Harri Nykanen - Behind God's Back

I followed his instructions and at the same time wondered what I should do. I didn’t have a landline and couldn’t call anyone; besides, Nurmio would have heard me. I walked down the stairs and out of the door, headed left and, at the next intersection, turned onto Fredrikinkatu. The wind was blowing from behind me, from the sea, and I took shelter between two buildings. The rain had eased off a little.

“Where are you?” Nurmio asked.

“Freda.”

“Good. Tell me when you’re at the corner of Iso Roobertinkatu.”

That didn’t take longer than a minute. “Now.”

“Continue towards Bulevardi.”

I followed his directions.

“Turn onto Uudenmaankatu,” Nurmio said, and a moment later added: “And take the next left onto Annankatu.”

I had almost reached Bulevardi when Nurmio said: “Stop.”

I stopped and looked around.

“Turn back.”

I turned and walked back towards Iso Roobertinkatu.

“Stop. There’s a silver Opel station wagon in front of you. Get in on the driver’s side.”

I saw the Opel. It was parked in front of an antique shop. I could see someone sitting in the passenger seat.

I looked into the car. I had no problem recognizing Nurmio. He was wearing a dark sports coat and a burgundy tie. He pointed at the driver’s seat. I paused for a moment, then made my decision. I opened the door and sat down at the wheel.

“Pleasure to meet you, despite the fact that I’m not a big fan of the police. Start up the car, and we’ll go for a little drive.”

I started up and headed towards Bulevardi. I slowed down as we approached the intersection, and Nurmio immediately told me which way to go. “Take a left… If you know who I am, why haven’t you told the press? No decent picture, not even a name, even though you have both.”

I didn’t answer.

“It’s all the same. I didn’t ask you here to answer my questions, but to listen.”

“Suits me.”

“I didn’t kill Jacobson, so you’re looking for the wrong guy.”

“Who did, then?”

Nurmio grunted. “Don’t underestimate me. I noticed that you guys have already paid a visit to my lodgings. You found the answer there, didn’t you?”

“Igor Semeyev?”

“He’s a killer for the Russian mafia. You ran tests on his gun, didn’t you? It was probably used to shoot Jacobson and Oxbaum.”

Nurmio was right. The gun had been fast-tracked through the tests, and it had been confirmed that it had been used to shoot both Jacobson and Oxbaum.

“And you shot Semeyev?”

“I had to. The shithead tried to shoot me, and he almost didn’t miss. We’ve known each other for years, but it just goes to show you can’t trust anyone.”

“Why did he try to kill you?”

“Someone had given him orders. Semeyev doesn’t kill for fun.”

“Who is the someone behind the orders?”

“Stop for a second.”

I found a parking place off of Hietalahdentori Square.

“I’m not sure, but I can offer you a few good candidates. I’ve been making some calls and poking around since I killed Semeyev. I’m starting to get to the heart of what’s going on. I think you’ll be interested in hearing what I have to say.”

I admitted I was. “Can I take notes?”

“Go for it. You’ve probably looked into my background. What do you know about it?”

“You were suspected of narcotics violations and —”

“I mean the period when I was in the Middle East,” Nurmio said.

“You’re suspected of having done favours for the Mossad, because you received Israeli citizenship so quickly.”

Nurmio laughed.

“You could say that again. I did them a lot of favours: big favours. I saved the Mossad a lot of headaches.”

“And now you’re working for a company owned by Benjamin Hararin. And Hararin in turn works for Amos Jakov.”

“Also true. Good. Nice to see someone do their homework properly. Jakov and I met when he was still in the Mossad. I was his subordinate and carried out his orders. He’s an intelligent man; I’m not at all surprised he made a fortune in business. He had old criminal contacts in Russia, and he used all the knowledge a high-level Mossad leader has to his advantage, and that’s saying a lot. He’s so rich and powerful these days that no one sneezes in Israel without him knowing it. Ten years ago, I was conducting some business of my own in Syria and Lebanon and doing a few favours for Jakov on the side. When I got back to Israel, he hired me to work for his company, in security.”

“Is he the one who sent you to Finland?”

“In a way.”

“If you didn’t kill Jacobson, what were your orders?”

“To remind him, Oxbaum and a few other people that they owed certain parties a debt of gratitude. They were starting to forget. I was also supposed to ensure that they behaved themselves and didn’t cause any trouble.”

“What trouble could they have caused? Are you talking about the Baltic Invest loans?”

“So you know about them, too. You’ve been busy. Oxbaum was awarded the Finnish loan business because he knew Hararin’s business partner. He arranged a loan for Jacobson and saved his son from personal bankruptcy and forfeiture of assets.”

“Roni?”

“Beautiful women and expensive tastes can be a dangerous combination.”

“Did the father know about it?”

“He didn’t hear about it until a few weeks ago.”

Nurmio eyed me. “I think it’s time we started talking about what we could give each other. I can give you information, but what would I get in return?”

“The police don’t bargain…”

“Too bad for you.”

“…but I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me.”

“That’s starting to sound better already. I didn’t kill Jacobson, although I know it looks like I did. And that’s because that was the intent. Someone wants to frame me as the culprit. As soon as I realized that, my eyes were opened. I was led like a lamb to the slaughter, but not any more. The first thing I want is for you to take my story into consideration, and not believe everything they’re trying to get you to believe. The people behind this know what they’re doing.”

“That’s an easy promise to make.”

“Maybe, but I have no intention of coming down to headquarters and telling you this on tape. I had my fill of prison in my past life.”

“I can’t promise that you won’t be arrested. You admitted to shooting Semeyev. Even if it was in self-defence, something like that can’t be overlooked.”

“What if I can prove that Semeyev tried to kill me? OK, he’s a killer and he had a gun, but I’m no Boy Scout either. That means jail time, at least with my background, even though I’m actually a pretty nice guy.”

Nurmio glanced at me. A smile flickered across his face, but vanished just as quickly.

“If you can prove the threat, it will be interpreted as justifiable self-defence.”

Nurmio didn’t appear to be listening. “I have a nice home in a place where oranges grow. The climate in Finland is horrible and the food disagrees with me. I find all of that depressing. I’ll help you however I can, and then I’ll clear out of here and spend the rest of my days keeping my nose clean and browsing the Catechism. How does that sound?”

“I can’t promise —”

“That’s what I thought. You Finnish cops are such choirboys. In Israel, we know how to cut deals. The Jews are a trading people. You must be the exception who makes the rule.”

“It would help you if we knew who Semeyev was working for and we were able to get proof that he killed Jacobson. The neighbours saw you at the scene of the crime.”

“I know. I was wondering why they wanted to know so damn precisely what time I would be going to see Jacobson. Because I was being framed as the murderer.”