Vengeance (20 page)

    
“Yeah,” Aronen said as he unwrapped the last few folds.

    
“What you got there?”

    
“A present from Gonzales.” Aronen shifted to the side enough that Larsson got a glimpse of an oily AK-47.

    
Beside the rifle were about ten small brown boxes of ammo, each holding 30 rounds. The text on the boxes was Russian.

    
“Nice,” said Larsson. “You thank him?”

    
Aronen wrapped the blanket around the weapon. “No. I didn’t see it till now.”

    
He slammed the trunk and Larsson walked around to the passenger side. By the time Aronen made it to the driver side door, Larsson was already in his seat.

    
“To the compound?”

    
Larsson nodded.

    
“Gonzales’ money is in the glove box,” Aronen said.

    
Larsson snatched it out and immediately counted it.

    
Aronen remembered something else. “Oh yeah. Some lady reporter called. Wants to interview us…”

    
Larsson interrupted. “Really? Interesting. How’s she know you?”

* * *

Niko Andersson’s stance was wide, but he began to hesitate. The gun was still in Salmela’s mouth and Niko continued with his taunting. Roge and Osku stood near Salmela, but safely away from the edge.

    
Salmela’s cell phone jingled in his jacket pocket. Already having accepted his fate, he made no move to answer.

    
“Goddamn,” Niko said and jerked the gun from between his victim’s teeth. He laughed, “Go ahead answer it, then. Dead man’s last words.”

    
Salmela didn’t smile, just pulled his phone from his pocket. The caller was unlisted.

    
“Hello.”

    
“Bad time?” Suhonen asked. Salmela recognized his voice immediately.

    
“How should I put this…kind of,” said Salmela, glancing at the gangsters standing around him with the rugged tree-covered fells in the background.

    
“We should meet.”

    
“Call me later. We’ll see if I can make it.”

    
He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

    
Niko bobbed his head. “Hmm. Yup. Nicely done. Nicely done.”

    
“What’s nice about it?” Roge asked.

    
“Maybe this Salmela’s not such a bad guy.”

    
Osku looked at Niko, dumbfounded. Only a moment ago, the big guy had been ready to shoot the man he was now praising. “Uh… That so?”

    
“Think about it. I’m about to put a slug in his head and his phone rings. I’m thinking—just out of curiosity—let’s let him answer. And
goddamn
if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut. Most would’ve bawled into the phone begging for help, but Salmela just tells ’em to call back. ‘We’ll see if I can make it…’ Fuck. That takes balls…”

    
“Yeah,” said Roge.

    
“Maybe I’ll let you live,” Niko said and shoved the gun back in his pocket.

    
Salmela didn’t say anything, just flexed his jaw. The gun barrel had left his mouth numb.

    
“Who called?” Niko asked.

    
“Just a friend.” Salmela realized his teeth were chattering and he felt weak.

    
Suddenly, he doubled over and threw up. He didn’t have time to turn away, nor did Niko have time to move. The vomit splattered onto the fat man’s boots.

    
Niko took a step back, but stumbled over a pine stump. He had already lost his balance and was reeling toward the cliff when Roge caught him and heaved his enormous body to safety.

    
Niko exhaled hotly, thanked Roge and turned back to Salmela, who was still on his knees.

    
“Damn son-of-a-bitch. I’d kill you if I hadn’t just decided not to. Shit!”

    
He wiped the mess off his boots on a bush, then burst into laughter. “Yeah, we’ll come up with something for you—I got an idea.”

    
The threesome marched back down the trail. Salmela stumbled along behind them, not wanting to be left in the woods alone. He wiped his mouth and spit blood into the thicket on the side of the trail. He was thankful he had puked—had his fear come out the other end, he most certainly wouldn’t be allowed to get back in the car.

* * *

Takamäki was sitting in the passenger seat as Suhonen drove past the massive box stores and shopping malls along Beltway Three. The pair was en route from NBI headquarters to their own in Pasila.

    
Clouds skirted across the sky and the trees tossed in the wind.

    
“Salmela had no time to talk, huh?” asked Takamäki.

    
“Nope. Told me to call back later. Sounded a little nervous. Who knows what he’s got going on.”

    
Aalto and Nykänen of the NBI were considering the proposal to initiate a full-scale undercover operation. Since the decision involved a change in resource allocation, they had needed some time to think about it.

    
“We’ve wasted an entire morning in these meetings,” Suhonen complained. “And we’re none the wiser.”

    
“Well, at least they had
some
value. I’ve sat in on a few management meetings. Now
there’s
something. A giant meeting just to discuss park safety and…”

    
Takamäki’s sentence was cut short when Suhonen’s phone rang.

    
He glanced at the display—an unfamiliar number.

    
“Yeah,” he answered.

    
“It’s Juha. Hi.”

    
Suhonen recognized Juha Saarnikangas’ voice, but it sounded strained. The former drug addict had provided a gold mine of leads over the years.

    
“How are things?”

    
“Terrible.”

    
“Huh?”

    
“Shit. You remember Vesa Karjalainen? The junkie?”

    
“Yeah,” said Suhonen. Karjalainen had been on the same ship from Estonia as Marju Mägi, Salmela’s mule. Suhonen was intending to go see Karjalainen when he had a chance. “What about him?”

    
“Fuck,” Saarnikangas said.

    
Suhonen could tell from the background noise that Saarnikangas was walking. A female voice was making an announcement. “You at the train station?”

    
“Yes. Listen. Karjalainen is lying dead on the bathroom floor of the Restaurant Eliel here. I was supposed to meet him at the bar here this morning.”

    
Suhonen wondered for a moment why Saarnikangas would meet Karjalainen, but he let him continue. The car merged onto the freeway.

    
“He showed up a half hour late, but I was in no hurry. I was just having some coffee,” he explained. “So he comes to the table and I can see right away that he’s high as a kite. Can’t sit still. He’s complaining that he’s hot and he feels like shit. Then he takes off to the bathroom. I stay and wait at the table and fifteen minutes later I go to check on what’s taking so long. Hell, if I hadn’t gone, I would’ve been waiting a damn long time. He was lying dead in the stall. Obvious OD.”

    
“You call an ambulance?” Suhonen asked, glancing at Takamäki who was listening in.

    
“Of course, but I didn’t give out my name. I just wanted to tell you that I didn’t have anything to do with it. There are shitloads of security cameras at the train station, so I’m sure I’m on tape. It was completely his own fault. I had nothing to do with it.”

    
“OK.” Suhonen tried to calm him down. “I’m glad you called. Can I get hold of you at this number?”

    
“Yeah, at least this week.”

    
“You know what he’s been up to lately?” Suhonen asked. He intentionally left out the bit about Karjalainen having been spotted leaving the same ship as Salmela’s mule.

    
“I dunno.”

    
“Why’d you guys meet?”

    
“Uhh,” Juha stalled. “He owed me some money and promised to pay up this morning.”

    
Suhonen wasn’t sure whether Saarnikangas was telling the truth.

    
“What kind of dope was he on?”

    
“Speed. Not sure if he took anything else. The jitters definitely pointed to speed.”

    
“Is there any unusually strong stuff on the streets right now?” Suhonen wondered. An experienced user wouldn’t screw up a dose. Most often, deaths from amphetamines were due to overdose, but sometimes they were caused by contaminants.

    
“Not sure. It’s certainly possible, but his heart could’ve just given out too.”

    
“I’ll call you,” Suhonen said and hung up the phone. He updated Takamäki on the conversation and mentioned that the lab should run a comparative analysis between the drugs found on Karjalainen and those found on Marju Mägi.

CHAPTER 14

SATURDAY, 10:50 A.M.

SKULLS’ COMPOUND, HELSINKI

Aronen parked the blue VW Golf in the yard of the Skulls’ headquarters.

    
“Sami, we need a couple things for the yard,” said Larsson. “A proper fence and barriers that’ll keep out the pigs even if they roll up in tanks. Same with the front gate.”

    
“Okay,” said Aronen.

    
“You’ve got the expertise from the Afghan bases, so draw up some plans and pay some firm to do it. They can take care of the bureaucracy if we need permits.”

    
Aronen gazed at the sky and thought aloud, “If we barricade the yard, they’ll just come from above in choppers.”

    
“How do you deal with that?”

    
“The building has a flat roof. Missiles are probably out of the question, but we could put fireproof platforms on every corner topped with piles of tires. Then if we need to, just light ’em up for a smoke screen. And if we could get them from somewhere, we can put a few landmines on the roof. Also, I think we’ll need to do something to those windows so they can’t shoot tear gas inside.”