TH03 - To Steal Her Love (24 page)

They ran up to her and huddled against her. Lasse hugged her leg.

‘Huh. I don’t believe you. My heart hurts, and it’s all because of you. Ow, ow…’

Mum fell back on the bed and lay there holding her hand to her chest. She must have been in a lot of pain. She was in pain because they’d been so bad.

‘I’m dying. I’ll die because of the crimes you’ve committed…’

Mum’s eyes closed. She stopped moving.

Lasse started shouting. He shouted so much that he wasn’t saying anything; his mouth was open and he was making shrill squealing sounds. Then he grabbed hold of Mum’s dress and started pulling at her.

‘Mum, Mum!’ he cried. ‘Please stay alive!’

Tweety’s entire body felt pinched. A moment later he was on his knees on the floor. He didn’t know how he got there. He wanted to crawl under the bed and die.

But before he could move, Mum sat up on the bed.

‘Now will you believe me?’ she said. ‘And remember this: if you’re naughty ever again, if you do anything wicked, then I really will send you
to the borstal. And anyone who sees you doing something bad can call them. Marjaana’s mother, Pekka’s mother. Do you understand?’

They said that they understood.

‘Who did it? Who beat you up?’

‘Mum…’

‘Don’t talk shite, man,’ said Reino, but he wasn’t angry any more. He hadn’t been angry for a while; he was more agitated, resigned, and his voice sounded like a cat squashed on the road, run over by dozens of cars. Tweety felt sorry for him, for the first time ever, and was glad he
couldn’t
see his expression.

‘Who was it? Asko, I promise you his backside will be redder than yours by the time I’ve finished with him. Just tell us. Who beat you up?’

‘Mother Gold… Mum beat me up, even though I loved her. Then she invited all the women from the village round so she could tell them… I had to open the door for them. So I could confront my shame, she said. I opened the door, then I ran away and hid under the bed.’

‘For Christ’s sake,’ Reino growled quietly and stood up from the bench, took a few steps towards Lasse, who was standing further away, and said: ‘He’s lost it… our own brother. Someone’s knocked the sense out of him. For good…’

Tweety didn’t care. He lay on his stomach on the bench and smiled. He didn’t understand why he was smiling, because he was profoundly sad, so upset that he cried through his smiles. Tears flowed from his eyes and the bench beneath his face was wet. But at least sorrow was better than the fear, which constantly lurked beneath the surface, raising its head every now and then as if to test the water, and when it did that sweat tingled on his forehead and his stomach started churning. The worst of it
was when he felt that the world was shrinking around him, that
everything
was flying towards him, that he was like a black hole in space that sucks everything inside itself. It didn’t help, no matter how much he tried to beat the world further away, it just kept coming, and even if he could have run away, it would have been no use: even then the world would still be there to greet him.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Reino shouted somewhere in the distance. ‘How can we have such bad luck? Over six months’ preparation and on the very day we’re supposed to…’

‘Let’s cut our way through the bloody door.’

‘In the basement of the bank? That building’s got wooden joists in the floor. The smoke will seep up through every flat above the bank and they’ll have the fire brigade out before we even get inside.’

‘True…. And what if someone turns up?’

‘Why the hell didn’t I make him cut a new key?’

‘He wouldn’t have been able to get his hands on a blank for a grooved Abloy like that.’

‘You don’t need a blank! You get a piece of thick brass pipe, cut off a chunk and Bob’s your uncle.’

‘What if he can remember the sequence? If he could tell us…’

‘He just wittered on about colours… and whenever I talk to him about the lock or the door he starts blubbing, his face is gleaming with sweat and he starts thrashing like he’s swiping flies away.’

‘Let’s postpone the whole thing. By a week.’

‘You heard what the bank manager said. They’re about to change the security system and install motion detectors and everything…’

‘Are we going to give up then?’

‘Are we going to give up…’ said Reino in a strange, almost sullen voice. There came a rustling sound as he walked off through the long grass, then everything was quiet for a long time. Only the hum of the traffic in the distance and the sound of an aeroplane taking off from the nearby airfield could be heard. Then came a deluge of curses, followed by the sound of wood splintering and glass shattering. An old set of windows was piled up behind the digger; they were taken from the house that had once stood there. Reino smashed them to pieces – and he’d said he would beat the living daylights out of anyone who ruined the Chancellor. Tweety felt as though ants were running across his face. He tried to wipe them
away but he couldn’t keep hold of them, and the ants began burrowing through his cheeks and into his flesh. What if they laid their eggs in there, built a nest? He tried to cry out, but couldn’t make a sound, leaving only spittle spluttering from his lips.

Tweety squeezed his eyes firmly shut and started breathing heavily. Time passed and he began to feel as though he were sleeping. He dreamt that chunks of flesh came away from his body and landed on the ground with a thud, allowing his soul to flow out through the holes. His soul was like light-blue putty, and he tried to stop it escaping by pressing his hands over the holes, only to discover that new pieces of flesh had started coming away.

‘Where the bloody hell’s Bamse got to now?’ said Reino, and now his voice sounded the same as it did when he had a hangover.

‘The chemist’s in Malmi?’

‘Yes, but we’re still taking him to the quack. We’ll ask him to prescribe some pills and get him ready for tomorrow. That’s only Saturday; we’ll still have just enough time. And if he’s not back on his feet by evening, then we’ll call it off.’

‘Call what off?’ someone asked. It was Sisko.

‘Oh, nothing special… Just something we’re working on.’

‘What in the name of…? What’s going on?’

‘Don’t go over there.’

‘I will too!’

Tweety could hear the sound of sandals approaching. It stopped and there came a strange hissing sound as Sisko drew a sharp intake of breath between her teeth. She went up to him, quickly crouched down, lay her hand on his neck and started stroking him. Her hand was hard from all her chores, but still soft and full of warmth. Tweety felt better almost immediately; he felt safer, just like as a child when his guardian angel had lulled him to sleep. Sisko’s clothes smelled of the vegetable patch. Tweety began to cry, he felt so relieved.

‘Tweety,’ said Sisko, her voice quivering. ‘We’re going to get you taken care of. We’re taking you to the doctor.’

‘They were policemen,’ Tweety sobbed. Now he had the courage to remember everything.

‘Policemen?’ said Reino in bewilderment. ‘Get away… Were they in uniform?’

‘No, they were from the Crime Squad. A big smelly man and a little one.’

‘A big one and a… Was the small one kind of smarmy?’

‘No, he was too polite, fake,’ said Tweety, and it suddenly felt a relief to get it all out. The words felt like tent pegs; they kept him firmly on the ground. ‘He was sort of jokey.’

‘Lampinen,’ said Reino, his voice shuddering. ‘And the big one’s Juslin. They’re on to something. Right, lads, we’re calling it off. But he’ll fucking pay for this. Dearly!’

Sand crunched beneath Reino’s feet; he must have been marching back and forth. Sisko patted Tweety firmly on the shoulders and stood up.

‘What are you calling off? The Chancellor?’

‘Yes… How the hell do you…?’

‘How the hell do I know!’ she mimicked them. ‘I know about it because you’ve all been talking about it in the workshop for months. You’re like a right witches’ coven.’

‘You’ve been listening in on us…’

Reino spluttered and had a sudden coughing fit. He cleared his throat, spat on the floor, then came the sound of rustling as he pulled out his tobacco and cigarette papers.

‘Give me a cut,’ said Sisko. Lasse kept absolutely quiet.

‘Well, there’s been a significant change in our situation,’ Reino said eventually. It sounded as though he was staring at his feet. His voice had never sounded this humble. ‘Asko’s not up to carrying out his part of the plan, so we can’t go ahead. And if it really was Lampinen who beat him up, that means he’s on to something. He wants to stop us at any cost, because he knows his case might not stand up in court. He’s done things like this before. This bloke I knew once had a run-in with him…’

The dirt crackled as Sisko stamped out her cigarette. Then she laid her hand back on Tweety’s neck and it felt just as good as before. With her other hand she held his fingers.

‘Tweety,’ she said. ‘Did they pick you up for nothing? For no reason whatsoever?’

‘No…’

‘So you’d done something? It doesn’t matter what you did… Is that what happened?’

‘Yes. I mean… Maybe they thought I was somebody else and that’s why they took me back to the station. But then they let me go. They said they were going to take me home, but then on the way back they…’

‘Did they say anything about the Chancellor? Did they try to get anything out of you?’

‘No. I wouldn’t have said anything…’

‘Do they know Reino’s your brother? Or did they work out who you are?’

‘I gave them false details…’

Sisko stood up. Tweety’s hand felt suddenly empty.

‘There, you see?’ she said to the others. ‘Lampinen doesn’t know a thing.’

‘Still, it’s probably wise to let it go. We’ll never get the door open…’

‘We’re not giving up!’ snapped Sisko. ‘You’ve been planning it for almost six months and you’ll never get another opportunity like this again. We’ve got to take the chance if we’re ever going to get out of this dump. I’m not thinking of you, I’m thinking of myself. Have I ever been able to have a life of my own? I’ve spent years being a free servant, first to Mum and Dad, and then to you lot. Every time I’ve tried to date someone, Mum gets sick. She gets so sick I have to take everything to her in bed and she starts wetting herself.’

For a good while they were all silent. There came the sound of a car rolling up the lane: Bamse was back from the chemist’s.

‘Once you’ve taken care of the Chancellor you’re planning on moving away, right?’ Sisko asked quickly. ‘Right?’

‘Right. We’ve been to look at a house up in Mäntsälä.’

‘And we’ll get something for this place too?’

‘Well, the bank will take their share. You’ll be lucky to get enough for a bedsit.’

‘But that’ll be plenty for me. I’d buy a bedsit in the middle of nowhere as long as I can get away from that bitch.’

Reino coughed and Tweety fidgeted restlessly. Nobody had ever called their mother a bitch before; she was Mother Gold, because the whole world knew that she was just a golden old woman who wished everybody well.

‘Go and see Bamse,’ said Sisko. Reino and Lasse did as they were told without saying a word. The path crunched beneath their feet. Sisko’s sandals pattered against the floor. She came up to him, took his hands and
held his shoulders. He felt the goodness of her touch, how she caressed him softly, how she breathed. He wasn’t even sure she was speaking to him, but it sounded as though she said: ‘Help me, Tweety. Help us all. I’ll help you, I’ll come with you, I’ll be right next to you all the way. All you have to do is pick one little lock. And you can do it, you’re so good at it. You’re the best. And after that it’s all over. We can have our own flat, our own life, and nobody will ever be able to take it away from us.’

‘Tweety,’ she said softly, and Tweety thought he could hear her weeping.

Harjunpää had thought he’d be able to take the car back to the station, leave his papers on his desk and start making his way home. It was already well into the afternoon and Elisa had said they’d eat around four o’clock out on the patio because the weather was still so nice. Still, he’d simply had to check the police records to see what kind of a file they had on Retula.

He’d drawn a complete blank. There was no file on Retula, even though the IT people had said he’d been registered in Helsinki. Harjunpää called up to Mäki, who had compiled the original notice on Retula, and Mäki swore that the man
did
have a file down at the records office and that he had personally updated it.

Harjunpää went through the filing cabinet once again. Between two other files alphabetically either side of the name Retula, he’d found a small piece of cardboard hanging from one of the metal fixture rails, the kind of fragment undoubtedly left when someone rips a file from its clip. From that moment he was in no doubt that this was precisely what had happened to Retula’s file.

On top of that he’d been down to the holding cells, then back to the records office, and now as he walked along the corridor in the basement floor of the station he looked bitterly at the file in his hand. He turned the corner into the training wing, bounded through the coffee room and stood for a moment listening behind the wide door on the other side. This had to be the right seminar room; he could make out Järvi’s voice. He opened the door without knocking and stepped inside.

‘Last year, the total expenses incurred by the national rail network were in the region of 1,300,000 marks,’ Järvi lectured to those assembled. He was standing on a rostrum in front of the others and indicating items on the overhead projector with a pointer. ‘Overall we’re talking about four or five million marks in damages per year. Now, say somebody robbed that amount of money from a bank… Well, gentlemen, as you know they’d get their names in the history books. Just to be clear, the reason I bring up this example is to…’

Harjunpää walked up the aisle. There were about thirty men in the room, quite a crowd, considering that profit responsibility targets meant that thousands of crimes were never investigated beyond their initial
registration
. But the men sitting there could do nothing about it. They’d been drafted in from numerous different forces, though the majority were from the Violent Crimes unit. Lampinen was sitting in the third row and behind him were a couple of empty seats, as though they had been saved especially for Harjunpää.

‘… rather, in broader terms, the operation had a great preventive significance not only for certain national companies but for society at large. It’s clear that the people behind this graffiti are likely involved in all manner of other crimes. Again, I’d like to…’

Harjunpää sat down behind Lampinen, and as he looked at the man’s thinning, sandy hair and his checked jacket he felt a visceral hatred well up inside him. Perhaps this feeling was all the stronger because he was, in a way, utterly powerless: though he wanted nothing more, he couldn’t think of a way to catch Lampinen out.

He was well aware that, if he made this issue official, it would all come down to Retula; he’d known this the moment he left the hospital. The man was so afraid that he probably couldn’t even bring himself to utter Lampinen’s name. And would anyone believe him – a self-harmer who had filed countless false police reports? And as for Harjunpää? His rancorous relationship with Lampinen was public knowledge, and Harjunpää suspected people might just put everything down to a personal grudge. And now even civilians were making complaints about him.

‘I’ll be personally overseeing Operation Spray,’ said Järvi. ‘Every night, starting tonight and ending on Sunday. And I won’t be hiding away in an ivory tower somewhere; I’ll be with you in the field. I’ve secured the use of the commander’s vehicle, which is equipped with the latest in
communications 
technology. My codename will be Seagull One. Seagull Two will be…’

There were two matters he wanted to address, and Harjunpää decided to start with the easier, though he knew exactly what to expect. He opened up the folder he’d brought with him to reveal a photograph showing frontal and profile images of a thickset man about two metres tall with a beer belly and a dark moustache. He tapped Lampinen on the shoulder. Lampinen leaned backwards as if he already knew who was there, which could have been possible seeing as most people had turned around when Harjunpää had entered the room.

‘Thanks for letting that bloke go last night,’ he whispered. ‘I couldn’t find the photograph in my locker though.’

‘What?’

‘I asked you to photograph him as a precaution.’

‘Really? I don’t remember anything about that… Well, you might have asked, but we probably forgot about it what with all that was going on. Sorry, mate.’

‘Damn it, man,’ said Harjunpää and thrust the folder in front of Lampinen. ‘This was him, right?’

‘Absolutely not! This guy looked like a sparrow or something.’

‘The information he gave us is for this man. Didn’t you think to check out his story?’

‘Why would we have done that? We didn’t even process him.’

‘Oh, pardon me. Just thought you might be your usual nit-picking self. You took him home though, didn’t you?’

‘So?’

‘What’s his address?’

‘His address… He just told us to drop him off in Pukinmäki… It looked like he walked off towards the flats behind the station. Still, if he has done something, the Lord punishes all crooks sooner or later. Who knows, he might have hit the scoundrel over the head with a hammer already…’

‘Oh, I’m sure he will. Thanks a lot.’

Lampinen shook his shoulders for a moment and adjusted his jacket, and Harjunpää leaned back into his seat. He was breathing in shallow, furious breaths. If he’d had the courage he would have grabbed hold of Lampinen’s jacket, clenched it in his fist, pinned him hard against the back
of the seat and said: ‘You’re a lying, conniving bastard – and I’m going to prove it.’ Perhaps it wasn’t so much to do with courage. He could easily have done it, especially given how tired he was, but it would have been foolish and he didn’t want to lower himself to that level.

‘… an operation that may prove to have a pioneering significance for the entire police force. By that I mean that other countries have already treated this matter with the seriousness it requires. By way of an example, allow me to mention that the Copenhagen police have established a separate Graffiti unit, which focuses its resources exclusively on…’

Harjunpää tapped Lampinen on the shoulder a second time.

‘Well?’ the latter replied without turning around.

‘I said the incident on Eerikinkatu might be linked to our intruder…’

‘Yes?’ said Lampinen, now leaning back very keenly in his chair.

‘It turns out it wasn’t the same perpetrator. And the victim’s on his way to a full recovery. I have every faith we’ll get the right man before long.’

Lampinen turned around, his mouth open in astonishment, and looked at Harjunpää.

‘Really?’ he said finally. ‘But last night, you said that….’

‘Excuse me,’ Järvi raised his voice. ‘Might I ask the reason for this constant disturbance?’

‘Sorry,’ said Harjunpää as he stood up and moved towards the
corridor
. ‘Crow Three is flying off home.’