LATE IN THE afternoon Tuula arrived, bringing Raafael Mertaranta in person.
Kai-Petteri Hämäläinen was standing in the kitchen as Tuula steered the car on to his property. He saw Tuula and Mertaranta climb out, watched them coming towards the house in a flurry of flashlights. Several journalists held microphones over the fence and shouted requests for a short interview.
Hämäläinen went to open the door.
‘Good heavens,’ said Raafael Mertaranta.
‘Fantastic,’ said Tuula, hugging him with a broad smile, before Mertaranta shook his hand fervently and for a long time. The tall man, the very tall man, Irene and the girls were standing in the background.
‘Irene, good to see you,’ said Mertaranta. He went towards her, bent down and sketched a kiss on her hand. ‘Hello, you two,’ he said to the girls.
‘Hello, Raafael,’ said Irene. ‘Hello, Tuula.’
The two women exchanged a brief and distant embrace. The two police officers withdrew quietly into the back part of the house, and Mertaranta asked for coffee as strong as possible.
‘I’ll make coffee for us all,’ said Irene, going into the kitchen.
‘Your … bodyguards?’ asked Mertaranta.
‘What? Oh, yes. So to speak. Come on in,’ said Hämäläinen, leading the way into the living room. ‘Imps, you can go and play anywhere you like.’
The girls ran upstairs. Tuula sat down on the sofa, and Mertaranta dropped into an armchair with a contented sigh. Hämäläinen sat on the second sofa, so that they formed a triangle. In the kitchen, the coffee machine gurgled and hissed.
‘Let me say something,’ said Mertaranta after a few seconds of silence. ‘Let me just say first how enormously glad I am that you’re here, that we can all be together here today. And that I’m proud, really proud, and I mean it when I say that you are the flagship of our TV station.’
‘Thank you,’ said Hämäläinen. He waited for his usual warm reaction, but it didn’t seem to be setting in. It was not unusual for Mertaranta to make such remarks; one of the most pressing duties of the head of a station was to take good care of its star, support him at bad times, and be the first to congratulate him at the moment of triumph. Kai-Petteri Hämäläinen knew that, he had learnt to take it for granted, and he had enjoyed it. But today the good feeling somehow wouldn’t materialise.
‘Thank you,’ he said again, and Irene brought in a white tray on which stood white cups and a white coffee pot with steam rising from it.
They drank coffee. Put their cups down. Then Tuula began explaining the strategy that she and Mertaranta had worked out.
‘Well, here’s how we’ll do it. After this you drive to the TV station with the two policemen. And please don’t look down your nose at me if I say you ought to be smiling.’
‘Smiling,’ said Hämäläinen, without looking down his nose.
‘Yes, smiling. Giving the impression that everything’s all right. And of course you won’t say anything, just get in the car. You’ll keep your mouth shut until the show begins.’
‘Giving the impression that everything’s all right …’
‘And I have just the right opening line for you,’ said Tuula.
‘What would I do without you?’ said Hämäläinen.
Irene cleared her throat and asked if anyone would like more coffee.
‘Yes, please,’ said Mertaranta.
‘It may be rather a strain, I know, to get through it, but we all agree that we … that we want to make as much of an effect as possible,’ said Tuula.
‘Of course,’ said Hämäläinen.
‘What you’re doing today is great, and extraordinary, and we want it to come over like that,’ said Tuula. ‘Right?’
No one raised any objections.
‘Well then, you will get in the car and be driven to the station, where you get out, still acting the same way – smiling, saying nothing – and then you withdraw and the two of us will go over the final schedule for the programme again, and the list of questions. We’ll do without your few words with the guests before the show. Olli Latvala and Margot Lind are briefing them.’
Hämäläinen nodded. ‘Sounds good,’ he said.
Tuula leaned back in relief.
‘Wonderful coffee, Irene,’ said Raafael Mertaranta.