Raid and the Blackest Sheep (13 page)

    
“Take a little breather, then five more.”

    
Jansson rested for a moment before redoubling his efforts. The trainer squatted down at his side.

    
“One…good. Two…three.”

    
After the third sit-up, Jansson’s stomach muscles gave out. The trainer tried to support the small of Jansson’s back, but the muscles wouldn’t hold.

    
“I have to say, your abs aren’t in very good shape.”

    
“Just a cramp.”

    
The trainer felt Jansson’s stomach.

    
“No cramp, just lack of use.”

    
Huusko came into the gym and proceeded over to where Jansson lay.

    
“You have some guests in the lobby.”

    
“There are visiting times for guests,” said the trainer.

    
“Official business. Two of Kempas’ men—Lunden and Leino. They have some questions about a certain Mister X.”

    
This was Jansson’s opportunity.

    
“Police business.”

    
“This is a
physical
rehab center, not a police station,” the trainer griped.

    
“When you’re indispensable, you’re indispensable,” said Huusko.

    
Lunden and Leino were sitting in the lobby. Both were wearing dark suits with ties and had their hair closely cropped. Jansson recalled hearing that Kempas had mandated a suit and tie for everyone on his team.

    
“Any chance a guy can get some coffee around here?” asked Lunden.

    
“Yes.”

    
Lunden waited expectantly, but Huusko just sat quietly.

    
“Huusko,” Jansson barked.

    
Huusko and Lunden got the coffees, and they settled in at a window table. The veterans’ pole-walking club skittered past outside.

    
“Alright if Huusko sticks around? He was in on the warehouse shooting case.”

    
“Sure,” said Leino.

    
“So what’s the problem?”

    
“We need to figure out what scheme Nygren and this grim reaper Raid are planning. Kempas is convinced they have a major gig in the works. They were last seen in Kuopio the day before last. Apparently, a couple of Nygren’s former accomplices want a cut of his money. They had a little skirmish at a gas station.”

    
“Who won?” asked Huusko.

    
“Nygren and Raid, five-zip.”

    
Jansson sipped his coffee.

    
“What do you need me for?”

    
“You know Raid better than anybody else. Kempas mentioned that he talked about it on the phone with you, but he thought it best if we met face to face. This joint just happened to be on the way.”

    
“So Kempas thinks I’m hiding something from him?”

    
Lunden interjected.

    
“Here’s the thing. Unless we figure out what they’re up to, we’ll be Kempas’ lackeys for life. You know how he is. No going home until the job is done. We’d be much obliged for any crumbs you can spare.”

    
Lunden’s sincerity worked with Jansson.

    
“Raid called me.”

    
“He called? What’d he say?”

    
“He knows the cops are after them. Said they have no criminal intentions.”

    
“You believe him?”

    
Jansson nodded.

    
Leino glanced at Lunden before speaking. “We’ve learned that Nygren is terminally ill.”

    
“That I didn’t know.”

    
“According to our sources he has cancer. In that case, the only gig he’s planning is a funeral.”

    
“So Kempas thinks Nygren is faking it?”

    
“He’s convinced that Nygren’s so crooked he’d believe anything about the guy. But if Nygren is dying, then why’s he traipsing around the country?”

    
“Maybe he wants to visit some places that are important to him before he dies. A kind of pilgrimage.”

    
“Sounds plausible, but what’s Raid doing with him?”

    
“Anyone who’s terminally ill probably needs a little help.”

    
“Is that what he said, or are you inferring that?”

    
“I’m inferring.”

    
“Did he say anything else?”

    
“Nothing that would have any significance.”

    
“Do you have the number to his cellphone?”

    
“No.”

    
“Did he say where he was calling from?”

    
“Listen, am I a cop or a mini-mart cashier?”

    
“Sorry.”

    
“We’d be much obliged if you’d let us know if he calls again. Once we get on their trail, we’ll try to stay on it.”

    
“I know Kempas is a capable cop, but I don’t see any benefit in having Nygren and Raid followed, especially when they know the cops are after them.”

    
“To be frank, neither do we, but I know how his brain works. His theory is the more you look around, the more you see and hear. In the field, you might get a lead. At your desk, you just get hemorrhoids.”

    
“Lots of wisdom in that,” Jansson allowed.

    
They watched as Lunden and Leino walked across the parking lot to their car. The men looked more like salesmen than policemen.

    
“You think I should make suits mandatory for the department?”

    
“And miniskirts for the ladies,” said Huusko. “Then again, Susisaari’s the only one on the force with legs. Everyone else has stumps.”

    
“Not nice, Huusko.”

    
“But true.”

* * *

After lunch, Jansson was resting in his room when the telephone rang. It was Anna.

    
“I hear you’re showing your face in public again.”

    
“I had to. My fans demanded it.”

    
“I want to chat about something with you…I need some advice.”

    
“What about?”

    
“Is it alright if we meet this evening?”

    
“Where?”

    
“How about in front of the main entrance at seven? You can get in your evening walk at the same time.”

    
“See you there.”

    
Jansson put down the phone and it promptly rang again. This time it was his wife.

    
“The line was busy. Who were you talking to?”

    
“Work.”

    
“Poor dear…they still won’t leave you alone?”

    
“What do you want?”

    
“What do I want? Can’t I just call?”

    
“Of course.”

    
“Don’t snap at me just because you’re having a hard time. Try taking it like a grown man.”

    
“Are you coming on Saturday?”

    
“If you act like that, definitely not.”

    
“I promise to be good.”

    
“Have you lost weight?”

    
“A few pounds.”

    
“At least it’s something.”

    
“Forty pounds would be something.”

    
“I like to have something to hold onto.”

    
“I gotta go.”

    
“Why?”

    
“There’s a dance starting downstairs.”

    
“That’s the kind of hanky-panky they encourage there? Remember to keep your paws off those sixty-year-old bimbos.”

    
“There’re younger ladies here too.”

    
“That goes for them too, then. You can look, but don’t touch.”

    
“You coming on Saturday?”

    
“Oh, alright.”

* * *

Jansson felt as if he were thirty years younger. He was getting ready to meet a woman who had played the leading role in the previous night’s erotic dream.

    
Jansson stepped into the shower, washed what little hair he had and combed it in front of the mirror until he was satisfied. Afterwards, he trimmed his overgrown eyebrows and the hairs jutting out of his ears with the scissors on his Swiss army knife.

    
His wife, perceptive as she was, had always maintained that beneath his façade of modesty, Jansson was an exceptionally vain man. He double checked to be sure that no nose hairs were visible and slathered his chin liberally with aftershave.

    
He slipped on some casual slacks, a thick blue sweater and a sporty-looking windbreaker.

    
Jansson was waiting in front of the door at seven minutes till seven. The dance was just starting, and people were milling about in the lobby. Jansson edged a bit further away from the door and waited under a maple that was growing in front of the building. He didn’t want there to be any witnesses to their meeting.

    
Anna came around the corner at two minutes till. She had on jeans and a thick pea coat.

    
She slipped her arm casually under Jansson’s and pulled him along.

    
“Beautiful weather. Feels like August.”

    
Jansson was quiet. Though he enjoyed her touch, he felt tense.

    
“What was your question?”

    
“Once a cop, always a cop. Straight to the point.”

    
“Does it concern Huusko?”

    
“No…it’s about my ex-husband.”

    
The road to town was lit, but beyond that were fields and forests. About a quarter of a mile away, the lights of the nearest farm were visible. The sky was bristling with stars.

    
“What about him?”

    
“I’ve been wondering how to put this without you misunderstanding.”

    
“Just tell it like it is.”

    
“We would have divorced even if he never found out about Huusko. I would’ve never gone so far with Huusko if my marriage hadn’t already been over.”

    
The lights of a passenger plane approached from the north, swept overhead and continued southward. Anna stopped.

    
“Wish I was headed south on that plane, away from all this lifeless gloom.”

    
“What about your husband?”

    
“He’s threatening me… I don’t know what to do…”

    
“What do you mean by ‘threatening?’ Has he threatened to hurt you? Or something else?”

    
“He said I’m in trouble if I don’t agree to his demands.”

    
“And what are those?”

    
“When we divorced he was quite well-to-do… The flat in Helsinki went to me, and I’ve been renting it out ever since I moved here. Now he’s in financial trouble and wants me to sell the apartment and split the money.”

    
“If he’s threatened you, you can press charges against him.”

    
Anna took Jansson’s hand and pressed it between hers.

    
“Must everything be so formal… Couldn’t we take care of it…kinda off the record…”

    
“What do you mean?”

    
“If for example a detective lieutenant called him… I think it might scare him…”

    
“You mean me?”

    
“Yes.”

    
Jansson’s expression turned dour.

    
“I don’t think that’s going to work.”

    
“Of course, you’d be compensated for your trouble… I plan to sell the flat and can make a pretty nice profit on it right now…”