Jarkko Sipila - Cold Trail

Earlier, Turunen had also laid out the plan for entering the home. Since Repo was apparently not in possession of a firearm, they only had to deal with one threat: the detonator. If it was the release-type, they would have to successfully cut the wire between the explosives and the detonator, which would require a major diversion. In practice their best chance was if a police officer was allowed to bring food or something else to the house. The problem of course was that there was presumably plenty of food inside the house.

Their other opportunities would arise if Repo fell asleep or if somehow they could catch him off guard when the detonator’s safety was on.

“No contact has been established?” Turunen asked.

“No. We’ve been calling at regular intervals, both the landline and Fredberg’s cell phone. No answer,” Takamäki reported.

“Is this technically a hostage situation?” Turunen pondered. “We don’t know what Repo’s demands are. Some sort of demand is necessary for a hostage situation to arise.”

“Save it for the court room,” Takamäki said, taking a sip of coffee. “If and when some lawyer finds fault with our decisions here.”

“What have they been talking about in there lately?” Joutsamo asked. One of the tech vans was continuously recording any conversation transmitted by the window mics.

“Not getting much of anything. Repo’s got the same record on repeat: mercy, the verdict, and a judge’s responsibility. He’s really bitter about that conviction,” Turunen reported.

“So the same as before,” said Joutsamo.

“It’s a vendetta,” Turunen said. “Not much to add. We hear a lot of threats like these, but almost no one carries them out.”

“Yeah, thinking more about Repo’s mindset…I guess our society has become so individualistic nowadays that advancing your own interests is now the most important thing, or the only thing, in some instances,” Joutsamo reflected. “That means the justice system and state bureaucracy are constantly working more and more like the business world, where money and productivity are the priority.”

“You mean the state doesn’t act in the best interests of individuals,” Turunen clarified.

“In the business world, it’s the company’s job to protect its own interests. Bureaucrats will start doing the same as this business-type thinking is shoved down their throats. The purpose of the system will change from looking after the interests of the people to ensuring the functioning of the system itself. When that happens, any person lodging a complaint about civil servants becomes a burden, and those who do it repeatedly become branded as nuisances who won’t be taken seriously, like Repo. At the same time, the government grows more secretive, and any missteps within the system get covered up. All this feeds into the thinking that things can only be resolved by taking the law into your own hands. Repo is probably a pretty good example of this.”

Turunen nodded. “If Fredberg manages to get out of this alive, the first thing he’ll probably do is demand a bodyguard. And when one judge has a bodyguard, all the others will think they need one, too.”

“And they’re not necessarily unjustified. I think we’re going to be seeing more and more situations like this.”

No one had anything to add. Turunen’s phone rang, and he summarized his brief conversation for Takamäki and Joutsamo: “We’ve also got the landline tapped now.”

“No other phones have turned up?” Takamäki asked. The police had set up a base station that pulled in all cell phone calls in the area and allowed them to listen in. The caller didn’t notice anything. Cell phones were programmed so that they sought out the nearest base station, and the police’s base station offered the best alternative. But the police would have to comb through all the calls in order to be able to pinpoint Repo’s phone.

“No,” Turunen said. “Not even any calls from reporters yet.”

Takamäki grunted. He remembered a situation where a reporter at the scene of a siege had called his source at the police department without knowing that the call was being intercepted. The incident had led to an official reprimand for the source.

“Who’s going to get the warrants for all this?” Joutsamo asked.

“Karila or Kafka can take care of that,” Takamäki answered. “And Helmikoski is handling the expressway closure. He already wrote up a press release.”

Two armored Pasi personnel carriers from the military turned onto the soccer field from the marina end. The streamlined tanks had six wheels, and the military identifiers were already covered by police stickers. The intent, aside from providing safety for the police officers, was to present a show of strength to the hostage-taker.

“Should we try again?” Takamäki wondered out loud. Joutsamo nodded and gave the computer the command to start recording. The phone Takamäki was using was connected to both the computer and a speaker.

Takamäki pulled up Fredberg’s landline from the phone’s memory. The phone rang.

Turunen’s radio beeped and a voice announced: “The target is moving inside the house.”

Takamäki looked at Turunen, who turned down his radio. His expression was hopeful.

“Hello,” answered a male voice.

“Hello,” Takamäki said in a firm, neutral tone. “This is Lieutenant Kari Takamäki from the Helsinki Police Department. Is this Timo Repo?”

A moment of hesitation. “Yes.”

Takamäki thought Repo’s voice sounded relatively sober, despite the fact that he had only spoken two words.

“How are things in there?”

“Calm,” Repo answered.

“Good. It’s pretty calm out here too, even though this sleet doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon,” Takamäki said. He had a single objective for the conversation: bring the standoff to a conclusion in such a way that no lives were lost. “Do you have any suggestions as to how we could resolve this situation?”

Repo grunted. “Pack your bags and get out of here. Then there won’t be a situation.”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, that’s not possible.”

“Well, do you have any suggestions?”

“Timo,” Takamäki said, intentionally using his first name. “I think we could resolve this by you and Fredberg coming out nice and slow and leaving the explosives inside.”

“I’m not going back to prison,” Repo announced, his voice determined.

Takamäki’s and Joutsamo’s eyes met. A lack of willingness to compromise on a key negotiating point was a bad sign.

“You don’t want to go back to prison because you were wrongly convicted, as an innocent man,” Takamäki said. He wanted to communicate empathy and avoid conflict. That being the case, he wouldn’t be mentioning Karppi’s death.

Repo was silent.

“We’ve looked into that old case during your escape. It seems to be full of irregularities.”

“Irregularities!” Repo burst out.

“Major errors that can be fixed.”

“And how would you fix them, lieutenant?”

“The case can be reopened, and retried, and if you are found not guilty, you’ll receive significant compensation for the past eight years,” Takamäki said. He was trying to feed Repo the idea that he did have an alternative to the detonator.

“I don’t believe you! I tried for a couple of years to get it overturned, but no one lifted a finger. I was branded a habitual complainer. None of my appeals were taken seriously.”

“The situation has changed. I’m on your side,” Takamäki said, wondering for a second if he was going too far.

“You’re just saying that because you want me to come out with the judge.”

Takamäki had anticipated this response. That’s why he had asked Joutsamo to call Römpötti.