Helena Halme - The Red King of Helsinki - Lies, Spies and Gymnastics

Anni, Pia thought, and ran smiling to the phone.

‘Hello!’

‘Miss Mäkelä?’ a man’s voice said.

‘Umm, no,’ Pia said, not really knowing why.

‘I speak with Pia Mäkelä?’ the voice said. Now she recognised the accent. It was Kovtun. Her voice mustn’t tremble, Pia thought, and she said, in her most grown-up manner, ‘I’m afraid she’s not in.’

Pia was trying to copy her mother when she wanted to get rid of someone. She’d heard her use the voice on the Reader’s Digest salespeople, as well as on the Jehovah’s Witnesses who came to the door.

There was a long silence.

Pia noticed her hand was shaking. She heard a quick breath being taken at the other end. Then the Russian hung up. It took Pia a long time to replace the receiver. She double locked the door and placed the chain across, then turned the lights off in the hall and in the kitchen. Crawling to the window, she stood up at the side, looking down at the empty road. The clock ticked in the kitchen. When Pia saw him, she stopped breathing. The man was walking slowly along the street opposite. He went past the flat, then turned around at the corner and came back. He came to a halt right opposite the kitchen window. Pia’s mind raced. What was he doing there? Had he followed her home? She looked around and saw she’d forgotten the light in the living room. He could probably see her shadow through the thin cotton curtain. Pia pulled herself back and sat on the floor underneath the window and waited. The faint smell of the pea soup now made her feel sick. She wanted to cry but didn’t dare make a sound. What could she do? Mr Linnonmaa had said they’d not trouble her anymore. Should she phone him? Or the police? Perhaps Anni’s father could send the police to arrest the Russian. Could the Finnish police do anything with the KGB? Pia doubted it.

After what felt like an age, Pia crawled out of the kitchen and into her room, turning the light and the lamp off. She peered through the bottom of the Venetian blinds, parting them a fraction.

Kovtun was still there, watching the block of flats. He was wearing the long black coat. He touched the edge of his head as in a salute and walked away. It was as if he had been watching her, as if he knew exactly what Pia had been trying to do, first hiding behind the kitchen curtains and then cowering underneath the window. Pia sat down with her back to the wall, trying to control her breathing and stop the trembling of her hands. If only her mother would get home soon, she thought, she’d be with Iain. Iain! Would her mother be in danger going around with Iain? Or maybe he was the best person to protect her. Pia put her head in her hands and tried to think. She needed help. Remembering Heikki’s laughing eyes and warm hugs, Pia jumped off the floor and ran to the hall. She’d memorised his number, though she’d never called him before.

Iain saw Vladsislas first. He was standing looking directly at Maija’s flat. Maija was holding Iain’s arm as they were about to turn into Kasarminkatu, but just in time, Iain took hold of Maija’s shoulders, and turned her to face him. They were now standing right at the corner of the road.

‘You know how much you mean to me, don’t you Maija?’

Maija smiled back at him. Iain had to act quickly; he could not be seen by the Russian. He bent down and kissed Maija on the mouth, then gave her a long embrace. Over Maija’s shoulder, Iain saw Vladsislas Kovtun start walking south towards Tehtaankatu. He noticed the Russian’s silent salute towards Maija’s kitchen window. This was serious. No more evenings out with Maija, unless they were at her place. He let go of Maija and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘You are lovely, Maija,’ he said, in English, and hooked Maija’s arm to his and started towards the flat, a little faster than he would have liked.

‘Thank you,’ Maija said and leaned closer to Iain.

When they reached the heavy front door of Maija’s block, she turned around and said, ‘Would you like to come back for a little while? It’s a weekday, but…’

‘I’d love to,’ Iain said. Thank goodness he didn’t have to invite himself up. Old charm must still be working. The truth was he’d quite taken to Maija and Pia. He regretted playing awful tricks on them. The straightforwardness and simplicity of their life together appealed to Iain in the same way Virpi had. He thought of the first time he’d spent the night with Virpi. The sauna, the lake, the sex, all carried out in the same unassuming way. She’d stripped off in front of him, and asked Iain to do the same, then taking his hand had lead him to the dimly-lit sauna, and poured water onto the hot stones. The steam had made them both disappear for a moment, then, after the stinging on his body had gone, Iain had looked up at Virpi and seen that he’d fallen in love. Those long, pale legs and arms silhouetted against the darkness of the sauna, the blue eyes somehow looking even clearer and bluer. And her skin, how soft it had felt to his touch afterwards.

Finns were socially naïve and strange in many ways, but had a connection with nature that Iain envied. The way they coped with the bitter cold of a Helsinki winter and the intense heat of its summers, and everything else that nature could throw at them, was more than admirable. Iain had seen Maija ski on the frozen sea outside Suomenlinna Island and he had no doubt she swam in the same spot in the summer. It was as if the Finns had invented the sauna to reproduce the same abrupt change of seasons – hot steam room followed by an icy lake and back again. Was the forcefulness of nature imposed upon the Finns what made them so earnest? Iain warned himself to back off. Don’t fall in love again. One Finnish woman in one lifetime is enough.

The flat was quiet and dark. When Maija went to open the door, the chain was across it. ‘Pia!’ she shouted through the gap.

Pia looked pale and serious when she undid the chain. Iain had no doubt then that she’d seen Vladsislas Kovtun outside. He took Pia’s arm and said, ‘Are you OK,’ in English.

Pia ignored him and went to hug her mother.

Maija gave Iain a look he could not interpret. Was it anger? Why was the Russian watching Maija’s flat? What had Pia stumbled on? What was the ‘incident’ the Colonel had talked about at the Linnonmaas’ place?

Iain needed to talk to the Colonel, but at the same time he needed to know the two women were safe.

Pia was crying in her mother’s arms.

‘What is the matter?’ Maija said. She looked at Iain. ‘This is not about drugs is it? You aren’t involved in them after all? Mr Linnonmaa assured me that both Anni and you were such good girls, and I trusted him, but…’

‘No,’ Pia sobbed, ‘I’ve got to tell you mum…’

‘No, I’m sure Mr Linnonmaa is right. I was mistaken,’ Iain said, interrupting the girl.

‘Pia, tell me what the matter is, see if I can help,’ he looked at the girl intently. ‘Because I’m sure I could, if you need help in your English school work? Perhaps you’ve had a bad report?’ Iain continued to look at Pia, trying to stop her from telling her mother everything.

The Colonel had warned Iain over and over not to get Maija involved.

‘The fewer people know about the Russian, the better. Once we’re gone and the operation is complete, it will only become embarrassing for the Russians, and then you don’t know what the KGB boys will cook up to save face. Neither Pia, nor her mother, must know the full scope.’ The Colonel had removed his glasses and lifted his eyes from a file he’d been reading, ‘We must try not to compromise any locals, you know.’ As if Iain didn’t know that. The Colonel made it all seem so easy. But Iain had not been trained to be a spy.

The doorbell rang.