The Bodyguard (13 page)

Helena came home by bus two evenings that week. She’d told Reiska in advance which route she was taking, and he waited near the bus stop hidden from view, checking to see whether anyone tried to follow Helena home. Thursday, though, was devoted to a plenary session that took longer than expected. Helena could only catch the 11:12 train, which would arrive at Kirkkonummi just before midnight.

Helena didn’t want to use a taxi. It was only about a mile to get home from the train, and she said a walk would do her good after a long day. Reiska decided to go meet her. Of course women should be allowed to walk by themselves in the middle of the night, completely hammered and wearing a miniskirt, and if something unfortunate happened, the rapist or assailant was to blame. This was Mike Virtue’s basic philosophy, followed by a long “but”—we had to be aware of all the risks, anticipate them, and prevent them as best as we could.

I’d often taken the subway alone in the middle of the night, met my landlady Mary’s cocaine dealer multiple times, and partied in places I’d never even known existed until I came to New York. Nothing bad had ever happened, because I knew that the world was full of Seppo Holopainens who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. I had to think like a Seppo Holopainen in order to anticipate what a lowlife like him might do.

Reiska pushed through the maze of smokers outside the bar at the bus station, where he planned on waiting until he went to meet Helena on the train platform. The pub itself was almost empty, except for the patrons who seemed like regulars. If I’d walked in as Hilja, wearing red high heels and leather pants, they would have ogled me to death. But Reiska could walk in without anyone noticing. The middle-aged women in the pub already had male companions.

Usually people thought Reiska was twenty-five, and he’d brag about being well preserved if someone got his age wrong. Because we were roughly the same age, I could tell my army stories as if they were his. He’d joined the army in the first wave of the annual draft. No one ever questioned his manhood after hearing about the time he and his buddies had peeked into the shower used by the three women privates in their platoon, and had made fun of the one with the small tits. Of course, the victim had actually been me, but there had been plenty of guys like that in the army. Reiska didn’t ever mention, though, that this woman with small tits had shown the jokesters: she’d carried the worst of the lot for two miles on her back after he’d hurt his leg camping in the forest and there was no other way to get him back to base.

Because nobody was bothering Reiska in the bar, he listened to music. Before heading out he’d put on a T-shirt with a slogan honoring Finnish war veterans. It read, “Thank you 1939–45.” The shirt was adorned with a lion’s crest. When I’d bought it for Reiska from a market in Helsinki, Riikka’s face betrayed her disgust. “Ugh, how militant of you!”

Reiska drank his tall lager slowly—ordering two beers while on the job wasn’t a good idea, but ordering a beer with low alcohol content would’ve been social suicide. Reiska had made that mistake once; he’d heard people calling him a fag even on his way out of the pub. There was soccer on TV. Reiska didn’t have a favorite team, but he hated “those damned Swedes,” meaning IFK Mariehamn.

The table next to him was a host to heated debate on local politics. Reiska had decided not to vote now that Tony Halme was no longer in the cabinet. Goddamn it, that man had disappointed them all. The arguing was getting loud enough for the bartender to take notice and unglue his eyes from the match on TV. Reiska wouldn’t step in, but he didn’t move away, either. Running away wasn’t his style. He mentally went through the motions of taking cover in case he had to duck a flying pint glass. On a different occasion, Reiska decided to stop two women from clawing each other and was able to control the more vocal one with a holding technique I had learned at the security academy.

Both Reiska and I were relieved when it was close to midnight and time to head out. The Kirkkonummi train station was only a couple blocks away. Reiska waited for Helena behind the station—she would walk by on her way home, and Reiska could easily see if anyone was following her. The route home was well lit except for the last stretch. Reiska had stressed how important it was for Helena to pretend not to notice him, except if one of the neighbors happened to be on the same train or bus with her. That seemed unlikely; the only people Reiska had seen were the Hirvonens and Noora Asikainen.

Helena walked briskly. Her heavy briefcase was pulling her left shoulder down—she must have neck problems. Reiska and Helena were the only people on the street, save for a couple of cars that rushed by. Helena would’ve been an easy target for an assassin traveling in one of them.

Helena turned onto her street without incident, and Reiska picked up his pace a bit so he wouldn’t lose sight of her for too long. When he rounded the last corner he saw Helena, who had stopped at her mailbox and was looking around in a panic. No wonder. A man was standing under the awning at her front door.

Reiska hid in the shadows. He recognized the man immediately, even without his pirate outfit. Tiku Aaltonen.

“Dear Helena, how lovely to see you!” Tiku’s voice was unpleasantly nasal.

“What are you doing here?” Helena sneered, using the same tone she’d use when one of her political opponents said something inane.

“Well, you’re not answering my messages or my calls. Helena, seriously, I’m in trouble. Help me just this once, please. I’m really close to signing a publishing deal with this new indie company. They have a great marketing plan and connections to magazines. I’ll finally get my big break and then I can pay you back for everything.”

Because Aaltonen sounded more like a lousy beggar than a dangerous stalker, Reiska decided to take a chance. He’d brought with him the remote that controlled all the burglar alarms, so he tapped in the code to turn off the alarms, walked around the block, and went into the neighbor’s yard adjacent to Helena’s. The residents were already asleep. Only a cat was nodding off on top of the table outside, but it took off sprinting when Reiska appeared. He had no problem scaling the fence between the yards, but instead of jumping down, he lowered himself slowly so he wouldn’t make any noise. He could hear Helena’s strained voice coming from the front yard.

“Get the hell out of here—I don’t want to have anything to do with you!”

“Hone
y . . .
I’ve written an entire book of poems for you, I’ve missed you so much. I’ll call it
Helena the Unobtainable.
”

When Helena burst into chilling laughter, Reiska opened the back door. There was just enough light for him to walk through the living room without stumbling. The foyer door was open. Reiska had just oiled the hinges so they didn’t creak. He quickly opened the front door with such force that it hit Tiku Aaltonen in the back and threw him to the ground.

“Why is this guy harassing you in the middle of the night? Helena, come in right now!” Reiska said.

Reiska couldn’t tell who looked more flabbergasted, Helena or Aaltonen. When Aaltonen tried to get up, Reiska grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned his arms behind his back. Now Tiku didn’t seem like a pirate at all—he was just a poor sailor, preparing to walk the plank after flirting with the captain’s wife during shore leave. The lights came on in the Hirvonen kitchen.

“Get inside, Helena! I’ll deal with this fool,” Reiska commanded. He dragged the man for a couple blocks without any resistance, while explaining to Aaltonen in detail what would happen should he come back to bother Helena. Reiska parroted the worst threats that Mike Virtue had taught Hilja; the kind for which you’d be thrown in jail for six months in Finland. Reiska didn’t think that Tiku Aaltonen knew the law very well.

“All right then, Timo-Kunto, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll run as fast as you can and you might even make the last train. Or you can try hitchhiking to Espoo, but be on the lookout for suspicious cars!” Reiska let Aaltonen go.

“And who exactly are you?” Aaltonen tried to hold on to what was left of his dignity.

“The man who doesn’t let creeps like you near Helena. That’s all you need to know. So scram, if you want to use your mouth for eating and your privates for baby-making.”

Reiska let out a snorty laugh when Aaltonen took off jogging toward the town center. Reiska himself walked back with a swagger. Mrs. Hirvonen was at the door, wondering what the ruckus was about. At least Helena had been smart enough to go inside already.

“Nothin’ to worry about, ma’am. You go ahead and get back to bed. That man won’t bother us anymore,” Reiska explained politely and even tipped his baseball cap to her.

“Who was it?”

“Representative Lehmusvuo’s former husband. He has no business bein’ here no more.”

Inside, Helena had poured herself a glass of red wine and asked Reiska whether he wanted any. He didn’t. He just turned the alarms back on and went to the bathroom upstairs. The beer he’d had earlier weighed heavily in his bladder, and in all honesty I was ready to get rid of Reiska’s mask for a while. The heavy makeup was making my face break out in a rash. I went back downstairs as Hilja.

“Were you scared?” I asked Helena, who seemed to have downed her second glass of wine by then. She’d decided to work from home the next day, writing a presentation for an international conference.

“No, more like annoyed, at least at first. Then I wondered where you disappeared to—or, I mean Reiska.”

“Reiska took Tiku by surprise. That guy is a real lightweight. It’s good to know that he has money problems—that tells us no one has tried to buy him off yet. I’m sure he’d sell you out without batting an eye.”

Helena stared at me. “To whom?”

“To anyone you haven’t been ready to talk about yet.” When she twitched I continued. “I know you’re still testing me. That’s okay. But once I get a hold of Anita’s—oh, shit!”

I rarely cursed, but this time it was warranted. Cecilia Nuutinen-Kekki had been in Finland for who knows how many days already, and she may have even tried to call me—on my old phone number. I was such an idiot. I hadn’t checked my e-mails, either, because I wasn’t looking forward to hearing from Laitio or David Stahl. Lying awake in the darkness I had often thought of Stahl, and it was hard to keep myself from calling him. I wondered if he’d still have such a strong hold on me if I saw him again.

“I’m off to bed. Everything is fine,” I told Helena. The wrinkles on her narrow face looked exceptionally deep. That’s what she’d look like in ten years.

Helena slept late the next morning. I’d kept all the curtains closed, because I wanted to eat breakfast as Hilja. That’s why I didn’t dare to sneak out to get the morning paper, but instead I read a week-old publication called
The Green Thread
,
which I had never heard of. Reiska wasn’t ready to start working outside until eleven, and by then Helena was having breakfast. He turned off the alarm and began to apply another coat of paint to the fence in the backyard. Once that was done, he decided to paint the small fence that separated Helena’s front yard from the sidewalk. His MP3 player was blasting
Humppa United
by Eläkeläiset, and he sang along to “Äkäinen Eläkeläinen,” although his voice was hoarse and off key. He was so caught up in his warbling that he didn’t hear the footsteps right away. Once the man got closer, Reiska pulled his cap down. The combat boots on the man looked familiar, so did the black jeans. The man passed Reiska and walked on. Only then did Reiska look up.

He could only see the man’s back, but there was no doubt about who this tall, bald man was. David Stahl was roaming around Helena Lehmusvuo’s neighborhood. When Stahl walked a couple feet past Reiska, he stopped and turned around. Reiska didn’t have time to lower his gaze, and Stahl stared at him for a moment. I was sure he’d recognize me regardless of the disguise.

Stahl shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and continued walking. Neither one of us, Reiska nor I, felt the need to follow him.

13

I cursed silently to myself as I finished painting the fence. Had Stahl recognized me? Helena would be leaving for a weekend seminar at the Kopparnäs Inn, and we hadn’t yet decided whether I should go with her.

My new phone was burning a hole in Reiska’s pocket. I had to find out what David Stahl was up to. Because I would need to talk to him in Hilja’s voice, I couldn’t make the call from the yard, in case the neighbors would hear me. Helena was inside the house, so I couldn’t make the call there, either. I didn’t want to tell her about Stahl because I didn’t yet know which one of us he was following.

Reiska went back inside. Helena gave him a brief glance before getting back to work on her laptop at the kitchen table. Reiska went upstairs to pack a backpack: a mirror, makeup remover, a bottle of water, cotton balls, a towel, and Hilja’s shoes and jacket. He walked to the wooded area near Helena’s home and began to change back into Hilja. After hanging the mirror on a tree branch, I removed Reiska’s wig, doused a cotton ball with makeup remover and started scrubbing. I combed my hair and changed from Reiska’s work shoes and jacket to sneakers and a leather jacket. We could both wear the same jeans. I looked around again to make sure nobody was watching before I pulled Reiska’s crotch padding out. I had tried imagining how men’s genitals affected their gait, and how men instinctively protected them if they tripped or got into a fight. There were a few times when I had been driving a car, going as fast as I could, and I swear I could feel my balls growing to the soundtrack of heavy metal, testosterone roiling inside me. Once, on the German autobahn, a client had begged me to slow down before I got both of us killed. I almost didn’t want to—the speed was giving me such a high.

Before I called Stahl, I came up with a story. I had saved his number on my new phone, and now I used a prepaid card so he wouldn’t recognize my number. If Stahl didn’t answer immediately, I wouldn’t leave a message. I tried to steady my breathing when I heard the dial tone. He picked up after three rings.

“Who’s this?” asked Stahl, first in Russian and then in Swedish.

“Hey, David,” I replied in Swedish. “It’s Hilja, Hilja Ilveskero.”

“Hilja! How nice of you to call. I didn’t see your number on my screen.”

“My phone was stolen—my insurance company gave me this temporary phone. But I have a pretty good idea who took it.”

“Who?”

“This drug addict who lives next door. So, how have you been? Are you still near Helsinki, in Tammisaari?”

David laughed a little, and I tried to interpret its meaning. Was it, “Oh, my dear, you don’t have a clue?” or “Well, you just saw me this morning,” or “I’m glad you’re interested!”

“Actually, I got back to Kopparnäs yesterday because the weather is supposed to be good for the next few days. There’s some sort of a seminar here this weekend, but I was able to book my old room. Can you come this weekend?”

This was when I’d have to make plans for both Helena and me. I decided to risk it—there was no way David would have just happened to be back in Kopparnäs.

“You’re in luck—I’m free this weekend.”

“Will you invite me over to your cabin?”

“Unfortunately, no can do—my friend is using it this weekend. She’s got a thing going on with a married man and they need a place for their tryst.”

“And you support such immoral activities?” I could hear David smile.

“Who am I to judge? We all have our stories.”

“Perhaps you’re right. So, will you come? We can see if there are any good mushrooms in the forest, or try to run into the famous Kopparnäs bear. The innkeeper said she’d seen a lynx the other night.”

“A lynx?” That was all the convincing I needed. Helena’s seminar started early in the morning and she was carpooling with a friend from Espoo. I could ride with them almost the whole way and then claim that my friend had picked me up from the bus stop.

“Bring an overnight bag; I have room for two,” David said, and I could feel that familiar drop in my stomach. Of course I would go. My plan was to get David into a situation where he couldn’t defend himself. I told him I’d be in Kopparnäs around eleven, which would give me enough time to make sure that everything was set at the cabin and to get my bike. All I needed now was an explanation for Helena as to why I was in Kopparnäs. Or did she need to know? With any luck we’d be in different buildings, though breakfast would pose a problem.

I called Helena and told her that I had some business to take care of as Hilja, but I’d be back in the evening. I also told her to turn all the burglar alarms on and to let me know if she left the house. I didn’t want to be checking her tracking device all the time. Helena suggested that we go swimming in the evening; she needed to let off some steam. She’d be easy to observe at the pool even if I couldn’t go there as Reiska.

I took a long walk to clear my head. It didn’t make sense to hide my trip to Kopparnäs completely from Helena. I hadn’t told her about my cabin, so I couldn’t use that as my reason for going. But then how would I explain to her where I got the bike? Should I trust her and tell the truth?

In the end I decided to go with almost the same story I’d told David: that my friend had a cabin near Kopparnäs and I had borrowed the bike from her. I walked over to the library to read my e-mails. There was one from Cecilia Nuutinen-Kekki, who was extremely upset. She hadn’t been able to reach me. I replied, telling her that my phone had been stolen, and I offered to meet in Helsinki on Monday. Helena had a full day of meetings and she’d be safe among all the security guards and metal detectors in the cabinet building.

I turned into Reiska before I took my stuff back to Helena’s place. I then left as Reiska and soon came back as Hilja. Helena wondered whether such switcheroos were really necessary so I had to explain to her that the Hirvonens and, most likely, Noora Asikainen were keeping an eye on Reiska. When I was Hilja I played up my femininity, especially when I walked, and I even put on makeup before heading out to the pool. I wasn’t surprised when Mrs. Hirvonen stepped out into the yard just as we were leaving. Helena introduced me as her friend Hilja, and the woman stared suspiciously at my cropped hair.

“A friend, huh?” she smirked.

As soon as we turned the corner, I laughed. “Looks like Mrs. Hirvonen has pegged me as a lesbian!” I said.

It was drizzling lightly and the leaves on the trees were more yellow than green. Although it was later in the evening, you could hear the construction sounds echoing from Citymarket’s site. They were building the market next to another one on a field—talk about brilliant urban planning. Kirkkonummi’s city center consisted of a number of ugly boxes standing in a row. The only anomalies were the church and the library; the rest were flat buildings that had clearly been hastily constructed—a subject that Helena had ranted about multiple times.

“Well, are you?” asked Helena. “Not that it’s any of my business, but you could tell me a bit more about yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“Chief Constable Laitio seems to disagree.”

“Let him. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t plan to start a family with a man or a woman. Oh, by the way, I thought it would be best if I went to Kopparnäs, too, just in case. I heard from an old friend who happens to be staying there, and I can crash there if necessary. But first I was thinking of visiting another friend of mine who has a cabin in Stävö, close by.”

If you ever need to massage a story, come up with something that’s simple and as close to the truth as possible and then stick to it. That’s what Mike Virtue had advised. I was juggling too many balls, but I had to find out what David Stahl was up to.

“I’m sharing a room with Ulla, the friend who is giving me a ride tomorrow, but we can also ask the innkeeper to bring in a cot if you need a place to stay,” Helena said.

It was good to know I had a backup plan if things went awry with David. Then again, he was the one who had asked me to share a room. Helena said that the Green League members would have dinner at seven and that anyone who felt like it would go to the sauna afterward. It would seem odd if I kept my distance from Helena now, so I told her I was in Kopparnäs not as a guard but more as a security profiler. The seminar’s schedule had been posted online, so who knew what kind of crazies could turn up.

Swimming helped to burn off some energy, but even that didn’t kill my growing desire for David Stahl. Not knowing what game he was playing was actually a turn-on. Helena was tired and went to read in bed before ten, whereas I memorized my cover story and packed my bags. Reiska had to stay in Kirkkonummi; this weekend was for Hilja alone.

In the morning, it was drizzling but warm, and by the time we reached Siuntio, the clouds began to break. The farmers’ plows transformed the yellowing fields into mounds of soil while flocks of geese circled overhead. At the Degerby intersection, the sun finally peeked through the cloud cover. I got out of the car and told Helena and her friend that I’d meet them soon. Once Ulla’s car disappeared, I fetched my bike from the ditch where I’d hidden it.

The cabin looked untouched, and the cornstarch I had sprinkled on the floors hadn’t been disturbed. I also made sure that Anita’s safe was still hidden. The dents on it were such an embarrassment. I hoped Cecilia would be able to tell me the combination.

It was warm enough to bike to Kopparnäs without a long-sleeved shirt. I’d lined my eyes with black and wore huge hoop earrings, although that wasn’t my usual style. Even details as simple as earrings are helpful in changing your appearance, and I needed something to compensate for my extremely short hair. I looked like a white Grace Jones.

David was waiting for me in the inn’s yard. The familiar camo outfit and heavy boots looked sexy on him, and I wanted to kiss his smiling lips. I was sure I was projecting pheromones like a female chimpanzee. The yard was full of cars, and the campaign flag for the Green League was affixed to the door of the main building. David offered to take my bag upstairs. There was no way I would leave him alone with my stuff, so I followed him. I had to stop myself from tearing off both my clothes and his. David’s room was definitely not luxurious; it had a twin bed with small tables on each side, and a dresser table with a mirror and a chair. The upholstery was various shades of yellow, making me feel like I was inside a quaint summer cottage. The room smelled like David—I had to get out of there before I completely lost my mind. David grabbed his backpack and I spotted a thermos in it. I’d be in for some coffee.

The car was already equipped with his mushroom basket; he’d even brought a knife. I had thrown away the poisonous mushrooms from the previous week—there’d be more in the forest if I needed them. We got out of the car and started walking on Leiri Road toward the shore. I let David do the talking. He certainly didn’t need any prodding. I listened for any clues that might indicate that he had recognized me as Reiska, but he didn’t mention his little trip to Kirkkonummi at all. I didn’t dare ask. Instead, he told me about his visit to Tammisaari and reminisced about his early days there. It was your basic childhood, really: he’d played soccer and sailed around the Hanko peninsula.

“That’s what I missed the most in Tartu. I had a small boat, but I couldn’t use it because the town was so far away from the water. The other day I rented a boat in Tammisaari and went around the familiar islands. It was lovely. Do you know how to sail?”

“I’m more of a rower.” I bent down to pick a woolly milk-cap. David didn’t seem to be looking for any mushrooms, but they weren’t exactly plentiful where we were—we’d need to walk deeper into the forest. The side of the road was jammed with cars parked at odd angles, as if it were National Get-Thee-To-A-Forest Day. “I didn’t ask this last time, but what does it mean that you’re a construction consultant?” I asked.

“I get people and pieces of land together. Either I’ll look for plots that match the client’s needs, or I’ll find an architect who can create the kind of building my client wants. Every day is different.”

“What kind of training do you have?” I looked at Stahl with a curious expression on my face, and he hesitated for moment—it was enough for me. He even touched his ear. Anyone who’s studied the psychology of body language would know that I was talking to a liar.

“I think in Swedish it’s called construction architecture.”

“So do you have a business of your own, or do you work for someone?”

“I have my own business.”

“What’s it called? Do you have a website?” I was bombarding him with questions as if I was completely smitten and wanted to know everything about him. Women yearned for information. They wanted to know the names of the guy’s parents and siblings, his entire life story, favorite foods, childhood traumas, what pajamas he wore.

“I’d rather market myself by word of mouth. My services are pretty pricey because I’m good at what I do, but I’ve had plenty of customers. Is this mushroom edible?” David was obviously trying to change the subject. He was pointing at the side of the road where a milk-cap, barely standing up, was half covered by gravel.

“It is as long as you boil it twice for five minutes each time. So it looks like we’re sort of in the same business. We’re both entrepreneurs. Do you always choose your clients based on who can pay the most? Are you always able to determine your price?”

“That’s exactly it. I’ll work for whomever makes the highest offer. I know what I’m worth.”