JESSICA IS LEANING against the back wall of Erne’s office. Micke, Nina, and Rasmus have packed into the small room too. For some reason, Jessica doesn’t feel the need to stop breathing, even though Rasmus is standing right in front of her. Evidently someone has finally delivered him an anonymous message encouraging him to invest in his personal hygiene.
“That’s settled, then,” Mikael says, clapping his hands together. A moment earlier, Erne bulldozed his opinion that Karlstedt and Lehtinen should be brought in immediately, but Mikael doesn’t seem the least bit bitter. That’s what he’s like: Micke has an opinion on just about everything, but no trouble at all respecting his superior’s decisions. He is well aware that the one who makes the decisions also carries the responsibility for their consequences.
“Then there are some other things,” Erne continues. He’s the only one in the room who’s sitting. “First of all, Yusuf and Jessica just suggested we search for other instances of the words ‘Malleus Maleficarum’ by helicopter.”
“Actually it was Yusuf’s idea,” Jessica says, unsure whether she made the clarification out of politeness or to save her own skin in case it’s a crap idea.
“What does that mean?” Nina asks, kneading her shoulders with her fingertips.
“The text stamped onto the Koponens’ roof might have been practiced somewhere—as Yusuf suggested—or there might be more of them. Left as clues for us,” Erne explains.
Micke shakes his head. “Left as clues for us. So we’re going to keep playing these assholes’ game.”
“These assholes might have, for instance, marked the location of a new victim this way. In which case it’s in our interest to find it,” Erne says crisply, and now they catch a flash of the old Erne: the man whose firm, decisive delivery leaves no place for ifs, ands, or buts.
Erne interlaces his fingers on the desk. “Secondly, for the time being, we will not be informing the media that Roger Koponen is alive. There’s a razor-thin chance the witch hunters don’t know what we know. Let’s go with that, at least until tonight. Thirdly: talking to the victims’ family members and friends begins immediately. Jessica and Yusuf will handle that; if necessary, you two call on folks from the NBI for help. And don’t be shy to ask if you need more hands or a fresh pair of eyes.” Erne waves a finger in the direction where he presumes the folks from the NBI are sitting.
“Fourthly: Rasmus, I want a report of everything we can assume will happen if these witch hunters have decided to carry out every crime in the Koponen books. Not just of murders, of which to my understanding there are still three to come . . .”
Rasmus nods and counts on his fingers as he speaks: “A woman is crushed under rocks, a man is stoned to death, and another is killed with a dagger.”
“. . . but also of all of the other events that meet the critera of a crime. Abductions, assaults, rapes. Stepping in dog shit. Everything. Everything that’s in the book could happen one way or another.”
A momentary silence falls over the room.
“Nina and Mikael. Try to find all the buildings in Laajasalo and the nearby vicinity that have basements. Based on what Laura Helminen told us, we’re not talking about some bike storage in an apartment building. It has to be a space no one could stumble on by accident. A place where you could make as much commotion as you wanted without having to worry about the neighbors calling the police. A bomb shelter, a private storage space, the basement of a house. While you’re at it, check with tub import companies to find out who they’ve sold or delivered wooden tubs to. Check gag shops for those masks. Even the tiniest leads are valuable now. And like Jessica, use the guys from the NBI as a resource. They’re waiting for your instructions.”
Everyone in the room nods. The division of labor is efficient and clear. Erne growls out his orders once a day, then usually sets his team loose to do their thing without interference.
Mikael raises a finger, as if asking for the last word, and Erne nods. “Laura Helminen said the tub was really big. What do you think that means, more or less?”
“Are you asking how big a really big wooden tub is?” Jessica says, raising her eyes to the ceiling.
“Yes.”
“If a person has to be able to float in it without their limbs touching the bottom . . . in other words, if it’s possible to drown in it . . . I’d say—”
“Maybe two thousand to three thousand liters?” Rasmus interjects. “My mom has a fifteen-hundred-liter hot tub on her deck in Hanko, and it would be almost impossible to drown in it.”
“Really? Did you try without your floaties when your mommy wasn’t watching?”
Mikael’s jab manages to visibly disconcert Rasmus, who furiously adjusts the temples of his eyeglasses. Erne shoots Mikael a warning glance: Knock it off.
“What are you getting at, Micke?”
“If we assume the crime spree didn’t start until yesterday, isn’t it likely the tank was just filled recently? The coroner’s report says the water was tap water.”
A smile spreads across Nina’s face. “I like the way you’re thinking. How much water does the average Finn use?”
“About a hundred fifty liters a day.”
“So in a two-person household, filling a tub like that would mean a thousand percent spike in water consumption.”
“Can we find it?”
“I’ll call the water department.”
“Have them start by focusing on Kulosaari and Laajasalo and if necessary expand outward into the rest of metropolitan Helsinki.” Mikael claps his hands together in satisfaction.
“Good! I want you to report back to Jessica on all fronts,” Erne says. He gropes at the breast pocket of his sport coat; the look on his face says his cigarettes are still there. “And, oh yeah,” he says, and the high pitch of his voice clearly catches him off guard too. “Sissi Sarvilinna’s report on both Maria Koponen and the Ice Princess—”
“She has a name,” Jessica says coolly, with a wink at Erne.
“—Lea Blomqvist, God rest her soul,” Erne continues, shooting Jessica a mock-murderous glance. He puts on his readers and grabs a piece of paper resting on the table. “In any case, certain substances have been identified in both victims’ blood that, if misused or consumed in large amounts, are lethal. Thiopental, pancuronium bromide, and potassium chloride. In addition, it looks like chloroform was used to render them unconscious.”
A low murmur spreads through the room.
“The death row cocktail. I just read a book called The Angels of Hammurabi where the killer supposedly used the same combo,” Mikael says, intrigued. “Roger Koponen isn’t the only author the killers have been reading.”
Nina frowns. “So the MO can be considered to be somehow . . . humane?”
“Maybe not humane. But painless,” Jessica says, pulling out her notepad.
“Laura Helminen was also drugged with chloroform. Apparently the women were thrown into the tub when they were unconscious, which means the drowning was painless too,” Erne says.
Suddenly the room is still enough to hear a pin drop.
“It’s a comforting thought,” Rasmus says, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“A thin silver lining on this humongous shit cloud. Nina and Mikael, find out all the places in Helsinki where it’s possible to get your hands on those toxins.”
“Done.”
“That’s it. Thank you,” Erne says, and a low murmur fills the room again. Jessica opens her notebook, looks at the name and number she jotted down on the last page: Pave Koskinen. She made notes on the earlier meeting with Erne below. When she turns the page to write down the toxins Erne mentioned, the pen slips and falls to the floor. A cold wave surges through her lower limbs. Suddenly everything is murky. She can hear her own heavy breathing; the others’ voices echo distantly in the background.
This isn’t possible.
“What’s wrong, Jessie?” Erne has appeared at her side; Jessica feels his hand on her shoulder.
“This isn’t . . . ,” Jessica whispers, clutching the notebook to her chest.
Yusuf takes hold of the notebook. “Show me.” Jessica lets go of the notebook and clasps her hands behind her neck.
“I didn’t write that—”
The look on Yusuf’s face says it all. Malleus Maleficarum.