Raid and the Blackest Sheep (29 page)

    
Raid took off the sunglasses. “I had so little to be proud of.”

    
“I understand that now.”

    
“When you came to visit, I wanted to take it all in. I’d tell anyone who’d listen that you were my godfather. I told them you were rich and lived abroad. The other boys were jealous because it seemed like you were from another planet. You drove an expensive car, had nice clothes and bought me the kinds of presents other kids never got.”

    
“You only saw the glamorous parts, and I don’t blame you. That’s what I wanted to show you. And that’s why I feel responsible for your turning out the way you did.”

    
“I made that decision myself.”

    
“I set an example and opened the door. You let a kid run loose in a candy store, you can’t blame him for stealing.”

    
“I’d have never made much of an upstanding citizen anyhow.”

    
“You had a good father and an even better mother. Maybe things would’ve turned out different if they’d lived. You were too young to be on your own.”

    
“Adversity was a good teacher.”

    
“I know it’s too late to be a good godfather, but I still have to try… I didn’t want you along on this trip to be my driver or my bodyguard. Not much left of my body to protect and the Benz has always gotten me where I need to go. You’re here because I want to show you the road I’ve taken, and that I regret every turn.”

    
Nygren took Raid’s hand.

    
“The truth is that I’ve been happiest when I’ve lived an ordinary person’s ordinary life. Gone to work in the morning, come home in the evening. Held my daughter in my lap, played with her and read her a bedtime story. Done everything I considered dull then, not realizing it was the best life had to offer. Somehow I convinced myself I was destined for some other glamorous life full of riches and fame. And so I was never able to enjoy what I had.”

    
“I’ve always been proud of you.”

    
“But for no reason. I haven’t done anything to make anyone proud.”

    
“You rescued a church from a scam-artist and helped the kid with the big shoes. Those were good deeds.”

    
“And I did them solely for selfish reasons…because I’m afraid. So I’d have something to put in the empty end of the scales. It’s the same reason I’m preaching to you right now, even though it’s fucking difficult for me. If I were you, I wouldn’t listen to a single word. I would think, oh, the old man’s rambling again.”

    
“You don’t owe me anything.”

    
“I certainly do. And the more you follow in my footsteps, the more I owe you.”

    
“Every man is responsible for his own life.”

    
“Believe me…you’re wrong. I am responsible for you, and you for someone else.”

    
“I absolve you of all responsibility.”

    
“I’ve always wondered why your mother asked me to be your godfather… She believed in me even when she knew what I was…the blackest sheep of the family.”

    
“She was your sister. She knew you better than anyone, better than you knew yourself.”

    
Nygren fluffed up his leaf-pillow and found the most comfortable position possible, with his hands folded over his chest. He looked at Raid.

    
“The letter’s in my pocket.”

    
Raid nodded.

    
“And don’t forget the follow-up inspection. That’s part of the deal.”

    
“Right.”

    
“It’s a good day to die,” Nygren said in English.

    
Raid smiled.

    
“Didn’t I say you’d do it?”

    
Nygren smiled and closed his eyes.

    
Raid slipped a pistol out of his pocket, held it just shy of Nygren’s temple and fired. The echo rumbled over the fells.

    
Raid stood up, arranged the pistol carefully in Nygren’s hand and fired it toward the sky. Then he picked up the empty casing and put it in his pocket. He took hold of the birch that was bowing over them and shook it, dropping a shroud of yellow leaves onto the body.

    
From somewhere off in the fells, Raid heard the approaching
thuk-ka-thuk-ka
of a distant helicopter. It closed in quickly, looked briefly for a landing spot, then touched down in a small clearing in the birches. The current from the rotors beat against the tiny trees.

    
The door of the helicopter opened and out hopped Lieutenant Kempas. The pilot shut off the engine and the roar began to die down. Kempas hurried over to Raid, pressing his hat onto his head. When he saw Nygren’s body, he stopped and slowly took it off.

    
“I met your uncle in the hospital in Sweden a couple months back. He’d just found out he had but two months to live. I promised him a peaceful departure. Even though he didn’t want me to, I’ve been trailing him. I wanted to be there if he got stopped before the end of the road. This looks like the end.”

    
“That’s right.”

    
“Your uncle asked me to pray for him after he died. I made the mistake of promising, so I’ve been up many nights thinking about what I might say. I don’t know how preachers think of a new sermon every single day.”

    
“They get paid for it.”

    
Kempas cleared his throat and folded his hands. He bowed his head and looked at the ground. Then he bent down next to Nygren’s body and turned toward Raid.

    
“An autumn hike. Sure is beautiful weather.”

    
Raid nodded.

    
“If I had my choice, I’d die on a day just like today…nothing wrong with the spot either. Not too many get a choice, though.”

    
“Right.”

    
“I’m guessing you don’t need a ride,” said Kempas.

    
He held out his hand. Raid hesitated before shaking it.

    
“Your uncle was a good man, better than most people knew. I knew him for twenty years.”

    
Kempas climbed into the chopper and the engine roared to life. Then it rose into the sky and flew off over the fells.

* * *

Hiltunen gaped at Jansson.

    
“Nygren doesn’t hate Kempas. He thinks Kempas is a nice guy.”

    
“Are we talking about the same Lieutenant Kempas?” Huusko demanded.

    
“Yeah, the undercover boss. Those two are friends.”

    
“Fuck!”

    
“If ever cops and robbers were friends, those two are.”

    
“You’re full of shit!” Huusko roared.

    
Jansson shot Huusko a stern look.

    
“Huusko!”

    
“I’m tellin’ you…they’re friends. Nygren saved his life once.”

    
“Kempas’ life?” Jansson wondered. “When and where?”

    
“You should know, shouldn’t you?”

    
“How’s that?”

    
“If you investigated the casino shooting…”

    
“What happened there?”

    
“Don’t you know?”

    
“No.”

    
“Well, Kempas was trying to bust the casino along with Nygren and Salmi for illegal gambling. Those two owned the place. Kempas was still just a regular cop back then…not that he’s ever been that regular. So he finds the place, stakes it out for a week, and arrests some professor. You couldn’t get in without knowing somebody, so Kempas made the professor take him in… He gambles for a couple hours and then some guy walks in, recognizes Kempas, pulls a gun and is about to shoot. Nygren was there and stepped into the line of fire just as the guy popped one off. The bullet hit Nygren in the gut before Kempas managed to shoot the guy.”

    
“So Kempas shot Luotola?”

    
“Don’t know the guy’s name, but he wound up in the hospital half-dead. Nygren said he and Kempas came up with a story for the cops. Nygren and the other guy kept mum and the cops bought it hook, line and sinker. Nygren and Kempas have been friends ever since.”

    
“Have they met up since then?”

    
“Many times.”

    
“When was the last?”

    
“Nygren said Kempas paid him a visit in Sweden not too long ago.”

* * *

“Think he’s telling the truth?” said Huusko as they got back to the car.

    
“I knew Kempas was involved with it somehow and we investigated the incident together. Even back then I had the feeling he wasn’t telling me everything, but it never occurred to me he might be conspiring with Nygren. I figured he was protecting one of his informants.”

    
“Couldn’t they identify the weapon based on the bullet? Kempas probably used a standard police-issue firearm.”

    
“We determined the model and make, but plenty of people have the same weapon. Over a dozen police-issue guns had gone missing at the time, too. And we had no reason to believe Kempas had been at the casino.”

* * *

Huusko watched a low-flying helicopter approach in the rear-view mirror. The chopper swept overhead at an altitude of about thirty feet. Further up ahead, it circled and landed at a rest stop.

    
“I thought I saw Kempas,” said Jansson.

    
“I had the same nightmare,” said Huusko. He braked and coasted up the exit ramp toward the helicopter. Kempas stood next to it with his hat in his hand. He looked relaxed, like someone who’d spent his whole life flying around on the tax-payer’s dime.

    
“It’s Kempas alright.”

    
Kempas smiled, looking somehow like a different man…softer.

    
“You must have been on an old trail if you went to see Hiltunen.”

    
“Old, but hot,” said Huusko.

    
“More like cold. Nygren’s dead.”

    
“Dead,” said Jansson and Huusko at the same time.

    
“Shot himself in the mountains.”

    
“What about Raid?”

    
“Gone.”

    
Jansson was suspicious.

    
“That’s it?”

    
“That’s it. Nygren was on a trip to the fells to die the whole time. Some fancy of his. Raid was along to drive him there. Along the way, Nygren settled up with himself, paid virtue with virtue, and vice with vice.”

    
“And what was your role?”

    
“I met him in Sweden while he was at the hospital. He told me he wanted to die in Finland and I promised to help. I suppose Hiltunen told you why.”

    
“Yeah.”

    
“Nygren saved my life…and he could’ve got me in deep shit. It’s hard not to respect a man like that.”

    
“What now?” said Jansson.

    
“He left a full confession and a gun. That closes Rusanen’s case and Sariola’s too. We have nothing on Raid.”

    
“I guess not,” said Jansson.

    
Kempas looked Jansson directly in the eyes.

    
“Now you know my secret. What are you gonna do?”

    
Jansson glanced at Huusko.

    
“Hardly seems anyone would be interested in such an old case.”

    
“An old case,” Huusko repeated.

    
Kempas nodded.

    
“Thanks.”

    
With a wave of his hand, he signaled the pilot and the helicopter’s rotors began to whirl.

    
“I can give you a ride to Helsinki,” said Kempas.

    
“No, thanks.”

    
He climbed into the chopper and gave a wave as he shut the door.

    
“I wish I could be there when he gives the chopper bill to his boss,” said Huusko.