Raid and the Blackest Sheep (8 page)

    
“You really expect to traipse outta here with a hundred grand?” Mara’s belly shook as he laughed.

    
“That’s right.”

    
Mara glanced back and the goons in leather stepped forward.

    
“What’s this inventory you’re talking about?” asked Mara.

    
“Perhaps it’s best if I put it in proper Finnish: cough up the fucking money or die.”

    
Nygren’s sudden anger startled Mara, and he stepped back, but his leathered backup calmed his nerves.

    
“There must be some mistake here, my friend.”

    
“Correct. You’re gravely mistaken if you think I’ll buy the same bullshit as your customers.”

    
“Sorry, but business suffers from too much standing around. You should go now.”

    
With a nod, Mara stepped aside and the leathered pair advanced on Nygren.

    
Unfazed, Nygren stood his ground, and the men seemed to hesitate.

    
“I suggest you go quietly,” said one of them as he reached for Nygren’s arm. Suddenly, the thug screamed and jerked his hand away. Raid stepped between the two of them brandishing a heavy tire iron.

    
“That hurt?” said Nygren. “Pity.”

    
The other tough backed away, rummaging for something in his pocket. Raid slammed the iron down on his collar bone, snapping it. The pain was so intense that he dropped to his knees howling.

    
Mara could see the situation was getting out of control, and despite his excess weight, he quickly waddled off toward the camper.

    
Raid lifted a gas can out of the trunk of Nygren’s Mercedes and doused the front of the camper with it. Mara peered out from behind the curtains, his eyes darting wildly.

    
Nygren knocked on the door of the camper.

    
“Call the fire department. Something’s burning here.”

    
He flicked a match at the wall and the camper burst into flames.

    
Mara gestured frantically behind the window.

    
“There’s a propane tank in here… It’s gonna blow!”

    
“Thanks for the heads up. We’ll back up a little and watch. Always wanted to see what one of those does when it blows.”

    
Mara’s lackeys watched the blaze apathetically as Raid wagged his gun at them.

    
“Stay put.”

    
Raid got Nygren’s Mercedes, backed it up till it was ten feet from the camper door, and opened the trunk.

    
The flames spread quickly, engulfing the entire camper. Thick, black smoke billowed off the smoldering fiberglass shell. A window on the camper shattered with a bang, and a panicked voice could be heard from inside.

    
“I’m burning in here… This is murder! You hear me, Nygren? Murder!”

    
“Murder indeed,” Nygren said casually.

    
“I’m coming out!”

    
Mara tried to open the door, but Raid pushed it closed and Nygren helped him wedge it with a chunk of two-by-four. Panic-stricken, Mara peeked out the window to see what was blocking the door.

    
“Take it out… My clothes are smoking… I’m burning…”

    
“No, you aren’t. There must be some mistake.”

    
One of the henchmen tried to slip away, but Raid stopped him with a wave of his gun. The man froze mid-creep.

    
“I’ll give you twenty grand now and the rest later!” Mara shouted, his offer broken by sobs.

    
Nygren waited a moment longer. From inside, he could hear pounding and bellowing. Mara was trying to bash down the door with every one of his three hundred and thirty pounds. Nygren kicked out the two-by-four and Mara came crashing through the door. Raid gave him an extra boost of speed and the smoldering man plowed headlong into the trunk of the Mercedes. Raid slammed it shut.

    
Nygren poured what was left of the gas can onto and inside of Mara’s BMW. With relish, he struck the match. The two henchmen put their fingers in their ears.

    
Nygren tossed the match onto the hood of the car. The gasoline vapors whooshed and the entire car shuddered as flames were sucked inside. In the space of a second, the car was engulfed in a column of fire.

    
They had barely made it to the road when the camper exploded. The shock wave shot the walls in four different directions and the roof collapsed.

    
A few hundred yards down the road, the first fire truck went zooming past in the opposite direction. Immediately following it were an ambulance and more fire trucks. Nygren watched as they disappeared in the distance.

    
“Must be a fire somewhere.”

    
A few miles further, they found an old logging road that led through the remains of a clear-cut pine forest. On the shoulders of the road were huge log piles and bulldozed mounds. The chaff left by mechanical harvesters lay on every side. Raid drove to the end of the road, killed the engine and popped the trunk.

    
Mara lay in a fetal position, covered in soot, his clothes still smoking.

    
Nygren slapped him on the back.

    
“You said something about twenty grand.”

    
Mara sat up with a dazed expression, still rattled by the jolting ride down the logging road and the smoke in his lungs. Nygren settled onto a stump and waited. He surveyed what was left of the peat forest, laid waste by the harvesters.

    
“It’ll be fifty years before this place recovers.”

    
Mara crawled out. His trousers were riddled with burn holes and his boxers were jutting out of the holes.

    
Nygren looked more interested in his surroundings than in his former business partner.

    
“Fuck, look at me,” Mara muttered.

    
Nygren turned to look. The sight amused him.

    
“You can knock the cost of your pants off your debt, call it fourteen euros.”

    
Mara took a breath of the fresh forest air and started to come to his senses. A cellphone in his hip pouch started to play a polka.

    
Raid snatched the phone and bashed it against a rock. The polka abruptly cut short.

    
“The money’s at my place… In the garage…”

    
“Let’s go get it,” Nygren said.

    
They led Mara into the front-passenger seat and Nygren slid in behind him. Raid drove.

    
Nygren stared gloomily at the back of Mara’s head.

    
“What makes shitheads like you so greedy? Why don’t you enlighten us to pass the time?”

    
Mara sulked silently.

    
“I give you startup capital and the opportunity to make some money. You thank me by trying to rip me off. Then you hire a couple of goons so you don’t have to cough up a single cent. Were they worth it?”

    
“I didn’t have time…the money was tied up in cars and…”

    
Nygren slapped Mara on the back of the head.

    
“You haven’t made a single payment in over a year. Don’t give me that shit.”

    
“There must be some mistake. My accountant…”

    
Nygren whacked him again and he fell silent.

    
“If there’s no accounting, there’s no accountant either. Save your stories for the tax auditor.”

    
Mara’s white-brick house was on the south-facing shore of a lake. The house had at least 3,500 square feet. Nygren surveyed the property.

    
“So this is how a plain honest car salesman from the heartland of Savo lives.”

    
“It’s my wife’s house…and the kids’.”

    
“On paper, you mean.”

    
Mara opened the garage door. There was ample space for two cars and a small red sports car was parked in one of the stalls.

    
“That’s my wife’s.”

    
Mara’s confidence was beginning to return. They’d let him live, he thought.

    
As Nygren looked him in the eyes, Mara tried to smile to no effect. He endured Nygren’s stare for a moment before turning away.

    
“The instant they look away, you can see right through ’em. Only for about a tenth of a second, but if you’re sharp, it’s enough.”

    
The door to the house opened and a forty-something woman peeked out. After seeing the shape her husband was in, she hurried to his side.

    
“What has happened to you? You is alright?” she stammered in a heavy Russian accent.

    
“We had a little fire,” Nygren said calmly.

    
“Have you been to doctor?”

    
“Tatjana, go inside. Everything’s fine.”

    
She regarded Raid and Nygren with suspicion.

    
“There is something wrong?”

    
“No. Go inside.”

    
She wasn’t fooled.

    
“Something is wrong. I call police.”

    
“You fucking will not. Get inside, woman!”

    
Accustomed to the more Slavic conversational style, she obeyed immediately.

    
Mara slid the desk aside. Behind it, built into the brick wall, was an opening covered with a piece of particle board. Mara bent down and pulled out a metal box. He put it in his lap and nearly dove inside.

    
“Twenty thousand even,” said Mara as he snapped the case shut. He tried to squirrel it back into the hole as though all was settled but Nygren snatched it away.

    
“We’re not in that much of a hurry.”

    
The box contained some more money and a black booklet. Nygren briskly counted out the money.

    
“Another twenty-grand. I’ll take that too.”

    
“No, you fucking won’t…”

    
The futility of Mara’s words sank in as Nygren leafed through the booklet.

    
“You seem to be doing pretty well. According to this you have a few hundred grand in Spain. I’ll take this as a keepsake. If the rest of the money isn’t in my account by the deadline, the tax auditor’s gonna have some interesting bathroom reading material.”

    
Mara made an attempt at humility.

    
“Please, I guarantee you’ll get your money…just don’t take the ledger. It’s no use to you. I use it every day. Some of my cars are on loan, and my debts are in there… I’ll give you something extra. You want a new car? What about your friend? I can arrange something…”

    
“If it weren’t for your lousy memory, I might consider it. But you tend to forget those pesky details like paying debts. Anyway, I already have a car.”

    
Nygren slipped the ledger into his pocket.

    
Mara clenched his teeth, but remained silent.

    
“You know the account number. We’ll be waiting for you to remit the balance.”

    
Mara hurled the empty case into the corner of the garage.

    
“And don’t think you can get out of this by surrounding yourself with more muscle. Until you pay up, every night could be your last. And you can be sure the interest will keep accruing.”

    
Tatjana was waiting in the yard with a worried expression. Once Raid and Nygren were in the car, she made a dash for the garage. Mara came out and roughly shoved her aside.

    
“The perfect Finnish family. Brick house by the lake. Who could ask for more,” Nygren reflected. “Or maybe you could. You can’t buy happiness, after all…”

    
He waved the wad of bills in Raid’s face.

    
“But you sure can try. Over forty thousand. Our plain honest boy from Savo’s gonna cry his eyes out over this.”

    
“What about the rest?”

    
“He wouldn’t dare stiff me.”

    
The satisfaction on Nygren’s face suddenly vanished, as though wiped away. His eyes became bleary and he clutched at his stomach.