“Sure.”
The three of us ride across the estate in a golf cart and pull up at the dry dock. We go inside. It’s massive for a personal dock, has about fifteen vessels in it. Most are small, but one is a thirty-one-foot yacht. But, I reflect, he is the richest man in Finland. I suppose this is to be expected. The skipper, who must have the easiest job in the world when Saukko isn’t about, compares the vessels to the paperwork. Two vessels are missing and haven’t been recorded as taken out for over a year. One is a normal boat meant for fishing, but with powerful twin engines. The other is an underwater Jet Ski.
I ask him to check the specs on the Jet Ski, its possible speed and range. It can travel seven and a half miles an hour underwater, faster on the surface, and the battery holds a charge that lasts about an hour.
This is perfect for following the Aurajoki undetected out to sea. But he had to pull not only himself but two heavy bags of money.
The skipper says they own three batteries. All are gone. So, Antti had the ability to bear a load and an extended range.
Saukko fires the skipper on the spot. The skipper stammers, shocked, “I’ve… I’ve worked for you for eighteen years.”
“You have ten minutes to gather your things, and then security will escort you off the property.”
I meet some of the nicest people in my profession. I ignore all this and say to Saukko, “Let’s picture this scenario. Kosonen was to meet Antti, who had come to pick him up in the boat that Kosonen purchased a few days earlier. But Antti kills Kosonen, ditches the boat, and leaves with the Jet Ski. Where would he go?”
I copy the makes and serial numbers of the Jet Ski and missing boat down in my notepad. Like Sweetness, the alcohol seems to leave Saukko unaffected. Practice makes perfect. “To ?land,” he says.
I suspect the same. ?land, an archipelago in the Baltic, between Finland and Sweden, comprises over six thousand five hundred islands and skerries, sixty-five of which are populated. Many of them are little more than flyspecks that stand only a few inches over the waterline. In the summer, ?land is bustling, infested with boats and tourists. However, most congregate on Fasta ?land, the main island, and the islands in the surrounding area.
Some of the islands are flat as planks. The most popular ones have well-kept bicycle paths, and the area is a favorite of cycling enthusiasts. The residents own far more bikes than motorized vehicles for this reason. In some places, they’re rendered almost unnecessary. Many of the islands have old cottages, most just shacks, the most basic of structures—that were once used by commercial fishermen. Now they serve as crash pads for whoever wants to spend the night.
“Can you think of anywhere in particular he might be drawn to as a place to hide? Do you own a private island Antti could be hiding on?”
Saukko laughs. “You know, I almost forgot about it. I own so much shit. I have a private island called Saukkosaari—Saukko Island—and it has an excellent summer cottage on it. In fact, it’s a bit sumptuous to be called a cottage. I bought the island and it had an old, run-down house on it, which I had refurbished. This was fifteen or twenty years ago. I went there a couple times and got bored with it. Just never went back. And none of the rest of the family uses it, either. I hired a gamekeeper who lived in a cottage there. I have no idea if he’s still there or not. For all I know, he might have dropped dead and is still on the payroll. With three batteries, Antti could have made it there.”