Jarkko Sipila - Against the Wall

From the street, the buildings in South Helsinki seemed closed off, but they had surprisingly spacious courtyards. The apartments circled the yard like fortress walls.

Suhonen pulled the ski mask over his face, he fumbled a little while, looking for the eye holes.

The courtyard was divided by fences. Lights gleamed from several of the windows. Only two dim yellow lamps hung from the wall, but darkness didn’t bother Suhonen. Markkanen had told him the security camera would be at the other end, on the roof of the row of garages. Suhonen kept his gaze down; no sense in showing the camera any more than was necessary.

The wooden double doors of the garage were painted red, and they opened outward from the middle. Suhonen wondered if there was an alarm. Even if there were, the security guards wouldn’t get there for several minutes.

The right-hand door had an old lock. It would’ve taken him less than thirty seconds to pick the lock, but the door felt a bit loose, so he took out some rigid double-bent wire and eased it between the doors. There was no deadbolt and the latch slipped easily aside. Opening the door took two seconds.

Suhonen crept inside, closed the door behind him and flicked on a small flashlight. The garage was larger than he had imagined: it held two cars. Another garage door opened into the same area, the parking spaces separated by chicken wire. The neighboring car was a maroon BMW, but Suhonen was interested in the silver-colored Mercedes that stood in front of him. It was a 500-Series luxury model, though several years old. Suhonen memorized the plate number.

He hesitated for a moment, then opened the hockey bag, hauled out the reeking pig’s head, and set it just behind the hood ornament. He smirked and picked up the empty bag from the floor.

The courtyard was empty and Suhonen eased the door shut behind him. He slipped back out through the gate and closed that as well.

Turning onto Tehdas Street, he headed back toward the Russian Embassy. The street was quiet, which suited him just fine. He’d put the hockey bag back where he found it, in the trunk of the Beamer.

* * *

Takamäki woke to a ringing phone. He saw that his wife had also been awakened from the way she rolled over. He glanced at the red numbers on his alarm clock: 2:02 A.M.

The phone was charging on the nightstand and he picked it up and got out of bed. It rang again before he made it out of the bedroom. The call was from an unknown number.

“Hello,” Takamäki answered, descending the stairs.

“Sorry for calling in the middle of the night,” said a man’s voice. “But it says here that I’m supposed to notify you.”

“About what?” asked Takamäki. He had walked into the hallway and was looking out the window. The ground was still white, but road conditions seemed to be improving. The townhouse complex was quiet.

“Right, sorry. This is Saarelainen from the Border Guard at the Helsinki Airport,” he introduced himself. “We have a man who just went through passport control, and we’ve been directed to notify you if he tries to leave the country.”

Takamäki was puzzled-he didn’t remember making such a request.

“Which one are we talking about?” Takamäki asked, as though he had made several of them.

“Ilari Petteri Lydman,” the official said and read off the birth date.

Takamäki wondered if Joutsamo had filed the request. Or maybe Suhonen.

“Where’s he going?”

“He’s on the 3:20 to Bangkok.”

Takamäki rubbed his face, his brain sluggish after having been wrenched from sleep. Lydman and Saarnikangas were somehow connected. Right, and it was Suhonen who suspected Lydman’s involvement in the murder.

Why was Lydman going to Thailand? Had he planned the trip in advance or was he on the run?

“So,” the border guard continued. “What should we do? Let him on the plane?”

“Does Lydman know he’s been flagged?”

“No. The official at passport control let him through, then notified us. He won’t go anywhere from the transit hall, especially since there aren’t any other departures before the Bangkok flight.”

Takamäki was still thinking. Thailand wasn’t a problem per se, since extradiction of criminals back to Finland was easy. On the other hand, Lydman could get to just about any place in the world from the Bangkok airport. That could pose a problem, especially if he held a second passport.

“Uhh,” Takamäki hesitated. “I’ll have to consult with my investigators. Can you give me your number, and I’ll call you back?”

The border guard gave him the number. As soon as the call ended, Takamäki made another. This number was on speed dial, and the phone rang three times before someone answered.

“Suhonen,” drawled a groggy voice.

“Did I wake you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. I was just woken up, too. Did you file a request with the Border Guard to have them notify me if Lydman leaves the country?”

“Yeah… Uhh, yes,” Suhonen said, a little more clearly now. “I forgot to tell you last night.”

“On what basis?” Takamäki asked, though he knew the question was useless.

“I thought Lydman might be a key player. By the way, I filed the same request for Saarnikangas. Is Lydman going somewhere?”

“Yeah. The 3:20 flight to Bangkok.”

He heard a muffled rustling on the other end. Takamäki guessed that Suhonen was looking at the clock on his phone.

“So he’s waiting to board his flight right now,” Takamäki offered.

Suhonen figured the lieutenant wanted his input on whether Lydman should be let on the plane or not. He was torn: Lydman’s significance to the case had lessened now that they had Markkanen in their sights. On the other hand, Lydman was about to fly halfway around the world, and wouldn’t be missed if he was sitting in jail instead. They could keep him a while before word got out.

“I think we should bring him in.”

“Do we have grounds for that?”

“Well, he’s been seen with Saarnikangas a couple times in the past few days, so at least Joutsamo can question him about that.”

“Should we bring Saarnikangas in at the same time?”

Suhonen thought for a second. “That’s an option, of course, but maybe not yet. Let’s see what happens tomorrow, at least.”

“How’d it go last night? Anything new?”

“Not really. Just trying to make heads or tails of it all,” Suhonen replied with a smirk.

“Listen, Suhonen. Up till now this has been your case, but we need to talk about how to move forward.”

“Yeah,” Suhonen said. “Of course, of course.”

“Especially now that we’re arresting Lydman. At this point, he’ll be charged with murder, right?”

“Yeah, looks like accessory to murder to me,” Suhonen said. “That’ll give us some ammo for the interrogations.”

“Okay, I’ll ask the Border Guard to take him into custody, and we’ll bring him to Pasila in the morning. We’ll have a meeting first thing at nine, then.”

“Alright.”

“Well,” Takamäki smirked. “Try to get a few winks over there in the middle of that Kallio ruckus.”

“I’ll try.” Suhonen hung up and buried his head in the lush Hotel Katajanokka pillows.

LINDSTRÖM’S APARTMENT,

TEHDAS STREET, HELSINKI

FRIDAY, 8:40 A.M.

Kalevi Lindström heard the doorbell ring. He set his coffee down on the table and strolled to the door in his robe. He still had to do his morning workout. The trainer wasn’t due till nine, but maybe she was early.

He looked out the peephole, recognized the man standing outside and opened the door warily.