Vaara, Nieminen and Polvinen committed breakings and enterings on both Friday and Saturday nights. They robbed drug dealers and made off with bags likely containing drug money and/or narcotics.
I regret to inform the minister that I have blown my cover in this case. I underestimated Vaara because of his migraines, thinking they must impair his cognition and attention span. He sent out Nieminen and Polvinen to find out why we were surveilling his apartment. Nieminen approached, and I rolled down the driver’s-side window. I reached for my ID and he drew his pistol so fast that I had no time to respond. He struck me in the face with it several times. It was my own fault, because I did not announce my intention to produce identification and so he was within his rights, as I could have been reaching for a weapon. My nose and cheekbone were broken, and my right eye socket fractured. My partner tried to draw his weapon in defense. Polvinen shattered his window, reached through into the car and squeezed my partner’s shoulder so hard that his collarbone was crushed and his shoulder squeezed out of its socket and dislocated. I had no idea such a thing was possible. Nieminen took my police card. I said, “I’m a goddamned cop. What the fuck did you do that for?” He replied, “You’re an errand boy sent by shopkeepers. I’m a pistoleer. Next time we meet, I suggest you remember that.” I think it was a line from a movie, but I got the impression that Nieminen isn’t all there.
As I said, my cover is blown, how should we proceed?
Best Regards,
Captain Jan Pitk?nen
Reply from the interior minister to Pitk?nen:
Operation Poronnussija terminated. Hope your face heals up.
Best Regards,
Interior Minister Osmo Ahtiainen
And lastly, I found two memos on a Post-it stuck to the last page. One addressed to Jyri. “Good idea. I want whatever you’re getting.”
The next Post-it was in Jyri’s handwriting and meant for me. “Poronnussija: 15% each for me, you, and for the interior minister, 5% each for the maniac brainiac and the giant oaf. The rest for operational funding. Trust me, it’s a good deal. Take it.”
Giving Milo and Sweetness a bonus was a one-off. I never intended to become a crooked cop and do this for profit. “Thanks, but no, thanks,” I said. “My paycheck will suffice.”
Jyri laughed at me. “Goddamn, you’re na?ve. You have to take the money. If you’re not complicit, we can’t trust you. Just consider it part of your paycheck. Trust me, you’ll get used to it.”
I didn’t know how to respond for a moment. I stumbled on my words. “What happened to your speech about helping people?”
He shrugged. “Then help people.” He snickered. “You know what they say the three biggest lies are?”
Disillusioned, I just shook my head no.
“I love you, the check is in the mail, and I won’t come in your mouth.”
“Wow, great joke.”
“Actually, the point is that the joke is wrong. The biggest lie is that altruism exists.”
I just stared at him.
“I’m moving you and Milo from Helsinki Homicide to the National Bureau of Investigation,” he said. “You’ll work directly under me and be out from under public scrutiny. And I’ll make sure the oaf gets a job, too. Invent some specialization for him. There isn’t a checkbox for giant attempted murderer on the job application. Why the fuck do you want him anyway?”
“Mostly to piss you off.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, and got up. “Since you just got a big raise, you can pick up the check.”
I got an idea. “Ask the interior minister if, in return for this fifteen percent, he’ll do me the occasional favor, beginning with this one. Ask him if he can supply me with the dossiers of every known criminal taking the morning Tallink ferry to Helsinki on”—I pick a date at random—“Friday, February nineteenth.”
“I’ll ask,” he said.
He started to walk away and then turned back to me. “And I want ledgers kept.” He walked out, whistling the Irving Berlin song “Blue Skies.”
5