Behind God's Back (26 page)

“There's no time. The local police are on my ass. I want you to call Jakov as soon as you're done in the sauna and ask him about this, then you'll call me back right away. Tell him I want a good explanation, otherwise unpleasant things are going to happen, very unpleasant. I wouldn't want to cause a diplomatic incident between Finland and Israel, but if nothing else works, you'd better believe I will. We Finns don't make promises we can't keep.”

“I'll try to call him. But you have to understand, he might not answer. He's so careful these days because —”

“I'm sure he'll take your call.” Nurmio hung up.

I saw Levi glance in our direction. Then he disappeared into the sauna.

“Seemed to work like a charm,” Nurmio said, looking satisfied with himself. “If we got all that on tape, that should already get us pretty far.”

“We did,” Sillanpää assured him.

“What do we do now?” I saw two security guards step out onto the porch. They were scanning the terrain with binoculars. Nurmio and Sillanpää also noticed them.

“We'd better get out of here,” Sillanpää said.

“Why didn't you call Jakov directly?” I asked Nurmio once we were sitting in the car.

“There's always an intermediary. He doesn't answer calls himself – at least, not mine. If anyone can get through to him, it's Levi. I'm curious to hear the recording of that conversation. The tape will be the final nail in Jakov and Levi's coffins.”

“Do you really believe that something like that will work in Israel?” Sillanpää asked doubtfully.

“I wouldn't be here without high-level support.”

“The prime minister?”

“Something like that. Unfortunately I can't say any more about that.”

“Then tell us about yourself. You left Finland a criminal and you came back practically a police officer. How did that happen?”

“My reputation as a criminal was hugely exaggerated,” Nurmio said. “And there aren't any big secrets involved in my Israeli citizenship. This is for your ears only. During my stint in the UN, I did some big favours for them. When I headed to Israel, I looked up my old acquaintances. One of them had become a big boss in the Mossad. He thought I was a useful man, and hired me to work for his company. It's easier for a blue-eyed guy like me to travel around Arab countries where they don't look kindly on Jews. I did what I was supposed to do and was granted citizenship.”

“If you manage to hook Jakov, how do you think you'll survive in Israel? If he's as powerful as they say, you're a marked man,” Sillanpää said.

“I'm coming up to retirement age. Maybe I'll quit this business and come back to Finland. It's safe up here behind God's back. Or then I'll go somewhere else. I own a house in a place where oranges grow.”

Nurmio's phone rang. “It's Levi.”

Sillanpää pulled over at the side of the road.

“Did you get hold of Jakov?”

“Yes. He says he didn't send anyone after you. The sole targets were Jacobson and Oxbaum. It must have been a misunderstanding, or else there's something personal. Maybe you've stepped on someone's toes. He's sorry for the trouble he's caused you, and promised to compensate you generously. We agreed that I'd get you on an El Al flight to Israel. The Finnish authorities will have no way of getting at you there.”

“That's very thoughtful of you, but my photo is in every paper and on television, and they know my name. How do you propose I'll get to the airport?”

“I made arrangements with the embassy to handle it. You'll get a new passport and diplomatic status. You can even spend the night there. You'll leave on the morning flight tomorrow. Rest assured: we brought Adolf Eichmann to Israel from Argentina, we'll get you from Helsinki to Tel Aviv. Are we set?”

“It doesn't feel like it. I don't trust Jacobson's son. Kazan is married to his sister.”

“Don't worry about him. He's in this up to his neck, even though he doesn't know it.”

“But he never paid back his loan to you.”

“That gave us a good excuse to tell Oxbaum we no longer required his services. I don't have any more time to discuss this. Go straight to the embassy, and they'll take care of the rest.”

“I guess I don't really have any choice. Thanks for the help.”

“Remember, straight to the embassy. Do you understand?”

Nurmio hung up and smiled broadly. “The crooks are hooked.”

Sillanpää started up the car and sped off.

“That's fantastic,” I said. “Now for something a bit more unpleasant: we're going to have to arrest you on suspicion of the murder of Igor Semeyev.”

27

I attended synagogue so infrequently that I felt guilty even when I did go, which made each subsequent visit more and more tortuous. Even this time, I wasn't at synagogue because of Rosh Hashanah; I was there for work. Haim Levi wanted to spend the holiday, which fell during his visit to Finland, at the Helsinki synagogue. Or I don't know if he wanted to, but he submitted to realities. Aside from being considered offensive, not attending synagogue would have demonstrated that Levi didn't honour his Jewishness. How could a man like that act as Minister of Justice, the judge of judges?

Rosh Hashanah, which fell in early September that year, marks the beginning of the ten days of repentance that come to their conclusion in Yom Kippur. During these days, after having weighed all of a man's deeds and thoughts, God decides whether his name will be recorded in the Book of Life or the Book of Death. Wrongdoers have reason to fear, ask for forgiveness and make restitution for their deeds. Debtors must pay their debts, quarrellers settle their quarrels.

Haim Levi had done so much wrong, and brazenly broken not only earthly but also divine laws, that I didn't believe ten days of repentance would suffice – even if he asked for forgiveness from dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn and recited a thousand
Kol Nidre
s.

There was a large crowd in front of the synagogue, and more people kept arriving. The visit of the Minister of Justice of the Promised Land was an event that drew congregants who normally wouldn't have attended. Television fame has a strange
effect on people. I was still a patrolman when the Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat visited Finland in 1989. Even though the Finns considered him a terrorist, throngs gathered to gawk everywhere he went. I was ordered to go to the Kalastajatorppa Hotel to meet his vehicle. Someone in police command evidently thought it would be a good joke.

A few months later, the Pope visited Helsinki, and once again folks were swarming all over the place, holding out their hands to shake his, even though only a handful of Finns are Catholics.

If the worst serial killer in history had been brought to the Jumbo shopping mall, the place would have been overrun with mobs of autograph-seekers. People hadn't changed a bit from the days when everyone went to the circus to be horrified by freaks disfigured since birth.

I was standing in front of the synagogue with Simolin, a few uniformed officers and a press photographer. The wind was blowing coolly from the north, and it felt as if the flu that had tried to grasp at me a few times was finally getting a proper grip. I was shivering and my throat felt gravelly.

A motorcade of motorcycle police and four black cars came from Fredrikinkatu and pulled up in front of the synagogue. Sillanpää and some other SUPO agent got out of the first car. Both wore the sunglasses that were the trademark of their profession. I could see Silberstein hurry across the yard to receive the arrivals. Josef Meyer and Eli followed at his heels, Eli looking somehow reluctant.

Two Israeli secret service men stepped out of the third car. They reacted to the environment clearly more suspiciously than Sillanpää and his companion. They came from a country where bombs and assassination attempts were not something you just read about in the papers; they were part of everyday life. That left a mark. That's why two security officers from the embassy had been to the synagogue that morning to go over the place with the SUPO security detail and a bomb dog. They had even checked and sealed the manholes in front of the synagogue.
The neighbouring buildings had been inspected carefully, all the way up to their attics, as had the guest list at the SAS Radisson hotel, where some of the rooms had line-of-sight views of the synagogue. These guys were real professionals.

The Israeli ambassador and Minister of Justice Haim Levi stepped out of the second car. The fourth car contained one more Israeli secret service man and the ambassador's family: his wife and two children. Levi waved at the curious congregants like he was Barack Obama visiting his hometown.

The party moved into the courtyard, where Silberstein was waiting. It must have been the first time I ever saw him so obsequious. Levi knew the protocol and shook hands with Silberstein first, then with Meyer, and finally extended his hand to Eli…

I looked at my brother, and it occurred to me that the last time I had seen that look on his face was when I had beaned him in the head with a snowball and then laughed. He had chased me around the yard, bellowing with rage and face contorted in fury. For a second I was sure that if he caught me, he would kill me. I was faster, and he didn't catch me, but I hadn't dared to approach him for hours afterwards.

I saw Levi stand there expectantly, hand extended. But Eli pulled his own hand back. It clenched into a fist, picked up speed and slammed into the corner of Levi's eye.

For a split second, the entire courtyard froze, colours faded, sound waves paused mid-air, and second-hands stopped ticking. Everything was suspended like that instant after a nuclear explosion before the blast of light strikes and the mushroom cloud rises from the ground. Then the moment passed and the secret service agents leapt into action. They dived for Eli and grabbed his hands. I rushed in and yelled: “I have him! It's OK! Look out for the minister!”

Eli writhed and looked at me with unseeing eyes. “Max was killed because of that shitbag… Let me go…” I clenched Eli tightly by the arm and led him off to the side. I managed to see a smile cross Sillanpää's face before civil servant
officiousness washed it away. He came over and grabbed Eli by the other arm.

“What is this, some new kind of boxing diplomacy?”

Silberstein, pale as death and on the verge of fainting, looked on as the secret service agents wiped the blood from Levi's brow.

A second later, Levi started recovering from the shock of the blow. He pressed his forehead, looked around imploringly and kept begging: “Please, nothing happened here. I fell and hit my head. This stays between us… as long as you get that madman out of here. Having this get out won't be to anyone's advantage…”

Simolin and I led Eli to my car.

It had been a long time since I had been so proud of my brother.

EPILOGUE

It took over two months before the fuse that had been lit in Finland detonated a bomb in Israel.

The
Jerusalem Post
was the first to report that Haim Levi was suspected of criminal activity. The Minister of Justice had been escorted from his house for questioning over the acceptance of over two million dollars in bribes. Money had been distributed to several other power players in his party, too. The paper also reported that three well-known businessmen had been arrested on suspicion of bribery. Only two of the names were reported: Amos Jakov and Benjamin Hararin. But I knew the third one. It was Jacobson's son-in-law, Joel Kazan.

Nurmio had kept me up to date, which is why I was better informed than the
Jerusalem Post
, to whom the investigation had been leaked. The publicity ensured that the matter wouldn't be swept under the rug for the sake of political expediency. It took two more months before Levi resigned, even though the investigation was just beginning.

Here in Finland, things progressed much more rapidly. The investigation confirmed that Semeyev had killed Jacobson and Oxbaum. He had entered the Jacobson home from the back, using the spare key that was hidden outside. We suspected that Semeyev was told the location of the key by the homeowner's son-in-law, Joel Kazan. Threatening him with a gun, Semeyev had led Jacobson to the front door and shot him so it would appear as if Jacobson had opened the door for his killer. Semeyev had then returned to the back door and made his escape.

Soon afterwards, Nurmio had appeared and the neighbour keeping watch at the window had seen him. There was no way the timing could have been a coincidence. Someone wanted to make Nurmio a scapegoat, just as he had claimed.

The investigation of Semeyev's death had demanded high-level negotiations that also involved the participation of an official from the Israeli embassy. This part of the investigation was sealed for fifty years. In the closed-door trial, Nurmio was represented by my brother Eli.

A little before Christmas, I received a postcard from Nurmio. It had a picture of an orange tree laden with fruit. The stamp indicated that it had been sent from Portugal.

There was a brief note on the back:
Enjoying the sunshine. But then again, you never know… Shalom!