Jarkko Sipila - Vengeance

The man with the assault rifle collapsed to the ground. Jack knew that he was killed instantly. Eronen shuffled to his feet and Jack followed. The remaining officers piled in, stepping over the heavy shield. Jack drew his pistol from his belt holster and advanced into the room.

Little by little, Jack’s hearing was returning to normal and he detected a faint whimpering on his right, like the whine of a dog. Eronen was kneeling down, pressing his knee into a muscled gangster’s spine. He twisted the man’s arms behind his back and slapped the cuffs on his wrists.

“Anybody else here?” Eronen shouted.

The whimpering continued and Jack realized it was coming from the man lying on the ground in cuffs.

The officers quickly checked the upstairs rooms, but found nobody else. These three had been the only ones in the building, and of those, two were now dead.

Jack snapped on the safety to his weapon and shoved it back into its holster.

The unit leader grabbed Jack by the shoulder and looked into his eyes. “You alright?”

He was still dazed, but nodded. “Yeah.”

The unit leader put up his thumb and grinned faintly. “The guy emptied the entire magazine blind. Shit!”

Jack heard the report through the earpiece. “All clear. No officers down. Two assailants dead and one under arrest. The other unit is checking the lower level.”

The S.W.A.T officer pulled the helmet off his head and peeled the knit ski mask off his face. He lowered himself into the nearest chair. Only then did he notice one of the rear-guard officers dousing the flaming sofa with a fire extinguisher. Apparently, the flash bang had ignited the fabric.

Jack began to cough from the smoke. His face was drenched in sweat, which he wiped away with his hood.

* * *

Takamäki stood in the yard of the Skulls’ compound, talking on his phone. The air had turned cold and the occasional fleck of sleet fell to the ground. Soon, it would freeze and the sleet would turn to snow, he thought.

A half-dozen squad cars and an ambulance were parked in front of the building.

“Two suspects are dead, and one under arrest,” Takamäki said into the phone. He’d been following the raid from the command vehicle a couple hundred yards away. As soon as they had gotten the “all clear,” the van had pulled into the yard.

“What happened?” asked Honkala.

“The S.W.A.T. team went in and one of the Skulls opened fire with a Kalashnikov. The Skulls’ bullets killed one of their own and an officer shot the guy with the AK. The third was arrested.”

“Who were they?”

“The fatalities were Niko Andersson, a full-fledged member, and Oskari Rahkonen, a prospect. This Osku is the one who shot Niko with the AK. Roger Sandström is under arrest.”

Takamäki recalled his son’s stories about Osku’s little brother Ripa. A tragic event for a kid who idolized his older brother. The incident could affect him in two ways: either it would embitter him or it would frighten him. Difficult to say which way Ripa would swing.

Honkala paused. “So Larsson and Steiner weren’t in the building?”

Takamäki’s mind returned to the matter at hand. “No. We have no information on their whereabouts. I’ve been notified about the raids on their apartments. They found Larsson’s girlfriend, Sara Lehto, in his flat, and Steiner’s was empty. They’re bringing her downtown and forensics is going through both apartments.”

“Son of a…,” Honkala growled on the other end.

Takamäki glanced around the industrial area. So far, nobody but the police had arrived. “We raised quite a ruckus here, so I suppose the media will be here soon. We should probably make some kind of a statement.”

“Yeah. We’ll put something together. I’ll call you when they have it roughed out.”

The S.W.A.T. team filed out and the forensics team, decked out in white coveralls, was holding a briefing in the yard.

“We’ll also need to inform the state prosecutor so he can evaluate the S.W.A.T. team’s conduct in connection with the fatalities.”

“We’ll take care of that too,” said Honkala. “Have you heard anything from Nykänen or Suhonen?”

“Not for a while now. They would’ve called if they found anyone.”

“Pity,” said Honkala. “The undertaker’s tally for the day is two thugs, a police officer and a civilian. This has got to stop.”

Takamäki sighed. “You said it.”

TUESDAY, 3:20 A.M.

SUHONEN’S APARTMENT, HELSINKI

Suhonen awoke to his ringing phone. He groped around for it on the nightstand, coughed once, then answered.

“Hello.”

Suhonen heard the sobbing first. “Help me.”

“Who is this?”

“Salmela,” the man whispered.

Suhonen bolted upright in bed. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Salmela’s voice over the phone was quiet and halting.

“They found me. The assholes found me…”

“Who?”

“Larsson and Steiner. They got me… But I got away… Hold on…” He fell silent.

Suhonen waited. After about twenty seconds, Salmela whispered again. “It was nothing. They’re looking for me.”

“Where are you?”

“In the woods. Not sure exactly where. There’s a road nearby. Come pick me up.”

Suhonen got to his feet and looked at the dark streets out the window. “I’ll come if I know where to find you.”

“There’s some school over there. Probably that Russian school. I think…”

Suhonen cut in. “You’re somewhere around the intersection of Beltway One and the Hämeenlinna Highway.”

“Yeah,” Salmela whispered. “There’s some road…yeah…now I see it. I’m in the woods northeast of there. I see a kind of greenish house and a bus stop.”

“How’d they find you?” Suhonen asked, pinching the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulled on his jeans.

“Over on Hämeen Street. In the courtyard of the employment office. They just appeared out of nowhere in a car. What happened to Ear-Nurminen? I don’t suppose he…”

“Nurminen’s dead. They killed him.”

“Goddammit!” He lowered his voice again. “I saw ’em go up the stairs. I didn’t dare go back.”

“Good thing you didn’t. What happened after they found you?”

“Hold on again…” said Salmela and the line fell silent.

Suhonen pulled on his sweater. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just a car. I don’t really know for sure. They drove me here and started grilling me. I don’t really know, but at some point they left me alone and I got out the window.”

“Go somewhere safe and hide. I’ll be there in a silver Peugeot in about fifteen.” Suhonen paused to consider his options. Were he to notify dispatch, the place would be crawling with cruisers and sirens. That could make Salmela’s situation even worse. It would be better if he picked up Salmela first and then sent in the troops to look for Larsson and Steiner.

There was no time to explain the situation to the lieutenant on duty, Takamäki, Nykänen, nor Honkala. Every one of them would order him to wait. Waiting was not an option. The second Salmela was in his car, the tables would turn. His hiding spot was only about a ten-minute drive away. Suhonen pulled on his leather jacket in the entryway.

“Listen,” said Salmela. “I didn’t know anything about the bomb.”

“I believe you,” said Suhonen, twisting his feet into his shoes.

“And that license plate. That Opel was at the Skulls’ compound a couple days ago. I saw it in the yard.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, that agent said on TV that the license plate was AFR-something. Almost the same as my old Opel. I saw it in the Skulls’ garage.”