The Lion of Justice (The Bodyguard series Book 2), page 12
“There have been no further signs of Stahl/Lanotte since April. His bank accounts have not been touched, and the credit cards under either name have not been used. It is highly likely that Stahl is deceased or has established a role in the enemy’s camp. The investigation continues, and if Stahl is found, this must be reported to”—name blacked out—“who will decide a course of action.”
The letter had been dated October 1, a week earlier. David had performed an impressive disappearing act—not even an efficient international police search could find him. It wasn’t hard to get a forged passport and credit cards and driver’s licenses under a new identity, but where was David getting money? Had Carlo Dolfini been Gezolian’s Italian contact that had to be silenced? I went back to the evening when I found the body. I’d searched through the apartment thoroughly and alone, but anyone could have been outside in the darkness, watching. Whoever it was could have rushed in to get the body as soon as I left. I felt sick thinking it may have been David. Maybe I’d carried out his plan perfectly. He knew Europol was watching him closely, and hanging around with a lady friend would have looked innocent enough; he could have used the distraction to plan and execute Dolfini’s murder. David could have grown tired of me but realized how useful I could be.
It was a little past three in the morning when I finally gave up and took a sleeping pill. My last thought was about where Laitio had gotten these papers and why he’d given them to me. Out of pity? I also wondered why the Bureau had never pressured me into revealing where David was. Someone in the Bureau had to have more information than me. The thought lingered in my mind until I fell asleep.
The weekend turned out to be sunny and freezing. I helped out in the kitchen by chopping vegetables while waiting for an appropriate time to call Laitio. The opportunity didn’t rise until three thirty, when the last of the lunch crowd was gone and there was still time before we had to prep for dinner. Monika kept the restaurant open twelve hours a day and didn’t want to cut her staff’s day into two shifts, very unlike other restaurateurs and typical idealism from Monika. My shift was always scheduled for eight hours, but I worked when needed.
Laitio answered on the second ring.
“Yes?” He didn’t sound particularly happy.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“The papers.”
“Don’t bullshit me, girl. And, Rytkönen, wait up! We aren’t finished with this!” Laitio yelled.
It sounded like he set the phone aside. Although the sounds were muffled, I could still tell what they were saying.
“I cannot allow such exceptions to the policy. There are no legal grounds for doing this. Even the Ministry of the Interior is wondering what’s going on.” Rytkönen had dropped his dialect, and his voice was even tenser than when I’d called him pretending to be David.
“There’s no harm in it. I do my job better than those who hide behind their desks at the Bureau,” I heard Laitio say.
“That’s not the issue. Police have to follow rules,” Rytkönen explained.
“I knew the police law by heart before you were born, goddamn it!”
“And put that cigar away. You’ll set off the smoke alarm.”
“Are you afraid of your suit getting wet? Get the hell out of here, you piece of shit.”
This was followed by the sound of a chair falling over.
“My, aren’t you riled up.” Laitio’s voice revealed a smile.
“Don’t you call your foreman names,” yelled Rytkönen.
“And don’t you talk about yourself in the third person. You’re a little boy drunk with power. Go ahead and cry to the chief. He gave me his blessing to smoke cigars. You see, I work the weekends, too. I’m a full-time Bureau man, and I don’t fill in useless overtime papers like some people,” Laitio said.
There were more clanking sounds, and a door slammed. Then I heard Laitio’s husky, evil laugh. I could just imagine his mustache shaking and the unlit cigar wobbling between his lips.
“You still there, Ilveskero? Did you hear that?” he asked.
“Yes and yes.”
“That bastard is threatening to get me fired if I don’t start working full time at the headquarters instead of from home. We’ll see who wins this game.”
“Has Rytkönen ever met David?”
“Not that I know of, but then again, nobody tells me anything these days. Forget about Stahl already. If he’s not worm food, he’s playing a game we shouldn’t mess in. Or are you interested in—”
“Stop!” I yelled. Once again Laitio had almost said too much. His office at the Bureau certainly had a camera, and if the reports he’d sent me were supposed to be hidden from him, he’d be in big trouble if his higher-ups found out that he knew about Stahl’s connection to the isotope. “You’re right,” I told Laitio. “I better forget Stahl.”
Laitio said he’d go smoke a cigar at the river, work hours or not. I went back to the dining area to pack up flowers. Monika and I had agreed that we’d send them to nursing homes and assisted-living centers, and I was the delivery girl. I’d had all sorts of jobs in my life, but I’d never delivered flowers. On my route I wondered whether I should reveal Rytkönen’s identity as Kassi to Laitio, although it would mean I’d have to confess to hiding some details about Dolfini’s murder. I would decide later what to do.
I spent the sunny weekend working indoors, so when the restaurant closed on Tuesday after lunch, I went out for a long run. I ran to Länsisatama harbor, then past Hietalahti market square, following the shore to Kaivopuisto Park. Trees were still covered in colorful leaves, but the sea was cool blue and did not look inviting. Short-haired dogs wore jackets, and the finches swarmed the park looking for winter nesting materials. Uncle Jari had always made sure we only fed the birds occasional bread crumbs until the frost settled. “They’ll get used to finding food easily and won’t know how to find it themselves. Humans shouldn’t meddle with nature,” said the man who had kept an orphaned lynx cub as a pet. Sure, Frida would have perished if Uncle had left her alone in the woods, but the lessons he imparted to me weren’t always logical. I suppose their underlying motivation was love.
I’d often thought about whether my parents had loved each other. They’d gotten married because my mom was pregnant. Maybe the condom broke or she had been too shy to ask her doctor for the pill. Maybe my father, the bastard, had raped her. Still, he married her. First married, then killed.
I had very little information about my parents. The only relative I knew from my mom’s side had been my uncle; my grandmother had been an only child, and Grandpa’s brothers had died in the war. I hadn’t bothered to look up any of my second cousins. I knew there were more relatives on my father’s side, but they didn’t want to hear from me. The murder had been a terrible shame on the family, and in one version I’d heard, my grandfather had speculated whether I was even my father’s child. Father had killed Mom for having an affair, after all. Seppo Holopainen had once boasted to my uncle about knowing this tidbit while they’d sat outside on the sauna porch, and I’d eavesdropped on them. Believe me, I would have rather been someone else’s child, but this one photograph I owned showed no mercy: year after year I looked more like my father. His mother had believed blood was thicker than water and left me a small inheritance, although we hadn’t seen each other for decades.
Seagulls were screeching over the water, making it feel like summer again. It would have been back in Italy where it was over sixty degrees. I could’ve run in a T-shirt. But no, I had to trudge on to make sure the sweat didn’t dry in the chilly winds of October. I tried to recall people who would have known my mom. The photo album of her funeral pictures, showing the guests, was in Hevonpersiinsaari. I should ask the Hakkarainens to send it to me. Uncle Jari had always written the names of people on the back of the pictures. They were held in see-through plastic sleeves, so I could easily remove them. I’d only wanted to look at them once or twice before. I already had enough memories of the funeral.
Monika took the evening off and went to see a French art house movie with Petter. I wasn’t interested. I thought about seeing an action film, but I ended up wandering around the city, window shopping. I’m usually not interested in jewelry, but a glance at a ring display gave me a start. There was a thin band with three blood-red rubies, reminding me of the one David had left. But why would David have bought the ring in Finland? All intelligence pointed to him not even setting foot in Finland since he’d left on I Believe almost two years ago.
A part of me wanted to believe that David had intended to propose, but my cynical side reminded me how ridiculous that seemed. And what was with all the riddles? Why was he interested in Kopparnäs and Syrjänen’s plans for the area? Or was the map just a sappy reminder of the place we’d made love for the first time? Again my cynical side pulled me back—there had to be something else. David wanted me to visit Kopparnäs to see what was going on. It was humiliating to be his little puppet. “Dear Hilja, I know you too well.” I didn’t want anyone to predict how I’d react or how I could be manipulated. I was the master of my own fate.
I began to feel chilly, so I stopped by Hotel Torni’s bar Ateljée for a hot chocolate with rum. The chill turned inward when I remembered sitting there with David. God, how many places had he managed to ruin for me? I sat next to a window at a table for two, facing the spiral staircase near the restrooms, and watched how darkness fell over Helsinki. One of my favorite pastimes in New York had been riding to the top of the Empire State Building right before it closed and looking over the sea of lights. Helsinki was no Manhattan, but in the evening, it was a beautifully wistful sight.
A hand on my shoulder startled me. How could someone surprise me so easily? I was even more confused when I saw Yuri Trankov standing there. He could have stabbed me in the back or injected me with a tranquilizer. He’d done it quickly with Helena Lehmusvuo, and now Trankov was smirking at me as if he’d seen an old friend.
“Good evening, Hilja. May I buy you a drink?” Trankov asked in Finnish.
“No. Please leave.” I wanted to add that I was about to leave, but I wasn’t going to let this thug scare me away.
Trankov sat across from me.
“I told you I don’t need company,” I said.
“Wait.” Trankov set his hand over mine. His touch felt disgusting. I had to remind myself that we were in a public place and I had nothing to worry about. My home was only a stone’s throw away. Of course Trankov would know where I was staying.
“They don’t serve tables here. Order at the bar,” I managed to tell him just as the waitress appeared to take his order.
“A Bloody Mary, please.” I had never seen a friendlier smile on Trankov’s face, and his eyes were glowing. When Trankov sold the lynx painting to Mrs. Voutilainen, he’d managed to charm her by pretending to be a good person. I knew what he was really about.
“And how about you, miss?” the waitress asked.
“Another hot chocolate. No rum this time. Add on some whipped cream please. This gentleman said he’s paying.” I smiled at Trankov.
Trankov had a quizzical look on his face; his Finnish skills probably weren’t up to this sort of conversation. A group of Japanese tourists were shuffling chairs around, pointing excitedly at a cruise ship slowly making its way on the sea. Ships were prisons where you couldn’t escape from your tormentors, and they could be easily blown to smithereens.
The waitress brought our drinks, and Trankov paid with his credit card. For a second I thought he could have arranged it all in advance, bribed a waitress to spike my hot chocolate with something unpleasant. He was capable of anything, and in this mazelike restaurant, it would have been easy to move about without me noticing. I had been staring out the window, thinking about David, not paying attention. I took a sip of my hot chocolate. I didn’t have to drink it, although the taste was the same, minus the bitterness of rum.
“What was that you taught me about Finnish traffic rules?” Trankov switched to English. Finnish sounded more natural for him. English consonants became thick and muddled in his mouth.
“It’s your turn to tell me why you’re in Finland. Who revoked your ban to enter the country?”
“How should I know?” Trankov shrugged. “I’m not accused of anything. I have a clean record and a permanent job at Usko Syrjänen’s company.”
“Which one of them?”
“The construction company. I’m an architect. Well, almost graduated.”
“An artistic man. I see. On your last Finland tour, you pretended to be a painter,” I reminded him.
“I didn’t pretend anything. I still paint. I’ve always painted. I just can’t make a living at it, and my dad . . . not everyone thinks it’s a real job,” Trankov said.
“How much does Paskevich’s opinion mean to you?”
Mentioning Paskevich made Trankov jump, and suddenly he looked like a little boy. I had never thought of asking how old he was, although the Bureau probably had it in their records.
“He means nothing to me. Paskevich is just a small-time crook, and if you hang out with him, you’ll end up in jail.” Trankov spread his arms and shook his head. “Syrjänen is totally different. I can do great things with him, and he’s in need of good Russian relations now that all his former business partners are kaput.”
“And you can provide such relations?” I gulped down half of my cocoa.
“I know the right people. Syrjänen trusts me,” Trankov said with pride in his voice. It sounded like no one had bothered to fill Syrjänen in on Trankov’s background. A businessman of that caliber didn’t research his business partners? First Vasiliev, now Trankov. Or perhaps Syrjänen cared about the source of his money as much as the politicians he bribed.
“It’s important to know the people you’re dealing with in Russia. Syrjänen has a lot to learn in that aspect. Why do you work at a restaurant? Nobody wants to give you a job in your field?”
“And what do you suppose my field is?”
“You’re a bodyguard—ready for other jobs, too, if the situation calls for it. And you’re not all that bad at it. Syrjänen could use you once Julia comes to Finland.”
I chuckled. I was not clamoring to work for Syrjänen, although I was interested in his operations: the papers I’d found in David’s drawers; the Hiidenniemi project Anita Nuutinen had been after, too; and Trankov, who claimed he knew things David had been hiding from me. Was that what this was leading to? David, David, and David? I wouldn’t find peace until I found out what had happened to him.
I’d accepted my fate after I Believe blew up, especially when I didn’t hear from David for months. The most likely scenario had been that David had died, and with tears in my eyes, I had accepted that David had trusted me enough to share what he was going to do. Now I was hurt, disappointed, and hungry for more information. Trankov wanted revenge because of how I’d humiliated him at Bromarf, and he better prepare for an encore.
“I’m fine with my current job, thank you. What sort of plans does Syrjänen’s construction company have? The papers haven’t been writing about his recent projects,” I said.
Trankov lifted his glass to his pursed lips and sucked in a seductive way, and it looked ridiculous.
“He trusts me. I’m not telling you. You know how construction is. First you need permits.”
“So you’re planning buildings for him?” I asked.
“More like . . .” Trankov was searching for the right word, then found it in Finnish. “A city plan. The way houses are built in relation to others. And interiors. I paint directly onto walls. I illustrate entire rooms.” Trankov seemed less dangerous by the word, and I knew I could manipulate him again. “Syrjänen holds a grudge against Stahl about that boat explosion,” Trankov said.
I tried to keep my hand steady as I set my mug down. Syrjänen wasn’t supposed to know that. He and the media had been presented with a story about I Believe exploding as an unfortunate accident. Or was Trankov just testing me? Even if he was, how did he know about Stahl? This was information meant only for the inner circles. All of us had vowed confidentiality. Maybe Syrjänen was such good buddies with the ministers that vows and Europol agent lives didn’t matter.
“First Stahl slithered his way to Paskevich’s camp, then moved over to work for Vasiliev. I suppose he’s alone now.”
“Who says he’s alive?” I tried to sound nonchalant, but I knew I was failing. I had to find out how recent Trankov’s information was and how I could make him talk. Would the same methods that worked on his dad work on him? Was he a slave to his desires, too? And would the same bag of tricks work, or was he prepared for them? I had to make myself sound dumber than I was. I’d been really good at it since childhood. Showing your hand didn’t always play to your advantage. Trankov wanted to look down on me, humiliate me. If that was the price I had to pay for finding out the truth, then so be it.
I got up and put my jacket on. Trankov grabbed my wrist extremely tightly.
“You know what I want from you, Hilja? I want to paint you. I have a studio over at Syrjänen’s house in Långvik. Be my model. I already know what I’ll paint,” Trankov said.
Mike Virtue was shouting in my head, joined by Uncle Jari. Don’t be foolish! Say no! I ignored the voices as I set my free hand on Trankov’s hand and said, “Sounds good to me. Give me your number, and we’ll be in touch.”
12
Trankov’s business card was impressive. It had Syrjänen’s logo and an official-sounding title: “architectural project manager and painter.”
“I’m an honest man these days. I have no reason to hide anything,” he tried to convince me as we departed. He kissed me on both cheeks, and I washed my face as soon as I was in the apartment.
Petter had come over after the movie for a nightcap; the siblings were having red wine. I settled for a glass of water. I felt like an outsider as they talked. I had nobody to share my childhood memories with, nobody who would get what I meant from hearing part of a sentence. Monika thought the movie was intense, and Petter had enjoyed the colors. It sounded like I would have slept through it. Petter nagged me again about modeling for him, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had promised to model for someone else.
