James Thompson - Lucifer's tears

She tries to keep her voice down and whisper-shouts. “No. No no no no no. It was my fault. My failure. That’s why I wanted to start trying to get pregnant again as soon as I could, so I could give you a baby to replace the ones I took away from you with my selfishness and stupidity.”

She cries so hard that she shakes. I feel awful because I didn’t recognize that she was carrying all this around inside her. “No, Kate. It was my selfishness and stupidity. And I’m terrified I’ll do something selfish and stupid again. I worry myself sick. I thought you were upset with me tonight because I got myself into another dangerous situation that could make you stress and miscarry.”

She wipes her eyes. “Kari, these notions of yours are just silly. I’m upset because I saw you on TV and I realized I’ve been lying to myself. We came here and I’ve been happy in Helsinki, but I’ve ignored the fact that you haven’t been. I’ve made English-speaking friends in the international community, and I thought we had built a safe and cozy life. I believed we had left madness, depression and senseless violence behind us in the Arctic Circle. I realized tonight that Helsinki is the same, and it scares the hell out of me. Your job is dangerous and I’m frightened of losing you. I’m afraid for our little girl growing up surrounded by crazy people. You’ve been different since the Sufia Elmi case, and I’m worried about you, too. Right now, everything scares me.”

I brought Kate to Helsinki to quell her fears about life in Finland for nothing. Once again, I’ve failed her. I have no consoling words, her fears are justified. “Kate, there are no safe places in the world. It’s something all of us have to live with. But your belief that you caused the loss of the twins is unfounded. It’s just silly and you have to let it go.”

“You never let anything go,” she says.

She’s right. “I won’t lie and say the Elmi case didn’t hurt me, but I’ll get past it. I just need time, and I need time to adjust to Helsinki.”

“Will you ever?” she asks.

“For you,” I say, “there are no limits to what I can do.”

“And my brother and sister,” she says. “There’s something wrong with both of them. I raised them and I failed them.”

I don’t like to talk about my childhood, but I want to prove to her that she’s wrong, that she didn’t fail them. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” I ask.

She props herself up on her elbow and looks into my eyes. “I think you have a mild case of posttraumatic shock from what happened last year, but given the circumstances, no, I think you must be solid as a rock to have survived all you’ve been through as well as you have.”

“Did I ever tell you why I wear my hair cut short?”

“No.”

“When I was a little kid, back in the seventies when it was in style, I had longer hair. When my dad flew into drunken rages, he used to snatch me up by the hair, pick me up off the ground, swing me in a circle or jerk me around like a rag doll. Once, I tried to get away, and Dad chased me in a circle around the kitchen table. We stopped for a moment. He gave me a tiny smile and made me feel safe. I thought he was proud of me for sticking up for myself and all was forgiven. Instead, he used that smile to make me let my guard down, then caught me and swung me around by the hair like usual, then beat me for running. I never felt safe around him again. That’s why I wear my hair short to this day.”

Kate’s eyes water up again. “Kari, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s just one example of how I was sometimes treated. You don’t need to feel sorry for me. The point is, you treated your brother and sister well, but they came out a little weird. Dad treated me like garbage, and I came out solid. People survive their childhoods, but even the best childhood doesn’t guarantee a stable adult.”

My head hurts. I take a sleeping pill.

“Did you see Jari?” Kate asks.

“Yeah. I need some tests. He and his family are coming over for dinner on Thursday evening.”

“That’s nice.”

She’s lost in thought for a moment. “I still feel like a guilty failure,” she says.

“Me too,” I say.

Me and Kate. Two of a perfect pair.

Once again, I wake before the others. It’s eight a.m. The couch is empty. John didn’t come home last night. I enjoy quiet mornings alone and don’t miss his company. I doubt Kate will feel the same. I make coffee. While it brews, my cell phone rings. “Inspector. This is Ivan Filippov. I trust you’re enjoying a pleasant morning.”

“Well,” I say, “I was.”

“I told you at our last meeting that if I came upon something of interest, I would deliver it to you. Could you meet with me this morning, perhaps around ten o’clock? I could come to your office.”

“Might this thing of interest be your wife’s diary? I’d very much like to see it.”

“Iisa kept no diary.”

“I’ve been informed otherwise. Bring it to me, or I’ll get a subpoena and seize it.”

“We’ve had this discussion. You can try. I’ll get the subpoena quashed. Will you meet with me or not?”

“Sure, Ivan, because you’re such good company. See you then.”

I can’t imagine what Filippov wants to show me, but I doubt I’ll like it.

I go outside to the balcony. We got fresh snow overnight. I kick some to the sidewalk below to clear myself a dry place to stand, and smoke my first cigarette of the day. The sky is ash-gray. A fierce wind almost jerks the cigarette out of my hand. The cold hurts my face. I check the thermometer. Minus twenty-five. It turned even more frigid overnight. The wind burns down my cigarette so fast that I only get three drags off it before it self-extinguishes.

I sit on the couch, sip coffee and think about Arvid. I could follow his instructions, relay his message to the interior minister and tell him, as Arvid put it, “to stick his charges up his fucking ass.” But that won’t help Arvid. I feel certain he’ll end up on trial in a German court. I like Arvid and don’t want that to happen. I call him.

“I saw you on the news,” Arvid says. “Well done.”

“I’d rather not discuss it,” I say.

The image of standing in front of Legion, holding a gun to my own head, the boy whimpering in his clutches, is so vivid I forget for a moment that I’m talking to Arvid.

“Boy,” he says, “what do you want? I expressed my thoughts on this horseshit in a most clear manner. Our business is concluded.”

I snap back to reality. “I respect both you and your wishes, but you have a problem. I’d like to assist you with it, if you’ll let me.”

“What problem?”

“I’ve done some minor investigating. You’ve been disingenuous. You were at Stalag 309. If I can find the truth in a day, anyone else can, too. If I handle this situation in the way you told me to, it won’t go away. You’ll find yourself in a jail cell. We need to clear you of the charges leveled against you.”

The pause is long. I hear him sigh, then swear under his breath. “You’re a good eater. I like that. Come here today for lunch at twelve and we’ll talk about it.”

I thank him for his indulgence and hang up.

I get to the Pasila station about nine a.m. I check Milo’s office. He’s already at his computer. “What are you working on?” I ask.

“Getting bio material on Linda and Iisa.”

Dark circles render his eyes almost invisible red slits. Looking at his face is like staring into an abyss. “Get any sleep last night?”

The abyss stares back at me. “Some.”

“Ivan Filippov called and wants to meet with me at ten. I expect some kind of antagonistic confrontation. I’ll do some digging, too. Finish getting whatever info you can in the next little while, then come to my office and let’s compare notes. It might help me prep for my discussion with him.”