Jarkko Sipila - Cold Trail

“I’m willing to state it publicly, too. Do you want me to say it on live TV on the 6 a.m. news?”

Repo was silent for a minute, and Takamäki didn’t pressure him.

“Judges should be the system that ensures justice is served, not be an extension of the state bureaucracy,” he finally said. “No. I was convicted as an innocent man, so I own the right to kill as compensation for my lost life. I don’t want anything from you.” Repo cut off the call.

Joutsamo stopped recording, and neither she nor Takamäki said anything for a minute.

“The last part was pretty bad, but maybe you got him thinking,” she said. Joutsamo knew that during hostage negotiations, the main objective was to bring the target out of their emotional turmoil and get them to think rationally.

Turunen nodded approvingly. “Owning the right to kill for doing time as an innocent man. That’s pretty heavy.”

“It’s just a reflection of his bitterness,” Takamäki said. “We can influence that feeling. At least we can try. But what he said about not wanting to go back to prison sounds serious.”

Joutsamo nodded. “He might’ve ended up in prison anyway because of Karppi, but now he definitely will for this siege.”

“True. After we defuse this situation, we can think about what comes next,” Takamäki said. What happened at Karppi’s house should not be brought up here, unless Repo wanted to address it himself. Now they needed to concentrate on defusing Repo’s bitterness.

“Anna, tell Römpötti I’ll give her an interview at six regardless. Let’s try to establish contact with Repo before that.”

“Is there any food out in that changing cabin?” Joutsamo asked.

“Sandwiches,” Turunen answered.

Raindrops struck Joutsamo in the face as she stepped out of the car. Luckily she was wearing boots, so her toes would stay warm.

* * *

Veteran SWAT officer Jarmo Eronen was sitting in the back of the tank, right next to the rear doors. The army vehicle was as bare-bones inside as it was out. Eronen’s partner, “Jack Bauer” Saarinen, was sitting further in, eyes shut. They switched places every twenty minutes to maintain their alertness.

Eronen, who was almost thirty, had been on the SWAT team for about five years. His older brother had died about ten years earlier in a police operation on an island off of Helsinki. The incident had inspired him to apply for the police and the SWAT team.

The back door of the Pasi had a small hatch where Eronen could look out down the barrel of his MP5 submachine gun. It had a laser sight under the barrel, but it wasn’t on. The house was about 20 yards away. Eronen could see the front yard and the right facade of the house. He had night vision gear, but neither he nor Saarinen wanted to use it. In spite of the rain, the city lights gave off enough light.

They had seen no movement. Nor was there any reason to have. The team had managed to get a radar sensor close to the house, and an announcement would come over the radio if any movement was detected inside.

Eronen was a trained sharpshooter. Nonetheless, his Heckler amp; Koch MSG90 rifle was on the bench of the Pasi in its black canvas holster. The distance to the house was short enough that the MP5 would suffice.

Eronen was happy that the tanks had shown up, because just half an hour ago he had been lying on the ground under a poncho. The Pasi wasn’t comfortable, but it was noticeably better than the wet ground. When you were lying outside, you had to piss by rolling up on one side. At least in the Pasi there was a canister.

No movement. In a couple of minutes it would be Bauer’s turn to take over.

The SWAT officer was used to waiting. It didn’t bother him in the least. It was better to get situations resolved without violence. Some time ago, Turunen had informed them that contact had been established with the target. That was a good thing.

No hint of movement.

* * *

Takamäki was sitting in the lead van alone, looking toward the house. The house itself was not visible; other vans were in the way. The scene reminded Takamäki of some old Western where the pioneers formed their wagons into a ring. Takamäki was at the computer, reviewing the log of all that night’s developments.

Deputy chief of police Skoog had called to tell Takamäki that he’d remain in charge of the operation. Command could be reevaluated in the morning if the unpleasant incident, as Skoog had termed the siege, still continued. That suited Takamäki just fine, because they would have to change shifts in the morning anyway. He and all the others who had been at the scene overnight would be sent home to get some sleep.

Skoog had also pressed for Takamäki’s prognosis about the eventual outcome, but Takamäki hadn’t been able to give him an answer.

Takamäki tried to think where things had gone wrong-why had a normal manhunt for an escaped convict ended up in a high-profile siege? The search for Repo had been taken seriously, with several officers dedicated to tracking him down. Agh, he thought. He could process all that later.

The numbers on the van clock read 5:32.

Takamäki decided to try calling Repo. As per Joutsamo’s request, a speaker had been pulled from the tech vehicle to the lead van, but things had been quiet inside the house for the past half hour.

He reached over to the computer to turn on recording and picked up the phone. The number was still in the phone’s memory, and it rang three times before Repo answered. This time the radar man didn’t announce anything about the target moving, so Repo probably had a cordless phone.

Once again, Repo answered with a simple “Hello.”

“Hi, this is Lieutenant Kari Takamäki. How are we doing?”

“You tell me.”

“Pretty well, I’d say.”

“Is that so?” Repo’s scornful tone sounded ominous to Takamäki. But he didn’t give up.

“Yes. The sooner we resolve this situation, the sooner we can start clearing up that old case. Rectifying the wrongs that happened.”

“How are you going to rectify those wrongs? By throwing cash at them? That seems to be the way the government works. When civil servants make mistakes, they can escape justice just by paying for it out with the taxpayers’ money. But nothing happens to them. I think that’s wrong.”

“No one has come up with a better system yet.”

“You civil servants all just protect each other, because you don’t know whose actions will be the subject of the next investigation. The atmosphere of fear keeps everyone quiet.”

Takamäki felt like disagreeing, but he didn’t want to escalate the argument. On the other hand, he couldn’t let his opponent humiliate him, either.

Repo continued. “If you can guarantee that Fredberg and that shit-head Leinonen, the lead investigator from Riihimäki, are charged with misconduct, I’ll come out right now.”

Takamäki thought for a moment. Repo wasn’t stupid. But there was no point stepping into the trap.

“I’m a police officer. I can investigate it, but the prosecutors decide who gets charged,” Takamäki said. “I can, however, guarantee you that I’ll investigate it.”

Repo chuckled sarcastically .“Maybe you’re a straight-shooter after all, at least you’re not lying to my face. Unfortunately, investigating it isn’t going to cut it. But you were saying something earlier about a TV interview. I could consider coming out if you present an apology to me on behalf of all Finnish police officers, and especially on behalf of that dunce in Riihimäki.”

Takamäki was getting pissed off, but he had to keep his feelings out of it. He reminded himself of his goal: bringing the situation to a peaceful resolution. “You want me to order you a pizza while I’m at it? Empire Special? Salami, shrimp, and garlic?”