Takamäki nodded, and Suhonen left. After a couple of steps, he stopped. “Oh yeah, I think I’m going to head straight home and return the car tomorrow.”
“Get out of here,” Takamäki said, turning to Joutsamo. “What’s your analysis of the situation?”
“That was basically it. Repo sees Fredberg as having unjustly convicted him of murder. Repo’s father’s death triggered something, and whether he planned it or it was a momentary impulse, Repo decided to escape. Evidently Repo has been staying at his father’s neighbor’s Karppi’s place, who was found dead this morning. At the moment, we don’t know whether Repo was involved in Karppi’s death. We might want to remember that, at least based on my investigation, the guy could actually be innocent in this old case.”
Turunen looked at Joutsamo. “You’re saying he might’ve been innocent and still was sentenced to life?”
“Quite possibly. Even likely,” Joutsamo said.
“And he sat for eight years? Shit, he might be pretty goddamn bitter. If he’s actually sober in there, then the situation’s pretty bad.”
“The thing that makes it even worse is that thirty pounds of dynamite was stolen from a construction site after Repo’s escape and hasn’t been recovered. The explosives could well be from there. Thirty pounds makes a pretty big bang.”
Takamäki’s gaze circled his colleagues inside and outside the van. “Okay. The chief justice is still alive, and Repo didn’t kill Suhonen either, so we might have some negotiating room. Does anyone have any other questions about the background?”
Everyone shook their heads. Outside, a few officers in uniform were hooking up a generator to the lead van and the other vehicles containing all the hi-tech equipment. The team’s computers, radios, and other equipment devoured so much current that the vans weren’t able to generate it themselves, even with their engines running.
“Good. Like Turunen said, we’re up shit creek, but we’re going to make it through this. Helmikoski,” Takamäki said, turning toward the stout man. “What’s the situation now?”
The on-duty lieutenant pulled out a notebook from his breast pocket and flipped through it. “The area has been almost fully cleared. Marina Road has been cordoned off at both ends, and the houses in the vicinity have been evacuated. A police boat has been called in to patrol the water, but it might take an hour or two to get here. So the area is relatively secure, although our command center might be a little too close. As I recall, at construction sites, the safety distance for two pounds of dynamite is about 200 yards, and now we’re less than a hundred yards from that house. And we have men a lot closer. Of course the building would block some of a blast, too.”
“Well, we can’t pull our men out of there until things get really acute,” Takamäki reflected. “Helmets on, everyone.”
“And anti-radiation blankets,” Helmikoski added. “Protects you from the sleet, too.”
“Looks like we’ll have to cut off the expressway and expand the evacuation zone around those nearby homes as well, but let’s call in some expert from the Army or the Safety and Chemicals Agency,” Takamäki said. He didn’t have a precise understanding of the damage a thirty-pound dynamite charge would cause if it detonated inside the house, but he remembered the car bomb that had exploded a few years back in downtown Helsinki. Eight pounds of dynamite had obliterated the car and caused relatively heavy damage to nearby buildings. “Helmikoski, look into these safety zone issues and cut off the expressway.”
“Okay, we’ll set up detours at the Lemissaari and Katajaharju exits.”
Turunen jumped in. “That Lemissaari exit might be too close. It might be better to cut off the expressway back in town and route traffic across the old bridge and along Lauttasaari Road. We’ve also called in TeBo. Their bomb squad will be here as soon as they get their equipment together.” TeBo was an abbreviation for the national Terrorist Bomb unit.
“If this goes on till morning, we’re going to have huge traffic jams,” Helmikoski said.
“Not our problem,” Takamäki replied. “Turunen, what’s the situation in the immediate vicinity of the house?”
“I have eight men stationed around the house. No one will get out without being noticed, but we don’t have the men for a raid. We can bring in another group in a few hours, and then we’ll have the men to go in, too. Since the guy’s a former army explosives expert, that dynamite is ready to blow. Suhonen didn’t see a firearm, but the risk of course lies in the detonator. If it’s the kind that detonates when the finger is lifted off it, we’ve got one hell of a situation on our hands. Usually those switches have some sort of safety, because no one has the concentration to press a button for hours and hours, but the detonator’s still easy to activate, of course. If the standoff continues and he falls asleep, that obviously means the safety is on, but how are we going to know for sure when he’s sleeping in there?”
“Do we have a listening device in the house?”
“Not yet,” Turunen said. “We’re bringing them in as we speak, and once they get here we’ll plant a few on windows. We’ll be able to hear what’s being said inside, and if we hear any snoring, then that’s when we should strike. We’re also bringing a mobile base station, so we can listen in on all cell-phone communication in the area. We’re getting the blueprints for the house, too.”
“Okay,” Takamäki said. “If we had to go inside now, what would be our chance of success?”
Turunen’s expression was grave. “Elimination of the target would be inevitable, and because we don’t know what kind of detonator it is, my best guess is the hostage would have a 50 percent chance of survival. Since we’re dealing with a bomb, the survival probability is that same 50 percent for the policemen entering the building.”
“So it’s not a suitable alternative at the moment, but have a plan ready to go just in case we need it, and have the men entering wearing bomb suits, just in case.”
“Right,” Turunen said. “They’re not comfortable for hours on end, so if things heat up, let me know.”
“Sure.”
Joutsamo felt like mentioning Fredberg’s criminal-coddling interviews. You’d think he’d know how to handle this Repo himself: all he’d have to do is promise him money and a place to live. What did he need the police for?
“So our plan is to let things cool off,” Takamäki clarified. “Let’s allow Repo to settle down, and I’ll contact him by phone. Time is on our side.”
“Should we cut off electricity to the house?” Turunen asked.
Takamäki shook his head. “No. We might need some media assistance here,” he said, glancing at Joutsamo. “Give Römpötti a call.”
Turunen gave Takamäki a perplexed look. “The reporter?”
“Yup. Let’s see if we can defuse his bitterness that way. Helmikoski, when the press starts arriving, set up a lemonade stand over on the far side of the expressway where the reporters can get their information. I’ll try to drop by at some point. The photographers will grouse for a chance to get closer. Let’s promise them a tour at some point, because I don’t want them to start fooling around on that old ski jump,” Takamäki said, gesturing at the hill rising behind him.
“Just so you know, it was torn down thirty-four years ago, back in 1973,” Helmikoski noted.
“What?” Takamäki asked.
“The ski jump,” Helmikoski said in a snarky tone. “But guess what the record was?”
Takamäki, Joutsamo, and Suhonen shot looks of disbelief at the on-duty lieutenant.
“Um, tell us,” Takamäki said.
“96 feet, 9 inches,” Helmikoski said, proud of his knowledge.
Takamäki looked out the van window toward the hill. “Really?”
Helmikoski nodded.
“In Herttoniemi we did 160-footers.”
“Wasn’t the Olympics,” Turunen noted. “I’ll get us keys to the locker room at the soccer field. We’ll make it our break room. We probably won’t even have to wait too long to get a coffeemaker in there.”