Raid and the Blackest Sheep (27 page)

    
“You have a cemetery plot yet?” Huusko asked.

    
“Huusko!” Jansson growled.

    
“Yes. A straight answer to a straight question.”

    
“So Rusanen was one of these enemies?” Jansson speculated.

    
“Yes. He’d forced some friends of mine to work for him. They’d have rather gone straight, but Rusanen never gave them the chance. The only way was to bump him. A final favor, if you will.”

    
“What about Sariola and the other incident in Turku?” Jansson asked.

    
“Those punks came after me because they knew I had money. They were right, but it’s not for them. They came to my farm and I shot Sariola in the hand with a shotgun.”

    
“
You
shot him? What’d you hire this torpedo for if you’re always the trigger man?”

    
“I need a chauffeur.”

    
“You’re telling me this guy didn’t even touch the gun?”

    
“That’s right. You’ll only find
my
fingerprints on the gun. He didn’t even know where I was.”

    
“Bullshit!”

    
Jansson glowered at Huusko.

    
A pained expression flickered across Nygren’s face, but he gathered his composure.

    
“About Turku, I’ve known Koistinen for over twenty years. He’s been a con-artist his whole life. I’m not one to judge, but Koistinen is about as appealing as dog shit on a shoe. A few weeks ago, an old friend from Turku called asking for help, told me Koistinen had started up a church there and was milking the flock for everything they had. My friend’s daughter had fallen for Koistinen’s charms and went berserk once she realized he was rotating among five women. Koistinen had promised to marry her. The girl fell for it, sold her house and gave all her money to the church. Once she realized what Koistinen was up to, she was so upset she tried to kill herself and ended up being committed.”

    
“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,” Jansson 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.