“What’d you do to Koistinen?” asked Jansson.
“He doesn’t listen to reason and I wanted to take care of it quickly. I just shook him up a little.”
“A little? The guy shit his pants,” said Huusko, “and what do you mean by just you? According to our sources there were two men, one older and well-dressed, and the other a scruffy-looking, wild-eyed assassin.”
“What are your terms?” Jansson asked.
“Good. Let’s get to the point. You get a full confession with complete evidence. We get a half-day’s head start.”
Huusko flew out of his chair.
“What!”
“Starting right now. We’ll leave immediately and I’ll be fair game by noon tomorrow.”
“No way…”
“Huusko, take a deep breath and calm down. Let’s think this over.”
“If you arrest me now, you have nothing—no evidence, no weapon, no credible motive, not even probable cause, let alone something that would hold up in court. Maybe you’ll find someone who saw a car like mine near the crime scene, but that won’t do.”
“What do you need a half-day’s head start for?” Jansson asked. “Someone else on your hit list?”
“Personal matters. I won’t be fleeing the country in this condition, nor do I want to. If I did, I wouldn’t have waited here for you. I just want a few hours to move freely. There’s an APB out on the Mercedes so we’d be stopped as soon as we left here.”
“True,” Jansson conceded.
“It’s a trick,” Huusko muttered.
Nygren’s eyes flashed and he rolled up his sleeve to reveal tracks of inflamed injection points. He took the syringe off the nightstand, tightened a belt around his upper arm and thrust the needle into a vein.
“Does this look like a trick? Pretty soon I won’t be able to hold my own shit any more than my piss. You think I’m gonna run off into the mountains in this condition? With young men, dogs and helicopters after me? I’m hardly a match for a trained parrot.”
Huusko’s expression softened.
“Sorry.”
“Once I’ve taken care of my affairs, I’ll call and tell you where you can find me.”
“What about him?” Huusko nodded in Raid’s direction.
“He hasn’t done anything.”
“What do you need him for, then?”
“As I said, it’s getting hard for me to walk… I need a driver.”
Jansson walked over to Raid. The men stared at one another.
“Is that it?” Jansson asked.
“That’s it.”
“You’ll guarantee it.”
“Yes.”
“There’s one problem…a big one. How do I explain to my colleagues that I took the liberty of freeing two wanted criminals?” Jansson asked.
“You don’t need to,” said Nygren. “Just tell them you’ve arrested me and you’re checking out the crime scene with my help. Cancel the manhunt and we’ll leave town at once. We’ll be on our way and I’ll call you by evening. Nobody needs to know we’ve been missing for a few hours.”
“No, goddamnit,” said Huusko.
“And you won’t do anything criminal?”
Nygren put his hand on his heart. “I swear on my God-fearing mother’s grave.”
Jansson looked Nygren over. He could almost see death perched on Nygren’s shoulder, patiently counting the hours, minutes and seconds. His sleeve was still up and Jansson could see the web of blue veins beneath his pale skin. It seemed as if even the tattoos on his arms would fade before the final fall.
“Deal.”
Jansson glanced at Huusko, who nodded.
“But I’ll piss on your God-fearing mother’s grave if you split,” said Huusko.
The doorbell rang. Raid went to the door and looked out the peephole.
“Looks like more cops.”
Huusko went to take a peek and came back.
“Kempas and his boys. What do we do?”
“Lieutenant Kempas from Helsinki?” asked Nygren.
“That’s the one.”
“How did he find us here?”
“I don’t know. Huusko, open the door.”
Huusko opened the door and Kempas tromped in with his lackeys. He moved toward the far wall and stopped to look Nygren over.
“We meet again. It’s been a while.”
“How did you find us?” Jansson asked.
“Luckily I have some friends at the phone company. You got a call from this room.”
“You traced the calls to my phone?”
“Not me, the phone company. You left Oulu so suddenly I figured you were on the trail.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“There’s no point in arguing. The main thing is the criminals are in custody.”
Kempas sat down on the edge of Nygren’s bed.
“You really sick or you acting?”
“I really am. That make you happy?”
“One shouldn’t mix work with personal feelings.”
“True.”
Kempas glanced at Jansson.
“What has he told you?”
“He confessed to shooting Rusanen and Sariola.”
“Good, but why?”
“Because in my condition, even you could catch me,” said Nygren.
“Why’d you shoot Rusanen…not that I have anything against it.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.”
Nygren sighed.
“Do we really need the whole police force here?” Jansson asked Kempas.
“I just wanna be part of the fun.”
“We got here first. Go back to Helsinki; we’ll bring Nygren later.”
“The two of you would never manage if they tried something.”
“They won’t.”
Kempas went back to badgering Nygren.
“You won’t?”
“No.”
“Do you really want me to leave?”
“I do, and thanks for offering.”
“I’d have rather stayed to chat. It’s been a long time.”
Nygren and Kempas looked at one another. In a surprise gesture, Kempas held out his hand.
“No hard feelings.”
Nygren took it and squeezed.
“Likewise.”
Kempas turned to Leino and Lunden.
“Go wait in the car, I’ll be down soon.”
Kempas turned to Jansson. “Can I have a word?”
Jansson followed him into the hallway.
“I know that woman.”
“Who?”
“Anna Wahlman, maiden name Heinäkoski…from the physical rehab center. As a friend and colleague, I’d advise you to stay clear of her. Same goes for Huusko.”
Kempas studied Jansson’s reaction.
“When she was travelling abroad once, her apartment was burglarized. Too bad, since the burglar took thirty thousand in jewelry and furs. Luckily, the insurance company covered it. Then there was a basement fire in the house. Too bad, since over twenty grand in valuables went up in smoke. Luckily, the insurance company covered it. Always resilient, Anna was hardly phased, and she started giving private care to a rich, elderly man. While the guy was in the hospital, his apartment was burglarized and some antique silver and paintings worth half a million vanished. Five years ago, Anna Wahlman divorced the man. For some reason, he was afraid of the repo man and had the house and cabin transferred into her name. And there they stayed. Apparently, the man wants his property back, but she doesn’t want to give it up. So she’s hiding out in the country, clinging to burly men for protection. A good-looking woman, I must admit, but if she gets a hold of your family jewels, it’s all downhill from there. That’s all.”
Kempas waved his hand and departed.
Jansson and Huusko escorted the Mercedes about ten miles outside of town. Nygren sat in the back seat beneath a blanket.
“You know the risk I’m taking by letting you go,” Ja
nsson said.
“I do, and I appreciate it,” Nygren replied.
“Drive safely.”
“Let’s move. Till tomorrow.”
“Till tomorrow.”
Huusko came up behind Jansson.
“Think this was wise?”
“Hopefully.”
“Why’d Kempas give in so damn easy? It’s not like him.”
“I wondered the same thing,” said Jansson.
“Maybe he’s got some scheme. What did he wanna talk to you about?”
“Nothing important.”
“Think we can get a few hours of sleep?”
“Maybe a whole night’s worth.”
20.
The autumn-blanched crowns of the birch forest seemed to surge like a golden sea. The road traversed a clear stream, which flowed from a glacial lake over five miles away.
The road climbed steeply, but the Mercedes mounted the hill effortlessly.
Further up, a barely visible side road, almost a trail, branched off the main. It led into the heart of a thin, low-lying birch forest.
Not wanting to drive into something he couldn’t get out of, Raid closely examined the road. It sloped gently toward the stream and ended in a small clearing about a quarter mile from the main road.
The clearing was used for camping. Near the perimeter was a fire pit made of stones and a pile of rusty cans. Based on the labels, canned tuna and pea soup were top choices for campers.
Raid and Nygren got out of the car. Nygren took a look around.
“Beautiful.”
He ascended a footpath leading through the trees. Raid walked behind him. The trail was overgrown in places, and Nygren had to bend the branches aside. After walking for about a hundred yards, he stopped for a rest.
“Tired yet?”
“You won’t need to carry me, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Not afraid of that.”
After about twenty yards, they came to a steep bank and Nygren slipped. Raid caught him before he could fall. Nygren exhaled hard and mopped the sweat off his forehead.
“Thanks.”
He took a break for some time before continuing. They climbed for another fifteen minutes before Nygren found a spot that he liked. From there, they could see a sparkling lake in the valley and the summit of another fell opposite the lake. The stream they had crossed earlier rippled past only ten yards away, its wavelets splashing against the rocks.
“This will do.”
He glanced about, looking for a place to sit, and chose a grassy tussock at the base of a small birch. Raid sat down next to him. Nygren gazed at him with a faint smile on his face.
“You were with me to the end after all…”
“Yep.”
* * *
Hiltunen climbed out of the grease pit and wiped his greasy hands on an equally greasy rag.
“Can’t you guys leave people alone? Nygren did his time, just like me.”
Hiltunen’s voice sounded genuinely annoyed.
“We’ll leave you alone as soon as you clear up a few things,” said Huusko.
“What things?”
“Come on, you know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“How much you wanna bet?”
Huusko held out his hand. Hiltunen stared at it and snorted.
Jansson put his hand on Huusko’s shoulder.
“Huusko.”
“It’s not right to lie, especially to the cops.”
“Let’s just stick to the facts. We’re investigating Nygren and we believe he’s been here.”
“Can I ask why?”
“He’s been seen in the area,” Jansson lied, though his conscience promptly scolded him.
Hiltunen took to examining a carburetor on the table. His fingers were thick and his nails chipped, but his touch was light.
“I got a right to know why you’re after him, don’t I?”
“We’re investigating a shooting and a murder—two different cases.”
“And Nygren was the triggerman?”
“We’re not sure. We’d just like to interview him for starters. He’s been placed at the crime scene, at any rate.”
“Who got shot?”
“A guy by the name of Sariola.”
“Oh…that asshole. Serves him right. And who got killed?”
“Rusanen, sound familiar?”
“You think Nygren killed Rusanen?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
Hiltunen shook his head.
“Nygren’s no killer… I mean, he can hold his own, but he’d rather use his head. Rusanen thought he could bully him around like the others, but Nygren was too tough, too smart. Rusanen had to leave him alone.”
“Can you think of anything Nygren might have against Rusanen?” asked Jansson.
“That I don’t know. I’d have thought it’d be the other way around…that Rusanen would’ve retaliated.”
“Did they have any business in common?”
“Nygren hated Rusanen. Wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.”
“Why then,” said Jansson.
“If Nygren shot those guys, he couldn’t have picked two better targets. He always said doing time would almost be nice if there weren’t shitheads like Rusanen and Sariola in every brig.”
“We’re not saying Nygren killed him. All we want is to hear his side of the story.”
“You wouldn’t be asking me if you didn’t have some evidence.”
“Maybe we do,” said Huusko.
“I don’t know about Sariola, but I heard Rusanen died and…”
Hiltunen’s voice faltered momentarily.
“You heard? From who?”
“Must have been in the news.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
Hiltunen’s son peeked in the door.
“Dad, it’s almost two, we should go.”
Hiltunen glanced at the clock.
“Be there in a sec…”
The boy disappeared.
“I have a…an appointment… I have to go.”
“We can drive you. We’ll talk in the car.”
Hiltunen went to a steel wash-up sink, slathered his hands with soap and started scrubbing them.
“Nygren was here yesterday, but he didn’t stay but half an hour. Said he was going to Lapland to see the leaves.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing much…just stopped by as he was passing through.”
“Was he the one who told you about Rusanen?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was he alone?” asked Huusko.
“No, some other guy was driving.”
“You know who he was?”
“No.”
Hiltunen took his cap off, revealing the bald spot on the top of his head. He set the cap on the desk, stripped off his coveralls and hung them on a nail. The shine on his shoes was flawless, but even so, he spat in a paper towel and polished them.
“Is Nygren a friend of yours?”
“I have no friends… He’s a nice guy, but I wouldn’t call him a friend.”
“Then how come he came to visit you in prison and sent money?”
“Don’t ask me.”
“And got you a maintenance job in Helsinki. You and I met when I was investigating that casino shooting.”
Hiltunen took a closer look at Jansson’s face.
“Yeah, I thought you looked familiar…”
“Did he get you that job?”
“I had just gotten outta prison. I figured nobody would know me in Helsinki and people would leave me alone. I needed a job and a place to sleep and Nygren set me up. He knew the owner of the casino.”
“You two come from the same town, right?”
Hiltunen looked at Jansson, clearly surprised.
“We do?”
“What, you didn’t know?”
“Hell no… If it’s true, he must have moved away before we met…we didn’t get to
know each other until prison. He never told me where he was from…”
“Did he know where you were from?”
Hiltunen’s son peered in the door worriedly.
“We’re gonna be late.”
“Just a sec. Wait in the car.”
He disappeared again.
“I gotta go.”
“First tell us the rest and we’ll leave you alone,” said Huusko.
Hiltunen gave in.
“Okay. Nygren told me Rusanen was dead. He’d heard it from somewhere.”
“Is that what he came all the way out here to tell you? Did he mention the cancer?”
“What cancer?”
“That he has cancer and he’s dying,” said Huusko.
“Nygren has cancer?”
“You sure weren’t very close friends if he hasn’t told you.”
The annoyance on Hiltunen’s face turned to seriousness.
“This service station is up for sale… Nygren gave me a loan… He didn’t mention about any cancer… I was just headed to the bank with my boy…”
“A guy shows up outta nowhere and gives you money. Doesn’t sound quite right,” said Huusko.
“I know… I thought the same thing, but the money was already in my account by morning. I’m fifty-seven years old, and spent sixteen of those years in prison for one mistake. This is my only and final opportunity and I’m damn thankful… Or would unemployment be a better alternative, or should I just string myself up…”
Hiltunen’s voice cracked and he looked down at his hands.
“How much did he give you?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“And he didn’t even give you a contact number or an account number?”
Hiltunen stared at his hands in silence.
“Has anyone else come asking about Nygren? Fellow by the name of Kempas, for instance?”
“The cop?”
“Yes, the cop,” Huusko replied.
“No.”
“Did Nygren ever talk about Kempas?”
“Not this time.”
“Did he tell you what Kempas has against him?”
“He has something against him?”
“That’s how it looks. Any idea why Kempas hates Nygren so much?”
* * *
Nygren raked some fallen leaves together with his fingers and heaped them into a small pile. He stretched out on the ground with the leaf pile under his head. Though the sun was dazzlingly bright, he took off his sunglasses and handed them to Raid.
Raid and the Blackest Sheep Page 17