Vengeance (42 page)

    
Salmela’s voice over the phone was quiet and halting.

    
“They found me. The assholes found me…”

    
“Who?”

    
“Larsson and Steiner. They got me… But I got away… Hold on…” He fell silent.

    
Suhonen waited. After about twenty seconds, Salmela whispered again. “It was nothing. They’re looking for me.”

    
“Where are you?”

    
“In the woods. Not sure exactly where. There’s a road nearby. Come pick me up.”

    
Suhonen got to his feet and looked at the dark streets out the window. “I’ll come if I know where to find you.”

    
“There’s some school over there. Probably that Russian school. I think…”

    
Suhonen cut in. “You’re somewhere around the intersection of Beltway One and the Hämeenlinna Highway.”

    
“Yeah,” Salmela whispered. “There’s some road…yeah…now I see it. I’m in the woods northeast of there. I see a kind of greenish house and a bus stop.”

    
“How’d they find you?” Suhonen asked, pinching the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulled on his jeans.

    
“Over on Hämeen Street. In the courtyard of the employment office. They just appeared out of nowhere in a car. What happened to Ear-Nurminen? I don’t suppose he…”

    
“Nurminen’s dead. They killed him.”

    
“Goddammit!” He lowered his voice again. “I saw ’em go up the stairs. I didn’t dare go back.”

    
“Good thing you didn’t. What happened after they found you?”

    
“Hold on again…” said Salmela and the line fell silent.

    
Suhonen pulled on his sweater. “What’s going on?”

    
“Nothing. Just a car. I don’t really know for sure. They drove me here and started grilling me. I don’t really know, but at some point they left me alone and I got out the window.”

    
“Go somewhere safe and hide. I’ll be there in a silver Peugeot in about fifteen.” Suhonen paused to consider his options. Were he to notify dispatch, the place would be crawling with cruisers and sirens. That could make Salmela’s situation even worse. It would be better if he picked up Salmela first and then sent in the troops to look for Larsson and Steiner.

    
There was no time to explain the situation to the lieutenant on duty, Takamäki, Nykänen, nor Honkala. Every one of them would order him to wait. Waiting was not an option. The second Salmela was in his car, the tables would turn. His hiding spot was only about a ten-minute drive away. Suhonen pulled on his leather jacket in the entryway.

    
“Listen,” said Salmela. “I didn’t know anything about the bomb.”

    
“I believe you,” said Suhonen, twisting his feet into his shoes.

    
“And that license plate. That Opel was at the Skulls’ compound a couple days ago. I saw it in the yard.”

    
“Huh?”

    
“Yeah, that agent said on TV that the license plate was AFR-something. Almost the same as my old Opel. I saw it in the Skulls’ garage.”

    
“Lay low,” said Suhonen as he stepped out the door of his building. “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

The wet asphalt glowed in the pale light of the streetlamps. A thin layer of snow lay on the shoulder of the road and in random patches elsewhere.

    
Suhonen parked his silver Peugeot at a bus stop on the shoulder and got out. According to the sign, route 47 stopped here. The green wooden house that Salmela had mentioned was on the left, and near that were several three-story white brick apartment buildings. The one-story buildings of the Russian-Finnish school were further back on the left. To his right was a dark thicket.

    
This was the spot. Salmela was nowhere in sight, but the rows of street lights formed a bright tunnel from which it was impossible to see into the dark forest.

    
Suhonen wondered if he should shout for Salmela, but if the gangsters were still out there looking for him, it probably wasn’t such a good idea. He lingered a while, but when Salmela didn’t show, Suhonen tried his phone.

    
Salmela didn’t answer, but a text message came shortly.

    
“Can’t talk. Hundred yards from bus stop. Red warehouse on the right.”

    
Suhonen read the message and wondered why Salmela couldn’t talk. Was the situation that dire?

    
Best to go check it out. He swung back into the car and headed down the narrow road. A good hundred yards up on the right was a narrow wooded road with no signs.

    
He hesitated a moment, then swung the car onto the dirt road. Spruces flanked both sides of the road, which was covered in enough snow that he could tell no cars had been through lately. In the headlights up ahead, he saw the road curve gently to the right and end at a red wooden hut the size of a shipping container. There were no windows, at least not on the front. The wooden clapboards ran continuously from the foundation to the shed-style roof.

    
Suhonen drove closer and waited to see if Salmela would come out. If the other side had a window, anyone inside would be able to see the glow from his headlights. But the little building seemed deserted. Suhonen wondered what kind of warehouse this was anyway. The location was strange. He knew that in the winter, snow was dumped in a nearby lot. Maybe the hut was used for that somehow.

    
He stopped the car next to the hut. There was enough space in the yard for him to swing the car around.

    
Suhonen stepped out and listened. The woods were quiet.

    
“Salmela,” he whispered. Nobody answered, not even the trees. Suhonen had no intention of shouting.

    
He waited there for a minute to let his eyes adjust to the dark. The zipper on his leather jacket was open for easy access to his Glock, which wasn’t drawn yet. Suhonen felt that a drawn weapon was a sign of fear. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, nor the unknown. Had he been, he may as well have applied for a desk job.

    
He could see into the woods now, at least somewhat, and he circled the hut. As he reached the gable end, he noticed the red paint flaking off the walls. Aside from that, the building was in surprisingly good condition. He peeked around the corner. The back side had a door, and a small lone window on the far end, close to the eaves.

    
Suhonen rounded the corner quietly. Only a few yards separated the building from the forest.

    
He continued on to the door. There were two alternatives: either go straight inside or shout for Salmela. Suhonen thought briefly, drew his pistol, and without warning, jerked the door open.

    
Salmela was kneeling on the floor. A piece of silver duct tape covered his mouth, but his eyes were directed to Suhonen’s right. Suhonen turned to look, dropped down and raised his weapon. In the corner, Rolf Steiner stood grinning, a pistol in his hand.

    
Suhonen fired and the shot was deafening. The bullet hit Steiner in his right thigh and he fell to the floor.

    
“Shi-it,” Steiner moaned, clutching his bleeding thigh.

    
Suhonen kicked the man’s fallen gun into the corner and his eyes darted around the room. It was some sort of tool shed, or at least it had been, for all that was left was a vise, a couple of stools, some electrical equipment and ropes. Other than Steiner and Salmela, nobody else was there.

    
Suhonen looked at the gangster. Blood was spilling onto the floor beneath his leg and the man was cursing in pain. With his gun off in the corner, Steiner seemed harmless, but “seemed” wasn’t good enough for Suhonen. He quickly checked the man’s pockets and tossed a bloody knife into the same corner, next to the gun.

    
Suhonen knelt down in front of Salmela and jerked the tape off of his mouth. His hands were apparently tied behind his back.

    
“You alright?” asked Suhonen.

    
“Watch out,” Salmela managed to say, but Suhonen knew it was already too late. He felt the pressure of cold metal against the back of his head. Apparently, his ears were still ringing so loudly he hadn’t heard the door open.

    
“Hello,” said Tapani Larsson coldly. “Drop the gun and put your hands behind your back.”

    
Suhonen weighed his options. Larsson was directly behind him, but Suhonen was kneeling, and wouldn’t be able to turn quickly enough to surprise the gangster. Larsson would surely pull the trigger, and even if Suhonen managed to dodge the bullet, Salmela was in the line of fire.

    
“Larsson, just shoot him and come help me,” Steiner groaned from the corner.

    
“Just wait,” Larsson commanded. “Hands behind your back, Suikkanen.”

    
“Suikkanen” referred to Suhonen’s alias, the same one he had used a couple of years ago when he arrested Larsson for extortion.

    
Suhonen lowered his weapon to the floor and started to stand up. But the barrel of Larsson’s gun did not yield, and he was forced to kneel again.

    
“I’m sure you know how to work these,” said Larsson as he handed Suhonen a pair of cuffs with his free hand. The barrel of the gun never left his head.

    
If he was going to try something, he should do it now, thought Suhonen. But he had no chance. No matter what, Larsson would be able to pull the trigger.

    
Suhonen put his hands behind his back and cuffed himself. Larsson hastily tightened them. At no point did he give Suhonen an opportunity to surprise him.

    
“Get up,” he commanded, and Suhonen stood up.

    
Without delay, Larsson shoved him into the wall, and the cop tumbled to the floor. Unable to use his hands to break his fall, his shoulder struck the cement floor hard.

    
“Help me,” Steiner wailed.

    
Larsson went to his brother’s side. His jeans were soaked with blood, which was now pooling on the floor. Larsson checked the man’s pulse—it was racing.

    
“You’ll be alright,” he attempted to comfort Steiner.

    
“You said he’d give a warning first, not just shoot. Fuck… This is the last time I agree to anything like this. Next time you can be the fucking decoy… Fuck… He pulled the trigger instantly… I should’ve shot his face off… once he came inside.” Steiner spoke haltingly.

    
That’s what the cops had always done before, Larsson thought. They always gave a warning. Their plan had been for Suhonen to arrest Steiner, and then for Larsson to surprise the cop. Even though the plan hadn’t worked out, for Larsson, the result was just as good.

    
True, Steiner’s leg looked bad. The bullet had apparently ruptured a large vein in his thigh, and he could bleed to death. Larsson considered his options, but they all led to the same conclusion. Steiner needed urgent medical care. He had to protect his brother—it was his duty to get the man to a hospital.