The gurney was wheeled inside and Partio told Nieminen to go along with the patient.
“Alright,” said Nieminen. At the entrance, he turned and glanced toward the Audi. “You’ll manage?”
Partio nodded and the nurses disappeared inside.
Larsson turned to look at Partio. “So you think you can manage me,” he sneered. It occurred to Partio that the guns were still inside the car.
“Stay where you are, please,” said Partio, his gun fixed firmly on the target.
“Please, please, please. What the hell are you squealing about, pig. I don’t please anyone.”
Partio wondered if Larsson was psyching himself up for an attack. Perhaps sending Nieminen away had been a mistake. Suddenly, he realized he had made another. He hadn’t told Nieminen to call for backup. The next screw-up could be fatal.
“Get on your knees, please,” Partio commanded.
Larsson turned away from the car and took half a step toward Partio, who was rooted in a wide firing stance next to the squad car. The span was about ten feet, an adequate distance. Larsson wouldn’t be able to surprise him with one motion, but he shouldn’t be allowed to slink in any closer.
“You’re afraid of me,” Larsson said, and remained standing. “There was a time when you would’ve bashed me in the back of the knee with a nightstick and then choked me with it. Now you just wave that piece of Austrian plastic at me. What’s gotten into you guys?”
“On your knees. Now. Please.”
“Jesus Christ, didn’t I already tell you to quit that please shit?” Larsson took another half-step forward.
Partio backed up a couple of feet. “On the ground now, or I’ll put you in there next to Steiner.”
Larsson was amazed. He had thought the cop would just continue with the warnings. That’s what they were taught to do. Verbal judo and the like, but now the cop had clearly threatened to shoot. Maybe taking off wasn’t such a good idea after all. You never knew about these types. Still, they’d never shoot a fleeing man in the back.
“Yeah, right. If you shoot an unarmed man, you’ll be charged and lose your badge,” Larsson shouted. If he only had his gun, he could test his speed. But it was inside the car.
Partio pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the back door of the Audi and made Larsson flinch. The shot echoed down the street. A small hole surrounded by chipped paint had appeared in the car door.
“On your knees. Now. Please. The next one won’t miss.”
Larsson stalled for another moment; at least this guy wasn’t afraid to shoot. “No,” he said.
Officer Nieminen dashed outside with his gun drawn. He saw Partio holding his gun and Larsson still standing by the car. “Everything okay?”
“Pretty much. Call for backup first and then put the cuffs on this piece of shit.”
Nieminen marveled at his partner’s choice of words. He certainly understood who the piece of shit was, but Partio had always, even in the most difficult situations, been calm and overly courteous. Nieminen took out his radio and notified dispatch that there had been a threatening situation at the Töölö emergency room. Shots had been fired, but the situation was under control. He then asked for additional units. “10-4” said the dispatcher, and the first sirens were audible before Nieminen could make it over to Larsson.
“Well, shithead,” Nieminen growled. “Here are your cuffs.”
He twisted Larsson’s arms behind his back, and forcefully slapped the cuffs on the man’s wrists. Nieminen knew the impact was painful, and would leave bruises for weeks, but the gangster should have complied in the first place.
“Anything else?” said Nieminen.
Though Nieminen was directly behind Larsson, Partio kept his gun aimed at the gang boss.
“I told him to get on his knees, but he didn’t.”
Nieminen pulled a telescoping baton out of his utility belt. With a quick snap, the spring steel club extended to about a foot and a half. Without a word, Nieminen struck Larsson in the back of the knees. The bald man fell to his knees with a grimace.
“Anything else?” asked Nieminen with a wooden expression. He glanced over his shoulder as the first squad car swerved around a distant corner with its lights flashing. He patted Larsson down, but didn’t find any weapons. Partio had no doubt that if Larsson’s gun had been in his pocket, rather than in the car, he would have tried to use it.
“That should be about it,” said Partio. Suddenly, he remembered the mugging victim in the back of the squad car. “That guy with the gash is still in the back seat.”
Nieminen still had the baton in his hand and he tapped Larsson lightly on the ear with it. “I’ll watch this piece of shit—you take him inside. Ask about Steiner while you’re at it. According to the doc, his oxygen levels were really low.”
The arrangement suited Partio, but he wondered if he should interrogate Larsson about the source of Steiner’s gunshot wound. But Partio let it go. They could leave that for the VCU—those guys had to earn their pay somehow.
He holstered his Glock and went to the back door of the cruiser, which couldn’t be opened from the inside. Partio pulled the door open to see the mugging victim curled up on the back seat. He looked up at the officer. “What the hell is going on out there?”
“Nothing to worry about. Just had to take care of some urgent police business first, but we’ll get you in line for some help soon.”
“Who fired?” the man asked as he scrambled to his feet.
“I did. Now get up, and quick.”
In three seconds, the man was out of the car. Partio pointed him toward the entrance to the clinic.
The approaching squad car killed its sirens a hundred yards before the hospital. As the cruiser came to a stop under the canopy, the roof lights went out too. Since the roof lights would quickly drain the car’s battery, they were used sparingly.
Two big officers stepped out, keeping their hands on the butts of their guns. Nieminen greeted them both, but kept the baton by Larsson’s ear.
“Who fired?” asked one of the officers.
“Partio.”
“At who?”
Nieminen waved his baton toward the hole in the side of the car. “Just the poor Audi. Unfortunately.”
“Aha.” The big officer glanced back at the kneeling Larsson and recognized the Skull. “Well, your partner should work on his marksmanship.”
CHAPTER 27
TUESDAY, 6:30 A.M.
PASILA POLICE HEADQUARTERS, HELSINKI
Takamäki sat in his office and smelled the coffee. At this hour, it was either very fresh or it had sat in the pot overnight. Though it was still too hot to drink now, judging by the aroma, it was fresh.
The lieutenant was reading a report on his screen about the early-morning incident at the ER. It matched what he had heard from the night-shift lieutenant in a 5:00 A.M. phone call, though the report described the events in greater detail. Sergeant Partio himself had written it.
“Morning,” said Captain Honkala as he took off his overcoat. The NBI captain was wearing the same gray suit as yesterday and his short hair was neatly combed.
After the night-shift lieutenant had awakened him, Takamäki had phoned Honkala, and the two had agreed to meet in Takamäki’s office at half-past-six.
“Anything new?”
“Details, mainly,” answered Takamäki, and he relayed the main points of the incident at the ER.
“I wonder who shot Steiner, and where the shooter is.”
“No longer alive, I suspect. Larsson is in custody, but he hasn’t said anything. Steiner is in no shape to talk, yet.”
“What about forensics?”
“Just getting started, but they found some soil and sand on Steiner’s and Larsson’s shoes as well as in the footwell of the Audi, so they’d been somewhere in the woods. No GPS in the car, so it’s tough to say exactly where. I bet the shooting happened somewhere in Helsinki, since Larsson drove to the Töölö Hospital and not to one in Vantaa or
Espoo.”
Joutsamo, dressed in a gray sweater, stepped into the office. “We got the results of the residue analysis. Larsson didn’t fire his weapon last night. Actually, the preliminary results show that neither of their weapons have been fired for some time. Steiner’s knife has traces of fresh blood, so we sent it to the lab.”
“Thanks,” said Honkala. “No surprise about the knife, but could it be possible that the bombing was intended for the Skulls after all? Seems like someone is after these two. What if Salmela’s behind all this? At least he’d have a motive, and that “rat” note on his dead friend has got me thinking.”
Takamäki didn’t comment, but turned back to Joutsamo. “Have you gotten a hold of Suhonen?”
“He’s not answering his phone.”
“Okay. He’s probably been working all night and turned off his phone to get a few hours of sleep.”
“It’s definitely ringing, but nobody’s answering,” Joutsamo added.
“Well, it could be on vibrate.”
Honkala brushed a piece of lint off the shoulder of his suit jacket. “I called Nykänen. He told me they’d been doing the rounds till about midnight before Suhonen dropped him off at the station and went home. Nykänen will get here as soon as he can.”
“Well, Suhonen will show up too, once he wakes up.”
Honkala was still standing in the middle of the room. “What about Larsson’s and Steiner’s phone records?”
“We put a rush on them,” Joutsamo replied. “The phone companies promised them by noon.”
“Okay,” said Takamäki. “We have to remember that we have three parallel cases: the bombing in Käpylä, Nurminen’s stabbing, and most recently, Steiner’s shooting. The car bombing is connected to the Skulls. We have no suspects yet in Steiner’s shooting, but in Nurminen’s case, we have Larsson and Steiner. That looks like the easiest case of the three.”
Joutsamo nodded. “Forensics has been cranking all night, but I haven’t heard any results yet.”
“They promised them by nine this morning.”
“And there’s a fourth case here, too,” Honkala noted. “The shooting at the Skulls’ compound. Of course, the state prosecutor will investigate police conduct in connection with the fatalities. The NBI techies have been scouring the building all night. I haven’t heard what they found.”
Honkala fell silent for a moment, “This calls for another meeting with the bosses so we can sort out who takes what.”
“I agree,” said Takamäki.
“Quite a case, but we’ve got plenty of time. Now that Larsson and Steiner are in custody, we’re in no hurry. How about nine o’clock in your conference room?”
“Sounds good,” said Takamäki.
“We should think about the press, too. And by that I mean what are we going to make public,” Honkala continued. “Yesterday, if memory serves, I promised to have a noon press conference at the NBI headquarters, but it’s probably better to have it here.”
That was the last thing on Takamäki’s mind.
“I could go for some coffee here,” said Honkala.
Take a big mug so you wake up, thought the lieutenant. Just as Honkala was leaving the room, Takamäki spoke up, “I’d like to interrogate Larsson personally. Like now.”
* * *
Suhonen’s mouth was parched and his muscles ached. His stance on the wobbly stool was precarious. The undercover cop’s hands, cuffed behind his back, were strapped to his feet with zip-ties. The noose held up his head. Carefully, he attempted to shift his weight to the other knee and shin, but it was difficult. The rigid zip-ties had taken the feeling out of his feet some time ago.
The shed was dark. Only a small window admitted the faint yellow street lights of Beltway One. Suhonen’s phone had rung twice and startled the men enough that they had almost fallen over. Suhonen had shouted for help numerous times, but nobody had heard, or at least hadn’t come to help.
Salmela hadn’t said anything for a while, but despite his talk of suicide, he was still balancing on the stool.
“What’s the status?” Suhonen asked quietly.
Salmela took a while to answer. “Terrible. I feel like shit. I’m not gonna last long. How long we been here?”
“Don’t know. Couple hours probably.”
Salmela was quiet for a couple of minutes. “It was Juha Saarnikangas who ratted on me. I can’t prove it, but I know he called Larsson because I had just called Juha to ask for a place to sleep right before the assholes found me.”
“Juha’s always played with a couple of decks. We’ll go pay him a little visit when we get outta here.”
“If we get outta here.”
“When we get outta here.”
Silence set in for another few minutes, amplifying the pain in their bodies, but they had to endure.
“Where the hell is Larsson? I almost wish he’d come back, even if he kicks these stools out from under us. I’d take the plunge myself, but I’m afraid I’d knock you over in the process,” said Salmela. His voice was nearly at a whisper now.
The men listened closely for a moment. Only the quiet hum of cars on Beltway One reached their ears.
“He’ll come. He hates me so much he wouldn’t miss this.”
“My whole body hurts like hell,” Salmela moaned.
Suhonen tried once more to move his hands. If he could only work them free of his feet, his predicament would improve substantially. The noose wouldn’t cinch if he could just get his feet on the floor.
“Something must have happened at the hospital,” said Suhonen.
“Think he got busted?”
“Possible.” Suhonen was quiet for a second. He didn’t want to speculate, since Larsson’s arrest would mean that nobody would be coming back for them. They had been left to die. They couldn’t hold on much longer.
Steiner’s blood lay on the cement floor, and had dried into what looked like an ink blot.
“No use crying over spilt blood.”
“What?” Salmela blurted.
“No use crying over spilt blood.” Suhonen repeated. “I’ve always thought those old proverbs should be updated.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. With police lingo, you know… A crook in the hand is worth two in the bush.”
Salmela chuckled—a good sign, Suhonen thought. At least he was thinking of something else.
“A shooting cop seldom bites,” Suhonen went on.
Salmela jumped in too. “A penny stolen is a penny earned.”
Now it was Suhonen’s turn to laugh. Laughing made the pain seem to recede momentarily. “Don’t bite the hand with the billy club.”
“I got another,” said Salmela. “Snitches can’t be choosers.”
Suhonen almost lost his balance. “That’s good. And this one’s for Larsson, “There's more than one way to skin a gangster.”
* * *
Tapani Larsson was seated behind a pale brown table in the VCU’s dreary interrogation room, wearing orange police-issue coveralls. Takamäki sat opposite him and was accompanied by his side-kick Anna Joutsamo. Behind them was a sheet of one-way glass, through which Honkala and a couple of other officers were observing.
Larsson’s arms were crossed defiantly across his chest and he was scowling.
“This is not a formal interview, just a preliminary discussion,” said Takamäki, leaning forward and staring into the bald man’s eyes.
“I don’t have anything to talk about.”
Takamäki was pleased—at least he had gotten a response.
“You were arrested as a suspect in yesterday’s murder of Kauko Nurminen, amongst other things,” said Takamäki tersely.
“Who is he?”
“Was,” the lieutenant corrected. Joutsamo, next to him, looked stern.
“Pretty lady cop you got here. You banging her?”
Takamäki ignored the comment. “Larsson, you were released from prison on Wednesday—so exactly five days ago. Right now you’re on the fas
t track back to solitary in Turku Prison. For Nurminen’s murder, you’ll get life and serve at least fourteen years. Once we unravel this car bombing case that will probably go up to twenty-plus years for the cop killing. By the end of the 2020s, the media will be calling you ‘Finland’s longest-serving inmate.’”
“Well, if it’s so obvious, why are you asking me?” Larsson smiled. “Lock me up and throw away the key. What’s the point of this?”
Despite the attitude, Takamäki could see that his words had sunk in. The man’s posture had slumped a half inch.
“I’ll be enjoying my retirement before you get out.”
“Congratulations. But, you look so young!”
“I know you’re not stupid. You know the difference between murder and manslaughter, so I don’t need to explain that to you. Both the car bombing and the stabbing look like murder, but we’ll investigate them objectively. If we determine that the criteria for murder aren’t met, they’ll be investigated as manslaughters. If you ask me, Kauko Nurminen’s death looks like murder. You’re gonna have to tell us what actually happened there.”
Takamäki doubted a confession would be forthcoming, but according to the blood type results, only Steiner’s clothing contained traces of Nurminen’s blood. Though most of the blood on his pants was his own, they had found several blood drops on the left leg that were the same blood type as Nurminen’s. DNA would confirm it, but he wanted to give Larsson the opportunity to tell his side of the story.
“Is Steiner alive?” asked Larsson.
Takamäki considered lying and saying he was dead, since that was what Larsson was after. The gangster wouldn’t cast blame on a brother if he was still alive, but if the man was dead, Larsson could be more truthful.
“He’s alive.”
“I’m not saying anything. I understand you have to go through the murder versus manslaughter stuff, but I’m not buying it. I do appreciate that you didn’t lie to me about Steiner.”
“That’s not how we operate.”
Larsson laughed. “Uhh. Is that so?”
“What do you mean by that?” Takamäki said. Maybe this could lead somewhere.
Helsinki Homicide: Vengeance Page 25