* * *
A caravan of three SWAT vans rolled out from police headquarters at 6:45 p.m. Takamäki was sitting with Turunen, head of the SWAT team, in the lead vehicle. His phone was in hand as the van turned north up Nordenskiöld Street at the Neste gas station . The evening gloom had deepened from gray to black.
Eight SWAT officers had fit into two vans; the third one was for transporting the target. The vehicles weren’t using their emergency lights.
Takamäki returned his phone to his pocket.
“Joutsamo said that the situation at the scene remains the same. No sign of the target.”
Takamäki and Turunen had had a quick pow-wow in Takamäki’s office, during which the lieutenant had filled the SWAT leader in on the case. Turunen had classified it as a routine search.
Before the railway underpass, the caravan turned right onto Eläintarha Road and headed toward Töölö Bay. When they got to the Helsinki Street intersection, Takamäki looked at the illuminated fountain in the bay and the downtown’s gleaming city lights behind it. The thought crossed his mind that he really should be at home.
He snapped back to reality when Turunen started giving orders to his men through his headset. “We don’t know the exact apartment of the target, but it’s probably on the fifth or sixth floor.”
Turunen rattled off names and tasks. The men were assigned floors and duties. The only one Takamäki knew by name was Saarinen, who was in the second van. He had heard a story about the Jack Bauer look-alike: one day after work, the SWAT guys had decided to spend the evening at a sauna, relaxing and drinking. Saarinen had begged not to come, saying he had promised his wife he’d go home. Eventually the other guys talked him into it, and after making the other guys promise to be quiet, he had called his wife. As he vigorously slapped his palm against his leather jacket, Saarinen explained to her that the SWAT team had gotten an urgent assignment in Oulu, and he was just walking into the helicopter. After the twenty-second call, they had headed off to the sauna.
Turunen gave out more orders. “Takamäki and I will cover the exterior of the building. Be aware that two homicide detectives are also on the scene: Joutsamo and Suhonen.”
The adrenaline gradually began to rise in Takamäki’s veins, too. He instinctively checked that his own Sig Sauer was in his coat pocket. He had originally gotten the Swiss-German pistol from a guy he knew at the Equipment Office. The Sig Sauer was smaller than the standard police-issue Glocks.
The van turned right at the corner of the Brahe Soccer Field toward the Kallio fire station and Fifth Street. They were only a couple of minutes from the target now. Takamäki called Joutsamo and informed her that they were approaching. He and Turunen had agreed that the operation would begin immediately upon arrival.
A tram was shuddering along in front of them, and the trip seemed to take forever. The Kallio fire station appeared on the right and Bear Park on the left. They had called Fire and Rescue and arranged to have an ambulance at the ready as a precaution.
Cars were parked in front of the building, but Turunen calmly double-parked the police vans in front of the entrance, as the street was plenty wide. The other vans pulled up behind Turunen.
The SWAT men had heavy bulletproof vests, helmets, and Heckler amp; Koch MP5 submachine guns.
“Okay, Saarinen, let’s do this,” Turunen said.
The hooded police were moving single file toward the door of the building when the first flash went off, immediately followed by a second, a third, and a fourth. Takamäki registered a photographer and a cameraman. And then he recognized Mary Juvonen standing behind them.
Takamäki knew there was no point interfering in the photographers’ work. That would only get you a scowling shot in the papers. He walked up to Juvonen. “You sure made it here quick.”
Juvonen was wearing a black wool cap and a Burberry coat.
“Yeah, some woman called in a tip that Repo might be found here.”
“She did, huh?”
“Yeah,” Juvonen said. “So Repo’s not particularly dangerous?”
“Come on, knock it off.”
The SWAT team had entered the building, and the photographers were following. Takamäki gave Juvonen a stern look.
“The stairwell is a police operation zone. No photographers allowed. Who’s going to tell them?”
“That’s your assessment, huh?”
Takamäki nodded. “If he’s in there, anything could happen.”
Juvonen could tell from the lieutenant’s tone that now was not the time to mess with him.
Juvonen raised her voice. “Hey, guys. Let’s not go inside. We’ll wait out here.”
“You sure, Mary?” the photographer asked from the doorway.
“Yup. We’ll do it this way this time. If they find him in there, then they’ll bring him out this way in any case,” Juvonen said with a glance at Takamäki, who nodded.
Takamäki went back and joined Turunen at the van. The photographers and the reporter stayed obediently on the sidewalk.
“Goddammit,” Turunen said. “How the hell did they get here so fast?”
“The reporter said they got a tip from some woman.”
Turunen shook his head. “Is that so? I’ll bet you a beer we don’t find him here.”
“Fine, if you’ll bet there are going to be five columns’ worth of photos of your guys in tomorrow’s paper.”
Turunen wasn’t particularly amused, but he smiled anyway. “Make it six and you’re on.”
Joutsamo walked up to the van. Suhonen had noticed the flashes and had stayed back in their car next to Bear Park. “You organize a press conference already?”
“I’m pretty sure someone else did,” Turunen replied.
“Turunen, you have a camera in your van?” Takamäki asked.
“Of course.”
“You mind getting it?”
It took Turunen thirty seconds. “Here,” he said, handing it to Takamäki. “I already turned it on. Just point and press that red button. The flash is automatic.”
Takamäki walked fifteen feet from Juvonen and the photographers and suddenly took a photo.
Juvonen’s reaction was immediate: “Why’d you take a picture of us?”
“It’s always a good idea to get a record of those present at a crime scene,” Takamäki grunted, managing to turn around right before the photographer rapid-fired his flash.
“What’s that going to be used for?” the cameraman blustered, annoyed that he hadn’t captured the incident on tape.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, the SWAT men had checked all of the apartments in the stairwell and emerged without Repo. The Iltalehti photographers recorded their exit, but none of the masked men answered the reporter’s questions.
The SWAT team marched over to the vans and prepared to leave. Juvonen followed, with the photographers at her heels. Their target was Takamäki, who was stepping into the lead van. Suhonen had already vanished from the scene, and Joutsamo was in the SWAT van.
“Takamäki!” Juvonen yelled from ten yards away.
The lieutenant climbed into the van and considered for a moment whether or not to reply. In the end, he rolled down the window.
Juvonen made it up to the door of the vehicle. The photographer immediately took a couple of pictures.
“Didn’t find him?”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“Look, Juvonen, get a grip. Don’t mess with us,” Takamäki said in a severe tone.
“Who do you think you are?”
“This isn’t going to end here,” Takamäki said, rolling up the window. Turunen popped it into gear, and the van jerked forward. Joutsamo said that she had recognized Juvonen’s voice as that of the person who called in the tip, confirming Takamäki’s suspicions.
Juvonen looked at the police vans cruising past Bear Park and turned toward her photographers. Both of them had heard the exchange. “Well, back to the newsroom. Nothing else is going to happen here. We’ll get a spread out of this.”