The Bodyguard (23 page)

“You think I’ll feel sorry for you and let you go?”

David looked me right in the eye. “Are you recording this conversation? For whom? Be careful what you say. Like I told you, you are dead if Vasiliev finds out I’ve been telling you about him. I’m already in danger, and I’m probably a dead man. But I want you to know the truth, even if it puts you in danger. That’s how much you mean to me, Hilja. I’m sorry, but I did fall in love with you. Or, well, I’m not sorry, I just wish we’d met under different circumstances.”

“Don’t lie to me, David Stahl.”

“There’s no way I can prove anything I’m going to tell you, but I hope you’ll believe me. It’s true that I’m a double agent, and it’s also true that I’ve been selling Vasiliev a variety of energy policy information from Europol and European intelligence agencies. Some of this intelligence about stock markets may have contributed to this global recession we’re in. But because Vasiliev trusts me, I was given an important mission. I’ll be in command of his boat. Or rather, I’ll be in charge of Usko Syrjänen’s luxury yacht, called
I Believe
. I’m a certified captain, although I don’t have the training to be at sea. But my certification was enough because nobody else in Vasiliev’s circle had it, and he doesn’t trust outsiders. Or if he did, he’d have to kill them afterward, and Vasiliev doesn’t want to leave a trail of dead bodies. They’re way too easy to trace back.”

“But you just told me that he had Anita Nuutinen killed. You’re tripping on your own words, Stahl.”

“There was a perfect scapegoat for that murder,” said David. He tried to change positions, but quickly stopped when I pressed the gun so deep into his skin that it left a mark on his forehead.

“Listen, Hilja. Vasiliev is against that pipeline project. He’s afraid that it would cut into the billions he’s making with oil. That’s why he’s interested in the seawater around Hiidenniemi. It gives him an opportunity to blackmail the governments who’ll be using the pipeline. The bottom of the Gulf of Finland is in a terrible state, and nobody knows yet whether the pipeline will meet the environmental standards. It will go through if the people behind the project have a say in it, but if necessary, Vasiliev will move on to Plan B. It’s already in the works and the delivery is going to happen next week, on the day of the US presidential election. The entire world will be focusing on the election, not on Hiidenniemi. It’s my job to make sure that the chemicals are delivered elsewhere, where Vasiliev can’t get at them. If I fail—which is very likely—they may sink to the bottom of the sea.”

“Delivery? Chemicals? What are you talking about?”

“Strontium 90, a radioactive isotope. Its half-life is thirty years. It’ll be devastating if any of it leaks into the Baltic. It’s perfect for blackmailing. But I’m aware of Vasiliev’s plan and I’m going to stop it. So maybe I’m not just a double agent, but a triple agent—nobody at Europol knows what I intend to do; if they did, they’d try to stop me. It’s too dangerous. But it’s the only way. I’ll blow up the
I Believe
with a hand grenade. Whatever you think about the gas pipeline, it cannot be used to blackmail governments. That’s why I have to stop Vasiliev.”

In my head I pieced together the puzzle as best I could to form an image that would make some sense. Let me get this straight—David was telling me that he didn’t take orders from Vasiliev; that it was just a ruse. But of course he’d tell me that if he wanted to get away. We had been lying to each other this entire time, so why would he suddenly tell me the truth? Then again, I had been telling him the truth today. I had lied only once, about not enjoying our lovemaking.

“You’re telling me I should let you go so that you alone, on your own and unbeknownst to your employers, can save the world?”

“I can’t save the entire world, but maybe I can save a small piece of the Baltic Sea, where I used to sail as a kid. There is no way Vasiliev will take action publicly—he’ll blackmail the Russian government behind the scenes. There are many things ordinary citizens don’t need to know. I’m not sure how much the Finnish government knows about the security risks involved with this pipeline. That’s what Paskevich had tried to find out. We can guard nuclear power plants and oil wells, but how do you guard an entire ocean? If governments begin to restrict people from boating on the open sea, there will be hell to pay. Sailors and boaters love their freedom.”

I looked at David’s bound hands. He could’ve struggled out of the belt anytime if he wanted to. In fact, he could have done any number of things—he was as well trained as I was. And he didn’t need to tell me a thing.

I realized he’d had no idea that I knew about his duplicity. I had taken him by surprise, and now he was making up stories to save his skin. He may have even wanted to see me again for the sex. Maybe he was a pervert, and he got a kick out of roleplaying like this.

Suddenly I heard Mike Virtue’s voice loud and clear. “Hilja Ilveskero, you are the exact opposite of my other students. They trust too much, whereas you suspect everyone. You don’t let people near you; you don’t believe in their goodness. Yet you’ve chosen this path because you want to take care of people, not because you want to destroy them.”

Oh, Mike. I wanted to ask him what I should do, but he was across the ocean. I was on my own.

“So what’s going to happen next Tuesday?” I asked, buying myself time to think.

“Usko Syrjänen’s yacht will take off southward from Hiidenniemi, with Vasiliev and a couple bodyguards onboard. I’ll be at the helm, and we’ll be heading toward Saint Petersburg. Somewhere in no man’s land before we reach the Russian border, we’ll rendezvous with another boat and receive the cargo. Vasiliev will get his Strontium 90, and as far as I know—and hope—it will be packed in a bomb-proof container. When the seller is far enough away, I’ll jump off the yacht with the Strontium 90 and blow up Syrjänen’s little boat. If I’m lucky I’ll have a lifeboat with me. If not, either I’ll drown, be blown to bits, or end up with a bullet in my head. If the isotope isn’t packed carefully enough, I can’t risk taking it with me to the bottom of the sea; I’ll need to come up with another plan. Worst case, I’ll have to bring it back to Hiidenniemi according to Vasiliev’s original plan, and figure out how to get rid of it there.”

“So you came up with this entire plan? And I’m supposed to believe that I’m the only one who knows about it?”

“I’m going to tell my bosses about it. If the operation fails, someone needs to know what Vasiliev is up to. But I won’t tell them until there is no way they can stop me. This could become a major international incident, so I have to tread carefully.”

The Glock was heavy in my hand, forcing my arm down so that the gun was no longer pointing at David’s head. I still avoided his eyes. David’s plan was insane and reckless—if it was even true.

“Do you have to act alone? Can’t you have some backup, like another boat following you to whisk you away to safety after the explosion?”

David gave me a tired smile. “Vasiliev will have radar monitoring all the boat traffic in the area. And I don’t want to risk anyone else’s life. I’ve never wanted to become a professional killer, you know, and I’ve been good at avoiding that career path—until now. And I don’t like what I have to do. There just is no other way.”

“So Europol has been following Vasiliev for a long time because of the crimes he has committed.”

“He wants power, both political and economic.”

This information squared with what Helena and Laitio had told me. Now I had to decide whether to buy that last part of David’s story. Unfortunately I had no way of confirming it. I couldn’t ring up Boris Vasiliev and ask if he was really going to buy Strontium 90, nor could I ask Usko Syrjänen if he had promised to lend his yacht to a friend on November 4. There was only one way.

I leaned over and kissed David on the mouth. His lips responded to mine. Up until her last moments, my mother had trusted my father and couldn’t believe that he would actually carry out his death threat. But David wasn’t my father. The world was full of good men like Uncle Jari and Mike Virtue, men like David. I let my gun slide to the floor. If I allowed myself to trust this man too much, I would pay for it dearly, but I was tired of lying, of being afraid and of always expecting the worst.

I removed the belt from David’s wrists, kissed his fingers, and began to take off his shirt. David followed my lead and started to undress me: my blazer followed his shirt onto the floor, then the holster, tank top, and bra. All our clothes had to go—their place was now on the floor and not on us; our bodies could not be kept apart. Spoken language was useless when our bodies spoke enough, understanding each other and knowing where to bite, suck, and stroke. If the world ended next week, or right now, we’d still have our memories.

23

“I called the innkeeper and she promised to have the hot tub ready in thirty minutes,” David said when he walked out of the bathroom. “Do you want to eat before that? I’ve got some sparkling wine and smoked salmon here. If this is going to be our last meal together, it’d better be good.”

“Our last meal? When do you have to go?”

“In the morning. I’ll pick up Vasiliev in Moscow to finalize Tuesday’s operation.”

“Who’s the seller?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“Take me with you as backup. I can drive a motorboat. I can come get you after you’ve blown up the
I Believe
.

“No way, Hilja. End of discussion. Sparkling wine? We don’t have much time left, so let’s enjoy what we have.”

Sometimes life imitates romantic movies, but not even Hollywood could do justice to the bliss I felt as David and I sat in a warm wooden tub watching the bare tree branches stir in the wind. My whole life was happening right now, in this moment that would soon be gone forever. It’s as if I’d been traveling toward this place my entire life, expecting it to be around the corner one day. We weren’t lying to each other or making excuses. We were trying to get as close to the truth, and each other, as possible.

There were so many things to share: David’s memories from Tammisaari, his idyllic childhood, his days at the police academy in Sweden and joining Europol, the sorrow of never having children. I had pushed any thoughts of children away and, so far, had never wanted to become a mother. I told David about the lynx mating on the ice and Frida’s death. We both wondered whether the male lynx had returned the next spring, calling out to Frida in vain.

We weren’t able to sleep that night; we only napped in each other’s arms, listening to the sound of rain outside and the water running down the gutters and splashing onto the rocks below. Wild animals aren’t meant to be pets, and you can’t own another human being. I couldn’t tell David not to go.

At breakfast we joked around, because what was the point of spending our last moments grumpy? But our conversation inevitably returned to David’s plan.

“So, if I actually make it, I’ll need to disappear right away and create a new identity. I can’t predict what will happen after Vasiliev dies. Someone will take over his empire. Or maybe it will collapse. If I live, I will let you know in time. If I don’
t . . .
do you believe in the afterlife?” David asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” But I’d often thought that Uncle Jari and Frida weren’t really dead, and even my mother still existed somewhere inside me, although she was just a blurry image I could barely recall. I still remembered them and loved them all. Like I would love David.

“I was raised a trusty Lutheran. My mother always told me she’d keep an eye on me from heaven. I’ll say the same to you now.” David held my hand and bit my forefinger like Frida when she wanted to play.

The damn merciless clock wouldn’t stop ticking. We spent our final moments together lying in bed, kissing for the last time.
I’m not going to cry
, I kept repeating to myself, but I could see David’s eyes well up. David would face Vasiliev the giant alone; instead of a slingshot, he would be armed with a hand grenade, and all I could do was be here for him, near him. I’d marched into the inn with only my anger and my gun, so I had nothing to give him to remember me by—just these memories we’d made.

We left the inn together. It was still raining, so David put my bike in his car and dropped me off where my car was parked. He was already late; there were hundreds of miles for him to cover before he’d reach Moscow, and he didn’t know how long it would take to cross the border. I drove behind his car to the Hanko Road intersection, where I turned left and he turned right. Once I got to Torbacka Road, I stopped the car on the side of the road and screamed like Frida calling for her mate.

When I’d left I had let Helena know I wasn’t sure when I’d be back in Talludden, and the previous evening I had completely forgotten to send her a message to let her know I was all right. She told me she’d been beside herself, worrying about where I would’ve gone for the night. I didn’t know what to tell her, so I just said something about how it had to do with Vasiliev.

The weekend turned out to be sunny, so we went to Kopparnäs for the day. On Sunday we took a rowboat for a leisurely paddle around Torbacka Bay. It seemed unfair that the sun was shining so brightly and the ocean shimmered in striking blue when David was on his way to his death. We all were, but he knew the exact date, maybe even the exact time. If I told Laitio about the plan, he could use his contacts in Europol to stop David in time. Why couldn’t Europol just ambush the
I Believe
? They had to have an arsenal of devices that would scramble the radar signals of ships and helicopters.

I also had to come up with a plan for Helena. She couldn’t be on sick leave forever. Her assistant, Saara Hirvelä, was returning to work after the weekend, but Helena still wanted me around as her bodyguard. Once she’d recovered from the kidnapping, she’d thought about vengeance. She was going to file a police report, which would directly lead to Paskevich’s and Trankov’s arrests. The men would be charged with false imprisonment if they were still in Finland.

I told her to think about it first. The tabloids would have a field day with this one: the representative’s temporary assistant prancing around in a porno outfit and a gun, saving her employer. Besides, Paskevich would probably be off the hook anyway if he blamed it on Trankov. If anyone would be screwed by this plan it was me. At a minimum, I was guilty of false imprisonment and making unlawful threats toward Paskevich. I asked Helena not to do anything just yet. I didn’t want anything to jeopardize David’s plan, and we didn’t need Paskevich telling the cops about Vasiliev before that. I obviously didn’t share this information with Helena.

David called on Sunday evening when Helena and I were finishing up our tea and getting ready for bed.

“It’s me. Do you have a moment?”

“Just a second, I’ll go outside. I’ll call you right back.” I pulled on my coat and slipped on my shoes. The air was still, so my voice would echo no matter which direction I was facing. I climbed to the highest point of the cliff. Because sounds usually travel upward, it would be the safest place to have a phone conversation. There were no clouds in the sky, nor were there any city lights to disturb the stars.

“Everything here is going according to plan. Vasiliev seems to trust me and Syrjänen isn’t even going to be here until later in the week. Well, I suppose he’ll rush over as soon as he hears his boat was destroyed, but that’s not my main concern right now.”

“So you’re in Kotka now?”

“Yeah, on the shores of Hiidenniemi. After this I won’t risk calling you. Although Vasiliev’s gang doesn’t understand Swedish, they don’t like me talking on the phone. They’re all having a sauna right now, but tomorrow we’re rehearsing our plans. Vasiliev wants to go over every detail.”

The darkness prevented me from getting a clear view of the ocean. David was looking at the same waters, under the same stars. I had nothing to say to him—everything I wanted to say could’ve been summed up in three words, but I couldn’t say them. David kept on babbling, going back to the story about how he’d suspected me and how happy he was when we finally learned the truth about each other.

“Someone’s here; I have to go. Take care of yourself, dear lynx.”

I finally blurted out the three words I’d kept to myself, but David was already gone. I recited them again to the stars, in as many languages as I knew, as if they were an incantation that would bring David safely to shore.

On Monday I got in touch with Laitio and asked him what the police planned to do about Helena’s kidnapping. He told me that Paskevich and Trankov had already left for Moscow; they’d taken the train on Wednesday. Investigators from the National Bureau had gone to the Bromarf villa and found only Sami Heinonen, the janitor, and his wife there. They had no idea when Paskevich would be back. Sami mentioned as an aside that his boss might sell the villa.

“I’ve also informed the Intelligence Services, as well as the prime minister and the home secretary, about this and they all agree that the Lehmusvuo kidnapping should be kept hush-hush for now. She really should get back to work. Members in the council of state wanted to know why Paskevich was interested in Lehmusvuo. The prime minister will call for an emergency session once the presidential election in the United States is over. And, by the way, you didn’t hear any of this from me, but Lehmusvuo would tell you anyway. You two are getting along pretty well these days, aren’t you?”

“How’s your ankle?” I replied. “Still wearing your trendy slipper?”

“Ah, give it a rest!” snorted Laitio and I heard a match being lit. “This damned cigar keeps on going out. It was a gift, but such poor quality. Fuck!” I could hear Laitio messing around with his phone and then we got disconnected. I didn’t call him back, although I was tempted to. Laitio and Helena could get a lot of people into trouble if they wanted to; maybe they’d put Vasiliev behind bars. David would live and Vasiliev would have to stand trial. There was still time to stop Vasiliev from buying the isotope.

Despite these thoughts, I didn’t do anything to sabotage David’s plan. It was his choice and I had to respect it. Helena decided to go back to work on Tuesday. There was plenty for her to do after the municipal elections, and she also needed to get back to her legislative duties. Helena lied to her colleagues as easily as I had about getting sick, and after marveling about her skills for a moment, I remembered that she was, in fact, a politician. Maybe I’d do well in politics, too, at least if speaking untruths was any indication of success. The home secretary called when Saara and I were going through Helena’s mail. I wanted to tell the minister, “Don’t have a meeting today—give David until tomorrow,” but luckily everyone was much more interested in the US presidential election than in knowing who actually owned some property in Kotka.

Helena wanted to attend a party to watch the US elections because she’d missed out on the previous get-together. I followed right behind her. This worked for me; Usko Syrjänen’s yacht would depart at dusk, and David’s fate would be clear hours before the world knew who would be the new US president. My jitters could be attributed to the election. Everyone around me was passionate about politics, and to them it was only natural that a bodyguard trained in America would be nervous about the outcome of the campaign.

I didn’t know whether David had brought his phone with him, or whether I could even reach him if I tried calling him. The meeting was tens of miles off the coast, and the water was freezing in November. Luckily it wasn’t very windy, but on the open sea, the waves could become huge, enough to cause trouble even for a good swimmer. I hoped David had at least brought a rescue suit. Then again, how would he explain it to Vasiliev and his men? Would Captain David demand that everyone had to wear one in case their business partner decided to bring them a nasty surprise?

Reports from news correspondents around the world streamed onscreen. People sang songs of hope, anticipating that the world would become a better place overnight with a touch of a magic wand if Obama were elected president. I was watching history being made, and once the results started coming in during the wee hours of the morning, I cried along with everyone else, but for completely different reasons.

I thought I would somehow sense when David made his move. I wanted to be an eagle, flying above Syrjänen’s boat and seeing what David was up to. I summoned this image during the election coverage, and soon I was soaring above a fifty-foot-long vessel. There was no one else on the open water. I spotted lights in the distance from an even larger boat. Then a light, signaling: the crew had noticed the approaching boat. What would happen then—they’d anchor right next to each other? Who had the isotope? How would David get it in his hands? The image became blurry to me then, and no matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn’t feel what had happened; whether David’s operation had been a success or if he was dead. At the crack of dawn, when I crawled back to Helena’s apartment to sleep for a couple of hours, my mind was blank—I had given in. I could have done something, despite David’s stern warnings not to, but I hadn’t. Had that been the right course of action?

The following day I scoured websites for news. There was absolutely no mention of an accident on the Gulf of Finland, so perhaps David hadn’t been successful in blowing up the boat after all. All the news was about Obama’s win and, later, how Russian president Medvedev hadn’t even congratulated him.

At five p.m., though, I spotted a mention of a boating accident on the website of one of the dailies. “Businessman’s Luxury Yacht Sunk in Gulf of Finland” read the headline. Usko Syrjänen’s picture was plastered next to it. I clicked through. The article mentioned that Syrjänen had been notified by the Coast Guard that pieces of his yacht the
I Believe
had been found in the Gulf of Finland. According to the reporters Syrjänen had spoken with, he was “shocked.” The businessman had let a friend and business partner, Boris Vasiliev, borrow the boat whenever he visited Syrjänen’s newly purchased Hiidenniemi villa in Kotka. The last time Syrjänen used the boat was the previous week, when he’d made a quick jaunt to Tallinn to attend the ballet.

Most of the reporters seemed unfamiliar with Boris Vasiliev, and the political journalists were still focused on events in the United States. I expected that Laitio would spin the truth so that the media would think that Syrjänen had been the intended victim of the explosion. After all, he had stepped on a lot of toes while donating money to various election campaigns. Usually Finland didn’t consider a boat explosion a means of revenge, but after the school shootings in Jokela and Kauhajoki, anything seemed possible.