Jarkko Sipila - Nothing but the Truth

The apartment was a two-room flat in one of the high rises on Kallvik Street. The address had come from Joutsamo’s list of residences associated with Ahola and his accomplices. They had no indication that Ahola would actually be here, but there was only one way to find out. They’d already searched three other apartments, and six remained on Suhonen’s list. Kulta had his own list and another SWAT unit. Both teams were scrambling.

Suhonen stepped into the entryway, which was littered with shoes, clothing and garbage. One of the SWAT officers was standing in the doorway on the left. “Empty bedroom,” he said as Suhonen came up.

The entry hall ended at the bathroom door, with the living room on the left. A rotten smell permeated the apartment. Suhonen entered the living room, which had every mark of a typical gang hideout. A couple of mattresses on the floor with a blanket and a worn-out sofa on the opposite wall. On the floor in the corner was a small television playing some crime drama.

One of the SWAT officers stood at the end of the sofa with his weapon at the ready while the other pressed the barrel of his shotgun against the head of a man lying there. The aggressive approach had been agreed upon in advance.

“Harri Nieminen?” said Suhonen as he came abreast of the officer holding the shotgun.

The man on the sofa didn’t respond. He had the brawny build and square jaw of a boxer. His hair was closely cropped and he wore a gray, hooded sweatshirt with the GYM logo.

Suhonen tapped the officer with the shotgun on the shoulder and he withdrew the barrel some four inches.

“Where’s Matti Ahola?”

“Matti?” the man rasped.

“You heard me.”

“I dunno. Haven’t seen him for days.”

“Where’d you see him last?”

Nieminen thought for a second. “Some bar over on the east side. Had a couple beers with him.”

“I need an address.”

“What’d he do?”

“Something bad.”

Nieminen was still lying on the sofa, his eyes darting from one masked cop to the next, then to the guns trained on his face. “That bad, huh?”

Suhonen nodded. “He’s been working for Korpi. Korpi’s causing trouble, and we’re looking for his associates. Do you work for him?”

“Uhh…no.”

Suhonen just waited. Nieminen squirmed on the sofa for a while before speaking up, “Anything else?”

“The address.”

“Fuck if I remember. Shit. I don’t know…at some point he had an apartment over in Kannelmäki. In those old buildings by the Maxi store, or what used to be the Maxi. Just across from it on the other side of the turnabout.”

Suhonen nodded. He knew the spot: Kanteletar Street 4.

“He had some broad there who rented the place. First stairwell looking from the street, maybe fourth floor. Yeah, that’s it.”

Suhonen wrote down the address and tapped the officer with the shotgun, who began pulling back out of the room, the barrel fixed on Nieminen until he had ducked behind the wall. The other gunman still had a submachine gun aimed at the man’s forehead.

“Alright. If you see or hear from Ahola, give me a call,” said Suhonen, and he put a scrap of paper with his number on the arm of the sofa. “That way you won’t have any problems. And steer clear of Korpi. Lots of heat on him.”

Nieminen nodded. “I can see that. Shouldn’t be hard to do with him in prison.”

Suhonen wasn’t exactly reassured, but it wouldn’t take long before word of these shakedowns got out. “Good bye,” said Suhonen, and he turned to leave.

“What about that door? Who’s gonna pay for that?” shouted Nieminen from the sofa, a submachine gun still staring him down from the doorway.

“Call customer service at the Helsinki police department. Hours are eight to four-fifteen,” said Suhonen. Then he left.

Two of the SWAT cops were already in the stairwell when Suhonen came out with the last. “Next stop Vartiokylä,” said Suhonen. “Another apartment building on Arho Street. Over there by the parking lot at the end of the road.”

* * *

Takamäki and Joutsamo were in the VCU break room when the theme song for the Channel 3 nightly news struck up on the television. “I can hardly wait,” droned Takamäki. He had a bad feeling about this.

An image of a police barricade came up on the screen as the headline announced that a bomb had been found in front of a murder witness’s home. The next headline mentioned a bombing in Turkey, but the detectives weren’t interested.

Now the anchor appeared on screen. “A car bomb was discovered today on Porvoo Street in Alppila. According to our latest reports, the incident was a retaliation against Mari Lehtonen, a witness at a recent murder trial. Last Wednesday, Lehtonen testified against gang boss Risto Korpi, leading to a murder conviction and life sentence. At the trial, Lehtonen linked Korpi to the scene of the murder.”

The picture cut to the minister of the interior as he was addressing an audience. Römpötti’s voiceover mentioned the minister’s recent emphasis on witness protection. “Witness protection is a key component of solving serious crimes,” the minister thundered.

The picture cut back to the police barricade on Porvoo Street, and Römpötti’s narration continued. “So says the minister. But what about in real life? After Helsinki resident Mari Lehtonen testified last Wednesday in a murder trial resulting in a life sentence for gang boss Risto Korpi, a car bomb was discovered in front of her apartment building this morning. The threats began a couple of days earlier when Lehtonen’s daughter received a note threatening to abduct her.”

Lehtonen’s scrambled face appeared on screen. “I’m very disappointed in how the police have handled the situation. It seems that to the police we’re part of the problem, and they solve it by sweeping us under the rug.”

Römpötti went on, “Lehtonen was disappointed when the only option presented to her by the police was that she and her daughter go into hiding. The Helsinki VCU provided her with a safe house, which she was prohibited from leaving.”

Lehtonen came back on, “If I fulfill my civic duty and testify, it shouldn’t mean that my daughter and I become pariahs to be hidden away indefinitely by the police machinery.”

Römpötti asked her, “Wouldn’t that make more sense in this situation?”

Lehtonen answered, “I decided to stop being afraid. This Korpi’s the criminal, not me. I’m just an ordinary citizen trying to do my civic duty. If society expects citizens to testify in court, then it needs to be able to protect them. Maybe this safe house might work for some criminal, but not for an ordinary citizen. I’m very disappointed in the police’s performance.”

Römpötti’s face appeared on screen. “At high profile speeches, the interior minister trumpets the role of witnesses, but in practice the authorities are powerless. Mari Lehtonen helped the criminal justice system convict a murderer, only to be offered her own sentence in return. According to our exclusive sources, the police have even considered having Lehtonen committed to a mental hospital for refusing to comply with their wishes. So first a witness, then a mental patient. Nobody from the Helsinki PD agreed to appear on camera to answer our questions.”

The screen cut back to the news anchor, who encouraged viewers to follow the discussion on the morning talk show.

Joutsamo shot Takamäki an inquiring look across the coffee table.

“Not good.”

“Mm-hm. Somebody from here should have answered their questions.”

“Apparently Skoog didn’t feel up to it.”

“I guess not. But with that minister priming the pump, the shit’s really gonna hit the fan,” said Takamäki.