Each of us has sworn a sacred vow that we will not give up before evil has been avenged and excised from this world. We are angels of vengeance, servants of truth, who carry out the will of the Lord.
We have sealed this Holy Vow with our own blood.
The description of the ritual was written on a page cut out from a diary. At the bottom was a date written in ballpoint pen: March 26, 1979.
I had received mail from Laurén again. He clearly wanted to crack open the door to his world, but only a little at a time. The most troubling thing was that even though the passage was old, it contained a violent threat. It felt odd to think that high-school boys would have seriously considered killing someone. The more likely scenario was that it was a thrilling game, like spiritism at confirmation camp.
The envelope had contained that sole diary page, nothing more. No signature, and no hint as to the message’s purpose or significance.
I remembered Laurén had used the title Adorner of the Sacred Vault in reference to himself. So he was the convener responsible for practical arrangements. Of the three leaders of the Vault, he probably held the lowest rank. Above him were the Guardian of the Great Seal and above all was the Great Guardian of Souls. If the Sacred Vault was hierarchical, did Laurén do anything without the permission of the Great Guardian of Souls? Might the Great Guardian be the accomplice? Somehow it felt as if Laurén, as unhinged as he was, could not have been solely responsible for three unsolved murders. He was by no means stupid, but getting away with one murder in Finland was hard enough, let alone three.
On the other hand, it was hard to imagine that two other leaders of the Sacred Vault were, now, at the age of forty, so far gone that they’d still be playing at a secret society. Cowboys and Indians and cops and robbers were generally left behind by early adolescence.
Well, maybe not for everyone. Simolin still played Indians. At gatherings attended by others with similar interests, he wore a fringed buckskin suit, beaded moccasins, and a feathered headdress, and used an Indian name he refused to reveal to his colleagues, despite numerous inquiries.
Sometimes serendipity toys with you in a way verging on the miraculous. There was a knock at the door. I waited for whoever it was to enter without being asked. When there was no sign of my visitor, I said: “Come in.”
I saw Simolin’s apologetic face peering in. “I just dropped by and—”
“I thought you were supposed to be in Canada?”
“Change of plans. My trip got cut short by a week… I hear you have an unusual case on your hands… Arja told me. I can give you a hand if—”
“You still have vacation time left.”
“I can postpone it till winter. That actually works better.”
“Then there couldn’t be a better time. Arja and I have been tackling this alone.”
Simolin was one of those meek of the earth you missed most when they weren’t around. When they were present, they worked efficiently and without making a big spectacle of themselves.
“Then I’ll go ahead and start right away.”
I gave Simolin a brief account of everything I knew. I finished by showing him the diary page I had just received. He was brimming with enthusiasm. I boosted his motivation by saying: “Based on what Laurén has told us, we can assume there’s more revenge to come. In the letter he talks about five evils, but there have only been three bodies, at least that we’re aware of, assuming Headmaster Kivalo is part of the count. We need to figure out who might be next on the list. We’ll never hear the end of it if someone else is killed and it turns out we’ve been suspecting Laurén but weren’t able to prevent another murder.”
“No doubt. Why don’t I have a word with Silén’s wife? I’ll try to find some connection to the other cases. There has to be something. Why else would Laurén be interested in him? On top of everything else, Silén is a corporate lawyer.”
I approved his suggestion with a nod.
“Arja told me that Jari is on sick leave.”
“His back is acting up.”
Simolin was a naif, and it never occurred to him that anything else might be involved. He accepted my reply and dropped the matter then and there.
“Laurén’s ex-wife suspected that he might have access to an RV. Can you also look into whether you can find anything on that?”
Simolin made himself a note. Now it read RV in his notebook, too.
“You could also try and find Laurén’s friends from boarding school. They must know something about the Sacred Vault and its members. There’s only one original employee left at Daybreak, and she’s about to retire. It won’t hurt to have you call her again and hurry her to send the student rosters. You can also ask her about employees who have retired or left the academy.”
Simolin conscientiously wrote down my suggestions like the maître d’ at a fine-dining establishment making a note of a customer’s wishes. When he realized that was all, he exited, barely able to contain his eagerness.
I ordered myself a pepperoni pizza from the nearest pizzeria. I got halfway through it before my lunch was interrupted by a phone call. I immediately recognized the voice.
“Did you get my letter?”
“I did, thanks. I just don’t understand what it is you’re trying to say—”
“I want to initiate you into the mysteries of the Sacred Vault. No other outsiders know anything about them.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but why me exactly?”
“I thought I already told you. You’ve been chosen, just as we have. You’re the Flame of God that will burn evil to ashes.”
“I’m not a flame, I’m a cop.”
When Laurén didn’t respond, I was afraid I’d made a mistake. Maybe it would be better to play along instead of being a smart aleck. You could never tell with crazy people, or should I say the psychologically infirm.
“Everything has a purpose, even the little things. You might not understand it yet, but you’re part of a grand plan. I’m part of it too, along with the other… brothers of the Vault.”
I tried my luck: “How many were there of you again…?”
“I’m only speaking on my own behalf.”
“Have you committed any other murders, aside from Anteroinen, Sandberg, and Kivalo?”
Kivalo was a long shot, but Laurén didn’t flinch. “They weren’t murders; they were justice. They died for their misdeeds; they sentenced themselves to death.”
“What evil did Kivalo commit?”
“Every one of them sinned and earned death—”
“We’ve gathered all the information we can get our hands on, but to me these killings are still murders. Wouldn’t it be easier if you told us the reason now? Why do you think they’re justice?”
“Everything will unfold in a prescribed order, and now is not the time. You’ll come to learn that, too. We are treading the same path, me ahead, you behind.”
“No matter what the reason is, in Finland if you kill another human being you’ll be called to account. Have you considered that?”
Now Laurén sounded almost surprised. “Apparently you’ve accepted the simplest interpretation for what has happened. The fact that I know about the incidents doesn’t mean that I killed them.”
“I’m pretty sure anybody would have arrived at the same conclusion. In any case, you believe Anteroinen, Sandberg, and Kivalo are guilty of something, as a result of which they deserve death. Isn’t that true?”
Laurén’s voice was as shrill as a hacksaw running across a chain. “They got off easy. I said now is not the time to discuss it.”
“What about Silén, what evil did Henry Silén do to you?”
“Who?”
“Attorney at law Henry Silén.”
“What makes you think I’ve done anything to him?”
“He’s been missing for two months, since about the time you asked your college buddy Sotamaa about him.”
“Oh, him,” Laurén said insouciantly. “That was something else. Once
you find out what kind of man he is, you won’t be surprised he disappeared, but I’m pretty sure he did it voluntarily.”
“So what kind of man is he, and what has he done?”
“As an officer of the law you should know. I’ve heard that there are quite a few people wondering where their money went, but I didn’t call you to discuss such worldly trivialities.”
“I see. What did you call to discuss, then? Shall we talk about your girlfriend Roosa Nevala? Maybe in this context it’s inaccurate to use the word ‘sense,’ but I’ll use it anyway. What sense did it make to steal her body?”
“She suggested it herself. She wanted to die, and it was the only way she could participate. She said it would open everyone’s eyes and get them to understand how serious we are. She also wanted me to burn her body.”
“Sometimes you speak in the singular, other times in the plural. So there’s more than one of you?”
Laurén didn’t take the bait.
“Your daughter Mandi came by today to see us. We had a long chat. She’s worried about you and asked us to make sure you don’t come to harm. She said she wouldn’t be able to stand it if you ended up in prison.”
After a moment’s silence, Laurén said: “Mandi is a wonderful girl. Luckily her mother hasn’t been able to completely poison her against me. The only reason I called this time is to propose an exchange. I’ll tell you more about Anteroinen if you acquire a certain address for me.”
I nearly retorted that I wasn’t an address service or a phone book, but I managed to restrain myself. Instead, I played my latest card. “I already know everything I need to know about Anteroinen. He was a pedophile who molested boys at Daybreak.”
There was a long silence at the other end of the line. “Anteroinen was a little rat who did what the big rats told him to.”
I came back to Laurén’s request: “Depends on whose address it is you want and why.”
“The name is Vesa Särkijärvi. I need his address in Finland. He lives in Brussels and used to be my teacher. I’d like to write him.”
“I can’t promise, but I can try. Tell me a little more about the Sacred Vault. So you were the convener.”
Laurén improved his title: “The Adorner of the Sacred Vault.”
“Who was the Great Guardian of Souls?”
“I’ll tell you about the Vault in general terms, but I can’t give you any names other than my own. I took a blood oath.”
“Why not? You guys were practically children then, and now you’re adults. The oath doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
“Just the opposite. It means everything. It’s as valid today as it was thirty years ago. There’s one critical thing you still haven’t grasped: for us, the Brotherhood of the Sacred Vault still exists.”
14
When it comes down to it, “bank manager” is a pretty hazy concept, especially for the generation that was introduced to the profession through the Happy Families card deck. I had to admit I wasn’t sure if loans were granted by a bank manager these days or a computer algorithm that assessed the applicant’s debt load.
I suppose Halme was, to be precise, head of the bank’s corporate banking division, which made it easy to reach him.
He didn’t sound surprised that I’d contacted him. We agreed to meet at his workplace. People of his status generally wanted to meet elsewhere.
The conference room looked like exactly that: a long table, a dozen or so chairs, a flip chart, and a laptop through which one could relay the latest growth projections in tidied-up Excel format onto a flat-screen TV. In honor of our visit – Simolin and myself were in attendance – there were coffees, sweet rolls, and mineral water.
“Help yourselves,” Halme said, indicating the basket of sweet rolls as he poured us coffee from the thermos.
Halme was a big man with rugged features and dark hair that was starting to gray. I couldn’t help thinking that he was the sort of boss who would have a penchant for affairs with luscious secretaries while his adoring wife waited at home. He was shirt-model handsome in the same way as Huovinen. I noticed the insignia for the Finnish Club, Finland’s answer to British gentlemen’s clubs, on the lapel of his navy-blue blazer. That fit the picture, too.
“You’re not the first police officers to pay us a visit,” he said, with a glance at a row of pennants on the windowsill. The insignia of both the Finnish Security Intelligence Service and the lion-head pennant of the Helsinki Police Association stood there. The pennants were generally given as a token of appreciation for generous and generously lubricated hosting.
“You said you wanted to ask about my old schoolmate, Reka Laurén. Did you hear about me from his wife? I guess it doesn’t matter. At first I thought this was about drugs – Reka used to mess around with them – but then I punched your name into a search engine and it turns out that you work in homicide… I have to say, I’m curious.”
“We’re looking for him, so any and all information is useful.”
“Likewise. I’m looking for him, too; I suppose his wife – or ex-wife – told you.”
“Why?”
“Why does anyone look for an old friend… I got divorced, moved here from Turku a while back, and thought it would be nice to see him. I tried to call his old number but couldn’t get through. That’s as far as my search got, not that I’ve tried very hard since then. So I don’t think I’ll be much help.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Simolin asked.
“Maybe about a year ago. We met while I was here in Helsinki on business. It was good seeing him. I guess he was in a good place at the time; I know there have been bad ones, too. I suppose you might already be aware of the problems…”
Halme’s inquisitive glance lobbed the ball into our court. I didn’t return it.
“Go on.”
“About the problems?”
“Sure.”
“It would help if I knew what you were looking for… what is Reka suspected of?”
“We’d like to speak with him personally about some things. But you guys used to talk on the phone now and again?”
“A few times after we met… that’s why I’m a little worried…”
We didn’t need to ask; Halme knew we were expecting him to continue.
“Maybe it will help you understand if I shared a little about our history. We attended the Daybreak Academy together in high school. It’s a Christian prep school with roots in the States. Our parents were religious, like those of most of the other students. That was the main reason families wanted to send their kids there… am I going back too far?”
I encouraged him to continue.
“Reka’s parents, or at least his dad, were even stricter than mine. He didn’t get any support from his family when he ran into problems. Just the opposite; it drove them further apart. Reka and I were in the same class and got along well. Both of us were musical. I played violin and he played piano and guitar. We performed at school parties together a few times—”
The phone on the desk rang and Halme answered. “Tell them to wait… or tell Pekka to go ahead and start things up and go first. I’m going to be here a while yet… staff training, nothing more critical than that… So Reka and I got along pretty well. The problems began during our second year. At that point, someone I’ve actively been trying to forget joined the staff as a youth counselor. Remembering him is repellent—”
“What’s his name?” Simolin asked.
“Vesa Särkijärvi. He’d been trained at the original Daybreak in the States; I guess that’s why he had much higher status at the academy than his position warranted. On top of that, he knew how to manipulate people, pinpoint their weaknesses, pull their strings. He’d also earned a degree in music pedagogy in the States. That meant we spent a lot of time with him.”
I remembered Laurén having asked for this Särkijärvi’s address.
Halme shot us another glance and said: “I’ll try to get to the point. It wasn’t long before we started
hearing all sorts of things about Särkijärvi. The older boys joked that you didn’t want to end up practicing with Särkijärvi after school.”
I saw Simolin’s forehead furrow in concentration.
“Pretty soon we discovered all the stories were true. Särkijärvi’s interest in little boys turned out to be not so healthy.”
“So you’re saying he was a pedophile?” Simolin asked.
“That’s putting it mildly. When I’ve thought back on his behavior, I’ve realized he knew all the tricks of the trade. He was a good buddy, took you under his wing, bought you candy, ice cream, helped you with your homework, talked to you, listened to your worries. That was the feeling-out phase, when he would decide whether the kid was susceptible. If you could be coaxed with treats so much the better, but if not, his MO changed. He’d come up with made-up accusations, say, threaten to tell your parents you’d been drinking, masturbating, shoplifting from the canteen, or anything else that was anathema to a religious family and would bring shame down on the boy himself. At some point Särkijärvi set his sights on Reka. He asked Reka to stay late to practice this one piece of music that wasn’t going very well. The academy was in a different building than the dorms, so it was generally empty at night, especially on weekends, when a lot of the kids went home. Think about it. Alone in an empty building with a pedophile. I have to say, it sends shivers up my spine to this day when I think about him.”
Thinking about it sent shivers up my spine, too.
“Was he the only pedophile at Daybreak?”
Halme shook his head. “That’s what made it so much worse. The custodian was this creepy guy named Anteroinen. He closed the doors, turned off the lights, made sure the heating system was working. Daybreak had a boiler room that burned both wood and oil. It was in the basement. At first I heard the older boys talking about a boiler-room gig. I didn’t know what it meant, but it became clear in time. When Särkijärvi felt he’d gotten far along enough with a boy, sunk his claws into him, he’d take him down to the boiler room under some pretense. Anteroinen would unlock the door and act as lookout. For his troubles, he got to peek in through the crack in the door and watch. Evidently he got a bigger kick out of that than doing anything himself. The guy had this rat-like quality to him, even though he was big and strong as a gorilla.”
Holy Ceremony Page 9