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.”
This heartens me. However, there’s also the other missing boat. He could have used it to flee considerably farther away.
Saukko says, “I also owned over a hundred islands up north in the archipelago. I created a foundation out of them but kept the hunting and fishing rights. Not even tourists go up there much. And it’s a barren area. No amenities. Nothing. I doubt he’s there. If he is, he’ll be damned hard to find. But I still don’t put much stock in this Antti-is-a-murderer-theory shit.”
I seriously doubt he’s there, either. But still. “Doesn’t cost anything to look.”
“True,” he says. “What the fuck. Take my yacht.”
“Thanks, but we can take a police boat.”
“Do police boats have fully stocked bars and come loaded with fishing gear?”
I admit that they don’t.
“Then I insist you take the yacht.” Then it dawns on him. “Fuck. I just fired the skipper.”
This boat is motorized. No sails. Doesn’t take the same level of professional skill. “First, I want to check out Saukkosaari. My partner Milo knows how to sail, he can pilot. I’ll call him now.”
Moreau says he can also handle a yacht. Moreau. Master of All. It’s starting to get on my nerves. I call Milo and Sweetness and tell them to be here in an hour.
36
Milo’s father is dead but apparently was something of a character—Milo’s mother once stabbed him for philandering—but Milo seldom mentions him. However, he taught Milo to sail. He fires up the engines, gives instructions, and we’re out on the open sea in just a few minutes. Milo can be an aggravating fuck, but his confidence with all things technical can be reassuring at times, and this is one.
He’s dog sick from
After a couple hours, we find the island, tie the boat off at the dock next to an older, smaller and somewhat dilapidated vessel. We walk up a winding path to the so-called summer cottage. I would guess it’s about a hundred years old, and as Saukko said, “cottage” is a misnomer. It’s bigger than a house, too small to qualify as a mansion.
We find no one here, but someone was here, a while ago. The garbage wasn’t taken out. Dirty dishes left in the sink. And Saukko was right about the gamekeeper. His cottage is empty. His belongings are in the house proper. I guess at a certain point, maybe after some years went by, he realized that the place was forgotten, that he was employed but forgotten too, and moved into a lovely remodeled home in an idyllic setting. We take a walk around the grounds, both forest and meadows are behind the home, the ocean view in front of it.
The gamekeeper must have lived in peace and comfort, until one day a bad man or men came and ruined it all. We find four shallow graves behind the house. A little scooping and kicking away dirt with our hands and feet reveal four bodies in late decomp, consistent with about a year since death. A grown man and three children. The gamekeeper and Kosonen’s three kids. So they were kept here as blackmail to force their father to carry out the kidnapping. There’s still no solid proof that Antti was behind it, but I’d give good odds on it.
A hypothesis forms of its own accord, just hits me all at once. Killing three children wouldn’t come easy to an inexperienced killer. I think he had an accomplice or accomplices. In this investigation, I’ve come across three men I believe capable of the crimes that have occurred. One of them is here with us now. The other two sell heroin and pate.
My guess: The gamekeeper was murdered straightaway. Antti hid out here on this island while he was supposedly kidnapped. His job was to kill Kosonen, come back here with the money, wait for his accomplice or accomplices, divide up their ten million euros, and then they would go their separate ways and he would disappear, begin life anew under a different identity.
But he didn’t wait. He had another boat he had stolen from his father, an Ocean Master 310 Sport Cabin, according to the manifest. He abandoned the children to his partner or partners in crime to deal with them and left. Realizing they had gotten fucked, they killed the kids—they were witnesses, after all—and set about finding Antti and their money. They’re still looking, most likely why Moreau is here, because they enlisted him, offering him Antti’s share. They killed Kaarina to punish Antti and, if my guess is right, are now just making foie gras and waiting for this to all play itself out.
Lisbet Soderlund. How does she fit into this and why was she murdered?
Her death wasn’t what Saukko asked for, but was the kind of symbol he sought in order to relinquish his million euros. He and Jesper talked about selling heroin to sedate the black masses. I’m in charge of cleaning up drugs in Helsinki. I proved myself more than capable. Moreau told me the lesson learned is that narcotics are needed but must be controlled. The interior minister told me that he believes men adroit at one task are nearly always adroit at others and gave me an additional task, the skank sheet, hinting at additional responsibilities. He and others believe I’ll find the money. It will disappear. Saukko will never get it back.
I think they all know the pate peddlers murdered her, and that Antti has the ten million euros. Plus the other promised million in exchange for “a display of dedication to racist policies” makes eleven. This money is to be pooled and divided among various interests. Am I reading too much into this, or are the Legionnaires to have the heroin importation concession, the neo-Nazis the wholesale concession, our immigrant population to be the target consumer market, this money also to be shared? As I’ve learned, the amounts involved in dope are huge, and even small pieces of the pie could make many men rich. And I’m to be Finland’s drug czar, discouraging other narcotics entrepreneurs around the country, as I have in Helsinki? I’m to be a cop in name, but Finland’s narcotics power broker in truth, much as the former Legionnaires are foie gras dabblers in name but heroin kingpins in reality.
It’s so insidious that it’s difficult to conceive, but I believe it entirely possible.
Saukko won’t like it, but the discovery of the children’s bodies rightly goes to Saska. I call him, suggest he come here in a police helicopter, chopper them home and concoct a tale to explain the breakthrough in the case.
The question remains: Where is Antti? I think he’s hiding somewhere, just waiting to be forgotten. We leave so we can be out of the way when Saska makes his fake break in the case, and go back to Saukko’s mansion.
Saukko is so thrilled that the hunt is on again after a year that he doesn’t even gripe about Saska’s involvement. Saukko insists I hunt to the north. I give in and ask him for a map of his foundation properties. After some searching, he produces one.
I also call the interior minister and explain the situation. I ask him if he can make arrangements to use the radio-controlled pilotless planes as during the original search for Antti, to avoid his suspicion should he be in northern Aland. I tell him the type of craft we’re looking for.
