The Bodyguard (20 page)

I didn’t quite get why a cowgirl would wear a leather cap, but you know—to each his own. Before I headed downstairs, I checked in with Sami. “You mentioned some other broad here. She’s not trying to get in on my deal, is she? Where is she? I’ll tell her to get lost.”

“No, it was some business thing. Trankov had tried to get in touch with her for ages and today he got lucky. He took her out to the sauna, so she won’t be bothering you right now. That’s all I know. I’m just a janitor here and it’s Valentin’s show. Come on, let’s get going!”

“Does this door have a lock?” I asked. I really didn’t want anyone to go through my stuff.

Sami laughed. “A lock? It’s up to Valentin. Guests are treated well here—don’t worry about it. If he’s happy with you, he might even pay you extra.”

I followed Sami downstairs. The lights in the hallway had been dimmed and there were real candles in the chandelier. I couldn’t tell how old the villa was; at first glance it looked like it was from another era, but most likely it was built only a couple of years ago. The room I walked into was as large as the three-bedroom apartment I lived in on Untamo Road, and it, too, had appropriate mood lighting: the dimmed bulbs gave off a soft red glow, a fire was crackling in the fireplace, and candles shimmered in the chandelier. It was warm, and after that torrential downpour, it actually felt cozy. The armchairs and sofas were covered in soft distressed brown leather, and a whiff of cigar smoke wafted through the air.

Two maids were waiting with trays of drinks. I quickly recognized Russian champagne in a chiller, cognac, brandy, and Vana Tallin liqueur. Only then did I pay attention to the maids, who looked like they were twins with dark eyes, pale skin, and black hair cut into shiny, sleek bobs. Both were wearing a traditional frilly maid’s cap. Their remaining clothes were less traditional—black vinyl with such plunging necklines that I could see glimpses of their nipples. Their skirts were short, barely reaching their thighs, and were covered by a small handkerchief of white apron. Both wore stockings and garter belts. Maybe the maids were everyday amusement for Paskevich. They stared at me expressionlessly. Their extremely long fake eyelashes must have given them a headache; their lips were painted dark red. Under their tight garments, the womens’ bodies were perfect; slender yet busty. Who knew if they’d had some help from an expensive clinic? Paskevich would have been able to afford what he wanted, no matter how many millions Anita had taken. Sami had been right. I was a hot mess compared to these Miss Universes. I just had to use it to my advantage.

The large armchair in front of the fireplace began to slowly rotate. Paskevich wanted to make a real entrance, it seemed. Fifty-five, Sami had said, and in this dark room, it would’ve been easy to believe that my dear friend Valentin was much younger. His hair wasn’t gray at all—it was gorgeously chestnut, slightly wavy. Paskevich had had a mustache, but now he was clean shaven. The skin on his face was tight and smooth, his blue eyes shone, and he wore large, rimless glasses. He was wearing a black-and-red silk robe and black dress pants. The chandelier reflected off his shiny shoes.

“Finally!” he said in English and puffed on the cigar that was resting between two of his fingers. It was almost too much, honestly, the icing on the comical cake. “What a beautiful smile. What is your name?”

“Suzy,” I said the first name that came to me. Suzy, Sarita, Annie Mae, whatever. Paskevich didn’t really want to know my name.

“Suzy, then. Would you like something to drink? What do cowgirls usually drink? Bourbon? I do have some Four Roses.”

“Sure, I’ll have some bourbon.”

One of the women slid toward me in her five-inch heels across the lush red carpet like a figure skater. When her skirt moved, I saw that she wore no underwear. Her tray was covered with different types of drinking glasses. I wasn’t sure which one to use, so I chose a tumbler that could hold about half a cup of liquid. The woman opened the bourbon bottle so quickly that I couldn’t tell whether it had already been unsealed, and she filled my glass almost to the brim.

“I’ll have one of those as well, Lena.” Paskevich was still sounding extremely friendly. This was turning out to be a fun party, although the only participants so far were the host and the guest of honor.

“You can go now, girls.” He used the Russian plural
devushki
. “I’ll call you should I need anything, but please do not disturb me from now on. Come here, little Suzy!”

As I walked toward Paskevich, memories of Seppo Holopainen and the school nurse came back to me. A large divan covered in a thick red silk shawl was behind the armchair. Beyond that was a rack that at first glance looked like it was part of a jungle gym, except that it was made of black steel. The lasso rope was heavy in my hands. Was Sami keeping an eye on the room with a security camera? Or did Paskevich think that he was untouchable here in his hideout in the middle of a forest? Could he truly be that dumb? Or maybe he already knew that I had a gun, if they’d been watching me get prepared upstairs. It was hard to believe that a big shot like Paskevich wouldn’t have surveillance equipment all over the property.

I swung my hips as best I could and stopped right out of Paskevich’s reach—he could make the first move. If he groped me, I had to let him do it. I braced myself. You’ll take action when the time is right, I told myself.

I quickly calculated that in addition to the two of us, there were two maids, Sami, and Trankov at the villa, but Trankov may have been down at the sauna keeping an eye on Helena. Who else was on his staff? Did the maids do all the cooking, or was there a chef? How about security guards? Sami and Trankov didn’t seem to be buddies. Maybe I could turn Sami into my ally.

“Welcome!” Paskevich raised his glass. “
Prosit
, Suzy!”

“Prosit,
gospodin
. And happy birthday. I hear you turned thirty. Or was it thirty-one?”

This made Paskevich laugh. We both took a sip from our glasses. I had made sure Lena hadn’t been able to slip in anything extra into mine, and because Paskevich’s drink was from the same bottle, I had no reason to believe that the bourbon was poisoned. If anything he may have spiked it with drugs to aid his sex drive. I didn’t want to appear suspicious, so I had to drink, but I also had to stay as sober as possible.

Paskevich pulled me closer and pushed his head against my belly. He had lowered his glass onto a side table, where he had an assortment of smoking paraphernalia, including cigar cutters. Because my hands were full, I had a hard time responding to his caresses. I moved the loop of ropes on my arm so that I could pet his head softly—before yanking his hair violently, being careful not to cause too much pain.

“Who’s in charge of this birthday party here, you or me?” I stared Paskevich in the eyes. His pupils were now enlarged. I took off his glasses. “You wanted a woman with a lasso. What are you, a Russian bull? A bull that wants to be caught?”

My words made me sick, but Paskevich was buying the act. I could hear Mike Virtue’s voice, telling us over and over how important it was to get the job done, always. Even if you had to steal, to lie, to break a promise, it didn’t matter. Only the end result mattered. We worked in a field where the end justified the means.

“A bul
l . . .
” Paskevich laughed. He dripped some bourbon on my right breast and lifted himself off the chair enough to lick it off. It was disgusting, nothing like David’s touch—but I shouldn’t be thinking of David right now. When Paskevich was done with his slurping, I took a couple steps back. If only I knew where all the cameras and alarms were. And where was the main power switch? If there was no backup generator, I could easily kill all the lights. The switch was usually in some room with other equipment; here it would most likely be downstairs. I had to get rid of Valentin for a moment.

“A little bird told me that your dearest birthday wish was a little rodeo. Yeehaw!” I yelled, just like Charlie had taught me, and hoped that Sami wasn’t overcome by laughter as he looked at his security camera feed. I began to twirl my lasso; catching Paskevich as he sat in his chair was easy. I eyed the trays with bottles on the side tables where the maids had left them. I had liquid at my disposal if I needed it—good. Any wiring visible in the room? I wasn’t sure I could crash all the electronics and lights in the villa, but I was hoping to at least blow a fuse in this room. I pulled Paskevich closer to me with the rope and he didn’t fight back. My boots made me slightly taller than him.

“Should I lasso you again, or is it time to go for a ride?” I rubbed his crotch with my hand, but he pushed it away.

“We agreed you’d be mine for the entire night. So let’s not be hasty, Suzy. We can both ride when it’s time. But where’s the whip? Didn’t Sami give you one?”

When I shook my head, he dug out his cell phone from his pocket. He pressed a single button and Sami soon entered the room. So Paskevich didn’t have a beeper for reaching his minions; just a cell phone that could easily be turned off.

“Sami, the riding crop! You forgot it!”

“No, sir. It’s right here.” Sami marched to the divan and lifted the blanket to uncover the crop. He wasn’t sure who to hand it to. Paskevich yanked the crop away and took a swing at Sami, barely missing. The swoosh was heavy in the air.

“Get lost! Run around the house three times in the rain. When I tell you to do something, you better listen!” Now Paskevich didn’t sound so playful. Sami slinked out.

“Spread your legs,” he told me, and I did as I was told. He let the crop run up and down my inner thighs. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for pain, but nothing happened. How much did Sarita make for being someone’s plaything like this?

The fire crackled with renewed energy, brought about by a gust of wind that ran down the chimney. At that moment I spied the fuse box, with multiple cords coming out of it, next to a bookcase on the wall. I wondered whethe
r . . . 
? I just had to be patient.

Paskevich didn’t seem to really care whether Sami had gone outside to do his penance. His breathing became heavy when he lowered the crop and handed it over to me.

“Hit your shins with it, so that I can hear it. That’s it, just like tha
t . . .
and now, the lass
o . . .
”

I caught him with the lasso again and again for about five minutes. I constantly worried that I’d accidentally lasso the chandelier candles, so I blew them out just in case. Now there were just two sources of light. I pushed Paskevich to the divan in the corner and tied the lasso around him so that he couldn’t move his arms. I kissed him on his lips first, and then let my breasts brush against his lips. I used the rope to pull him up again; he danced like a puppet. I pushed him into the armchair and tied him up enough to hold him for a bit. In one movement, I grabbed the cigar cutter and the tumbler off the table, severed the electric cords, and threw some bourbon on them.

A spark, crackle, then darkness. Even the outdoor lights had gone off. I ran to check the doors to find that Lady Luck was with me—they were locked from the inside. Paskevich was bellowing something in Russian and thrashing in his chair, but he calmed down quickly when he saw what I had inside my boot. I aimed it straight at his head.

“Sometimes bad things happen at a rodeo, dear Valya. A horse may buck and kick you off, and you get badly injured. It’s time for a little chat, but we can forget about horses for now. Where is Helena Lehmusvuo, and why the hell did you kill Anita Nuutinen?”

20

There was a knock on the door, then Sami’s voice asking in English whether everything was all right.

“Tell him everything’s fine,” I hissed into Paskevich’s ear. “Tell him you turned the lights off on purpose.” While I talked I removed his cell phone from his pants pocket and turned it off. For a moment I thought about tossing it into the fire. Instead, I pressed the barrel of my gun tight against Paskevich’s temple. I didn’t like what I was about to do, but I also didn’t want any more dead bodies.

“Didn’t I tell you not to disturb us, you idiot!” Paskevich yelled in English. “I’ll call you if I need anything.” Fear was in his eyes, sweat was slowly forming on his forehead. Really? Valentin had never stared down the barrel of a gun before? Had he always let other people do the dirty work?

Sami responded with a quick “okay” and I could hear his footsteps walking away. So there were no security cameras or Sami would have known what was going on. Paskevich was an idiot.

Speaking of which, I felt pretty idiotic myself in this getup. I pulled on the leather straps to hide my breasts. My kingdom for a pair of pants! Should I take Paskevich’s? But even just the thought of his pants on my bare skin was revolting. I wrapped the rope tighter around Paskevich, then bound his wrists with the leather strap I had used to wrap the gun around my ankle.

“I didn’t kill Anita,” Paskevich muttered. A dark stain had appeared between his legs. It was slowly seeping into the chair’s leather seat.

“Of course not, you’d have someone do it for you. Who was it, Trankov?”

“No! I’m telling you, I was not responsible for Anita’s murder! I know I’m the prime suspect; even the Finnish police think so. But I didn’t do it. I wasn’t that upset with her.”

“If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

Paskevich didn’t reply. Yellowish liquid was now dripping onto the floor. I could have had a plastic gun in my hands and I bet Paskevich would still have been scared shitless. And I’d always thought of him as a tough guy.

“Who exactly do you work for?” he asked. “You’re not a cop, are you? Finnish cops don’t take quite such drastic measures as this.”

“I’m not a cop. Where is Helena Lehmusvuo?”

“Why do you ask?”

I shoved my gun in Paskevich’s face now, hard enough to cause pain.

“Don’t! I asked Yuri to bring her to me for a chat when he had a chance.”

“My intel tells me that Lehmusvuo is here, in your villa.”

“Could be. I know Yuri was after her today, but I had other things on my mind. My birthday party.” Paskevich let out a sob like a little kid who’d gotten a lump of coal for Christmas. “Who are you, really?”

I pulled a chair to face Paskevich and wrapped myself in the silk shawl I’d seen on the divan.

“I’m not the person you invited over. What was Trankov supposed to do to Helena Lehmusvuo? Why did you want her here?”

“I wanted to see how much the Finnish government knew about the Hiidenniemi property deal.” Paskevich had a hard time pronouncing “Hiidenniemi,” but I could tell what he was talking about.

“Why should the Finnish government care about the deal? Besides, Lehmusvuo isn’t even a minister.”

“True, but her party is in the government and Lehmusvuo is an expert on Russian matters.”

“What does Russia have to do with Hiidenniemi? I thought it was purchased by a Finn named Usko Syrjänen.”

“Come on, don’t be ridiculous. You know who the buyer is. You work for him, don’t you?” Paskevich was clearly recovering from my surprise attack. He was gaining some color in his cheeks and his sweaty brow was drying out. And he’d said
him
. So the actual buyer of the property was a man.

First things first: I had to make sure Helena was all right, and I had to prevent Paskevich from calling for help, so I’d have to knock him out. I wouldn’t kill anyone unless I was forced to. I could probably make him come with me to the sauna, but even that seemed risky. Sami or Trankov could interfere.

“What’s Trankov’s phone number?”

“Trankov’
s . . .
I don’t remember it. It’s just one of many on my phone. You can dial Sami by pressing two. Give me that phone and I’ll call him!”

I took the phone and told Paskevich to give me the code to unlock it. When he didn’t respond right away, I hit him. The pistol landed on his head with a nasty crunch and a bloody bruise began to form.

“Next time it’ll be a bullet. I’ll start with your toes. What’s the code?”

Paskevich recited the number, which he’d definitely taxed his imagination for: 9876. Trankov wasn’t much of a bodyguard if he hadn’t warned Paskevich about using such obvious passwords.

“All right. I’ll put the phone next to your ear, but remember that the gun is right there with it. Ask Trankov if Helena Lehmusvuo is with him. Speak in English so I’ll understand.” I turned the speakerphone on.

“But we always speak in Russian when it’s just the two of us.”

“Not this time. And if I catch you warning Trankov, let me remind you that this gun goes off easily. You’ll get at least as many bullets as Anita Nuutinen did.”

“But I didn’t—”

This time, I merely lifted my hand to shut him up and didn’t need to do anything more. I pressed number one on the phone. Trankov might grow suspicious if his boss spoke to him in the wrong language, but that was a risk I had to take.

“Hi, Yuri, it’s Valentin. Sami’s claiming that you brought some woman to the villa. Did you have a birthday gift for me?”

“Sami told me not to disturb you—apparently you have better things to do than have a word with Representative Lehmusvuo.”

“Lehmusvuo is here?”

“Yeah, at the sauna. She’s sleeping—or, well, she’s drugged.”

“What?!”

“You told me to bring her here as soon as that bodyguard woman was out of the picture. I followed Lehmusvuo all day, from the Green League cabin to the bus, then tailed the bus all the way to the station where she took a cab home by herself. When she sent the cab away I waited in my car until she walked out of the house again. I gave her a taste of my best medicine. She’ll be ready to talk in a couple of hours when she wakes up.”

I hoped Trankov had been careful with his dosage. Helena could be awake in a couple of hours, but she’d also feel like shit. I nodded to Paskevich to tell him he liked the plan.

“I’ll give you a call!” Paskevich growled. “But for now, don’t disturb me.” As soon as he’d said that I turned the phone off.

“So you just wanted a friendly chat with Lehmusvuo, eh? Why the kidnapping and the drugs, then?”

“Looks like Yuri got a little too excited. Representative Lehmusvuo doesn’t trust me. I’ve suggested meeting with her numerous times, but she’s refused. She said she’s not interested in sitting down for a talk with a murderer. Even she thinks I had Anita killed, but it’s not true. Jesus, I admired Anita. It would take a special woman to con me, you know.” Paskevich blushed—he realized he’d fallen into my trap. “Believe me, whoever you are. Suzy can’t be your real name.”

“Aren’t you the clever one. So if you didn’t kill Anita, who did?”

“Your employer.”

For a terrifying moment I thought he meant Helena, but then it began to dawn on me.

“Who do you think I work for?”

“Come now. Boris Vasilievich Vasiliev, of course. He had Anita killed when she found out that this Usko Syrjänen was just a middleman for him. I only recently found out about it—not that I know much,” Paskevich added hastily. “You can tell Vasiliev that I’m keeping my mouth shut. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to tell Lehmusvuo anything, either. I won’t even meet with her. You two can have her, and I swear I’ll never tell how she ended up in your hands. I’ll pay for Yuri’s silence as well.”

Damn. Paskevich was practically offering Helena to me on a platter. I could get her out of here and not have to worry about Paskevich causing any trouble for either of us. It would have paid off to be allied with Vasiliev; Paskevich was obviously terrified of him. But if I left with Helena right now, I would never find out who this Vasiliev character really was, and why he had paid someone to act as his middleman in the Hiidenniemi purchase.

“For a long time, Anita thought that I was in cahoots with Vasiliev. It was such a shame that Anita had to be so petty and get upset over the girls. They meant nothing to me. A man has his needs, but Anita and I could’ve been a great team. We could’ve made a fortune together in real estate. I was so sad when I heard about her death. I even lit candles in front of Holy Mary’s icon and prayed for her soul.”

“You’re telling me you know nothing about Vasiliev’s business, but it sounds to me like you know a lot. Looks like you’ll just be in our way. If you miss Nuutinen that much, you’ll be happy to hear you’ll be joining her soon.” I lifted my gun in front of Paskevich’s eyes. Even in the dim light he could see my finger on the trigger. The slippery silk shawl fell off my shoulders and I kicked it away.

“Please! I beg you!”

“Now you’re going to tell me everything you know about Vasiliev and Hiidenniemi, and how you found out that Vasiliev was behind Anita Nuutinen’s murder. Your journey to hell will be more comfortable with less guilt weighing you down, don’t you think?”

“I wanted to know who was setting me up as the murderer! I knew someone held a grudge against Anita Nuutinen, and I would be an easy target for that person. Many people knew about our relationship, including that Finnish police officer. Anita’s bodyguard had tipped him off.”

“Which Finnish police officer? Did the Finnish police interrogate you about the murder?”

Paskevich told me how Laitio had been furious when the Moscow militia dropped Anita’s case, and he’d contacted Paskevich personally to threaten him, saying one day he’d have enough evidence to convict Paskevich on murder charges. I wonder what Laitio’s bosses, the head of police and the home secretary, would say about that. He would be tossed out on his ear.

“Syrjänen had no problems in buying Hiidenniemi,” Paskevich said. “After all, he’d doled out money for election campaigns quite generously.”

“Did you or Trankov make threatening phone calls to Nuutinen’s bodyguard?”

“Of course not! And how would you even know about them?”

“I’m well connected to the police. Laitio happens to be a good friend of mine. But I’m not even going to let my favorite cop know that you’re innocent. Let them hound you. If I were you, I’d check Trankov’s background, too.”

“Why?”

“The police had seen him hanging around with Nuutinen’s bodyguard. They both might work for Vasiliev.”

I almost believed Paskevich when he claimed none of his men had been calling me, but Trankov had still been on my tail. Did he have two masters? Was he spying on his host for an even more powerful boss?

“I can’t trust Yuri, either? You’re lying!” When I didn’t respond, he switched gears. “My hands are going numb,” he complained. Now only embers were glowing in the fireplace; a candle dripped wax onto the floor. Paskevich glanced at his bourbon glass longingly.

“Let me at least have a drink. It’s my birthday, after all.”

“Here!” I threw the bourbon in his face. I was angry. But I’d better concentrate on Helena and let Valentin stew.

Paskevich blinked miserably, trying to lick the burning alcohol off his face while it ran down his cheek and chin.

“Both Anita and I were wrong,” he sobbed. “Anita was convinced that I worked for Vasiliev, and I assumed the same of her.”

“How do you know?”

“I met her—I met her the night before she died. We were seen together. Probably by one of Vasiliev’s guys—maybe it was Yuri! That’s why they killed her. I should have known Vasiliev would come after me, too.”

I was boiling under the leather cap so I tossed it away. The rest of my body was freezing. I wanted to get out of this disgusting getup. Paskevich could have just been buying time; maybe he knew who I was all along. He could have made up the story about Vasiliev and Hiidenniemi; it was too neat a tale. And even though Helena had claimed that the Moscow militia had covered up Anita’s murder and they’d blamed an innocent man for it, Paskevich still would have been better off never contacting her, even if he agreed with her. Kidnapping wasn’t making him look much better. The disappearance of a high-profile politician was huge, and the police couldn’t be paid off. How could Paskevich think that Helena wouldn’t go to the police after they’d had his long-desired chat? While drugs and alcohol could wipe away hours of a person’s memory, Paskevich still would have been taking a huge risk in drugging her. It was a different story if Trankov was acting alone.

If I told Paskevich now that I worked alone, he’d have the upper hand—his cavalry would be here sooner or later. I did my best to summon my father’s spirit from inside me, but I just didn’t have that killer instinct. I couldn’t shoot a man while he was tied up.

“Why did Vasiliev hire Usko Syrjänen to buy Hiidenniemi in the first place? What did Vasiliev want with the property? Couldn’t he have bought it by himself? Come on, Valentin, spit it out.”

“I don’t know all the details, but it’s got something to do with energy—that gas pipeline they’re building. Vasiliev made his money with oil, and the pipeline would hurt his business. He doesn’t like the project, but he doesn’t quite dare to speak out against it in public, because the Russian leadership is all for it. You Finns are way too dependent on Russian energy.” Paskevich had started sweating again. He was probably afraid of knowing too much, of getting shot. He’d meet the same fate if he pretended to know too little.