Tom didn't know it, but no one would be there to meet us yet. We weren't on the flight that arrived at 3:15, as I'd told Liv; we were on the 1:45. I always liked to be early in order to watch who might be waiting for me. Walking into an arrivals lounge to meet people I didn't know gave me the same feeling as knocking on a strange door, not knowing who or what was on the other side.
We met up in the hall. Tom seemed to be feeling very macho today, eyeing the women as they moved around the terminal.
'What now, mate? Where we going?'
'We're a bit early for our pickup. Let's get a coffee.'
We followed the signs to the coffee shop. The glass-and-steel terminal building wasn't packed, but busy enough for a Sunday, more with tourists than business traffic. I could see a dull, gray sky beyond the glass walls, with snow piled up at the roadside and ice hanging from parked vehicles.
As we neared the cafe, Tom bouncing along at my shoulder like some younger brother, we passed two tall, blond and beautiful women at a phone booth. 'Cor, check out the ass on that. I love these Nordic chicks.'
The two of them caught his drift and laughed to each other as they looked at us. I just walked on, embarrassed. They would have had him for breakfast.
Tom seemed not to notice. 'Hey, Nick, do you know there's more people up here who are on the Internet and have cell phones than anywhere else. You know, per capita.'
'That's interesting, Tom.' For once he had said something that was.
He liked that. 'That's right, mate. Must be all that darkness up here. Fuck all else to do, I s'pose.'
I looked at him and smiled, even though the joke had been better first time round.
His face beamed and his hamster cheeks nearly covered his eyes. 'These people are at the cutting edge, know what I mean?' He caught up the step that separated us and whispered in my ear, his head jutting in time. 'That's why the photocopier know-how is here. I'm right, aren't I?'
I was bored but managed a reply. 'It's probably the long hours of darkness. There's nothing else to do but Xerox, I suppose. Coffee, Tom?'
'Nah, tea. Herbal or fruit if they have it.'
We were soon at a table, me with coffee, Tom with a pot of hot water and an apple-flavored tea bag wrapped in foil. Opposite was a bank of screens, obviously Internet stations. It was only a matter of time before Tom saw them, too, and I would be sitting alone, which wouldn't be a bad thing.
His eyes lit up and sure enough he was getting to his feet. 'I'm gonna have to go and check that out. You coming?'
He did, taking his tea with him. I didn't.
He was back very quickly, before I'd even tasted my coffee. 'You haven't got any coins, have you, mate? I've got no money, well, Finnish money. Only dollars, know what I mean?'
I fished out the change from the drinks as he grinned at his own joke.
I decided to have a walk around to see if I could spot anything threatening. I'd shaken off E4, but Val obviously had enemies, and while I was working for him that made them my enemies, too.
My documents always stayed with me, but there was something else I wanted from my duffel before I wandered off. Digging around for the leather zip-up organizer, I dropped both our bags at Tom's feet and headed for the departures lounge upstairs. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nobody waffling into their lapels or facing into the crowd while pretending to read a newspaper.
I took a walk outside, but not for long, the cold biting into my face and hands. I hadn't seen anything that looked as if it was bad and intended for me.
Back inside Arrivals and in the warm, there were a couple of boys in suits with legal-size, clear plastic folders showing the names of people they were there to collect.
Tom was still in Internet heaven. 'Look at this, Nick. Fucking cool or what? Look, virtual Helsinki.'
I was looking at a screen that displayed everything you needed to know about Helsinki, from street maps to images of hotels and booking facilities for travel or theater tickets. There was even a route plan where you actually walked down a road as if you were in a game. Still leaving the bags with him, I went and got myself another coffee, sat at the same table and watched and waited, thinking how lucky I'd been not to have had a kid brother that I'd had to drag around with me when I was growing up.
Fifteen minutes later he was back with the bags. He must have run out of money. 'I just e-mailed Janice and told her I definitely can't get in touch for a while-up in the hills testing kit and all that.'
I put the organizer back in my bag and finished my coffee. 'We might as well make a move. They should be here by now.'
Our ride was easy to spot, smartly dressed in a gray suit and overcoat, with spiky light-brown hair and a red complexion, presenting himself to the people pushing their trolleys through the automatic doors of the customs hall. He was holding up a card with felt-tipped lettering on: 'Nick and another.'
We went up and introduced ourselves. As we shook hands he virtually stood to attention and clicked his heels together, then he offered to take both our bags. Tom refused after I did.
The short-term parking lot was opposite Arrivals. An aircraft roared overhead as we approached a silver Mere. Tom was impressed. 'Nice one.'
We put the bags into the trunk and got in the back. Spike turned the engine on and the radio blared. I assumed the two presenters were running at the mouth in Finnish, but Tom looked at me. 'They're speaking Latin. They're mad for it up here, mate. Dunno why, just are.'
Spike turned it off.
I said, 'How come you know so much about Finland?'
The Mere started moving.
'Got on the net last night and had a look, didn't I?'
'Are you going to play the walking encyclopedia the whole week?'
He looked at me, not knowing if it was an insult, then made up his mind and smiled. 'Nah, mate, just thought you'd like to know.'
He sat back into his seat. He was wrong, I wasn't joking.
We followed the road signs. They were in Swedish as well as Finnish, the Swedes having ruled here in the past as well as the Russians. The pavement on the road was immaculately clear of snow and ice.
The airport was quite close to Helsinki and we were soon on the city ring road. On both sides of us were low-level industrial units and large piles of cleared snow. I had to smile as I thought of the U.K., where a couple of snowflakes bring the entire nation to a halt; here they had snow for months and the country didn't miss a beat.
I saw a sign that said, 'St. Petersburg 381km.' Within three or four hours we could be out of one of the wealthiest and most advanced places on earth and entering a city of chaos and anarchy. But I didn't have to worry; we followed the exit and moved onto another highway, the E75, and started to head away from the built up area, such as it was.
The small floating ball compass that was stuck on the dashboard told me we were generally heading north. Every vehicle on the highway had its lights on; it was the law.
We cruised comfortably along the highway, passing through pine forests, snow, and impressive cuts into massive granite outcrops. I looked over at Tom, who was resting his head on the seat, his eyes closed and his Walkman earphones in. I decided to take his cue and sit back and relax, though I kept my eyes on the road signs. Lahti and Mikkeli seemed to be likely targets, and after just under an hour it was quite clear where we were heading. We took the Lahti exit.
The town was dominated by two very tall Eiffel Tower-like structures, both painted red and white, their spires obscured by the cloud cover, and with aircraft warning lights flashing away on all sides. The place was heaving with both traffic and people. It was a winter sports town; a ski jump towered over the houses, and as we started to rumble down the cobblestones of the main shopping area, I saw that even senior citizens were using cross-country poles instead of walking sticks.
The inhabitants of Lahti were obviously in love with concrete and steel. Instead of traditional wooden dwellings with maybe a reindeer or two parked up outside, they went for new model Saabs, 4x4s, and a blaze of Christmas decorations. We turned left by the town square and passed a brightly lit market, steam rising above the mass of canvas and nylon stall covers. Bundled up to stand in the cold all day, the traders looked more like
