Snow Woman

by Leena Lehtolainen

  Was Malmberg smart enough to use Palo’s knowledge of hostage procedures to predict what was coming his way? Palo had been at Hirsala too. He knew the massive operation this would touch off. And the situation was even worse here than at Hirsala. There was no way Malmberg was as good a shot as the perp in that case, but he had a hostage.

  A runner from the county commissioner interrupted my musings. I was being summoned. The commissioner’s car was warm, and I couldn’t turn down the coffee he offered.

  “This time Malmberg answered,” Commissioner Jäämaa reported. “He probably saw where the situation’s heading. He demanded a speaker phone. Obviously he won’t let Sergeant Palo talk with us unless he can hear what we’re saying. We’re going to move now.” Jäämaa sipped his coffee while I warmed my stiff hands on my own cup and listened to my stomach growl. “So, Sergeant Kallio, you’re the other officer who worked the Malmberg case. He was convicted based on the investigation you and Sergeant Palo conducted.”

  “Yes, sir. The evidence was ironclad, so the case was pretty straightforward.”

  “But he still threatened to kill you both?” the commissioner asked.

  “Yes. To be honest, sir, I would have assumed he would start with me.” Almost unconsciously I was adopting Jäämaa’s formal way of speaking. It made it easier, as though we were talking about someone else, not me and Palo.

  “Why would he have started with you?”

  “His main convictions were for robbery and rape, sir. Even during the robberies he always assaulted a woman, just for the fun of it I guess. And when we interrogated him, my presence clearly irritated him.”

  I remembered again Malmberg’s light-blue eyes and the ice in them, and I remembered Pentti Lindström’s body mangled by a saw and the terror in Palo’s voice when he heard the moose in the forest.

  “Sergeant Palo actually took a backseat in the interrogation. It was easier for me to harass Malmberg and get him to slip up. He had a habit of bragging about what he’d done, which made our job much easier.”

  “Can you offer any insight into what Malmberg is trying to achieve here? The situation doesn’t seem terribly promising from his perspective.”

  “I don’t understand his plan, sir. I would have expected him to just kill me and Palo in cold blood. Maybe he thought his chances of getting away with it were so bad he might as well attract as much attention as possible. And we don’t really know whether he has accomplices waiting somewhere.”

  “Or maybe he just wants to die and make sure he takes at least one policeman with him,” Jäämaa said coldly. There had been talk of suicide by cop in the Vesala toy gun shooting too. The theory was that the kid didn’t have the guts to shoot himself so he manipulated the police into doing it for him. I didn’t know what the truth was, and I still didn’t know what to think of the cop in that case or why he chose to shoot for center of mass instead of the legs. He must have feared for his life.

  “You’ve worked with Sergeant Palo a good deal, correct? Can you evaluate how well he’ll cope with a situation like this?”

  I hesitated. “He’s been extremely tense about this death threat, sir. Now his worst fears have come true . . . Oh, have you informed his family?”

  “I’m told Detective Sergeant Taskinen tried to contact his wife. Listen, Sergeant Kallio, I’d like you to remain here for the time being. We may need you in the negotiation. What was it you were saying about Malmberg’s therapist?”

  I told the commissioner what little I knew about Kari Hanninen, and he said he would send someone to look for him. It was miserable having to climb out of the warm car back into the biting cold wind blowing off the pond. Fortunately Pihko was just coming back with a bag of food.

  “You should’ve brought some sausages and we could have a campfire,” Ström said with a humorless grin before shoving a cold meat turnover into his mouth. I settled for rye bread and cheese spread.

  “Hey, what’s going on over there,” Pihko said suddenly. One of the county sharpshooters had circled the far side of the pond and was starting across the ice toward the cabin. Instinctively, we shifted to watch him as he moved out of view.

  “He’s got the phone Malmberg asked for,” I said.

  “They’ve probably got someone ready to pop him the second he shows his face,” Ström said, then reconsidered. “Except of course he’ll send Palo out to get it.”

  We circled around up into the trees to get a view of the porch. We knew we were in the line of fire but assumed Malmberg had better things to do than shoot randomly into the woods if he wanted to stay in control of the situation. When the officer arrived in the yard outside the cabin, the door opened. Out stepped Palo.

  An odd whistling came from Pihko. We couldn’t see Palo’s expression—all we could see were his hunched shoulders and shuffling steps as he walked toward the phone the officer had left in the yard. We could also see the rifle barrel pointed at Palo’s back through an almost nonexistent crack in the cabin door.

  “Goddamn it! Get to the windows and fill the bastard full of lead! What the fuck are they waiting for?” Ström cursed as Palo disappeared through the door.

  “They can’t just butcher him. There’s TV cameras watching,” Pihko pointed out.

  “Damn them to hell! What are we saving that bastard for? Why the fuck are my tax dollars supposed to give him three hots and a cot for the rest of his life? They’re always talking about cops with itchy trigger fingers, but what about the bad guys? It’s fine for some recruit to walk onto his army base, steal an assault rifle, and start shooting up his neighborhood, but watch out when a cop hurts a hair on the little shit’s head. The media has a field day then.”

  “Maybe they’re just playing for time. It’s almost night. Larha fell asleep eventually,” I said, trying to calm Ström down as I waved the others out of the line of fire.

  “But what if you were in there instead of Palo? What would you want us to do then? Sit out here with our knitting while you had a gun to your head?” Ström asked.

  “Why don’t you go talk to the commissioner about it,” I snapped back.

  Just then Taskinen broke away from the larger group and walked over to us. “Jäämaa talked to Malmberg and Palo just now. Malmberg’s threatened to shoot Palo unless we deliver a getaway car and five hundred thousand marks within the next two hours.”

  “And Palo?” I asked.

  “Scared. He had his handcuffs with him when Malmberg grabbed him. Malmberg’s using them to chain him to the fireplace. Jäämaa says Palo pleaded with us to give in to Malmberg’s demands. He was begging for his life.”

  Ström’s face tightened, and I wondered how he would act in Palo’s place. Eventually he’d beg for his life too, especially after seeing Malmberg’s father’s stomach sawn open.

  “No one is forcing you and Pihko to stay,” Taskinen said coldly, addressing Ström.

  Night had started to fall, and the first floodlights were turned on. Red-gold wisps of cloud shone in the sky over the pond. Huddling deeper into their coats, neither man responded to Taskinen. Ström’s nose glistened red, his giant pores gaping like dozens of angry mouths. Someone waved Taskinen back over to the command post.

  “It’s so goddamn cold,” Ström complained after a moment of silence. “Are they setting up a tent over there or what? Maybe we could get in and warm up. Look . . . They’re chasing off the reporters. Good. Maybe something’s going to happen now.”

  A line of civilian cars and media vans really was being ushered back toward the main road, although the wind carried the sounds of angry protests. I wondered whether the cabin might have a battery-operated radio so Malmberg could enjoy his fifteen minutes of fame. Maybe that was the whole point. Palo would be famous too. I hoped no one mentioned my name in connection with the case.

  Taskinen walked back over, his face even more tense than before, if that was possible. “Som
eone just found a body near Hämeenlinna, shot in the back with a rifle. Based on the blood-stained cash found on the body, they’re assuming he’s the other guy who pulled the bank job up there. His name was Jouni Tossavainen, and he just got out of prison down here. Footage from the bank should confirm the ID. And, yep, you guessed it, he was in the same cell block as Malmberg.”

  No one responded. Things were suddenly becoming too intense. The sound of a helicopter approaching from the south distracted us. Soon there were two circling the pond.

  “Jäämaa contacted the ministry,” said Taskinen. “They’re in charge of the operation now. The choppers have snipers in them. They’re going to let Malmberg sweat for a while before making contact again. They’re also getting ready for the possibility that Malmberg will make a run for it using Palo as a shield. And considering dropping a gas canister down the chimney if—”

  A crackling series of gunshots interrupted Taskinen. We all hit the deck automatically. Ström ended up collapsed on top of me. The stench of his aftershave made me retch. I lifted my head just enough to see that the shots were coming from the right-side window of the cabin. It seemed random and stopped after about ten seconds.

  I quickly tried to construct the scenario from the sound of the shots. Had Malmberg been shooting out the window, or had the shots targeted someone inside the cabin? Was Palo still alive?

  After a few minutes, we worked up the courage to stand. A light flickered inside the cabin. Malmberg must have lit a candle. It would be dark soon.

  I realized I had to pee. Keeping carefully outside the line of fire, I walked into the dark of the forest to relieve myself. Luckily I was carrying some tissues. From there, the area now starkly demarcated by the floodlights resembled a military encampment. Here and there I could see a flashlight or the burning tip of a cigarette. Armed men tramped back and forth speaking into their phones. The helicopters had pulled back after the gunfire, but their maddening thump-thump-thump still echoed from a little farther south. I wondered if any other women were here. Maybe a female officer was out directing traffic, but I knew these situations tended to be opportunities for the all-male command and the special operations groups to play with their toys. Never mind that a man’s life was at stake.

  When I got back, everyone was ordered to take up some sort of defensive position, because the arrival of the helicopters had infuriated Malmberg. He was threatening to start shooting again unless they were called off. Apparently Malmberg was still talking to Jäämaa—at least I could see the tape recorders still running in the command center. Just then I noticed a couple of fleet-footed figures all in black break away from the shadows and sneak behind the cabin. I assumed they were trying to get a bug into the wall of the cabin so they could listen to Malmberg’s and Palo’s movements, and maybe even their conversations.

  Apparently they were successful, because after a few seconds the team returned to the safe side of the barricade. Someone started forming us up into more organized groups. Although Pihko, Ström, and I really shouldn’t have been there, no one bothered to send us away. Everyone understood Palo was one of ours. I also had Commissioner Jäämaa’s authorization to be present in case they needed me.

  Pihko and I tried to stay undercover as best we could while we watched the forces being assembled. Ström, who was unarmed, marched to the supply truck to get a rifle. When he came back, he told us that they’d spoken to Palo again and that although he was physically unharmed, he was starting to crack under the pressure. With that, Ström snuck closer to the cabin, as if to make sure he got the first shot off when Malmberg showed himself.

  “What are they up to?” Pihko asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another in an effort to stay warm. His condensed breath encircled him like a cloud, momentarily concealing his face.

  “Seems like a two-pronged approach,” I said. “They’re playing for time, but they’re also reminding Malmberg there’s a lot of us out here. If those mics are as sensitive as I think they are, they’ll be able to hear when Malmberg falls asleep. And then they strike. That could take a while though, maybe even days.”

  “Are you going to stay the whole time?” Pihko asked.

  “I’m already so frozen, I should probably head home to sleep if Jäämaa will let me,” I said. “Is any of that bread left? I’m hungry again.”

  As I ate more rye bread with cheese spread and drank some orange juice, I listened to Pihko speculate about what would happen next. His vision was less bloody than Ström’s, but he too clearly wanted revenge. I had just finished eating when Pihko asked if I was glad it was Palo in there instead of me.

  The question was so stupid I had to clear my throat before I could answer. “Of course I am. And Palo would be happy if it were me in there instead of him.”

  A flashy red vintage Chevrolet pulled into the floodlights, distracting me. “Hey, what’s happening over there?”

  I couldn’t make out the features of the man who stepped out of the car, but I could see his jacket flapping in the wind and the thick blond hair that fell to his shoulders. It gave him a sort of lion quality. I’d seen him somewhere before.

  “Who’s that?” Palo asked.

  “I think it’s Kari Hanninen. The astrologer therapist who treated Malmberg.”

  The previous spring I had stumbled across a TV debate between the leaders of the Skeptics Association and a group of occultists, Hanninen among them. Antti’s kisses had proven more interesting than the show, so we’d turned it off. But I’d seen enough to remember the confident way in which Hanninen had said he’d succeeded in combining the science of the occult with the sciences of the soul, astrology, and psychology.

  We watched Hanninen disappear into the command center tent, which was set up a few hundred yards from the cabin, and then went back to freezing. I knew I needed to leave soon. No matter how much I wanted to, I wasn’t going to be any help here. And I had to pee again.

  I was just heading back into the woods when Taskinen called me to the command post. Apparently they needed help profiling Malmberg.

  Inside the command center a warm stove glowed. I stepped close for a moment to thaw out a little before making my way over to Taskinen and Jäämaa’s table. With them was the man I assumed was Kari Hanninen and a couple of suits I didn’t recognize. Near the back wall of the tent, two tape recorders were running, and behind them were two men wearing headphones. They really could hear inside the cabin.

  Commissioner Jäämaa introduced me. “This is Sergeant Kallio, one of the Espoo police officers who handled Malmberg’s original case. Kallio, this is Captain Koskivuori from the Ministry of the Interior, Deputy Warden Matala from the Helsinki Central Prison, and Dr. Kari Hanninen, who was Malmberg’s therapist. Please, have a seat.”

  Hanninen pulled out the chair next to him for me. His hand intentionally grazed my back as I sat. Close up he looked like an over-forty former rock star. He instantly turned on the charm. Apparently it was an automatic response to any woman, because my helmet hair and runny red nose hardly made me flirt-worthy.

  “Our goal here is to figure out what Malmberg is after, and how to predict his behavior. We also need to address which tactics are most likely to get him to surrender, or at least release his hostage,” Commissioner Jäämaa continued.

  Someone brought me coffee and a ham sandwich. I had just finished eating it and was walking the commanders through Malmberg’s criminal past when we heard gunfire again.

  “Malmberg is shooting!” someone cried. “We have a line on his head, should we take it?”

  “Not in the head. Too risky. Just take cover.” Koskivuori didn’t even think about his reply. After a few seconds, the shots ceased.

  Before we had time to continue our discussion, Malmberg called the command center. “You have one more hour to bring me that getaway car. Then I blow up the cabin. But I really don’t think Palo wants to die. He even shit his pants to
prove it. These charges are big enough you’ll be warm and toasty out there when they go off.”

  Malmberg’s expressionless, slightly hoarse voice echoed from the speakers set up in the tent. By the time he finished listing his demands and repeated his threats, desperation had leaked into it. I was starting to work out that something bad really was going to happen when the hour was up. Finally he told Palo to speak.

  “Please, give him the car. Let him go unless you want people to die. Jyrki, if you’re still there, tell them I have a wife and six kids—” Palo was crying.

  Taskinen’s eyes swept past mine to fix on Jäämaa’s. We all knew the demand for the car was empty. Malmberg was aware that we’d put a tracker on it and he’d never get away. Of course he’d take Palo with him. But moving from the cabin to the car would be a huge risk for Malmberg, no matter how he used Palo as a shield.

  Next to me, Hanninen was waving anxiously that he wanted to talk to Malmberg. When Malmberg returned to the phone, the handset was handed to Hanninen.

  “Hi, Markku, it’s Kari Hanninen here.” Hanninen’s voice was a deep and hypnotic purr. It sounded absurd, especially directed at another man. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a tight spot, Markku. I don’t think you want to die though. And the stars say it isn’t your time yet.”

  I listened spellbound as Hanninen’s coaxing voice worked to tame the beast. He clearly knew how to talk to Malmberg. Malmberg’s blustering calmed, and eventually he even agreed to negotiate with Captain Koskivuori. After several minutes on the phone with Koskivuori, however, he still refused to talk about releasing Palo. Palo would be going with him in the getaway car. Malmberg asked to speak with Hanninen again.