White Night Page 8

  That was when she pounced. With a wild, unholy shriek, she leaped from the shadows and grabbed the steel cable with both hands, twisting it around her forearms and trying to wind it around her leg. From far above, she heard a shout and the cable lost all tension, dropping to the floor like a dead python. Panting, she disentangled herself and saw the coils were simply the end of the rope. The remainder stretched all the way up to the opening, through which she could see distant stars.

  The winch began again and the coils slithered in reverse, unwinding into a single thread upwards, outwards and leaving them alone. Valpuri howled a scream of outrage, provoking Samu to leave his nest of sleeping bags and come to comfort her. The torches went out and the cave reverted to darkness.

  Exhausted, Valpuri lay on the cold sand, her tears spent and her energy non-existent. She could hear Samu unpacking the cold box, muttering to himself.

  “Cans, maybe tuna. Packets, don’t know. Cake? These are drinks, orange juice probably. Water bottles. What’s this? Matches? Why do we need matches? This is no good for me. We told them what I need, we told them I must have my preventer. This is no good.”

  Valpuri sat up and made her way across uneven ground toward Samu’s voice. “Matches?” she asked. “Is there anything else? Candles, wood, anything we can light? How many matches?”

  In response, Samu struck a match, giving them a moment of illumination, the first in days. Valpuri saw them immediately. Right in the corner of the cold box, behind the water bottles, there were four little lanterns and a box of tea lights. Her fingers shaky, she unwrapped a lantern from the tissue paper surrounding it and inserted a tea light. Samu lit another match and set it to the wick. In an instant, a warm glow expanded between the two of them. They stared at each other’s dirty faces, light bouncing off their eyes, both ridiculously emotional at being able to see. Valpuri lit all four lanterns and set them in a semicircle around the cold box.

  Together, they examined their rations. Juice, water, a bag of clementines, cheese, cans of sardines, bread, milk, cereal, toilet paper, toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, chocolate, berries and some dried salmon sticks. He was unhappy about the lack of medication, but happy at the quantity. Valpuri was unhappy at both. If they had given them this much food, how long were they intending to keep them here and when would they be back?

  She encouraged Samu to drink the juice and they ate a makeshift supper of sardines and bread, huddled in their sleeping bags. But at least they could see. Valpuri took a lantern down to the sea and washed the plates and cutlery. Then she brushed her teeth, using the smallest sip from the water bottles to rinse the mouth. The joy of cleaning the fur from her mouth lifted her spirits. She returned to their little base camp on the sand and wriggled down into her sleeping bag.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “For now. They have got to bring my puffer, Valpuri. If not, I don’t know how much longer I will be OK.”

  She reached out and squeezed his arm. “I know. They’ll bring it tomorrow. I’m sure of it. Goodnight, Samu, sleep well.”

  Chapter 14

  The journey back into central Helsinki was stressful in the extreme. Unsure of exactly where she was going and unfamiliar with the road system, Beatrice eventually made it to her hotel, having enraged at least half the drivers in the Finnish capital. Eventually, she navigated the car to the underground parking lot and was profoundly relieved to get out from behind the wheel. She only had an hour and a half before her meeting with the co-financiers of the energy project and she wanted to change into something more formal than the jeans and jumper combination she currently wore.

  She was hurrying through the foyer when the receptionist called her name. “Ms Stubbs? Here are messages for you,” he said, handing over two envelopes. She opened them as she rode upstairs to the sixth floor.

  The first was from Ville Ikonen, changing both time and venue of their meeting. Beatrice’s first reaction was relief as she had half an hour longer than she expected. That was quickly superseded by irritation. If she hadn’t decided to bring the car back to the hotel, she would not have received the message and been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The second message was better news. The police detective in charge of the missing persons’ case had responded positively to her courtesy email. He suggested meeting for coffee at four o’clock that afternoon.

  The moment Beatrice entered her room, she opened her laptop to reply in the affirmative. Then she typed in the address Ikonen had given her and was pleased to see the offices he had chosen were in the city centre, a mere taxi ride away. Her next priority was lunch. She put a call through to room service and went into her bedroom to change into something grey.

  If she had any doubts about Ville Ikonen’s last minute changes being part of a power game, the second she met the man she knew she was right. The taxi had deposited her at the office address, which was covered in scaffolding and the entrance obscured by building-site hoardings, bearing images of hard hats and security warnings. Men in high visibility clothing were going in and out of the doorway so Beatrice followed. She had only taken one step inside before a man came towards her waving his arms and shouting something unintelligible. She raised her voice above the din of drilling, trying to explain she had been summoned for a meeting. He didn’t understand and continued trying to herd her out onto the street. She pulled out the message she received at the hotel and pointed at Ikonen’s name, the address and time. He frowned at the paper and at her. Then he jerked his head to the right and walked over to a Portakabin. Beatrice followed and he handed her a hard hat, a fluorescent orange tabard and a lanyard with the word visitor printed on it in several languages. Once he was satisfied with her appearance, he beckoned for her to follow and led her up three flights of stairs.

  On the third landing, the room opened out to a huge open plan area, stretching away to what would be vast windows, when construction was complete. At present, however, there was nothing but wide open space. Mercifully, the headache-inducing sounds of metal boring into concrete had been left behind on the ground floor. Her guide said something and pointed across the room to where three men bent over a trestle table. She thanked him and made her way gingerly across the gritty floor. Her speed was partly caution and also an opportunity to regain her breath after all those steps.

  It was easy to see which one was Ikonen. The workmen wore orange tabards just like hers and white hardhats. In contrast, Ikonen was dressed in a light-blue suit and his protective headgear was red. As she drew closer, Beatrice could see they were discussing blueprints of some sort. One of the workmen spotted her and straightened, saying something to the other two. Ikonen turned to give her a cold appraising look and glanced at his watch.

  He raised his voice. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Without waiting for her reaction, he turned back to the documents on the table. Beatrice waited, looking out across the city. The building, when it was finished, would have the most extraordinary views. She stood there for several minutes, trying to orient herself against her mental picture of the city.

  A voice came at her shoulder. “Mrs Stubbs, Ville Ikonen.” He held out his hand and Beatrice shook it. He did not crack a smile or apologise for relocating and rescheduling their meeting, merely turning away and addressing her as he walked towards the stairwell. “Today is very busy. I need to inspect the rest of this building site. We can talk as I continue the inspection. What do you want to know from me?”

  He made no concessions whatsoever, striding away at speed. Beatrice hurried to catch up, her heart sinking. She recognised an uncooperative interviewee when she saw one. Trotting up the stairs behind him, she began her spiel. “My colleague and I are investigating the disappearance of Valpuri Peura and Samu ...”

  “I know. And as I said to Karoliina, what on earth for? If those people are indeed missing, which I doubt, surely it is a matter for the police.” He reached the landing and carried on up the next flight. “Bringing in a private detecti
ve seems to me both an overreaction and counter-productive. This way.”

  They ascended two more floors and Beatrice did not reply, mainly because she couldn’t talk and breathe at the same time.

  He opened a door and gestured that Beatrice should go first. Chest heaving, she emerged onto a narrow scaffolding platform, no wider than a corridor. Beneath her feet were rough wooden boards with gaps between them so she could see all the way down to street level. He joined her and closed the door behind them, pointing ahead to where a makeshift metal ladder stood. The wind flapped at her tabard and the slaps and ripples of tarpaulin sheets made her feel as if she were aboard a sailboat.

  “We are going up to the roof,” called Ikonen, squeezing past her. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.” He tucked his clipboard under his arm and began climbing the ladder. Behind his back, Beatrice mouthed the words ‘You liar’, almost amused by such an obvious attempt to unsettle her. She climbed the ladder at her own pace and emerged onto the roof with a wide smile.

  “What a view!” she exclaimed, disguising the bellows-like movement of her lungs as hearty inhalations. She strode past him, towards the edge of the building which had no safety rails, simply red and white tape marking tide between metal poles. Seven floors, she had counted, plus another one to access the roof. The traffic seemed insignificant from this height, not dissimilar to beetles crawling around a dung heap.

  As she suspected, Ville Ikonen had no business whatsoever on the roof. He paced around, pretending to make notes on his clipboard and throwing sideways glances in her direction. Once her breathing had calmed, she walked up behind him and cleared her throat.

  “Whether or not you approve of my being here doesn’t change the fact that I am here and I have a job to do. I’d like to know who briefed the private security team protecting LokiEn on Saturday morning.” She lifted her face to him with an expectant smile.

  The man was impressive to look at, she had to admit. Receding grey hair cropped close to his head, eyes the colour of winter sky and a large sloping nose gave him an authoritarian air, supported by his expensive-looking suit. But with that nose, sneering was not a good look.

  “Not that it has anything to do with the situation, but the person who hired and briefed security was Jouko Lahti, with my approval. We both agreed Karoliina was underestimating the risks to personnel and property. I’m sorry to say we were proved right. I’m finished here. I can give you a few more minutes and then I have to leave.”

  Beatrice opted to go down the ladder first and took her time descending. “Can I ask, in the strictest confidence, if you or Mr Lahti hired anyone else to attend the protest march? Did you have any plants amongst the activists, perhaps?” She waited for him to step off the ladder. It wasn’t his most dignified angle.

  “Certainly not. As far as I’m concerned, the less attention we give these people, the sooner they will go away. Their actions will change nothing, apart from making them even more enemies than they already have.” He strode away towards the door, then stopped at the sound of her voice.

  “One thing you should know, Mr Ikonen, is that Samu Pekkanen has asthma and if he suffers an attack, his health is in grave danger. Anyone holding these young people should be aware that an abduction gone wrong could lead to a murder charge.”

  He flared his nostrils. “Rightly so. This detail does not concern me.”

  “Not even out of human sympathy? You really don’t care what happens to two young Finns whose opinions diverge from yours?”

  He stormed across the rough wooden boards in her direction, mouth pinched and his footsteps kicking up dust. “They won’t listen to our opinions. We have tried to explain. We extended an invitation to come to an existing plant, to meet the scientists, to ask questions, to learn something. It was a waste of time. These people don’t do dialogue, only slogans. How can you rationalise with someone who shouts the same three words at you, no matter what you say?” He shook his head in exasperation and Beatrice knew it was the only genuine emotion she had seen thus far.

  In contrast to Ikonen’s blatant status games, Jouko Lahti was positively genial. He welcomed her into his office, offered refreshments and engaged with all her questions. He confirmed that he had selected and briefed the private security organisation, denied hiring any stooges to infiltrate the march and posited his own theory that the young people had gone into hiding in order to cause maximum news coverage in the build-up to the opening of the Neljä modular reactor. Beatrice believed his first statement, suspected his second and could see the argument behind the third.

  “It’s possible, I suppose. Though having spoken to the parents, I find it hard to believe their children would put them through such agonising uncertainty in order to make a political point. If it could be proved they had vanished on purpose, they would certainly be charged with wasting police time.”

  “Not just the police!” Jowly of feature, Jouko Lahti wobbled when he got animated. “You as well, no? I have every respect for what you do, Mrs Stubbs, but I do think Karoliina made a mistake in hiring a private investigator for this case. It’s not an effective use of resources, I promise you.”

  Beatrice tilted her head in understanding and took a sip of mint tea. “Perhaps. Let’s look at another possibility. Someone in the senior management structure behind this collaborative venture decided to remove the Gaia Warriors’ ringleaders, thereby ensuring there would be no more protest marches leading up to your big day on Saturday. You must admit, as a theory, it makes as much sense as yours.”

  Lahti did not seem in the slightest bit offended, nodding with enthusiasm. “The double bluff, yes? It is obvious that the enemy of these … what did you call them? Gaia fighters? It is obvious that their enemy is us, the evil energy corporations. Of course it is in our interests to put a stop to all the marching, protesting outside our offices, signing of petitions and attempts to hack our website. But that is the first thing the police will check, no? So we make sure we have an alibi and arrange for the teenagers to be kidnapped. The most obvious suspects would never attempt such a thing because the finger of blame would immediately point at them. That is why it is a double bluff! The most obvious suspects really are the kidnappers!”

  The man’s glee puzzled Beatrice somewhat. He seemed to be enjoying testing various theories, as if all the world he were participating in a murder mystery weekend, rather than devoting his attention to the missing youngsters. She asked a direct question. “Mr Lahti, do you have any information which might help me locate Ms Peura and Mr Pekkanen?”

  He sighed, his body sagging into a slump. “None at all. Not even to support my own hypothesis. They will either turn up next week or the police will work out where they are hiding by watching the CCTV cameras. Something boring like that, no?” His eyes lit up. “I have an idea! The double-double bluff! What if the person who hired you to find the kids is actually the person who took them? Karoliina is the figurehead of this project and attracts most of the criticism. She kidnapped the teenagers and then hired a private detective to find them, sure the last person you would suspect is her! That’s a good theory, yes?”

  “Do you think she sent herself death threats as well?”

  His face fell and he chewed his lip. “No, that doesn’t make sense. But the death threats could be real. Someone else came to the same conclusion as me and is letting her know they are onto her. Oh, but Ville and I also had letters.”

  Beatrice looked at the clock. Her appointment with Detective Sahlberg was in under forty minutes. “One last question, Mr Lahti, regarding the collaboration between yourself, Mr Ikonen and Karoliina Nurmi. Have you worked together before?”

  He shook his head, and his cheeks flapped. “No. Normally my company works on joint ventures with international companies. This is the first time we’ve been involved in an all-Finnish exercise. Probably the last, to tell you the truth. Even without the protests, it has been a long, hard struggle to get this far. It will definitely place us at the heart of Europe
an power generation for domestic usage, that is not just marketing. The problem is my colleagues are difficult people to work with. I am a simple man, uncomplicated. At heart I am a farmer. Karoliina is inflexible and insistent on business buzzwords like ‘transparency’ and ‘stakeholder buy-in’. Ville, well, you met him. What did you think?”

  Beatrice chose her words carefully. “He seemed very busy and important.”

  “Ha!” Lahti pointed at her. “Brava! This is exactly what Ville wants people to think. You have an expression in English: ‘up his own backside’. That is a very good description of Ville Ikonen, yes?”

  Beatrice kept her mouth shut but couldn’t quite hide her smile.

  In the taxi to the police HQ, Beatrice picked up a message from Theo.

  Leaving hotel now. Had a rest between beers with activists and beers with editor. Such a lightweight! Hope to be back by seven. Good day?

  She replied briefly.

  Lots to discuss. I’ll book a table somewhere close for half seven. Let me know if you’re going to be late.

  If Ville Ikonen had been uncooperative and unfriendly, and Jouko Lahti had proved amiable but no use whatsoever, Detective Sahlberg was the best surprise of the day. Younger than expected, he had strawberry blond hair twisted into a quiff at the front and sported a gingery beard. He reminded her of Prince Harry. He was waiting for her in reception and his china-blue eyes crinkled in greeting as he got up.

  “Ms Stubbs, I’m Timo Sahlberg. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise. It’s kind of you to spare me the time, detective.”

  “I appreciated your email. In such circumstances, we’ll be more effective if we work together. There’s a staff area on the roof where we could talk. Our office is noisy and crowded and doesn’t smell too good.”

  Beatrice hesitated. What was it with the Finns and their obsession with roofs?

  She gave him a wary look. “Do I have to walk up the stairs?”