Moreau’s grin is wry. “Yes, like that.”
Milo’s hands are bunched into white-knuckled fists. Sweetness stole his thunder and left him seething.
Timo tries all our pistols, blasts off about a hundred rounds fast. He’s a pretty good shot. He practices, he says.
We set the targets up by the lake, careful to make sure the rounds will hit the water, and at a steep enough angle so they don’t ricochet off the surface and land in someone’s living room miles away. Moreau drives a stick in the ground, blows up some balloons he brought along, and attaches them loosely to the stick with string. We drive across the road and up the hill, about six hundred yards from the lake.
Milo takes out the.50 caliber Barrett sniper rifle, a cannon that can kill at two miles in the right hands, wants to show off his knowledge, starts reciting the user’s manual. This makes Moreau impatient. “Yes, yes, yes, an integrated electronic ballistic computer that mounts directly on the riflescope and couples with the elevation knob. Three internal sensors automatically calculate the ballistic solution.”
Milo shuts up. The shadows surrounding his eyes are dark and cloudy. The corners of his mouth turn down. He thought this would be his day to shine and he’s outclassed.
Moreau lectures on how to set the weapon up, and it’s complicated. He talks quickly and much of it is lost on me. He explains body posture, how to lie down and take pressure off the chest so breathing and heartbeat don’t interfere. He loads four rounds in it. He says it should take only three rounds to sight it in. He shoots three times, making adjustments. His fourth shot is a bull’s-eye. Each shot sounds like the crack of doom, and the recoil looks punishing.
He loads the clip full. “Now let me show you what is possible.”
He lies down and shoots. He cuts the stick and frees the balloons. They drift and bounce. He pops them all, never misses.
He turns the gun over to Milo. Much of the skill in using the Barrett depends on understanding the science behind it, and so it falls into Milo’s sphere of excellence. He sights it in with three shots and fires a few more rounds in a pattern as tight as driving a nail. I can see he’s had enough. He’s a small man. I’m guessing the recoil will leave him black-and-blue.
It’s Milo’s baby, and must be sighted in for an individual shooter. Sweetness declines to shoot it, so Milo won’t have to sight it in again. Also, he says he’s getting hungry. Sipping pontikka is building his appetite. I decline because that kind of shock doesn’t seem therapeutic for a post-brain-op patient. Timo blasts it a few times because it looks fun. He shoots a tight pattern lower and to the left of Milo’s because the gun isn’t sighted in for him, and he wears a big grin when he’s done, so I take it he enjoyed himself.
It’s getting late and the sun is setting, so we set off a couple flash-bangs. The noise and intense light are intended to incapacitate. Instructions: Pull pin, throw, turn away. Plug ears and close eyes. They blow in three seconds. They’re still bright and loud enough to slightly disorient, even out here in the open. In a closed room, they must be devastating.
We drive back over to Timo’s house. I’m starved and good smells emanate from the grill and sauna. We go around back and find Anni, Mirjami and Jenna relaxing in lounge chairs on the patio. I hear the sounds of retching. Anni has Anu in her lap. “Bad news,” Anni says and points. I walk over and find Kate on all fours, hiding in some bushes, puking her guts out. She manages to look up at me. She says it slow. “I sorry.”
I sit down beside her for a minute and put an arm around her.
She slurs, “Pontikka.”
I’m afraid she’s going to get puke in her long red hair, and so I pull it back and tie it in a loose knot to keep it away from her mouth.
“Please go away,” she says.
I’ve been there, know the feeling. “OK. I’ll come back in a little while and check on you.”
I go back to the patio. “What happened?”
“Mirjami and Jenna wanted some more pontikka,” Anni said, “and Kate took some, too. I gave them all doubles, and Kate didn’t drink any more after that. It just hit her bad.”
Drinking is like anything else, it takes practice. Kate doesn’t practice. Mirjami and Jenna do. They have small glasses of pontikka on the brick floor of the patio beside their chairs, alongside bottles of pear cider. They’re hammered.
It’s chilly out. The girls have their jackets on and blankets wrapped around them, but this is early Finnish summer, and the attitude is Goddamn it, we will enjoy ourselves outside, no matter how much it sucks.
I take Moreau aside. “I want to talk to Veikko Saukko tomorrow.”
He doesn’t answer, just starts typing a message into his cell phone.
It’s almost eleven p.m. “Isn’t it a little late for that?” I ask.
“He never sleeps. It interferes with his drinking.”
The answer is immediate. “Ten tomorrow morning.”
Boozing, puking people preparing to drink rotgut all night. It’s going to be an ugly morning.
Milo, Sweetness and Timo plow into the pontikka, chase it with beer. I get a plate of grilled sausages and vegetables and sit next to Timo. He says, “You know what we discussed, about talking things out, about why we haven’t seen each other.”
“Yeah.”
“I got an idea. In general, it’s because we come from a fucked-up family. Why don’t we just leave it at that, not talk about it, and enjoy the evening.”
“Deal.”
And we do. I go back in a little while to check on Kate. She’s done puking and near to passing out. I carry her to a spare bedroom. Moreau and I don’t drink. He because he doesn’t, and me because I have to care for Anu. I’m not in the mood anyway. Moreau, Timo and I had a good sauna and dip in the freezing lake. Anu had her first sauna and seemed to enjoy it.
We come out of our second round in the sauna to find Milo and Sweetness in a drunken fistfight. Moreau moves to stop them, but I say no, it’s been a long time coming. I think Sweetness will stomp a mud puddle in Milo’s chest, but he holds his own. Sweetness is fast, but Milo is small and even faster. He gets in close and works inside Sweetness’s reach, slips his punches. Sober, Sweetness would have killed him, but the pontikka evened the odds. Milo lands some good ones, but they don’t pack enough power to put Sweetness down, and in the end, they’re rolling around in the grass, drunk and laughing. They go to the sauna bleeding together.
Afterward, Sweetness and Jenna disappear, and I hear love grunts come from the Muumin house. Anni wakes Timo up from a lounge chair and takes him to bed. Milo and Mirjami must have passed out in the sauna. I set an alarm for seven, and join Kate in the spare bed.
35
The alarm goes off. Kate doesn’t stir and I shake her awake. “I can’t move,” she says, “I’m sick.”
“I’m sorry, but you have to. I have an appointment that has to do with the Soderlund murder and we have to leave.”
She has trouble sitting up but manages it. “I’m woozy. I can’t drive.”
“That’s OK, someone else will drive. Can you eat?”
She shakes her head no.
I’m a little tired myself. We stayed up late, and I was up twice in the night with Anu. “You weren’t the only one drunk. I doubt the others are in much better shape. Can you pull yourself together while I get them up and moving?”
She nods yes. “Kari,” she says, “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’ve fucked up a lot lately. I-”