James Thompson: Helsinki Blood

We start packing up to go, and he sighs. “Shooting left-handed just feels so fucking unnatural.”

I start to make a joke about jerking off with his left hand, but don’t.

He shakes his head, despondent and dejected. I know how he feels, it’s hard to be a crip. I’ve just been one for much longer than he has and am used to it. I don’t offer solace. Everything feels unnatural. There’s nothing to say.

On the ride back, I ask him if he thinks he can pick a lock and do a B amp;E with me.

“What for?”

“The Russian trade delegation rental office. The girls they use as prostitutes live and work in apartments run by them. It’s possible they keep all the girls’ passports there, too. Best-case scenario: We find the passports, or maybe their identities are on file, either on paper or in an office computer. We find the names of who is in charge of what, just unravel everything and shut down their operation.”

“I don’t know if I can do it with my lock pick set, but with an electronic pick gun, yeah, we can get in.”

I’ve always wondered how Milo manages to hack anything and everything. “And their computers?”

“Computers are odd little beasts. First, most people don’t bother to password-protect their computers. When they do, they usually use a predictable password, so it pays to learn a little about the owner. Their birthdays. The names of their kids and pets. If the passwords are random they’re hard to remember, and people often write them down and stick them under their mouse pads or somewhere in the area of the computer. Some computers have default passwords. Some have slots almost never used, for multimedia cards, memory cards, picture cards. I insert one with a virus and it goes unseen. People don’t notice when you look over their shoulders as they open their computers. And if all those simple tricks don’t work, there are more time-consuming ways to get it. Mostly, though, it’s just through people’s stupidity.”

“My idea is that the day before you carry out the assassinations, we take the info we’ve gathered there, send it to the police and all the newspapers, and while you’re doing your thing, half the force is busy making raids and arrests.”

He nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Let’s do that tomorrow instead of coming out here.”

My phone rings. It’s Ai. “You asked for regular reports,” he says. “We’ve done thorough investigative work, and I have a comprehensive report for you.”

“Do you have dependable encrypted electronic gear?”

“No.”

“I’d like to come to your place at five thirty tomorrow morning. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes. That way, I won’t be late for school.” He rings off.

Now I bring up an uncomfortable but unavoidable subject. “I don’t know about killing Jan Pitkanen.”

Milo shuts off the engine. “You fucking hypocritical son of a bitch.” I’m sitting down. He takes a swing at me-with his bad hand and at my shot jaw-but I move my head and his fist goes by me. He pulls it together and doesn’t try again.

“I said something to you once about Sweetness killing a man. You called me a weak sob sister and told me to quit my whining. Pitkanen tried to kill your wife and child, and murdered my cousin-who never hurt a fly-and you’re having second thoughts. You’re supposed to be in charge here, but I’ve had to plan everything, do everything, and Sweetness and I are taking most of the risk. You’re telling me you can’t even do one simple fucking thing?”

He’s right, I’m a hypocrite. “Let’s just say I’m conflicted about it. I think when the people supporting him are dead, he’ll fade into the woodwork and leave us be. I’m thinking about buying him off.”

“This is about Kate, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it mostly is.”

“Well, I saved her fucking life, not you. You think I don’t care about her? As long as that prick lives, she’s in danger. Let me put it this way: He’s dead. If you don’t kill him and I have to, we’re through. I’ll never speak to you again.”

“If I do and Kate finds out, my marriage is over.”

“I swear to you, after the fact, we’ll never talk about it again, even amongst ourselves. Kate will never know. You seem to keep forgetting that these people want to kill us and your family. Wouldn’t you rather lose Kate than see her and Anu murdered? Which course of action demonstrates your love for them more?”

He’s right. “I just want out. I don’t want any more blood, any more deaths.”

He lights one cigarette off the other. “You decided to play this game. You can’t just quit when you want to. Grow up.”

“And we play for blood.”

“That’s right. We play for blood.”

Milo will do it if I don’t, so Pitkanen’s dead either way. And Milo saved Kate. And I owe him a debt for that act of true friendship so large that I can never repay it. “You win. I’ll do it. But that means I have to know when and where. You should tell me everything about your plan.”

“I thought you don’t want to know the whole plan so you keep your hands clean, keep the guilt off your conscience, or whatever ‘weak sob sister’ shit is holding you back.”

“I already have a guilty conscience and blood on my hands. Killing Pitkanen doesn’t make much difference in that regard. Sweetness will do whatever you tell him. I think it would be good for you to tell me the plan, so I can play devil’s advocate and look for holes in it. If you make even the smallest mistake, you’ll be caught.”

We sit out on deck in the morning sun. It looks to be another perfect summer day. He begins. “We abduct Roope Malinen and drive him to his summer cottage in his own car. .”

I stop him. “How will you know the right time? He has to be alone. He might have his family with him or friends visiting. It’s vacation season. Even your first move has unpredictable variables in it.”

He lights a smoke. I could chain-smoke a pack right now and follow suit.

“Any ideas?” he asks.

I think for a couple minutes. “Yeah. He loves social media. Maybe he’ll give you his itinerary. Follow his blog, Facebook and Twitter posts. See what comes of it.”

Milo grins. He hasn’t done that much lately. “Good idea. Of course, I already have his and his wife’s vehicles GPSed.”

“When you abduct him,” I say, “you can’t use restraints that mark him. If his wrists are chafed, it’s a dead giveaway that he was set up.”

“Good point.”

I get a beer from the cooler. I can’t remember the last time I had a morning beer. “Continue.”

“I go to his cottage as well, to trade boats. He has a Baha Cruisers Fisherman. It’s newer, looks different from mine and is bigger and better, plus, you never know who’s taking pictures or shooting videos in passing boats. Somebody’s waving and saying ‘Hi Mom,’ and then through bad luck, they capture the serial number on the side of the boat I’m piloting, which obviously isn’t his. So I go down the coast to Saukko’s in Malinen’s boat and set up from half a kilometer or a little more, like I’m fishing. He comes out to smack golf balls and I blow him away. Even if I miss the first time, sea wind will probably muffle the noise enough that he won’t recognize the sound. I can get him.”

I finish the beer, crush the can in my hand. “Good so far.”

“Then it’s just a hop, skip and a jump to the Vuosaari Golf Club. I lined the bottom of Jyri Ivalo’s golf bag with Semtex and embedded a cell phone in a way he’ll never notice unless he empties the bag completely, and even then, he would have to look close. When I call the phone, it completes the electrical circuit and sets off the plastique. I put an expensive, long-life battery in the phone to make sure it stays charged. The ninth hole is in line of sight, so I can look for innocent bystanders and avoid accidental deaths. The club’s docks are just below it. If I have to wait, I can moor there with twenty or thirty other boats and go unnoticed, or if I time it well enough, I can just detonate it as I cruise by and kill Jyri and the minister without even slowing down. They’ll be reduced to molecules near the putting green.”