After the initial formalities the conversation had dried up and the men ate in silence. Järvi greedily shovelled watery mashed potatoes into his mouth. Kontio occasionally watched him out of the corner of his eye and felt very pleased with himself, pleased that he’d finally taken the bull by the horns. It had required a fair amount of effort on his part, but now he didn’t regret it in the least. He was pleased too that he’d chosen the perfect venue almost intuitively.
They were in a run-of-the-mill lunch spot on Mäkelänkatu, the kind of place that smells of stale lager and cold cigarette ash. The place brought back fond memories for Kontio. It reminded him of the time when he still had the strength to fight his way up tooth and nail, relentlessly, and he’d been right: Järvi had clearly felt the same, he’d ordered bangers and mash without a moment’s hesitation – perhaps it had been a relief not to have to sit at the table wondering what words like Chateaubriand actually meant – and now he was eating contentedly, probably reminiscing about the time when they were true partners.
Kontio knew perfectly well why Järvi had accepted his invitation: he had heard from a source very high up that Special Branch was also on the Criminal Police’s list of units to be discontinued. It was understandable: Special Branch had originally been tailor-made for Järvi by separating various specialised groups from their own departments to create an office that needed a DCI to run it. Järvi had kept personal tabs on all the vacancies under his authority; he if anyone knew how to pull the right strings.
But now it was of no help to him. The need for results had bulldozered its way over any string-pulling, and Järvi had heard the rumours that were going around – one of Kontio’s ‘eyes-and-ears’ had confirmed it to him that morning – though understandably he was careful not to let anything slip, because nothing had yet been made official. But something was gnawing away at him, Kontio could see it clearly, he knew the symptoms all too well from his own recent experiences: Järvi had come to the chilling realisation that he was nothing, that for all his stripes and medals and chairmanships he was such a mediocre man that he wasn’t even going to be replaced when he retired and that his office was no longer needed.
Kontio knew what it felt like and he knew the kind of loneliness that crept into a man’s mind, the desperation, the distrust of everyone else, then there was the need to find an ally, someone who understood – and who better to fill that position than someone who had been through it all before?
But Kontio wasn’t feeding Järvi with sympathy. He knew from bitter experience that things he had once taken for granted could be lost in a heartbeat, and he didn’t want to lose Vaarala’s friendship at any cost; he didn’t want to lose his position as a security consultant; he didn’t want to lose the thought that, even once he retired, he would still be somebody.
He’d spent a sleepless night because of this. He felt he couldn’t trust Harjunpää alone in the matter, and that had awoken a feeling of annoyance, a mixture of disappointment and fear that, for all his insignificance, Harjunpää might pose him a significant threat. On top of that, his annoyance had grown once he’d realised that, ultimately, all he wanted to do was break somebody because he himself had been broken. But by morning he’d had confirmation of quite how dire a state Järvi’s affairs were in, and this had calmed him down. A back-up plan had begun forming in his mind.
‘I don’t know,’ Kontio sighed, pushed his plate to one side and drained his glass of soured milk. ‘I’ll tell you, the decision to close down the department fair took away my fighting spirit. It makes you think, is this the way they repay you for years of slogging away? But now that I’ve got over it… you realise it’s just other people’s greed, their thirst for power.’
Järvi gave him a quick look; apparently, for the first time, he’d thought the very same thing.
‘And to be perfectly honest, I feel as though I want to show them what’s what just one more time.’
‘I reckon the Criminal Police have seen all they want to see,’ Järvi replied and forgot that he wasn’t yet supposed to sound so bitter.
‘Tanttu is a waste of space… He’s given in to all the chief commander’s demands without saying a word. And these demands haven’t even come directly from the chief; it’s Hongisto that’s behind it, he’s the one really running things. Talk about a bloody Napoleon complex.’
‘When our units are shut down and officers are being reassigned to the Public Order Police, they end up working under Hongisto. His power increases with every move. I’ve heard rumours that he’s asked for even more units to be closed…’
‘And what do you want out of all this?’
They looked at each other silently. Each of them knew that this was a game and that they both had their reasons for playing it. Kontio hauled his chair closer to the table, glanced around and almost leaned over Järvi’s plate.
‘To be honest, I’d really like to teach Hongisto a little lesson.’
‘He’s set himself up for a fall pretty nicely.’
‘You hear a thing or two down at the ministry…’
‘Such as?’
‘But I can’t do this by myself. I haven’t got enough men.’
‘A full-blown operation, then?’
‘They’ve been planning it out at the ministry and the regional council, and Hongisto is supposed to spearhead the whole thing. The mayor apparently said that medals will be awarded on Independence Day…’
Kontio had guessed this would work; Järvi was now looking at him far more intently. Järvi was filled with a burning desire to be recognised, to be in the public eye. These two desires often coexisted in awkward conflict in the line of duty. Particularly when it came to security arrangements, he was over the moon at being able to run things from the background, but couldn’t resist the temptation to rush in front of the cameras so that the whole world could see him babbling into his walkie-talkie: ‘Seagull One to Eagle Two. Do you copy?’
‘So what’s this project then?’
‘It sounds like small fry, but it isn’t. It’s to do with graffiti.’
‘What?’
‘You know, daubs on walls and that sort of thing.’
‘Right?’
‘There’s been a thorough, region-wide investigation into these daubs, concentrating primarily on the Helsinki area. Get this, in the city alone getting rid of graffiti costs the council over five million marks a year…’
‘Hell of a sum…’
‘And apparently that’s not even near the correct figure. What’s more, most of the spray paints are stolen, so retailers are making a loss too.’
‘OK.’
‘At the end of the day it’s a fairly small group of people behind this. Catching them will raise the profile of the city council – and of the police force in the eyes of the general public. Of course, with Hongisto’s resources there’ll be nothing to it…’
Järvi picked up a toothpick, carefully unwrapped it and starting sucking it thoughtfully; a fly appeared and started feeding at the sauce left on Järvi’s plate.
‘My field officers could take care of it no problem,’ he said finally as though he could have come up with the idea himself. ‘They could keep an eye on the shops and see who’s taking the stuff. And if I could temporarily have the use of a couple of dozen extra officers, all it’ll take is a few nights’ concentrated effort.’
‘Precisely. And you’d be able to demonstrate that Special Branch will always be Special Branch and Hongisto won’t get yet another feather in his cap,’ Kontio began enthusing, but then his face turned serious and he rested his hands limply on the table. ‘But I don’t know if it’ll work. Your men are tied up with God knows how many other cases. I heard someone in the canteen saying they’ve got some DS from Violent Crimes ordering them about.’
‘You mean Harjunpää? Lampinen and Juslin are helping him out. It’s the same case we talked about in the board meeting recently.’
‘The one Kuusimäki contacted me about? Well, if Harjunpää cracks that one he’ll be getting accolades from much higher up.’
‘I’m the one that got things moving with that case. Without me it would be buried in a file somewhere.’
‘That’s how it goes – other people swipe the medals from under your nose.’
‘And skim the cream from the cake,’ said Järvi as though he knew what thread the other was tugging and wanted to tug it back. ‘They say Onerva Nykänen’s fair rolling in money. She knits sweaters while she’s on duty and makes tens of thousands of marks every month selling them… Anyway, thanks, I’d better be off again.’
The men stood up and more flies appeared. They were in for a banquet with the treats to be found on Kontio’s plate too.
‘We could call it Operation Spray,’ said Järvi once they were outside. ‘It’s businesslike, gives you a clue as to what it’s all about but doesn’t give anything away.’
‘True. If you bring it up in a board meeting I’ll second it. We can argue it’s to do with shoplifting. But we need to be quick about it so Hongisto hasn’t got a chance to present the motion somewhere higher up… So Onerva Nykänen’s made a mint, has she?’
‘So they say. Well, she says it’s not as if she’s bringing money in by the wheelbarrow… Some shops downtown sell her jumpers. Apparently a trial batch sold out in a couple of weeks in Stockholm.’
‘And I’ll bet she hasn’t got a secondary occupation licence for it.’
‘Apparently not. Bangers and mash, eh? You can’t beat plain nosh.’
‘Nope, especially with lots of ketchup.’