Makarov slid between tables back to the musician’s corner where two men were sitting. Suhonen didn’t recognize the man facing him. The other man looked familiar from the back, but Suhonen didn’t know why.
Suhonen’s thoughts returned to the sauna night discussion at Takamӓki’s house. Takamäki’s questions were clumsy, but he was relentless. These days the persistent detective lieutenant could definitely outrun Suhonen in any distance over four hundred yards.
Takamäki had accepted Suhonen’s cops and robbers explanation, but Suhonen wasn’t satisfied with it himself-he had always been the robber in the game. He was the fastest kid in the complex; a friend’s father had once clocked him running sixty meters in less than nine seconds. Salmela had run it in eleven. Why, then, was Suhonen the cop in real life, and Salmela the robber? But Suhonen decided he really didn’t care; he was a police officer and his job was to enforce the law. In any case, he was pleased he had solved Takamӓki’s conundrum.
The singer belted a Guns N’ Roses ballad from twenty years ago. Suhonen thought all of Axl Rose’s self-absorbed songs sounded the same, and he couldn’t make out enough of the lyrics to figure out which one it was.
Suhonen finished his cold coffee and the bartender glanced at him to see if he wanted a refill. Shaking his head, he got up, still wondering why he had chosen this career.
Then he dove into the role he’d prepared for from the minute he stepped into the bar. He was Suikkanen from Lahti, a gangster void of a conscience. Not an old-time romantic, nor a modern maniac, but something in between. He was here to take care of things for a buddy in trouble.
Suhonen kept an eye on the three men talking in the corner. It was obvious they weren’t here for a Kannelmӓki Neighborhood Association meeting. Makarov was a hardened criminal, and the others had the same look.
He had several options for approaching the table. The best one would’ve been to walk up carrying a pump-action shotgun, but that wasn’t feasible now. Apologetic wouldn’t work either, so he decided to take the middle road.
Suhonen was ten feet away when Makarov noticed him and looked up. The men immediately stopped talking, and the other two turned to stare at Suhonen. He recognized the third guy as Jaakko Niskala, and saw that Niskala recognized him as Suikkanen. At least Suhonen hoped so. He had left the scene in the Alamo Bar well before the police had showed up to arrest Korpivaara, Niskala, and two others.
Makarov had a quizzical look on his face.
“Hey,” Suhonen said with a nod. “Can I join you?”
“Do I know you?” Makarov asked, suspiciously.
“I know this guy. His name is Suikkanen,” Niskala said, in an attempt to gain credibility, as he was clearly the lowest-ranked in the group.
Suhonen smiled at Niskala. It was extremely helpful to be recognized as one of the criminals and not have to convince the group.
“Good memory. You still have some brain cells left.”
The wisecrack startled Niskala but he didn’t say anything. Suhonen quickly estimated the level of threat. He wouldn’t be in immediate danger from Makarov and Niskala, but he wasn’t sure about the older guy wearing a parka.
“What do you want?” the older guy wanted to know.
Okay, Suhonen thought. The third guy was the leader. It was interesting to note that Rantalainen, who sat in a prison cell, might have a middle man. Or was Rantalainen getting swindled here?
Without asking, Suhonen grabbed a chair from the next table and sat down.
“Name’s Suikkanen and I met this buddy of yours in the Alamo Bar in Haaga a couple of days ago. The place was crawling with cops then.”
“Fuck,” Niskala spat out. “I ended up in jail myself.”
“You should choose your company better,” Suhonen said, casting Niskala a reprimanding but understanding look.
Makarov and the third guy gave a faint laugh. No doubt, Niskala had mentioned his overnight visit at the Pasila police station to boost his status.
“So, what did you want?” the third guy asked irritably. “We were in the middle of something.”
“I mainly wanted to talk to Sergei,” Suhonen said tersely. “It’s about Rautis.”
“Who?” Makarov asked. Everyone was looking at him.
“Rautis,” Suhonen said. “He owes you money.”
Makarov grunted.
“Wanna talk here or outside?” Suhonen asked.
Makarov glanced at the third guy who tried to nod nonchalantly, but Suhonen saw it.
“Here’s fine,” Makarov said.
Suikkanen glanced at all three. He was sure something was up, and he needed to change his plan about the debt payment.
“It’s simple. Rautis owed you money and rolled the register of the Herttoniemi Siwa this evening.”
“Huh,” Niskala blurted out.
“Yeah,” Suikkanen said. “That was the dumbest thing he could do, but desperate needs call for desperate measures. Rautis and I go way back. He shoved me the loot and told me to take care of his debts. Says you threatened him.”
“A grand per finger, if he doesn’t pay up,” Makarov said with a smirk.
“I’ve got the money and I’m suggesting a deal where you get five hundred a finger and he keeps you out of the cops’ reach.”
Makarov leaned forward and asked, “Is Rautis trying to blackmail me?”
“No, this is my idea,” Suhonen said with a smile. “I talked with him about an hour ago. He was still on the loose then, but he’s probably in a holding cell in Pasila by now, or tomorrow at the latest.”
“Yeah…” Makarov said, intentionally not finishing the sentence. Since the third guy was the decision maker in the group, Suhonen watched his reaction. So far the guy seemed more irritated by than interested in the conversation.
“Wipe the debt and I guarantee Rautis won’t mention the debtor.”
Niskala shook his head in disbelief, but kept his mouth shut.
“What!” Makarov couldn’t help spouting. “He wants money for not squealing on me? Fuck! I’ll chop off both his hands with a meat cleaver when I see him.”
“Yeah…” Suikkanen mimicked Makarov. I have a feeling Rautis isn’t the type to keep a secret, and the coppers will no doubt squeeze the debtor’s name out of him. At the very latest when he’s suffering through withdrawals and they promise him drugs for talking.”
Suikkanen looked at the third guy and said, “And at that point, a legion of narcotics cops will be after Makarov here.”
Suhonen waited for the third guy’s response.
“Sergei, let the debt be.”
“All of it?” Sergei protested.
“All of it.”
“Then I’ll have to pay it myself.”
“Pretty soon there’s a mass…” Niskala began.
Suhonen wanted to hear more, but he guessed what the third guy would say next.
“There you go, Suikkanen. That concludes your business. And make sure the Siwa guy holds up his end of the deal.”
“Will do,” Suikkanen replied coolly, his eye still on the third guy. “I’m not sure if you have all the gang here that you’ll need for the current gig.”
Suhonen hoped he could talk himself into the group.
The third guy squinted and said, “And you think I need someone who restructures debts for a guy that lifts cash registers?”
“But he does it with style,” Suhonen said with a smile.
“Get the fuck out,” the third guy said.
Suhonen was already up and walking. He heard Niskala saying that Suikkanen had connections to motorcycle gangs.
The dark-haired singer was pumping out the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction,” as Suhonen left the bar. He walked around the corner and called Toukola at Narcotics. Suhonen suggested that the surveillance team come to Kannelmӓki and focus on the third guy sitting with Niskala and Makarov. Something was up and Suhonen’s instinct said it was drug related. Toukola said he’d send a group and would show up himself. Suhonen would watch the restaurant from his car until then.