Sweetness waited until everyone had their fill of cake and then proceeded to eat the rest of it by himself. And then jammed nuuska into his lip. I sighed. I thought again that he was going to have to play Eliza Doolittle to my Henry Higgins if I was to make him presentable.
Then Moreau said, “It is little understood that the drug trade must be maintained, but controlled and balanced. Were the narcotics industry to suddenly cease, the economies of many countries, the U.S. among them, would be destroyed. I left the Legion a few years ago, am now a policeman, a superintendent in the Central Directorate of Interior Intelligence Action Division. I was helping to restore that balance.”
He got up. “Which reminds me. I have brought a small gift for Kari.” He had brought a backpack with him and left it in the foyer. He got up, took something out of it, came back and placed a clear plastic bag filled with white powder on the table. “This is a half kilo of uncut Mexican heroin,” he said.
Kate’s jaw dropped. The others looked on with interest.
“For what?” I asked.
“You have destroyed this balance I spoke of. Because of it, now people commit suicide and a crime wave is in progress. If you distribute this, it will restore the balance and repair the situation for a time.”
“How did you get it into Finland?”
“In a diplomatic pouch. I travel on a diplomatic passport and am not subject to search.”
I shook my head. “How the fuck am I supposed to move that much heroin?”
Sweetness cleared his throat. He had made several trips to the balcony and his hip flask must be near empty. “I wasn’t exactly unemployed before I came to work for you. Me and my brother sold marijuana. Not a lot, just some, so we could have at least a little money. We never sold hard drugs, but I know some neekerit who do. I could front it to them, an ounce at a time or something like that. It’s worth about a hundred thousand euros. If I gave it to them all at once, they would steal it and leave the country.”
Kate flew mad. “First you steal drugs. Now you want to sell drugs. And”—she pointed at Sweetness—“don’t use language like that in my home.”
He was mystified. “I’m sorry. What language?”
I stepped in. “Kate, he meant nothing derogatory. Most Finns still say neekeri. It’s always been the word for black people, and it’s slowly changing, because the press and academics know how ugly it sounds and are now making substitutions for it, but they still haven’t even agreed upon what the right word should be. Until black people started coming here in the 1990s, Finns had almost no exposure to blacks and had attitudes something like Americans in the 1920s. When I was a kid, in the 1970s, my schoolbooks said neekerit were simple but happy. They liked to sing and dance. Sweetness meant no harm. And Moreau is right. We meant well, but we went too far and people got hurt.”
She softened. “Let’s discuss it later.”
“OK.”
“As to selling the heroin,” I said, “that’s not going to happen. Presumably, if junkies have the money to buy heroin, they have the money for a train ticket to another city. They can buy it elsewhere.”
“Does that mean you do not accept my gift?” Moreau asked.
“No, I’ll keep it. I might find other uses for it.”
He grinned. “Such as planting it and framing your enemies? Inspector, your waters run deep.”
I said nothing.
Milo jumped in. “I have more presents we could open.”
Kate groaned. “Milo, I don’t want to have to see any more guns.”
“Well, how about the presents for you and Anu, then?”
That got her. Curiosity overcame her anger and she smiled. “All right, then. Adrien,” she asked, “what inspired you to get those striking tattoos?”