The drive to the train station took about five minutes. Kulta was playing a CD he been burned with some favorite hits. Blue Oyster Cult was playing now: “…don’t fear the reaper.” Advice Kulta wasn’t inclined to take. The case had already had its share of ominous overtones, and this latest stunt was not a positive development.
Kulta pulled his little Nissan into an angled spot at the Kirkkonummi train station.
He stepped out of the car, lit a cigarette and headed straight for the train schedule next to the main wooden building. Someone had spit on the glass in front of the departures display, but Kulta could still make out the text. He knew from his car’s odometer that the trip from the safe house to the station had been 2.1 miles. The Lehtonens had left the safe house at 10:45, and it would have taken them at least half an hour to walk there, more likely forty-five minutes. Thirty minutes seemed like a good number to Kulta.
All trains to Helsinki left on the hour and half hour, so the first possible train had left at 11:30 and the next at noon. Another train had left at 11:00, but the pair would have never made that without a ride. Even Kulta had spent almost ten minutes getting from the safe house to the platform.
For westbound trains, there had been an express to Turku at 10:35-impossible timewise-and next in line was a local at 12:03, followed by another express at 12:35.
Kulta was almost certain that if the Lehtonens had come to the station, they would have boarded a train to Helsinki. It seemed logical, especially since Kulta didn’t think they were going into hiding. They would have been safer at the safe house. Something else was behind this.
Kulta jotted down the departures, since Joutsamo would ask for them anyway. He walked through the crisp, clear air toward the main building, scanning for surveillance cameras. He found three, all appearing to be trained on the station frontage and the platform.
He reached the entrance to the station and pulled the handle. It didn’t budge. He pulled again before noticing a small sign that read, Closed Sat.
Can’t give up now, he thought. Especially since he’d have to explain everything to Joutsamo. She wouldn’t tolerate disappointments stemming from
lack of effort. There was no hiding it-she could smell indolence from a mile away.
Kulta considered his options. It’d be worth a call to ask about surveillance footage-maybe mentioning “Helsinki Homicide” would carry some weight. But who to call? The Espoo PD? They had jurisdiction here. Or the state railways? The whole case was beginning to irritate him. The surveillance videos were unquestionably the most promising idea. He dialed directory assistance, which connected him with the state-owned railway company. A recording informed him that offices were closed until Monday. For train schedules, he could call the premium-rate number. A call to the security company responsible for the train station ended in a voicemail box.
Just as Kulta hung up, his phone rang. “Yeah,” he answered.
“It’s Joutsamo,” said an irate voice on the other end. “What’s the status?”
“Uhh…” Kulta cleared his throat, knowing he’d already lost. Everything from this point forward would just end up sounding like an excuse, but he explained the events at the safe house and the problems at the station.
“Well, shit,” Joutsamo barked. “Get the footage, then.”
“And how do you suggest I do that?” he barked back. “I don’t even know who the station manager is.”
Joutsamo was quiet for a moment. “Come on Kulta… I’m in Helsinki, for god’s sake. You’re in Kirkkonummi. Gee, I wonder where the station manager might be? Quit fucking around and do
your job.”
“Fine,” said Kulta.
He hung up the phone and cursed, drew his Glock and searched the door for a pane of glass with a break sensor on it. Once he located it, he smacked the glass with the butt of his gun and it shattered. Inside, the alarm began to sound. Damn right, that’s more like it. Security guards, a cruiser and some stiffs from the railway would be crawling all over the place in no time. Kulta stepped back with a smile and slipped out a pack of cigarettes.
* * *
Joutsamo came into Takamäki’s office with a stack of papers.
“What did you hear from Kulta?” said Takamäki. “He find anything?”
“He’s at the Kirkkonummi train station complaining that it’s closed and he can’t get any footage.”
“You’re shitting me.”
Joutsamo smiled. “That’s what I said. I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
“Let’s hope so. We need that footage ASAP. The million-euro question is whether they’re travelling alone or if someone has abducted them… Still nothing from their phones?”
“Nope, still off. But I did get Jere Siikala’s call data. I found a prepaid extension that made and received a few calls in the Kaarela area after the verdict. And a couple texts too.”
“So it might be Guerrilla’s new phone.”
“Possible, but we don’t know for sure. The phone has definitely been in the area the whole time.”
“Where’s it been calling?”
Joutsamo paused. “Other prepaid numbers in the metro area: Pakila, Töölö, Kallio, Lauttasaari, Itäkeskus…”
“So a fair amount of traffic.”
“But we got nothing on the content or the recipients. Is he still holed up in that house?” asked Joutsamo.
“Yep.”
“Must have quite the food stash in there-he never has to go for groceries? It also occurred to me that the house had a broadband connection when we raided it back in September. We don’t have access to that, so he might be communicating over the internet.”
“I know,” said Takamäki, and he thought for a while. “With our only charge being threatening a witness, we’ll have a hard time getting a warrant for a full phone tap, much less emails.”
“Yeah. Same old story. What’s the plan, by the way, if we actually find the Lehtonens?”
“You have any suggestions?” he said, looking helpless.
Joutsamo shook her head. “Give them an earful? Scare the shit out of them?”
Takamäki didn’t reply.
* * *
A small white security vehicle swerved up to the curb in front of the train station and a large broad-shouldered man in a gray uniform stepped out. Both the car and the uniform looked ridiculously small in comparison to the man. He walked up to the door where Kulta was waiting and promptly noticed the shattered windowpane.
“What’s this?” he barked, one thumb hooked on his utility belt, where a canister of tear gas was at the ready. “What happened?”
Kulta had already taken out his badge and he held it up. “Mikko Kulta, Helsinki VCU. Sorry, little accident here. I yanked on the door a bit too hard and the glass busted.”
“Really. Let’s see that badge.”
Kulta handed him the badge, and the man stood there examining it without so much as an upward glance. Bad idea, thought Kulta. The guard should have taken a few steps back. If Kulta had had any bad intentions, he could have easily surprised the big man.
“Okay, I guess this looks legit. I’ll just call the glass company.”
“Listen,” said Kulta. “You wouldn’t happen to have the key would you?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Well, actually I’m working on a pretty serious case, and I need to see the CCTV footage. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes,” said Kulta in a serious tone of voice. The guard seemed a bit slow on the uptake, but Kulta was glad the guy hadn’t asked about the case. Few rent-a-cops could resist prying about anything related to real police work.
The lout nodded and took out his key ring. “CCTV footage, huh?”
“Yeah, you know where the monitoring station is?”