Behind God's Back (19 page)

“That was a while ago, though, right?” I pointed out.

“A lot has happened since then, it's true. Nurmio was transferred after knifing an Arab. Once his Golan gig ended, he
spent some time in Lebanon and was involved in some dubious goings-on there. Then he came back to Finland, founded a car dealership, and lost it in a card game. He was subsequently linked to robberies of financial institutions, two of them, and to major narcotics deals, but no proof turned up until customs found two hundred kilos of hash in a German lorry. One of the guys who was arrested claimed that Nurmio had been the mastermind. That guy's brother was beaten to within an inch of his life. The witness recanted, but Nurmio still decided it would be best to disappear. And now he shows up again, but this time as Leo Meir.”

“So what?” Huovinen asked.

“Nurmio owns an import company in Punavuori. We've been staking it out for over a month from the apartment across the street. He's not here to relive old times, believe me. He's here to kill. We received a tip that's so heavy-duty we can't afford to question it. The only problem is figuring out the identity of the person he's going to kill.”

“But he already has killed,” I reminded Sillanpää.

“That's just the prelude.”

“What about Oxbaum?”

“That was the second act.”

“But why did he kill those two?”

“Jacobson was a Jew, Oxbaum was a Jew, you're a Jew and you're leading the investigation. Which is precisely why we need you: to figure out why Jacobson and Oxbaum were killed.”

“But you do have leads regarding Nurmio's next target, correct?”

“We do?”

“If Nurmio was planning on killing, say, an Estonian drug lord, why would you be interested? The target has to be political in one way or another.”

Huovinen's eyes bored into Sillanpää. “Ari's right. Normal criminal investigations are our turf.”

Sillanpää began waxing philosophical. “Who's to say what's political and what isn't? Sometimes it's a difficult line to draw.”

“So teach us,” I suggested. “Maybe we'll understand the difference.”

Sillanpää continued as if he hadn't heard my gibe. “Let's assume that while he's in Finland, Nurmio kills, say, a Russian businessman who's a good friend and supporter of the Russian president and a former member of the Duma. That's already starting to tiptoe into our territory, because it can have ramifications on foreign policy and international trade. The Russians don't have much of a sense of humour when it comes to their citizens being killed on Finnish soil.”

“Is that what you suspect?”

“It's one possibility. A man named Daniel Livson heads up Baltic Invest's operations in Russia. It's rumoured that he has connections to the largest criminal league in St Petersburg. We heard that he's coming to Helsinki some time soon. According to our sources, he knew Oxbaum…”

Sillanpää left the rest hanging in the air. That was clearly his tactic.

“And?”

“Livson is Jewish. From which some conclusions can be drawn…”

“Such as?” I asked patiently.

“I heard that Oxbaum and Nurmio met up not long ago at a service station cafe in Vantaa.”

I glanced at Huovinen. He shook his head.

“Nurmio evidently had some hold over Oxbaum, and he may have demanded a service from Oxbaum in order to get close to Livson. Livson is in the habit of attending synagogue wherever he happens to be travelling. As his friend, Oxbaum definitely would have known when Livson would be on the premises. When Oxbaum refused, he had to be eliminated because he knew too much.”

I was pissed off and didn't bother hiding it. “You guys know all that and you wait until now to contact us?”

“We each have our own roles to play, and our aims don't always coincide. Besides, this is all just conjecture. There is no evidence. It is possible that Nurmio isn't here for Livson after all.”

“Let's assume he is. What's the motive? Why would someone want Livson dead?”

“We'll have to continue with the hypotheticals. Maybe he's trying to poach business from the Israelis and they decide they're not going to take it lying down. So they sic Nurmio on him.”

Huovinen started looking perturbed, too. “If your source is so good, why don't they just tell you who Nurmio is hunting?”

“Even good sources don't know everything. We know Nurmio is here for something major, and Livson might be that something. The information comes from a friendly party who doesn't want Finnish–Russian relations to be endangered. And you can't demand too much from friends.”

“Another country's intelligence service, huh?” I said. Sillanpää didn't respond, just stared ahead expressionlessly.

“And you're staking out Nurmio day and night for over a month simply because he
might
be planning on killing Livson? I have to say, I'm a little envious of your discretionary funds.”

“Major impacts, major money.”

“What about Jacobson?” I asked. “I'm sure you can provide us with a good theory as to why Nurmio killed him, and what that has to do with Livson's arrival.”

“I think the reason for Jacobson's death is the same as for Oxbaum's. Nurmio blackmailed Jacobson first, but failed. Oxbaum was next on the list.”

Something about Sillanpää's sudden generosity nagged at me, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. “What good am I to the Security Police? You guys already know everything.”

“We suspect all kinds of things – that's different from knowing. We want proof. For instance, information on what kind
of hold Nurmio had over Jacobson and Oxbaum, and if he can use the same ploy on anyone else. We believe the answer is going to be found among your people… I'm curious: How did you find out about Nurmio?”

“Jacobson's daughter IDed him from surveillance camera footage. They had attended the same party in Tel Aviv. Someone had mentioned to her that he was Finnish, and they had chatted. She remembered his name, too, Nurmio's Israeli name.”

Sillanpää's interest was piqued. “What kind of party?”

“One thrown by her husband's employers. The employer happens to be the same company that owns Baltic Invest.”

“Quite a coincidence. Or is it a coincidence?”

“I really have no idea.”

“I'm assuming you milked the daughter for everything she had?”

“All she knew was that Nurmio lived in Tel Aviv, that he had received Israeli citizenship, and that he worked at the company as some sort of head of security. He reported directly to Hararin. That was the only time she met him.”

“And I assume you told her not to discuss this with anyone, including her husband?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Good job,” Sillanpää said, as if he were a higher-up praising a subordinate. He stood and smacked his hands together. “So that's settled, then.”

“When do I start?”

“Right away.”

“So what exactly does that mean in practice? Will I be working from Ratakatu for the duration?”

“No need. All you have to do is keep us informed. We'll pass on more detailed requests for assistance as necessary. You can continue leading the investigation as you have been.” Sillanpää eyed me for a moment, then continued: “And the most important thing is to not do anything that would endanger our operation. So the photo is not going to the press. Is that clear?”

He stood to leave.

“Sit down,” I said. “One more thing. Even though you seem to have good informants inside your unit, you don't know everything. The ballistics tests for the bullets that killed Jacobson and Oxbaum just came in. They were fired from the same gun.”

“Yeah, I thought that was understood.”

“That's what I thought, too. It's just too bad that the man who killed Oxbaum on his boat and fled by kayak wasn't Nurmio, or even Meir.”

19

When it came to the affairs of Finnish Jews, I had an advantage, and not simply because of my background. I'm referring to the fact that my uncle Dennis was the first one to hear about anything that happened in the community. He was one of the congregation's most liberal supporters, and all doors were open to him. It was high time to pay him another visit.

He lived alone in a large apartment in Töölö. It was surrounded by parks, and had a view of the Rowing Stadium and the sea. A museum-like stillness prevailed inside, even though details revealed that a living family had once resided there. That family had dwindled as one of Dennis's sons died of a drug overdose, his daughter moved to Stockholm, and the second son to Israel. His wife had died over ten years earlier. The deaths of his son and wife had struck a deep wound in my uncle's soul, but he had engaged in a long, grim monologue with God and they had come to an understanding.

My uncle had suffered a severe heart attack early that summer, and as a result had been spending more and more time alone by choice. He told me that he wanted to reflect on things in peace. I still visited him a couple of times a month, and phoned him more often.

I was fond of my uncle. He had helped Mom out after Dad died and lent her the money to buy a hair salon. He was the only one of my relatives who had supported me when I had applied to the Police Academy.

My uncle was sitting in his patinated club chair like Marlon Brando in
The Godfather.
He was wearing a light-blue plaid shirt
under his V-neck sweater. Despite his casual dress, my uncle radiated an uncommon dignity, and his soft, wandering gaze could sharpen bright and diamond-hard at any moment. He knew I was there on business. A steaming cup of tea stood on the cigarette table. After his heart attack, he had hired an elderly housekeeper. She had carried in tea and sandwiches for us.

“All right, let's have it.”

I protested innocence: “Let's have what?”

“The question you want to ask.”

“We'll have time to get to that.”

“But I'm not just impatient, I'm also curious.”

“It has to do with Jacobson's death… and Max's.”

“I heard about Max. He's the last one I'd have expected… I mean that he'd get himself killed. I was certain that with all those extra pounds and cholesterol levels like that he'd die of a heart attack or a stroke. I suppose my heart attack didn't ask what my cholesterol levels were, though. Which, if anything, taught me that I'm mortal, too. Somehow I'd managed to forget. I'm sorry, go on.”

“I believe that the murders are not only linked to each other, but to something else, something bigger. One possibility is that Jacobson was first pressured into getting involved in something. After that, the killer came after Max, and I'm afraid that won't be the end of it. The killer needs help, and he's looking for a new helper.”

“So the killer must have had some sort of hold over Jacobson and Max?”

“So it would seem.”

“Then it must have to do with Max's business dealings. I've always suspected that they wouldn't stand the light of day. I warned your brother, but evidently he didn't listen to his uncle.”

“That's what I think, too. Max had brokered loans for Jacobson's company. The lender was an outfit named Baltic Invest.”

“I'm familiar with it. I can't imagine ever being desperate enough to borrow money from them.”

I believed my uncle. On the other hand, it was easy for him to say. His financial affairs were more than in order. He had been a bank director for over thirty years, and in addition was a partner in a successful investment company. I was certain that he had a seven-digit account balance; in other words, four digits more than my own. I hadn't inherited the knack for moneymaking that was considered the birthright of every Jewish boy.

I had thought on many occasions about how different brothers can be. My father was the scientist type, a humanist and a nature lover. He was more at ease during his work trips to Lapland than he was in his own home. My uncle, on the other hand, was an urban, cigar-smoke-scented businessman down to the tips of his fingers. He had softened with age, but I still couldn't imagine him walking down a hiking trail in Lapland or binding birch whisks on the sauna steps.

“When he was in Israel, Max wandered off the straight and narrow, and someone videotaped it. He, at least, was being blackmailed with those tapes. Samuel Jacobson was probably being blackmailed with something else, but what that was, I don't know. I don't even have a good guess.”

My uncle listened, apparently absent-mindedly. But I knew he heard every word, including the ones I left out.

“Samuel intended to pay off that loan. He came here to discuss the matter, and I gave him some advice. Despite the fact that things weren't going quite as well as they had in the past, his company had considerable assets. So it can't have had anything to do with the company's loan.”