I had no doubt that the “details” had nothing to do with crime fighting.
He took a thin tri-folded sheaf of papers from the inner pocket of his immaculate suit jacket and pushed them across the table to me. “These will explain,” he said. “The minister of the interior gave them to me himself. He just wanted to make sure I’m doing what I told him I would do.”
EYES ONLY: INTERIOR MINISTER OSMO AHTIAINEN.
Document summarizing Operation Poronnussija-Reindeer Fucker (referring to me and my Arctic roots)-by agent Captain Jan Pitkanen, at the behest of the Interior Minister.
As the minister expected, extra-legal activity is being conducted by at least four men, one the national chief of police, two police officers under the direct authority of the national chief of police, and a man who is not a police officer. Only the most pertinent information concerning them and their recent activities for our purposes is discussed here.
JYRI IVALO:
DOB 16.10.46
SSN# 161064-4570
Height: 6?0?
Weight: approx. 165 lbs.
Ivalo has been national chief of police for eight years. There is no reason to consider Ivalo anything other than confident and astute. The investigation leading to this report suggests that Ivalo has developed a small but competent team to work, sometimes outside the law, to achieve objectives in those areas in which the national police force has had less then desirable results. Ivalo has vulnerabilities. A minor drinking problem. A desire to be in the social company of people of note, and especially a taste for beautiful young women are his major weaknesses.
KARI VAARA:
DOB 02.06.1968
SSN# 020664-2656
Height: 5?10?
Weight: approx. 190 lbs.
Vaara has the distinction of being the only current policeman to have been shot twice in the performance of duty. He is also one of only two policemen to have killed a suspect in the line of duty. The other is his partner from Helsinki Homicide, Milo Nieminen. They should be considered dangerous. Vaara has twenty-two years in law enforcement, including service in the military police. He has a reputation for acting alone and without respect for the authority of his superiors. Vaara is violent. He has shot and killed one perp and is rumored to have used extreme force against others. Whether that force was warranted is unknown. It is noteworthy, though, that he is capable of it. He inspires admiration from his underlings.
Vaara has few weaknesses. He has no significant vices, and is by and large a loner. He has a wife and infant daughter. The wife is American and living in this country on temporary residence and work permits. In September, his wife will have lived in Finland for three years and may apply for permanent residency. If it is required to bring pressures to bear against Vaara, I suggest that it be done quickly, while the threat of deporting his wife may still be hung over Vaara’s head. Vaara’s relationship with Arvid Lahtinen might possibly lead to a charge of conspiracy to commit murder against him. See below. Vaara suffers from intense migraines caused by a brain tumor. He is scheduled for brain surgery on 9 February. It is unlikely, given the nature of his tumor, but he could possibly die or be permanently disabled, thus eliminating the need for further discussion concerning his illegal operation, as his colleagues, Milo Nieminen and Sulo Polvinen, lack the wherewithal to function without him.
MILO NIEMINEN:
DOB 23.04.1987
SSN# 230487-623L
Height: 5?7?
Weight: approx. 135 lbs.
After secondary school, Nieminen served in the army, specializing in demolitions. He continued his training in Reserve Officer School. He has a measured IQ of 172. His computer skills are extraordinary. He has let it be known that he is an accomplished computer hacker. This suggests that his ego is such that he will brag, even though revealing such personal information could lead to a great deal of trouble for him. Like Vaara, he is for the most part a loner. He has no close relationships. His father is dead. His mother is alive, but telephone records reveal that he calls only on major holidays.
Nieminen’s major flaw seems to be recklessness, and I tend to think that around-the-clock surveillance, rather than spot tailing, would lead to the discovery of acts that could be used against him. It seems likely that Nieminen could be convicted of computer intrusion and possibly computer theft hacking exploits.
SULO POLVINEN:
DOB 12.09.1987
SSN# 120987-357Y
Height 6?3?
Weight: approx. 265 lbs.
Polvinen’s file has clearly been redacted. Computer files concerning his high school records have been changed, some grades improved and behavioral infractions eliminated. He also has a driver’s license, which I believe is a fabrication, because I think it likely that his family lacked the money required for him to attend driving school. I suspect Milo Nieminen did all this, but because of egotism was sloppy and thought it unnecessary to cover his tracks. According to his redacted file, Polvinen took a six-week course and became a certified security guard. This has been investigated and proven untrue. Cell phone surveillance indicates he intends to apply for a job with the National Bureau of Investigation. As he has no qualifications, it must be assumed that he expects to receive a job through nepotism. Polvinen’s brother died in an altercation with two security guards at a nightclub. These bouncers were later stabbed, beaten to the point of disfigurement and hospitalized. Polvinen’s father stabbed both bouncers to death in the hospital, also confessed to the attack at the nightclub, and is serving a prison sentence because of these crimes. However, it has been stated by some that Polvinen, who is easily recognizable because of his size, committed the initial assault on the bouncers, and as such, could be tried for attempted murder. Polvinen’s mother is half Russian, half Estonian, and he earned high marks in English, Swedish and German in school. Those grades-I checked-are genuine.
ARVID LAHTINEN:
DOB 03.03.1920
SSN# 030320-259V
Height: 5?9?
Weight: approx. 150 lbs.
Lahtinen’s record as a war hero is so long and familiar that I won’t list it here. He is included here only because of his relationship with Vaara. Lahtinen recently lost his wife. Germany would like to extradite him for accessory to murder because of his wartime activities. Lahtinen is to be tried here in Finland because of his recent murder of a Russian businessman. Vaara was present at the murder, hence the possibility of prosecuting him as an accessory. Lahtinen claimed that said businessman was involved in the Arctic Sea affair and the sale of nuclear weapons. As such, Lahtinen’s case falls under the National Security Act, and the case will likely drag on for some years. Vaara and Lahtinen have apparently developed a friendship. They speak on the phone frequently, and although he hasn’t done so in monitored phone conversations, if Lahtinen does possess potentially damaging State secrets, he may well have shared them with Vaara. This might be considered another sound reason to deport Vaara’s wife and get rid of him along with her.
Vaara, Nieminen and Polvinen committed breakings and enterings on both Friday and Saturday nights. They robbed drug dealers and made off with bags likely containing drug money and/or narcotics.
I regret to inform the minister that I have blown my cover in this case. I underestimated Vaara because of his migraines, thinking they must impair his cognition and attention span. He sent out Nieminen and Polvinen to find out why we were surveilling his apartment. Nieminen approached, and I rolled down the driver’s-side window. I reached for my ID and he drew his pistol so fast that I had no time to respond. He struck me in the face with it several times. It was my own fault, because I did not announce my intention to produce identification and so he was within his rights, as I could have been reaching for a weapon. My nose and cheekbone were broken, and my right eye socket fractured. My partner tried to draw his weapon in defense. Polvinen shattered his window, reached through into the car and squeezed my partner’s shoulder so hard that his collarbone was crushed and his should
er squeezed out of its socket and dislocated. I had no idea such a thing was possible. Nieminen took my police card. I said, “I’m a goddamned cop. What the fuck did you do that for?” He replied, “You’re an errand boy sent by shopkeepers. I’m a pistoleer. Next time we meet, I suggest you remember that.” I think it was a line from a movie, but I got the impression that Nieminen isn’t all there.
As I said, my cover is blown, how should we proceed?
Best Regards,
Captain Jan Pitkanen
Reply from the interior minister to Pitkanen:
Operation Poronnussija terminated. Hope your face heals up.
Best Regards,
Interior Minister Osmo Ahtiainen
And lastly, I found two memos on a Post-it stuck to the last page. One addressed to Jyri. “Good idea. I want whatever you’re getting.”
The next Post-it was in Jyri’s handwriting and meant for me. “Poronnussija: 15 % each for me, you, and for the interior minister, 5 % each for the maniac brainiac and the giant oaf. The rest for operational funding. Trust me, it’s a good deal. Take it.”
Giving Milo and Sweetness a bonus was a one-off. I never intended to become a crooked cop and do this for profit. “Thanks, but no, thanks,” I said. “My paycheck will suffice.”
Jyri laughed at me. “Goddamn, you’re naive. You have to take the money. If you’re not complicit, we can’t trust you. Just consider it part of your paycheck. Trust me, you’ll get used to it.”
I didn’t know how to respond for a moment. I stumbled on my words. “What happened to your speech about helping people?”
He shrugged. “Then help people.” He snickered. “You know what they say the three biggest lies are?”
Disillusioned, I just shook my head no.
“I love you, the check is in the mail, and I won’t come in your mouth.”
“Wow, great joke.”
“Actually, the point is that the joke is wrong. The biggest lie is that altruism exists.”
I just stared at him.
“I’m moving you and Milo from Helsinki Homicide to the National Bureau of Investigation,” he said. “You’ll work directly under me and be out from under public scrutiny. And I’ll make sure the oaf gets a job, too. Invent some specialization for him. There isn’t a checkbox for giant attempted murderer on the job application. Why the fuck do you want him anyway?”
“Mostly to piss you off.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, and got up. “Since you just got a big raise, you can pick up the check.”
I got an idea. “Ask the interior minister if, in return for this fifteen percent, he’ll do me the occasional favor, beginning with this one. Ask him if he can supply me with the dossiers of every known criminal taking the morning Tallink ferry to Helsinki on”-I pick a date at random-“Friday, February nineteenth.”
“I’ll ask,” he said.
He started to walk away and then turned back to me. “And I want ledgers kept.” He walked out, whistling the Irving Berlin song “Blue Skies.”
5
I walked in the front door, knelt down in the foyer and took off my boots. Put away the money Jyri refused to take. Kate sat at our dining room table, nursing Anu. One of the advantages of my new position, so far, was that it was much like shift work for people with factory jobs. I was often home during the day and could spend time with my family, and when I worked at night, they were usually asleep, except for nighttime feedings. They were hard on Kate. I saw the fatigue in her face. When I was home, I helped out as best as I was able. We did normal things. Watched TV. Made meals. Took Anu for walks in her stroller. I hoped, once child rearing got easier for Kate, our life would be this way forever.
I walked over and sat beside them. “How are my girls?” I asked. Anu farted, smiled and cooed, as if to answer, “Just fine, Daddy.” I leaned toward Kate to kiss her. Said kiss wasn’t returned.
“Little girl fine,” Kate said. “Big girl not fine.”
I saw that Kate was in a rage, preventing herself from screaming only to keep from upsetting Anu. Judging by the smell, Anu’s coo signaled more than a fart. I took her to the other room to change her. She pissed in my face. I made myself not laugh aloud because of Kate’s mood. After I cleaned myself up, I came back to the living room with Anu. Kate’s controlled rage hadn’t abated.
“My boss called me from corporate. She more or less called me an incompetent asshole and insinuated that whether I still have a job is an open question.”
I started to move closer to comfort her, thought better of it. “Why?”
“Because I never resolved the matter of my maternity leave. I asked Aino”-Kate’s assistant hotel manager-“if she could look after the hotel until we had settled things between us.”
Kate didn’t want to take the traditional nine-month maternity leave, wanted to do things the American way. Have the baby, take a few weeks, put the baby in childcare, and go back to work. Or alternately, for me to exercise my paternity leave, since I was less than enamored with my job anyway, but paternity leave is only a few weeks long, so I didn’t really understand what her idea was in that regard.
But then there were family problems when her brother and sister were here, supposedly to help Kate when the baby arrived, in truth to escape their own troubles. Anu arrived early, we found out I had a brain tumor and might very well be incapable of taking care of an infant. Aino seemed to be doing fine at the hotel, and dealing with the issue in an official way went to the wayside. Under the circumstances, it was perfectly understandable.
“She ripped me a new asshole,” Kate said. “She informed me that as head of the hotel, I was under an obligation to understand and obey the rules governing the treatment of my workers.”
It didn’t help that I pressured Kate to take the normal nine-month maternity leave. I had a feeling it just wouldn’t work out otherwise. Anu switched nipples. Kate continued. “She said no one from corporate was there to look over my shoulder, and foreigner or no, I had better goddamned well learn the Finnish union rules and abide by them. Under no circumstances could Aino perform my job for an indefinite amount of time without being given a contract authorizing her to do that job and an adjustment in pay to reflect it. She said she wrote a nine-month contract and Aino signed it. My boss said, and I quote, ‘We’re fucking lucky she’s good-natured. She could have complained to the union. I gave her pay retroactive to the last day you deemed to come to work.’ The bitch closed with ‘When you come back-if you come back-know what in the goddamned hell you’re doing.’ And then she hung up on me.”
“Damn,” I said. “Happy fucking Sunday.”
“Yeah. Happy fucking Sunday. Look at us. We’re sitting at a dinner table that seats ten that we bought so we could have dinner parties, except we don’t have any friends to have a dinner party. I don’t know if I have a job. I’m going to sit here playing milk cow for the better part of a year, and my husband may die on the table in surgery two days from now.”
She realized the ugliness of what she just said and the cruelty of pushing that truth in my face. I thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t. Instead, we stared at each other for a long time. Her expression was blank. For the first time, it struck me that part of her was furious at me for being sick. It made me sad. I imagined myself in her position, overwhelmed by anxiety, trepidation, anger, fear of the unknown and of being left alone.
I felt guilt for being sick, for doing this to her, especially because I looked forward to brain surgery, because whether I lived or died, the pain would be over. I’d learned to hide it well, even from Kate, but my migraine throbbed hard and constant. I scarfed drugs, slept as much as I could, sought oblivion to escape the agony. It had been going on now for about almost a year continuous. The toll it had taken was so great that if it weren’t for my responsibilities and the possibility that surgery might end the suffering, I would have ended it myself. Just two more days. Two more days.
Anu had fallen asleep. We took her to he
r bedroom and put her in her crib. The closet door was half open. Kate noticed an unzipped backpack, cash spilling out of it. Grocery bags full of cash sat beside it. Her voice was calm. “What’s all this?”
“Proceeds from the weekend,” I answered.
She opened the door wide, plunged both hands into the backpack and tossed money into the air like confetti. She looked inside it again, reached in and pulled out a Bulldog revolver we had stolen. She held it up in front of her face and stared at it.
“Careful,” I said, “it’s loaded.”
She put it back into the backpack and this time pulled out a clear plastic bag of Ecstasy. “So this is the new you.”
“I was honest with you about everything.”
“You think stuffing your daughter’s closet with dope money and guns is OK?”
“I tried to give the money to Jyri. He wouldn’t take it. It’s to bankroll our project, and I just haven’t gotten rid of the other stuff yet.” This was not quite, but mostly true. I was keeping some of it. “And I’m pretty sure Anu doesn’t know what any of it is, and she can’t even roll over yet, so I can’t picture her overdosing or shooting herself.”
She whisper yelled. “That’s not the point and you know it. Get this shit out of my house.”
I didn’t know what the point was, but if she wanted it, in the mood she was in, that was enough. I called Milo, asked him if he would come over, get the swag and keep it in his place.
“You’ve seen how small my place is,” he said. “Where am I supposed to put it?”
“Please,” I said. “And if you’re not busy, could you come over now?”
He got it then. Domestic bliss had been disturbed. He lives only a ten-minute walk away. “OK,” he said, “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
I went out to the balcony, smoked two cigarettes and waited on him. Kate needed some time to cool down, and I had more to tell her.
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