  ‘The harvest?’ he asks.

  ‘That’s right. I’ll be there too.’

  ‘In the forest?’

  ‘Wherever Sanni takes us.’

  The others turn to look at Sanni. Her ponytail doesn’t so much as flinch.

  ‘First I’ve heard of it,’ she says.

  Again heads turn in my direction. This is like tennis, I imagine, with one difference: one of the players is about to die.

  ‘What about our other work? Our real work; our own work?’ asks Raimo.

  ‘You’ll take care of that too.’

  ‘That’ll mean a long working day,’ says Olli. ‘I’m not sure what it says in my contract but…’

  I haven’t the heart to ask Olli what else he would do with his spare time. Meet his next ex-wife, perhaps? I don’t even bother pointing out that my suggestion would increase his income.

  ‘We live in exceptional times,’ I say and prop my elbows on the desk, bringing myself closer to all of them at once. I notice the way Petri leans in the opposite direction. He’s truly petrified at the thought of my friendship. ‘I know that what I’m suggesting is unconventional, but raising our productivity will require input from each and every one of you—’

  ‘I can’t go into the forest,’ Raimo interrupts.

  I look at him. I’m genuinely surprised. ‘Why not?’

  Raimo hesitates. ‘I don’t … like the forest.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I say. ‘You work for a company whose entire capital comes from the forest…’

  ‘Will this apply to part-time staff too?’ asks Suvi.

  I haven’t thought of that. I have to make a rapid decision. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay,’ she muses and notes the fact in her minutes. If only everybody were as uncomplicated as Suvi.

  I turn back to Raimo. ‘Nobody has to like the forest. Nobody is asking you to love the woods or start hugging trees. Hard work is all we need. The mushrooms. We go there, we pick them. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘This is all very sudden,’ Taina pipes up.

  These are the first words she’s said in the course of the meeting. All heads turn in her direction. For a moment I’m overshadowed, and that’s a good thing. Sparks of lightning again start to flicker at the edge of my field of vision. My abdomen is cramping.

  ‘According to the weather forecast, it’s going to rain over the weekend,’ Taina continues. ‘That means the first mushrooms will be up by the beginning of next week, maybe as early as Monday. Today is Wednesday. That gives us tomorrow and Friday to take care of all our outstanding work. That’s not much time.’

  She falls silent. As she spoke she looked at everyone present except me.

  ‘Forget Saturday and Sunday,’ I say. ‘I suggest we work through the weekend.’

  An agitated red flushes Raimo’s face. It seems Petri wants to look at me, but won’t allow himself to. Olli is at sixes and sevens and looks like a tourist standing at the station, timetable in hand, as the train pulls away. Sanni remains calm; she looks at me, her expression neutral. Suvi continues taking notes. Taina looks at me the same way she did early this morning, when Tikkanen came round asking about the sword.

  ‘I don’t know…’ says Raimo. ‘This weekend is a bit difficult. My wife has bought tickets to the opera in Savonlinna.’

  ‘But if we exceed the number of hours stipulated in our contracts…’ says Olli, thinking out loud.

  ‘I’m okay with it,’ says Sanni. ‘As long as we can agree on the terms and conditions, and we’re paid overtime.’

  Sanni’s sentiment takes everyone by surprise, me included. Only yesterday I’d promised her a fifty-per-cent pay rise. Now she wants more. She says she loves mushrooms more than anything
else, but I’m starting to have my doubts. Again everybody turns to look at me.

  ‘Of course I don’t expect anyone to work for free,’ I say quickly. ‘I was just about to cut to the chase, to explain why and how we are going to come out of this battle as winners. We will expect more of each other, we have more at stake, so I believe each of us should also have the possibility to earn a bit more.’

  I can see their interest awakening. Nothing gets people’s attention more than the chance to make a quick buck.

  ‘We still have to iron out the details, and I’ll have more detailed conversations with each of you individually, but the basic principle is clear. If we succeed, we will beat our competitor, increase production and succeed in other areas of the business too. All of you will have the opportunity to become shareholders in the company; everyone will have the right to a stake in our business. And shares in a successful mushroom-exporting business – well, it will be like winning the lottery.’

  Complete silence. Taina looks instantly at Petri; Petri looks back at her. Both of them are red in the face; that much I can see straight away with my own eyes, though my vision is still shimmering and speckled with flickering light. Eventually they notice they are staring at each other, which only causes them to blush all the more. Taina holds her breath. Petri looks up and stares somewhere where he can see neither me nor Taina.

  Raimo strokes his moustache. ‘I suppose the opera singers will survive without me,’ he says. ‘Play is play, business is business.’

  Good, I’ve got Raimo on side. The others still seem to be mulling over what I’ve just said. It’s a radical suggestion, no doubt about it. What’s more, it’s the best I’ve been able to put together at such short notice. It’s actually not a bad idea. I currently own seventy-five per cent of the business, and I have ultimate authority. Before long I’ll only have … Will I be cremated or will they bury me whole? What’s most important is that I can see the way my suggestion is affecting Taina and Petri. The confusion – and anger – is written all over their faces, particularly Taina’s.

  ‘I think it’s a good suggestion,’ says Sanni. She turns and looks me in the eye. ‘Assuming that everything we’ve already agreed still stands.’

  ‘Of course it does.’

  Taina looks at Sanni. You can’t miss the tone of her look. It’s full of sudden envy, curiosity and something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

  ‘Olli,’ I say and turn to him.

  Olli grips the edge of the table as though he’s worried he might slip backwards.

  ‘If everybody else is—’

  ‘Thank you,’ I quickly interrupt him. ‘Petri?’

  Petri is still staring at the window. He doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. In front of him are only his lap or the bare table, not a single tool or bolt, not to mention another man’s wife to screw. Taina sits staring at Petri as though they are two suspects being interrogated, each sizing up the other’s nerve. It’s not far from the truth.

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘Have you got better things to do than become a shareholder in the company?’ asks Raimo, turning to look at him.

  ‘I don’t mean that…’ Petri is as distressed and red in the face as a man can be without fainting.

  ‘Petri,’ I say and lean towards him, ‘we’re on the verge of something quite new to us. Surely you agree.’

  Petri nods. I can’t tell whether he’s still breathing.

  ‘All of us…’ I continue, ‘…we’re all a bit apprehensive; frightened even. Nonetheless, we all want to take this next step. Raimo has taken it, Sanni has taken it, Olli—’

  ‘And me,’ says Suvi, as easily as if she’s told us she’d like another cup of coffee.

  Petri manages to pull his eyes from the window. It seems he has to summon up all his strength and determination not to look over at Taina. He stares at the surface of the table in front of him. I lean a few centimetres closer still.

  ‘Petri, sometimes we’ve got to take risks, isn’t that right? Sometimes we have to step outside our comfort zone and see what the grass looks like on the other side of the fence.’

  Petri doesn’t look up at me. His lips move, but I doubt anyone present is able to hear what he’s saying. He notices it himself. He coughs, clears his throat.

  ‘The van,’ he stammers.

  ‘Right,’ I nod. At the same time, at the edge of my field of vision I can see Taina doing everything in her power not to throw her head backwards, look up to the ceiling and scream something at the top of her lungs. Something unprintable. Her fingers grip the edge of the table as though it is someone she would like to strangle.

  ‘A new one,’ Petri continues. ‘A van.’

  ‘I suggest the following,’ I begin, improvising. ‘As shareholders we will make decisions like that together. That will improve our purchasing protocol in the blink of an eye. And if we succeed in increasing our turnover, the sky is the limit when it comes to buying new equipment.’

  I pause for a second, look at each of them in turn. ‘Biodegradable punnets, a few extra pickers, a packaging machine, new refrigerated spaces and a van. Anything is possible.’

  I return to Petri. His eyes gradually inch towards mine. I’ve never seen a more conflicted expression.

  ‘Are you in?’ I ask in the softest, friendliest voice I can muster.

  Three seconds of inner turmoil later, Petri lets out an audible breath. ‘Yes.’

  I turn to look at Taina, and the others do the same. I don’t claim to know my wife, but I know with some degree of certainty that she’s doing everything she can to remain in her seat. If the past is anything to go by, she would probably like nothing more than to pick up the nearest frying pan, slam it on the table and scream ‘fuckingfuck’ at the top of her voice. Instead she smiles and nods her head.

  ‘The majority is probably right. Why not? I’m in.’

  The way she says it, the way she abnegates her own emotions, which are all too obvious, sends shivers through my body. I have to look away from her.

  ‘Excellent,’ I say. ‘We can get things moving quickly. We’ll start tomorrow morning. I’ll arrange a short shareholder meeting with each of you individually, and after that we’ll have another meeting all together. I really appreciate this. You’re like family to me.’

  I can’t hear anyone commenting on this. I walk back to my office, close the door behind me, sit down and lean my forearms on my knees. I feel as though I’ve just run a marathon, then taken a good beating after crossing the finishing line.

  It’s easy to conclude that there isn’t much time left.

  7

  I am utterly serious about handing out shares in the business. I can’t take them with me. What we have here on earth remains here, to be divided and frittered away by others. But this is all of secondary importance. I want to see what Taina and Petri do next.

  In my office I spend only the time it takes me to recover. Once my breathing has steadied, once the strange electrical storms and the blinding episodes have subsided, and I can see what is really in front of me once again, I get up from the floor – where I’ve been lying awkwardly on my back, half beneath the desk – and concentrate on opening the door and walking out as I would on any other day. Raimo and Taina still appear to be in the building. I wave a goodbye, hear a faint reply and step outside.

  The air feels heavy. I can’t yet see clouds, but that doesn’t mean anything. There’s a dampness in the air, the heat seems stickier than earlier this morning. It will rain by the weekend.

  I walk to my car, start the engine, roll down the window and slide the gearstick into reverse. As I press down on the accelerator, I glance in the mirror and only avoid a collision at the last second. I slam on the brakes, forgetting all about the other pedals and making the engine stall. I look in the mirror.

  The van’s bonnet looks so big that it seems to come all the way up to my neck. I hear its door opening. I reach for the keys and am about to try to restart t
he engine when I hear Asko’s voice and see his muscular, copper-brown arm in the window. He crouches down. His eyes are cold and his smile warm.

  ‘Let’s go for a pint.’

  Tervasaari is one of my favourite spots in Hamina. In general, that is. The area used to be a harbour. In the olden days it was the site of a sawmill, a quay and some small industrial buildings. The train tracks essentially ran all the way to the shore. It’s been about sixty years since the last train pulled into the harbour. Nowadays Tervasaari is a conservation area with a large park, a restaurant in the old loading bay and a bar-cum-boat moored at the quayside.

  We’re sitting on the upper deck of the floating bar, each with a plastic pint glass in front of us. Though not as powerful as this morning, the sun is still glaring and intense, like a lamp that’s too bright and hot but that you can’t reach to angle it away. Though a breeze tickles me through the slats in the plastic chair beneath me, I’m still sweating profusely.

  Following Asko in my car I went through my options. Only yesterday I tried to run away from one of his associates, and was only saved by the strangest accidental suicide. What’s more, I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no way Asko would be asking me to join him for a pint if Tomi’s body had been found. He’d be offering me pretty much the same treatment as Tomi had, with or without his Samurai sword. I’ve also decided that, for the time being, the way to arouse the least suspicion is to behave politely, even if that means having a drink with my arch rival.

  The beer tastes weak and stale. In an instant the sun has sucked up its fizz and warmed it to room temperature. I’ve never understood why people in Finland feel the need to drink alcohol outdoors during the summer – at any cost. For a start it’s normally too cold: your fingers freeze round the plastic cup, your teeth chatter against the rim, and it feels like you’re fishing through the ice and wearing far too little. Either that or the sun beats down on your head and the beer; your pint turns to piss before it reaches your lips, and your head soon follows suit.