Jarkko Sipila - Cold Trail

“What, that you guys would hit several targets at the same time?”

“That, plus a few other jobs,” Salmela said. “You’re the only one I’m going tell this to. In the interrogations, it’s going to be no comment down the line.”

“What other gigs do you mean?”

“Do you remember that armored truck robbery in Mariehamn a few years back? First they set up a diversion by burning a car and then executed the robbery. Something like that. On a normal day there’s max thirty to forty patrols in the greater Helsinki area. It wouldn’t take much for half of them to be tied up in bullshit cases. Certain areas could be emptied of cops pretty easily. The idea was specifically in the massive scale.”

“Whose idea was this? Yours or Manner’s?” Suhonen asked.

Salmela winked. “Hey, we were all just execution. They told us we had to keep our eye on a couple of spots. My job was to chop down this big birch, because it was blocking the view from this one house. And if it fell on a couple of cars and tied up the police and fire amp; rescue departments, then that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.”

“Right,” Suhonen said, not believing a word of what Salmela said about the part he played. Someone who chopped down trees didn’t need to know about any other robberies. Suhonen knew that there were many more perpetrators involved than the three they had behind bars, but figuring that out was the NBI’s job. “I guess there’s not much I can do.”

“A man has to take what he has coming. Goddammit, I should have known after that car thing that this is going to get screwed up.”

“What car thing?”

“It was no big deal. Just this one little thing, but I should have seen it coming.”

“What happened?” Suhonen asked.

“You know Skoda Sakke?”

Suhonen nodded.

“Well, he was supposed to be the driver for the Espoo vehicle, and he had headed over to scout out the area around Sello early this week. In Manner’s car. Well, he didn’t dare to say anything at first, but later he told Manner that he knocked over some cyclist out there. Sakke hadn’t hung around, of course. When Manner heard, he had a conniption. Kicked Sakke’s ass and then made him burn the car. Sakke’s debt grew by twenty grand, even though Manner’s going to claim the insurance money too, of course. So then the Espoo police got in touch with him.”

“Sounds like a clusterfuck.”

“That it was.”

Suhonen snagged the cigarette pack from the table.

“One more,” Salmela said, pulling a smoke from the pack in Suhonen’s hand. Suhonen lit it for him.

Joutsamo rushed in. “Suhonen, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“Take your time, enjoy your smoke,” Suhonen said to Salmela, before following Joutsamo out of the room.

Joutsamo withdrew thirty feet down the corridor from the interrogation room door and kept her voice to a whisper, even though she was well aware that the interrogation rooms had solid soundproofing. “Saarnikangas called the phone that was in the jacket on your desk. I didn’t answer, but I listened to the message. Said he had something urgent. His voice sounded agitated, maybe even alarmed.”

Suhonen didn’t particularly care for other people listening to his messages, but he accepted Joutsamo’s decision. “What was he alarmed about?”

“He didn’t say, but he asked you to come to the Chaplin Bar on Mannerheim Street right away. Has some information on Repo, apparently.”

Suhonen considered whether Saarnikangas was trying to finagle more pills, or if he really had something new. Either way, he’d have to check it out.

“I’ll probably head over, then,” Suhonen said. He’d have plenty of time during the drive to call Takamäki to let him know what Salmela had said about the hit-and-run. The problem was, of course, that the information could never be used, because then the crew would find out that someone was talking to the cops.

“How’s Salmela?” Joutsamo asked.

“Pretty bummed,” Suhonen said, returning to the interrogation room.

Salmela’s elbows were on the table, and his head was resting in his crossed hands. The cigarette was burning between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. A quarter-inch stub of ash curled down from the tip. Salmela raised his head, and the ash shivered onto the table.

Suhonen sat.

Salmela broke the silence. “You gonna send a Christmas card to me in the pen, or you think you’ll have time to drop by?”

“I’ll be by. Outside normal visiting hours, of course,” Suhonen said, looking his childhood friend in the eye. He didn’t really know what else to say, and nothing else was needed.

THURSDAY, 12:40 A.M.

LAUTTASAARI, HELSINKI

Repo pulled a suction cup and the glass-cutter he had bought from the sale bin at the Anttila department store from his coat pocket. He pressed the suction cup to the window and used the pencil-like tool to incise a circular hole around it. The glass didn’t come loose on the first try, and Repo was forced to make a second incision.

The window was triple-paned, so Repo had to cut through the internal windows as well before he was able to push his hand through the hole and open the back door.

He stopped to listen. The house was quiet. Repo noticed his pulse quickening, and yet he felt calm. He had planned this for a long time.

The house was a large one by Finnish standards; Repo estimated at least 2000 square feet. It was a single-story brick home with a flat roof. The location was secluded, too-on the northern shore of Lauttasaari Island, right next to the Lauttasaari soccer fields. The marina was a hundred yards away. A long line of townhouses stood on the marina side of the house; on the other, a couple of ramshackle wooden homes.

Inside was dim, but the living room looked to be completely decorated in black and white. The couch and the table in front of it were white, the armchair was black. Black-and-white paintings hung from the walls. The flat-screen TV had been picked to match the decor.

There seemed to be an aquarium over to the side, but it was dark.

Everything looked tidy and well-kept but stark. Repo eyed the furnishings and shut the back door behind him. He walked across the carpet without taking off his shoes. He removed his gray coat and tossed it across the sofa, but kept the shoulder bag with him.

The living room was set lower than the rest of the house, and Repo had to climb a couple of steps to get to the main level. The black-and-white decor continued in the dining room. The largish dining table was black, and the ten chairs white. The dining room was separated from the living room by a low railing. Behind the dining space was the kitchen.

Repo silently continued into the front entryway. Several coats and a woman’s black fur hung from the coat rack. A door to a room led off from the entryway. Repo opened it quietly and peeked inside. The streetlamp illuminated it enough for him to make out an office. It looked more normal than the black and white of the other rooms. In front of the window, there was an oak desk and a computer. The walls were lined in bookshelves. The room also accommodated a big, brown leather armchair with a small table at its side. Repo caught a faint whiff of cigar.

Repo turned back toward the living room. On the left was a door bearing a small plaque-“Toilet.” Next to it was another door, which Repo guessed was a combined shower and sauna space.

One final door stood before him.

He carefully placed the shoulder bag on the floor and quietly opened the zipper. He found everything he needed except the Luger and Karppi’s cell phone. Goddamn Saarnikangas must have snagged them, which meant he now knew what else was in the bag. Repo pulled a red-handled, all-purpose Mora knife from the bag. He had found it in one of the Anttila sale bins, too, for four euros.