“Have you seen any of the parties involved since then?”
“No… except Daybreak’s headmaster at the time called me a few years ago. Someone had sent him a threatening letter. He thought it was me.”
Oksanen chuckled. “Was it?”
“Nah.”
“You don’t know any former students from Daybreak?”
“Nope.”
“Does the name the Brotherhood of the Sacred Vault say anything to you?”
“No. Sounds like rappers or something. Now you guys fill me in a little; tell me why you’re interested in such an old case?”
“The names of several former Daybreak students have come up in conjunction with a certain investigation. We suspect the motive for the crime might lead back to Daybreak, in the late ’70s.”
“Sounds interesting. Tell me all about it once you solve the case… We can get together again, this time over a few cold ones.”
“Offer noted,” Oksanen said.
Oksanen lived on the way, so I promised to drop him off. He seemed to be in a reflective mood. The mental state did Oksanen good.
“Could you ask your contact at the Helsingin Sanomat for a clipping from the archives?”
“How old is the case?”
“Three years, give or take.”
“No worries. That means it’s in the digital archives, so it won’t take more than a few seconds to get it. The old stories are stored in paper format in a different archive. They’re harder to get your hands on.”
I gave Oksanen the details of the story I was interested in, and he promised to deliver me an archive copy the next day. As he was getting out of the car outside his house, he suddenly froze. “I lost a lot of sleep thinking about all the bullshit I said, and I was sober, too.”
Oksanen’s wandering, regretful eyes placated me for good. “Let’s agree that’s ancient history.” I slapped him on the shoulder and he climbed out of the car. He stood there uncertainly for a second, then headed towards his gate.
23
I almost felt a malicious glee when Headmaster Hätönen called me two days later, humbled and fearful. His explanations meandered, but the gist of his call was that Vesa Särkijärvi had been abducted.
I posed my own question in reply: “What makes you think that?”
“He boarded a flight to Helsinki two days ago and still hasn’t accepted or answered any of my calls. He made a hotel reservation but never showed up. His wife is calling me in a panic, because he was supposed to have checked in with her that night.”
“He’s a grown man. Maybe he wandered off the straight and narrow… or bumped into an old friend and went to his place instead. A couple of drinks is all it takes to make people forget their promises.”
“No, it’s not. We were supposed to meet in Helsinki today and go through his speech.”
“I’m sure you’re aware that it’s not possible to report an adult missing on the basis of such a brief disappearance.”
“You suspected yourself that someone might be threatening him.”
“I never said that.”
“That’s the impression I got from your questions. He also had a very important meeting at the EU offices in Helsinki. He never showed up there, either. In the era of modern technology, a person of Särkijärvi’s stature can’t just disappear unless something has happened to him.”
I was starting to believe Hätönen was right, but it was better to let his panic grow before offering a helping hand. The more freaked out he was, the more he would talk.
“Is that a fact? I wonder who could possibly have been threatening him, and why?”
“A man in his station inevitably has enemies.”
“I don’t understand. He’s an EU bureaucrat. Who hates them, except for Finnish nationalists?”
“That Laurén you’re looking for hates him, for one.”
“Why?”
“He and Särkijärvi had some conflict back at Daybreak.”
“Are you talking about the instance where Särkijärvi molested him in your presence but you didn’t dare to act as a witness on his behalf?”
“Apparently you take everything Laurén says at face value.”
“I heard this from both Halme and Laurén’s ex-wife. According to them, everyone knew Särkijärvi was a pedophile.”
“So you’re going to ignore my request based on slander. I thought the police do everything in their power to protect the public.”
“Get back to me if Särkijärvi doesn’t show up in a couple of days.”
“I’m just trying to imagine how you’ll explain it to your superiors and the media if it turns out he’s been killed and you’ve given the criminal a two-day head start.”
“Based on what you’ve told me, it’s pretty hard to believe Särkijärvi has been abducted, let alone killed.”
“You could at least find out where Laurén is.”
“We’ve been trying to do that for the past week. You weren’t particularly helpful in that endeavor.”
“I apologize if that’s the impression I gave. Ask whatever you want.”
“We know what Särkijärvi has done. Does he have other enemies, aside from Laurén?”
“Halme promised to thrash Särkijärvi once when he was drunk, but Laurén’s psychological problems are of such a nature that he might pose a genuine threat.”
“A person like Särkijärvi might have more recent enemies. Well, I’ll talk to my superior and see what we can do.”
“Feel free to call anytime, day or night.”
“Let me know if Särkijärvi emerges from his hiding place.”
“Of course.”
I went to report Särkijärvi’s disappearance to Huovinen. I was headed back to my office when I got a call from the lobby informing me I had a visitor named Mandi Laurén. I turned right around and went downstairs.
Mandi rushed up and asked in a panic: “Do you know where my dad is?”
“No, unfortunately. I’m doing my best to find out, though.”
“He’s not responding, even to my emergency signal. He gave me a special password to use if I have to get in touch with him. He didn’t answer.”
“When was the last time you were in touch with your father?”
“Day before last. He said he might be hard to get hold of for a little while, but he would call me every day, or at least send a text message.”
“So last time we met, you lied when you told me you hadn’t been in touch with him?”
“Of course. He’s my dad.”
“Did you know he was staying in a cottage in Marjaniemi?”
“Yes.”
“His classmate from Daybreak was shot in the vicinity of the cottage. Did you know about that?”
“Kai Halme. I heard about it. He was one of Dad’s best friends. I liked him.”
“Even though he seduced your mom.”
Mandi grunted. “Dad always said he couldn’t help it; it was his nature.”
“If you want us to find your dad, there’s something I need to know.”
“What?”
“What was he planning on doing at the academy’s centennial?”
“He was going to expose the bad things the teachers and administration had done. He always said he wouldn’t be able to get over his past until he set the record straight with Daybreak. He was afraid he’d go crazy otherwise.”
“How was he planning on doing that?”
“I can’t tell you. If nothing’s happened to him, he’s still going to do it. It’s nothing criminal.”
“He’s collaborating with that reporter, Moisio, isn’t he?”
The look on Mandi’s face told me I was right.
“I’m going to tell you something I really shouldn’t. The man your dad is planning on taking vengeance on is a former teacher at the academy, Vesa Särkijärvi. He’s missing, too. He’s been gone for two days, like your dad. Do you know anything about that?”
“No. I know the name and what he did, that’s
all.”
“Could your dad have anything to do with the disappearance?”
“I know how he’s going to get back at him. Dad would never kidnap or kill anyone, not even that pig.”
“I believe you. Do you know what kind of car your dad is driving?”
“A silver Citroën wagon. It’s in Kai Halme’s name.”
I was caught off guard. Halme had really pulled the wool over our eyes. An edgier man than I expected had been hiding under the bank manager’s slick exterior.
“Do you have any thoughts about what might have happened to your father? Do you know something? Is that why you’re so worried?”
Mandi looked at her shoes for a moment.
“Dad said a week ago that he might be in danger. He’s never said anything like that before. I’m positive he’s not making it up.”
“Did he tell you what the danger was?”
“I asked him, but he said he didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, and that’s why he wouldn’t tell me.”
“He must have said something more than that.”
“All he said was that he had realized something and that if his suspicions were right, he might be in danger. But he promised to let me know one way or the other if his suspicions got stronger…” Mandi wiped the corner of her eye. “I’m positive something bad has happened to my dad.”
“I’ll do what I can to help, but your dad isn’t an easy man to find.”
“The one thing I do know is that Dad isn’t in Helsinki; he’s somewhere in the countryside.”
“How do you know that?”
“He said he’d be in touch at the latest the minute he gets back into town. I felt like he was with someone and was calling so the other person wouldn’t hear. He was lowering his voice that way.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else you can do to help us?” I asked as I walked her out. “We need all the help we can get.”
She momentarily withdrew into her shell, then reached into her purse and handed me a CD.
“Ola and I made this. It’s from an old cassette tape; we filtered out the background noise and copied it onto CD. If Dad’s OK, I’ve made a huge mistake, but I’ll make an even bigger one if I don’t give this to you and something happens to him.”
I accepted the CD and thanked her.
Mandi wiped her eyes. “Dad said that when his soul is at peace, he’ll buy a house in the countryside and start growing carrots and onions and take me with him. A dad like that can’t be bad… can he?”
“Absolutely not,” I said.
I watched Mandi hurry off. For a second, it felt like I’d missed out on something.
I returned to my office, closed the door behind me, inserted the CD into a laptop, and put on my headphones. I grabbed the mouse and clicked Play. The first thing I heard was the sound of a metal door closing. Next, I heard a distinct hum in the background, as if some big machine had started up. Then I heard a voice. From what I could make out, I decided the person talking was a young man standing a few yards from the tape recorder.
“What are you hiding in the corner for? You don’t have to be afraid. We’re buddies, aren’t we? Aren’t we?”
The reply, in a boy’s voice, was listless: “I guess. But I still have to go to bed. It’s already lights out and everyone else is in bed.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m the monitor and decide who gets to do what and when. You’re with me. Plus, you’re my friend, aren’t you, Reijo?” The man’s voice was cajoling and demanding at the same time. “Come here, right next to me. Now.”
A clunk and hesitant footsteps.
“Stand right there and look me in the eyes, not at the floor.”
A tinny sound, as if someone had struck a big metal kettle with a stick.
“I said, there. Now.”
A moment’s silence. Then the boy’s teary voice. “I’m really tired and my stomach hurts… I wanna go to bed—”
“Didn’t I give you a big chocolate bar and other cool stuff today? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be, friends do nice things for their friends, things that feel good? You get chocolate and I get something else. What’s wrong with that?”
No answer. The sound of rustling clothes and a metallic clang.
“The door’s locked. There’s no point trying to go anywhere. We’re the only ones here and no one’s going to hear you, no matter how loud you shout. Let’s just be nice to each other and then you can go to bed.”
“I don’t want to, why do I have to—”
“You have to because I say so.”
“What if I tell my dad—”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do if you even hint at anything… I’ll get Anteroinen and we’ll come get you one night, tie you up, and throw you in this boiler. There won’t be anything left of you but some burnt bits of bone. Now stop bawling and pull down your pants…”
I pressed Stop and tried to remember who had told me about the tape recording. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, and then I remembered.
24
Oksanen was like a new man. He was bursting with enthusiasm when he brought in the article I’d requested, which he’d picked up early that morning from the Helsingin Sanomat offices on his way in.
“Is it the right one?” he asked, eyeing the story. It was a full-page article in Ilta-Sanomat about crime on the Costa del Sol. The story included interviews with the NBI’s narcotics contacts in Malaga and a few Finns who had lived in Fuengirola for a long time. Burglaries and robberies had exploded, primarily committed by drug users and Yugoslavian, Bulgarian, Romanian, and Russian criminals. Many Finns who had moved to Spain to spend their retirement days in the sun had packed up their things and gone back to Finland.
“Yup. Thanks. Don’t go anywhere for an hour. I’ll ask Huovinen if he can make it to a last-minute meeting.”
“I’ll be here like a bump on a log,” Oksanen promised.
I took a stack of paper from the printer and started formulating my thoughts, writing down five names in a vertical timeline. At the top of the list came Kivalo, who died first, then Sandberg, who died second; third was our dearly departed Anteroinen, then Heikki Moisio, and then at the bottom of the list the most recent victim, Halme. Underneath them, I wrote three more names: Silén, Särkijärvi, Laurén. After each of them I wrote a question mark.
I flipped through my notes until I found Detective Rimpelä’s number and called.
“You guys solve Anteroinen’s murder?” he asked in a malicious tone.
“Not yet, but as it just so happens that’s who I’m calling about. You told me he was facing charges in some major theft ring. Do you know who his attorney was?”
“Sure. I’ve never met such a huge asshole in my life. Blamed the police for his client’s death. Claimed the investigators had intentionally leaked information about Anteroinen’s being an informant and that’s why he was killed. Threatened to file a complaint with the ombudsman. I told him he could complain to Mother Amma for all I cared.”
“The name?”
“Moisio, Heikki Moisio.”
Now I had all the pieces of the puzzle in my hands, it was time to start putting them together. I had been fingering some of the pieces throughout the entire investigation without coming up with the right places for them. Now that I’d found the missing ones, the rest fell into position. The image grew sharper and sharper, and the end was a cinch.
I called Huovinen then and there. “I think the case is starting to come together. When can you meet?”
“How about right now?”
25
The cars parked outside Daybreak indicated that the academy counted some extremely successful men and women among its former students. I saw a slew of black Mercedes, big, gleaming silver Audis, Volvos emanating middle-class security. Japanese vehicles were in the minority.
Guests dressed to the nines were crowded outside the main door, along with a few students in more mundane gear having a smoke. People were shaking
hands as they searched through the decades for that old classmate they could barely recognize. The most successful didn’t take long to find each other; the less successful hung back uncertainly.
I saw Headmaster Hätönen speaking with a man in a suit, by all appearances a high-level civil servant. Then a Ministry of Education vehicle pulled up, and Hätönen rushed over to greet this even more prestigious guest, a broad smile on his face. He took the minister’s hand in both of his and said something clearly intended to amuse, because the minister laughed stiffly.
“Headmaster Hätönen,” I said to Simolin.
Moisio was standing off to the side, accompanied by his photographer. He saw me, made some remark to the photographer, and started heading over. The photographer followed a moment later, camera at the ready.
I continued coaching Simolin: “Moisio from Ilta-Sanomat.”
“I recognized him.”
“What are the police hoping to find here?” the journalist said, attempting a light-hearted smile.
“What about a crime reporter? Crimes don’t happen in places like this.”
“Big fish swim in still waters…”
“You know exactly why we’re here. We’d like to talk to Särkijärvi, too, but apparently he’s canceled.”
The photographer was standing behind Moisio, ready for action, and heard what I said. “He’s not coming?”
“I guess not.”
“Where the fuck are we going to get pictures for the story, then?”
“Get some shots of the buildings and the visitors. That’ll be enough. We’ll drop in an official headshot of Särkijärvi,” the reporter said.
The minister found someone else to talk to, and Hätönen approached us with clipped steps. He was wearing a dark suit and a steel-blue tie, and his face was flushed with big-day excitement.
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