Jarkko Sipila - Against the Wall

“Uhh,” Joutsamo interrupted. “I have to ask… How’d you know this Markkanen is involved?”

Suhonen looked her in the eyes, “I met him last night.”

“And he confessed to you?”

“Well, no. But don’t interrupt,” said Suhonen. He had decided in advance what he would disclose, and how. “So… Markkanen is above Lydman, but the ladder doesn’t stop there. A businessman named Kalevi Lindström is also involved.”

“Hey, wasn’t that…” Kulta blurted out.

Suhonen nodded. “Exactly. Last night, someone threatened this Lindström by placing a pig’s head on the hood of his Mercedes.”

“Who would threaten him, and why?” Kulta asked.

“Weeell,” Suhonen spun his words. “From what I know, Markkanen is probably behind it, but he’s also associated with Lindström somehow. Both their cars are registered under the same owner, for example. Also, Markkanen is at Lindström’s apartment on Tehdas Street right now.”

“How do you know that?” Joutsamo asked.

“I was there watching when Markkanen went in,” Suhonen said, glad that they had passed up the pig’s head without any nosy questions. “I put his car under GPS surveillance.”

Takamäki cut in. “So Markkanen’s playing games behind Lindström’s back.”

“That’s what I’d say, but we have no hard evidence. This isn’t stuff that we could really take to court.”

“So, how do you think Eriksson is mixed up in this?”

“That I don’t know, but Anna can figure it out.”

Joutsamo cracked up.

Suhonen went on, “We still don’t know who pulled the trigger. Saarnikangas doesn’t know. If he did, he’d have told me.”

“Okay,” said Takamäki, trusting Suhonen. “Lindström is clearly a new lead. Let’s follow that. So dig up his and Bogeyman’s records, backgrounds, and known associates. We’ll put their phones and internet connections under surveillance immediately. Once we get a little further, we’ll decide whether to bug the apartment.”

“What about Saarnikangas?” Joutsamo asked, looking at Suhonen. “Just let him go free, or what?”

“I think we should bring him in,” Suhonen said coolly, and stood up.

“Wha…?” Joutsamo was stunned.

“He did his job, and led us further down the trail. Bring him in. No need for the SWAT team-you’ll find him there in Pihlajamäki.”

“Where you going?”

Suhonen smiled. “Coffee…it’s ready. Anyone else want some?”

* * *

Markkanen tossed a paper cup full of coffee into the trash at the corner of Tehdas and Kapteeni Streets.

“What?” Lindström asked.

“Disgusting piss.”

Lindström shrugged. He had ordered Markkanen to come along on his morning walk. Since he’d been forced to cancel the personal trainer, he had to make his own exercise. Markkanen didn’t have to walk the whole distance, but was permitted to stop for a few phone calls.

The men stopped at the same corner where, eleven years earlier, Steen Christensen had executed two policemen. The chilling murders had shaken the whole country. Christensen had escaped from a Danish prison and made his way to Helsinki. In the middle of the night, he robbed a few hundred euros from a hotel cashier before being stopped by a patrol car while on foot. The Dane somehow surprised the two policemen, made them kneel and shot them execution style. This led to a massive manhunt before Christensen was finally apprehended two days later, sixty miles north of Helsinki.

Lindström was wearing a blue tracksuit, and Markkanen a leather jacket.

“The Skulls were behind Eriksson’s murder.” Markkanen said.

“Where’d you get that information?”

“A prison source. Better if you don’t know the details.”

Lindström gazed up the street. The parking spaces were all full, but few people were out in the bleak gray November air.

“They wouldn’t initiate something like that on their own. So who?”

“No, they wouldn’t. A criminal from Lahti named Suikkanen took out the contract. Now the Skulls want a hundred grand to switch sides.”

“A hundred grand?”

“If you ask me, it’s worth it. We’d be back in business, problem-free. Otherwise they’ll stick with Suikkanen.”

A cold gust of wind rushed down the street. Lindström had worked up a light sweat that had begun to cool. He pulled his blue stocking cap down a bit further.

“Can’t you take care of this?” Lindström suggested.

“I can take care of Suikkanen, but I need back up to go against the Skulls. That would cost a lot more than a hundred Gs.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“They want an answer today. Visiting hours at the prison end at 2:15. We have to decide by then, otherwise it could get ugly.”

“Who’s this Suikkanen?” Lindström asked, beginning to run in place.

“I don’t know him. I hear he’s some gangster from Lahti running booze and cigarette rackets. But we can’t start a war against the Skulls. We can take care of Suikkanen later, as long as we resolve the immediate danger.”

“How’d Suikkanen know about Eriksson?”

Markkanen shrugged.

“What about the next shipment? Did you call the Customs guy?”

“Yes,” Markkanen said, telling the truth this time. “He was a little worried, but apparently we have the green light. They had nothing on the ship.”

“Good. I’ll call if I need you,” Lindström said, and trotted off towards home.

Markkanen watched him jog away, his shoes scuffing the ground. Geezer. How could someone so stupid be so rich. There was something wrong with that.

* * *

Jouko Nyholm was sitting at his desk at the Customs office. The morning had been bearable, but now sweat began to bead up beneath the inspector’s collar.

Markkanen’s call had violated the email protocol they had agreed on. Once again, he was told to sift through confidential Customs intelligence on some ship and its cargo. This time, Nyholm hadn’t dared, since all computer searches were archived and could be easily retrieved.

He was convinced the police were onto him. The connection from Eriksson to his daughter, and then on to him was too obvious. Chances were, his phone was already tapped and his computer activities were under surveillance. He struggled to remember what words he had used with Markkanen. Could they reveal the entire scheme?

Now he’d have to lay low. He had told Markkanen that the coast was clear. And maybe it was, but Nyholm wasn’t sure. Ships and their cargoes were continually analyzed, right up to the point of arrival.

How could he get out of this? To begin with, he had to calm down and give the impression that everything was fine. Why the hell had he come to work? He should’ve just called in sick; that would’ve been easiest…the flu or something.

“Hello.”

The low voice startled Nyholm. It was Snellman; he hadn’t even heard any footsteps.

Nyholm spun around in his chair and tried to smile. No sound escaped his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Snellman asked. “Something bothering you?”

He coughed. “The flu has me on the ropes.”

“Hmm, well, don’t leave just yet. That detective lieutenant called to say he’s coming to ask about something again. He wouldn’t say what it was over the phone. I might need you, so take two aspirin and sweat it out.”

Nyholm’s throat was so dry and constricted he nearly vomited.

HELSINKI PRISON

FRIDAY, 1:10 P.M.

Eero Salmela sat in the visitors’ area of the prison compound, waiting. He was alone, apart from the blue-uniformed guard who had escorted him out of the cell block. The guard stood by the wall.