Teemu snarls, “I’m the wrong person to play games with! What do you want with my family?”
Richard Theo plays dumb. Which is brave of him. “I’m not the sort of man who asks people for things. Especially not people who belong to . . . what are you called again? The Pack?”
“What pack?” Teemu asks.
His face doesn’t even harden; he’s had years to practice that fake nonchalance, and it impresses the politician. So Theo raises his hands and says, “Okay, I confess. I know who you are. And I think you and I can be friends, Teemu.”
“Why?”
“Because we have a lot in common. We don’t always do what we should, but we do what we have to. I get portrayed in the media as dangerous and wicked, simply because I don’t follow all the rules that the establishment has created to stop men like us. I daresay you can recognize yourself in that.”
Teemu spits on the ground. “Your suit cost a month’s wages for a normal person.”
Theo considers this. “You’re not a bad man, Teemu. You take care of your friends, your family, and you want a better life for your brother. Don’t you?”
Teemu doesn’t even blink. “Get to the point.”
“The thing is, I have no illusions about what society is, and neither do you. We belong to different groups, we’re different people, but we look after our interests the same way.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Teemu says.
The politician ventures a smile at this. “Perhaps not. But I watched a lot of horror films when I was younger, so I know that the monster is always at its worst right before you set eyes on it. Our imaginations are always much more terrifying than we’re actually aware of. I think you’ve constructed this Pack of yours the same way. There probably aren’t as many of you as people think. You let people’s imaginations make you more terrible than you actually are.”
Teemu’s eyebrows sink. The only movement he allows himself. “There is no pack.”
The politician says confidently, “No, of course not. But everyone needs friends, Teemu. Because friends help one another.”
“With what?”
Richard Theo replies softly, “Your standing area in the rink.”
* * *
Leo is walking through Beartown without really knowing where he’s going. The swelling and bruises from the assault in the tunnel are slowing him down, but he needs to move about, needs to get out into the night air and prove to himself that he’s not afraid.
At first he walks toward the Heights, toward William Lyt’s house, like a child who’s burned himself on a stove but can’t help touching it again. But all the houses there are silent and dark, so Leo heads toward the town center instead. There are men standing outside the Bearskin smoking. Two of them are Woody and Spider. Leo stands in the shadows and mimics their body language, lights a cigarette of his own and tries to smoke it the way they do. Perhaps the twelve-year-old hopes that if he can look like them, he can become like them, too: the sort of person no one messes with.
* * *
Richard Theo shows no sign of smugness when he says “standing area.” Even though that gets Teemu’s full attention in an instant.
“What about the standing area?” Teemu asks, as if he didn’t already know.
Richard Theo takes his time replying. “There are rumors that the new sponsors want it demolished.”
Teemu’s mask cracks, and the hatred shines through. “If Peter Andersson so much as touches our stand, he’ll—”
He stops himself abruptly. The politician repeats in a conciliatory tone, “Like I said: I want to be your friend.”
“Why?”
The politician gets straight to the point at last: “Because this spring the membership of Beartown Ice Hockey voted on whether to let Peter Andersson continue as general manager, and you saw to it that he won. I’m a politician. I understand the value of a man who can get other people to vote the way he wants.”
Teemu peers at him skeptically. “So you’re going to persuade Peter not to touch the stand?”
The politician’s lie comes effortlessly. “No. Peter refuses to listen to politicians. He refuses to listen to anyone. He wants to control the club single-handedly. But I can talk to the new sponsors. They’re reasonable people, and they’ll appreciate the value of a . . . group of ardent fans. Isn’t that what you are?”
Teemu chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “What happens to Peter?”
“I don’t know anything about hockey, but general managers get fired from time to time, don’t they? The wind can change direction quickly.”
“You’d better hope the wind never changes direction against my brother,” Teemu snarls.
Richard Theo bows politely. “I can give you what you want. Your stand, your club, and a Beartown team containing guys from Beartown. Can we be friends?”
Teemu nods slowly. The politician gets into his car.
“Then I won’t detain you any longer, Teemu, because I believe you have business in Hed this evening.”
Teemu’s eyelids twitch. Richard Theo enjoys the moment. If you want something from a person, you need to understand what motivates him, and Teemu is a protector. As a child he fought grown men in his kitchen to protect his mother, as a teenager he founded the Pack to protect his younger brother, but that’s not all. It’s easy to believe that he doesn’t even like sports, that it’s just an excuse for the violence and a pretext for criminal behavior. But if you look into his eyes when he talks about Beartown Ice Hockey, you’ll see that this town is his home. That standing area in the arena is the only place where he isn’t worried, isn’t weighed down by a feeling of responsibility for everyone around him. Hockey is his fantasy world, just as it is for the general managers and coaches and players. And people like Teemu will always protect their happiest places with their most dangerous weapons. So he snaps, “What are you talking about? Why would I have business in Hed?”
Richard Theo smiles. “I thought you’d already seen the video clip?”
* * *
At that moment Teemu’s phone vibrates in his pocket as a text message arrives. Then another. Then another.
* * *
Leo is still standing in the shadows on the other side of the street when the men outside the Bearskin get so many text messages in succession that their phones sound like pinball machines. They’re all looking at the same video. Leo can’t see what it is but can hear them talking about it: “Those cocksuckers in Hed deserve to die!” Another one looks at his own phone and replies in a harsh voice, “Teemu’s just texted me. He’s seen the video. He wants us to fetch the guys.” It doesn’t take Leo a minute to find the clip on his own phone; everyone in his school has started to circulate it, and Leo figures out what’s going to happen now. He runs straight into the forest. If he hurries, he might actually get to Hed before the Pack does.
* * *
There’s going to be a fight.
* * *
Teemu Rinnius walks to the kennels in the darkness. Adri sees him through the window; he hasn’t got any bottles with him, and he’s alone.
“Is your brother here?” Teemu asks.
Adri recognizes the look in his eye. “He’s up on the roof,” she says.
Teemu smiles delightedly. “I was thinking of buying him a beer. Do you want to come?”
Adri shakes her head slowly. “If he gets hurt, I’ll kill you.”
Teemu pretends not to understand. “Hurt? From drinking beer?”
Adri raises her hand and reaches for his chin. “You heard me.”
Teemu smiles. Adri goes into the house. She knows what’s going to happen tonight. She wishes Benji wasn’t going to be involved in the fight, but sooner that than him lying on his back in the forest whispering about “mistakes.” She checks that the key to the gun cabinet is under her pillow. Then she goes to bed.
Benji is sitting on the roof of the outhouse smoking beneath the stars. Teemu climbs up the ladder and peers over the edge. “Do you want a beer, Ovich?”
There’s something about the way he says it, a hint of stifled laughter.