Nights of Awe (24 page)

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Authors: Harri Nykanen

BOOK: Nights of Awe
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“Have you heard anything from Weiss since then?”
“Why would I have?”
“If he was kidnapped, there must have been a reason. Ransom or something.”
“I’m pretty sure the reason was real simple. He screwed someone over and paid a big price for it.”
“What do you mean, a big price? Do you know what happened to him?”
“Well I doubt they’d kidnap him and then pat him on the head and then tell him, ‘Skedaddle on home now.’”
“Tell me about the car.”
“Green Citroën hatchback. Finnish plates. Now of course you’re going to ask me why I didn’t contact the police…”
“Why didn’t you contact the police?”
“I didn’t have my phone with me, and I had a minute to think about what had really just occurred. I was most surprised by the fact that we happened to arrive on the scene right as that guy was getting killed. Weiss picked the route. He studied the map in the phone book for a long time before we left and called someone. Of course I also wondered why the men kidnapped Weiss.”
“What conclusion did you come to?”
“That he had got mixed up in something criminal, money laundering or something similar, maybe even drug trafficking, and that he was supposed to meet the guy who got killed. Weiss was a mysterious guy. One of my police buddies warned me about him. I should have listened. Weiss had a lot of dough and lived large, too large considering the scale of his business.”
“Meyer claimed that he was negotiating some fur deals with Weiss.”
“Meyer’s practically senile. It would have been easy for a guy like Weiss to lure him in as a front for his operations. He was amused by how enthusiastic Meyer was. Believe me, Meyer was just part of the scenery.”
“So why didn’t you ask Weiss to his face what he was up to?”
“I did. He laughed and said that he was making deals, fur deals, and he intended on getting rich off them.”
“Did he meet anyone besides Meyer?”
“He went to your brother’s office to consult Max Oxbaum.”
“What about?”
“No idea. I waited outside.”
I thought for a minute. Dan’s lengthy explanation sounded just as believable as a story patched together from half-truths might sound when told by a good liar. Dan predicted what I was about to ask and said: “After I thought about it, I thought it would be smartest not to call the cops. I called the Israeli embassy and told them everything or almost everything. They promised to contact the police.”
“Who did you talk to?”
“Head of security, I think the name was Klein. Of course you don’t understand why I had to give a crap about Weiss’s doings unless I was involved too. I told you I have a security company in Israel. It’s a pretty tightly regulated business down there… all it takes is one little mess and I lose my permit. Weiss’s death looks like more than a little mess. And another minor detail… I’m in Finland on a fake passport and my weapon isn’t legal here either.”
“On a fake passport? Why?”
“Because I suspected that Weiss might get me mixed up in something. I have friends in Mossad and it was easy to get my hands on one. I did consider not coming at first, but Weiss promised me a good fee. Money doesn’t grow on trees, and to be honest, business sucks. I needed that grand bad.”
“You said that you were here on a business trip, but you’re not staying at a hotel. We checked all of them.”
“Weiss arranged an apartment with the help of a friend. But don’t bother asking where it is.”
“So why call me then?”
“You’re investigating the case. Now you know how it really went down. As a policeman, you know that the most probable story is usually the right one. Weiss got mixed up in some shady deals and did something that someone didn’t like.”
“There’s still a warrant out for your arrest. I’ll give an old friend the best advice that I can. Come meet me.”
Dan was silent for a moment.
“I don’t think I will. No offence, Ari.”
“Then I’m going to have to bring you in, and that’s going to get a little nastier.”
Dan’s voice took on a taunting tone.
“Do you remember how we used to play cops and robbers when we were kids? You never caught me. And when we made up secret codes, I always cracked your messages, but you were never able to crack mine.”
“I’m a big boy now.”
“So am I.”
An ambulance came from the direction of Iso Roobertinkatu, sirens blasting. When it arrived at Ratakatu, it sounded like it was echoing. It took a moment for me to get what the deal was, and I started running towards the ambulance.
When I got to the square, I stopped. At the corner of Iso Roobertinkatu, a man stood watching me. There was about forty yards between us. He waved at me and disappeared around the corner.
I ran as fast as I could, but it wasn’t fast enough. When I got to the corner, I saw a silhouette disappear down Fredrikinkatu. By the time I got there, I couldn’t see anyone anymore, and I had to rest. As I heaved there, doubled-over, I decided to start exercising again.
I took off jogging towards Bulevardi, even though I knew I had lost the game. At the corner of Bulevardi, my phone rang. I answered it, still panting.
“Nice how you picked up on that,” Dan said. “You’ve improved, but luckily for me you’re in pretty lousy shape. Not that you’ve ever been a very good runner.”
“
Moshe manjak!
” I swore into the phone.
Dan laughed.
“Next time I’ll have to be more careful. I just wanted to see you. Goodnight.”
17
 
Dan Kaplan, who are you and what are you doing?
I kept asking myself these two questions over and over without getting anywhere.
I was sitting by the shore at Kaivopuisto Park, letting myself be buffeted by the sharp wind coming from the direction of Tallinn. The most powerful waves broke over the sea wall and threatened to plunge onto the path. The light from the lighthouse at Suomenlinna swept across the sea-sky.
When I was a few years old, Dad used to drive Eli and me to the Kaivopuisto shore often. The car was a pale-green Ford Taunus and Dad was proud of it, even though it belonged to his employer. We’d walk from the Restaurant Klippan to the Hernesaari shore, and Dad would buy us all ice creams. I also remember how we’d feed the crumbs of the waffle cones to the ducks, and how I once fell into the water while I was following a fluffy little duckling.
And yet sometimes I suspected that I had imagined all this, or heard about the walks from Eli.
I asked him about it once, and he claimed that he didn’t remember anything about Sunday strolls. I was sure he was lying, although I couldn’t come up with any reason for why he would.
A fire-engine-red American hot rod drove past me, stereo blaring. The noise annoyed me, because it momentarily blocked out the sound of the wind and the waves and threw my thoughts into turmoil…
Dan’s call had been precisely the sort of bravado that he used to love – but that he’d still be acting that way at the age of forty? I didn’t know what to make of it. I got up and went and stood right at the edge of the sea wall. The sea surged over the stones. Watching it mesmerized me the same way as staring at a fire.
Dan’s story filled in most of the remaining gaps about the events at Linnunlaulu and was otherwise believable. Furthermore, it fitted with the narcotics conviction info we had on Tagi Hamid and Laya. But it still didn’t explain why there were weapons and explosives in Hamid’s apartment. It was hard to believe that a drug dealer would work as the weapons connection for terrorists.
A car pulled up next to me and flashed its lights. I would have preferred to sit staring at the waves for a minute longer and then headed home to bed, but duty called. I climbed in next to Simolin.
 
Hussein, the brother of Wasin Mahmed, who had been killed in Ali Hamid’s body shop, had called the duty desk and said that he wanted to speak with the investigator. The desk sergeant had contacted Simolin, who had called me and then the brother and set up a meeting. The brother had a pizzeria in Herttoniemenranta.
Mahmed had been sidelined in the investigation as a matter of procedure, because from the start it had seemed clear that Hamid was the target. I had ordered Oksanen to go by his place and contact his relatives, but I didn’t know if he had done it yet.
It took a second before we found the pizzeria in the labyrinthine new residential neighbourhood. The area had previously been an oil terminal with gigantic oil tanks.
It was about twenty minutes to closing and there were only two customers. Mahmed’s brother was maybe around thirty-five. The skin on his downcast face was pitted.
He led us over to a side table and asked if we wanted anything, on the house. We thanked him and declined.
Hussein Mahmed sat down across from us. He was wearing a T-shirt with the pizzeria logo on it.
“I’m sure it was a drug thing. My little brother mentioned it a few times.”
“A drug thing?” Simolin wondered.
“Hamid, the guy who Wasin was working for, sold a lot of drugs. Big business.”
“How did your brother know?”
“He saw two French guys come by, they looked like real bad criminals. Hamid was afraid because he didn’t quite have all of the money, and the men were angry. They spoke Arabic and Wasin heard that they were talking about money. The men said that Hamid would be really sorry if the money didn’t turn up.”
“When did this happen?”
“Two weeks before they killed him.”
“You believe that the men killed him?”
“Who else?”
“Try to remember what else your brother told you,” Simolin asked.
The last of the customers left. Hussein waved at them.
“After the men left, Ali called his cousin. He said that he had to get money from somewhere… Then he said that the Israelis wouldn’t agree to give them any more money.”
“Did Ali use the word Israelis?” I asked.
“My brother said Israelis. Ali spoke Arabic.”
I considered what I was hearing. Had Dan told me the truth after all? Was Ben Weiss involved in financing the drug trade? But why the hell would drug traffickers be planning a strike against a synagogue?
“What happened then?”
“My brother wanted to quit working for Ali, but he couldn’t find a job anywhere else. He wanted to save money and set up his own body shop and then go and bring back a good wife from Iraq. My brother was a good man, a hard worker.”
A shade of sorrow cast the man’s face into an even deeper gloom.
“How did he get the job at Hamid’s?”
“Through me. Hamid told me that he needed a good mechanic. My brother was working as a cleaner then. He had gone to car-mechanic school. Hamid gave him a job. Now I regret getting it for him.”
“How long had he worked for Hamid?”
“Over six months.”
“How well did you know Hamid?”
“Not well. I just talked with him at the mosque sometimes.”
“What about his cousin Tagi?”
“I didn’t know him at all. My brother said that he also sold drugs. He was not a good man.”
“How did he know that Tagi Hamid sold drugs?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what he said.”
“Where did Wasin live?”
“He had a room behind the body shop. Sometimes he stayed with me, but he was looking for his own place the whole time.”
I remembered the pigeonhole of a backroom at the body shop. There had been a suitcase full of clothes and few personal belongings there. They had been searched.
“Did your brother have a girlfriend or any friends?”
“No, he was always studying at home or else he was at the mosque. He didn’t like going to the discos or bars.”
“Why didn’t Wasin contact the police?” Simolin asked.
“He didn’t dare. Hamid is a Finnish citizen and his employer. He was afraid they wouldn’t believe him and that he would be killed. Hamid was a dangerous man.”
“Did your brother see the French men again?”
“No. He came by here two days before he died. He told me that he had been in the backroom when he heard Tagi tell Ali that he had set up a meeting on some bridge. My brother didn’t understand what bridge they were talking about. Tagi had said that their friends would come there and take care of the whole thing and after that they wouldn’t have anything to be afraid of any more.”
“Friends? Did your brother understand what Tagi meant by that?”
Hussein didn’t answer. Suddenly he remembered something and yelled into the kitchen: “Eija! Come here!”
A thirty-year-old woman in a chef’s uniform stepped out of the kitchen.

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