The Lion of Justice (23 page)

“Rytkönen leaks information to the Belarusians. Most likely he gets payoffs from Gezolian. I can’t think of any other reason,” Laitio finally concluded.

“How can you prove that?” I got up, took my mug with me, and walked to Laitio’s office restroom. The wall was painted in all shades of lingonberry; the toilet seat and the sink were both purple, and even the toilet paper matched with its red-rose print. I poured my coffee out, drew water from the faucet, and drank it all. I poured another mugful. Laitio had begun to type on his computer, looking defeated. Goddamn it, I wouldn’t let Rytkönen do this to Laitio—or to me.

“Well, I have nothing to lose,” Laitio said. “I’m going to get fired no matter what. Who cares if I’m charged with misconduct on top of that, as long as we catch Rytkönen.”

“What are you saying?”

“We need to get him to confess that he’s leaking information to Gezolian and his gang. I can’t do it alone. I need you, or your crazy alter ego. I never thought I’d say this, but I need you to dress up as a man and arrange a meeting with Rytkönen.”

We hatched the plan for a couple of weeks. I worked, as usual. Laitio dropped in a couple of times to eat and have plotting sessions. Trankov was nowhere to be found. I called him once, asking about the painting. Once we were done with Rytkönen, Trankov had hell to pay.

Laitio and I had come to the conclusion that Rytkönen wasn’t aware of David’s hiding place, at least not when he came over to Sans Nom to threaten me. Apparently he had really thought I was hiding Stahl somewhere. We couldn’t guess how much Trankov had told him about my relationship with David, but we decided Hilja had to be set aside for now—Reiska would be the key player. If Rytkönen had believed his lies about Bengt Näkkäläjärvi, he could believe other fairy tales, too. He seemed to think Reiska was an outlier for the Italian mafia.

Finding the perfect meeting place was problematic. It had to be a well-lit place out of the public eye. We decided to use the Kopparnäs inn’s dance gazebo on the Monday before Christmas. I called the hostess for a table reservation, and she informed me the restaurant was closed. I asked how many guests she may have had in the inn, but she just vaguely responded that there was plenty of room. I had to risk that there might be witnesses.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to slog through snow. We can’t have two sets of footprints leading up to the gazebo,” I told Laitio.

“Listen here, I’m an army and police academy man. Do you think I’m afraid of a snowbank?”

Maybe his heart was. Laitio was still gray in the face, although he was excited about our plans.

Two days before the meeting I went to the main post office and called Rytkönen’s work number from a public phone.

“Hi there, Kassi. Are you interested in knowing where Stahl is these days?” I asked as Reiska.

“Who is this?”

“It’s your old friend from the Ourit Island.”

“Why would you tell me anything?”

“Let’s just say I’m not too keen on my current employer anymore. I’m willing to cooperate with anyone who pays me more.”

“I can’t pay you.”

“We can negotiate. I hear Stahl’s head is worth its weight in gold to your employers—or should I say, its worth its weight in SR-90 isotope.”

“How do I know this is legit?”

“You don’t. Listen, this is all based on trust. I want to see Stahl in deep shit just as much as you do. He stole my woman back in Estonia.”

Reiska could almost hear Rytkönen’s gears turning.

“All right, we’ll meet. But I’m not paying you a cent. Where and when?”

“At the Kopparnäs inn dance gazebo on Monday evening, at ten. That’s twenty-two hours.”

“And where’s this Kopparnäs exactly?”

“You’re a cop. Find out yourself.” Reiska hung up.

Laitio went ahead to get ready a couple of hours earlier. He had time to locate a spot with a good view and hide his car without a trace. Thanks to the blizzard earlier in the day, he could rub snow onto the license plate, and it didn’t look suspicious. I convinced Jouni to lend me his Dacia, because our van was too noticeable and could easily lead them back to me. I could’ve rented a car, but I didn’t have the guts to do it while I was being Reiska. Finally Jouni agreed when I’d promised I’d never complain about the peeler machine shifts again and I’d always treat him with utmost respect.

Monika stayed in on Monday night, so I couldn’t use our place for transforming into Reiska. Because I couldn’t come up with another place, Laitio suggested I use his office. He’d tell the missus I was an IT guy helping him out with his computer.

Luckily I wasn’t interrupted. Reiska wore the same clothes as the previous time, except the hat. I switched the baseball cap to Uncle Jari’s old fur hat that I’d brought with me from Hevonpersiinsaari the winter before. It was made of sheepskin, and it had flaps that could be drawn over the ears with strings you tied under your chin. The bill shaded Reiska’s face perfectly. I decided Reiska had recently become shortsighted, so I wore the ugliest glasses I could find from a secondhand store. I trimmed the mustache to look slightly more unkempt, and for the finishing touch I sprinkled some fake dandruff on my head. Good luck getting a DNA sample from that.

Of course I was nervous as hell as I started driving toward Kopparnäs. I’d brought my Glock along, but I could never quickly pull it out from under a thick, wool winter coat. Laitio had his gun with him, too. We both carried a recording device, and Laitio had a video camera on him.

There were no more streetlights on the roadsides after the intersection at Siuntio, and it was snowing hard enough that I wasn’t sure whether regular lights or high beams were better. The Dacia was luckily equipped with decent winter tires. In the darkness of winter, the scenery around me looked unfamiliar; yards were sprinkled with Christmas lights, and the snowbanks glittered. I felt like a silly Christmas elf, and perhaps Laitio’s role was to be evil Nuutti, who’d steal Rytkönen’s gifts before he had a chance to open them.

I parked the Dacia off the road on the north side of the inn and walked back, trying to hide my footprints as best I could. The yellow wall of the dance gazebo glowed in the light, and the wreaths made of fake white roses that decorated the hall inside reminded me of a funeral. I muted my cell phone and messaged Laitio that I had arrived. As far as I knew, he had set up camp somewhere in the darkness between the gazebo fence and the forest. I had to put the phone away before receiving a confirmation from Laitio, because I heard a car approaching.

Rytkönen drove straight up to the gazebo. His dark-blue Volkswagen station wagon didn’t exactly scream opulence. I backed up to the yellow wall to ensure my face was in the shadows, and I clicked the “Record” button on the tape recorder in my pocket.

“Howdy there, Kassi. How are the Christmas preparations goin’? Ready for your little gift?” Reiska was relaxed and self-assured, but I wasn’t. My heart was beating so fast I expected it to jump out of my chest. I had to concentrate on my voice.

“Let’s cut the bullshit. What do you have to tell me?” Rytkönen wasn’t wearing a hat. His dark wool jacket and matching scarf were suitable for a winter evening; snow was crunching under his feet now that it was dipping well below freezing.

“That Finnish lady friend of Stahl’s got a postcard from him sent from Kaunas, Lithuania. It was stamped at the end of November. The man’s there, looking for his kid,” Reiska said.

Rytkönen’s mouth squeezed into a hard line.

“I already knew that. That’s the precious piece of information you dragged me out here for? You’re going to pay for my gas, that’s for sure,” Rytkönen said.

Reiska laughed. “Hold your horses. Stahl’s on his little trip under the name of Bengt Näkkäläjärvi. He’s a Swedish citizen with a Swedish passport. My intel says he’s still hangin’ about in Lithuania. I think it would be in your best interests to send someone after him,” Reiska said.

“Who’s your source?”

“The original Kassi. Brother Gianni. Jaan Rand.”

“And he’s ready to squeal on Stahl?”

“You gotta be careful when you’re a monk, especially if you happen to like little girls. We both know that once you get a taste, you want more, even if you’re supposedly protected by celibacy. Rand will need someone to guard him for the rest of his life, and a man in his situation can’t afford to side with old friends like Stahl.” Reiska was exaggerating. He had no idea whether Brother Gianni had gone off the beaten path during his monastery time, but a man like Reiska who had seen all sorts of things in his life did not believe that even God would help a man recover from his perversions.

“Sounds like you know why Rand had to leave Europol,” said Rytkönen.

“I know a bunch of other things, too,” Reiska said.

Rytkönen stepped closer. I saw how a vein was beating on his forehead, and his earlobes had turned red. The gust of wind made him squint, and for a moment it looked like the wind made his earlobes wiggle.

“You need to tell me who you’re working for,” Rytkönen said.

“It doesn’t matter. Influential people. We have evidence that Stahl murdered Dolfini.”

“You mean faked evidence?” Rytkönen spat. “Then we’re on the same page.”

Bingo. This is where Reiska had been trying to lead him. This would nail Rytkönen. Laitio must’ve been giggling out there.

“We have pictures of him dumping Dolfini into a marsh in Maremma. They’re doctored so well even the experts can’t tell they’re fake. How much are you ready to pay for them?” Reiska asked.

“Let’s see them first.”

Reiska pulled the envelope out of his pocket. This was Laitio’s queue to come out and reveal the next turn in this drama. Rytkönen stepped closer, then stared into my eyes as if he had recognized Hilja behind the glasses. We both tried not to blink.

“Here you go.” I handed the envelope to Rytkönen, but I stayed still. If he wanted this gift, he had to move closer. He stopped and barely reached the envelope with his extended hand. Although it was freezing cold, I could see sweat beading on his brow.

Laitio and I had spent quite a while contemplating all the potential risks involved. The images were terrible, and Rytkönen wouldn’t need to take more than two glances at them to realize it. The court wouldn’t need it, but right now it was the only way to make Rytkönen reveal whose side he was on. I had asked Petter to help us; he was good at altering images, cutting and pasting seamlessly, but he had also been unreasonably curious about the purpose of these images. I had told him we were going to use them to get back at whoever had murdered Ripa, but I doubted he believed it. I told him he better not say a word about this to Monika.

Although Rytkönen had wanted to see the images before striking a deal, he didn’t open the envelope. He just shoved it into his pocket. Warning bells flooded my mind too late, and before I was prepared I was staring down the barrel of a revolver. Rytkönen aimed directly at Reiska’s head.

“Whoever you are, you know way too much about me. That could lead to unfortunate consequences.”

Reiska was sweating now, too, and his only consolation was knowing that he wasn’t alone and that the conversation was being recorded. Maybe Rytkönen had gotten sloppy after killing Ripa and thought killing was an easy business.

“What kind of an amateur are you, handing those photos off? You can be damned sure this is the only payment you’re going to get.” Rytkönen held his gun to Reiska’s temple. The Grim Reaper stood only a few inches away.

“Goddamned Rytkönen, don’t shoot!” Laitio was crashing through the trees like an entire cavalry. His pant legs were soaked, and he was slipping on the ice. Rytkönen turned his gun toward Laitio. In a split second Laitio was in front of Reiska, between death and me. He was panting heavily and hadn’t drawn his own gun.

“What the hell is this?” Rytkönen’s face was crimson, and he waved his gun around.

“Just admit you work for Gezolian and that you killed Risto Haapala.” Laitio spoke on behalf of the both of us. The bravery in his voice sounded fake.

“Who’s Risto Haapala?” Rytkönen asked.

“The homeless alcoholic you filled with poisonous alcohol.” I had run out of energy to speak in Reiska’s raspy voice, and Rytkönen looked up with a start when he heard me yelling. I lowered my eyes and hoped the bill of my hat would cover at least a bit of my face. Laitio’s frame may have also covered me well, but would I be able to pull out my gun without Rytkönen noticing? I wished my hands were steadier and not like two brittle icicles.

“What is this nonsense? I have better things to do than chase homeless people around.”

“Ripa just happened to be in your way when you were looking for David Stahl. First you hired goons to turn Sans Nom inside out, then you started to keep an eye on the place yourself,” Laitio said.

“Take those hands out of your pockets, whoever the fuck you are,” Rytkönen roared at me when he noticed me trying to feel for my gun. “Yuri, get over here,” Rytkönen yelled into the forest. “Did you think I was stupid enough to come alone? Yuri, check their pockets.”

Yuri appeared from behind the inn. His teeth were chattering, and he slid over with his thin indoor shoes.

“Well, what do we have here? The bastard son of Paskevich,” Laitio said in English. “See? I was right. Shit always finds another pile.”