The opening of Laura Helanto’s exhibition is a great success. I’m happy to reach this conclusion barely half an hour after the doors are opened. I walk among the assembled guests (at a quick glance I count seventy-three) with my tray, listening to people’s enthralled comments, and I find myself filling up with a feather-light yet steely strong sensation. It’s almost like being drunk. I soon realise that this is what pride feels like. My tray is laden with the Christmassy treats that Johanna has conjured up, and I have to remind myself not to eat them myself. I think to myself that Johanna has clearly raised her game a notch or two, as they say, as the tray is suddenly empty again and I have to fill it up. I deliberately take the longer route to the kitchen so I can admire our latest acquisition. In all honesty, I could probably see part or parts of it from any location in the park, but I’m so happy with it that every day since its arrival I have visited it simply to make sure it is real.
The Moose Chute is real.
It arrived at the park from Tapanila, and Kristian and Esa assembled it. It stands tall and dominates this part of the park, its antlers almost touching the ceiling. What’s more, the park has signed a new, long-term payment agreement with the current owner of Toy of Finland, Hannes Tolkki. This, in turn, was only possible because of the agreement that I had already signed with Juhani, Kari Liitokangas and Jeppe Sauvonen. That agreement gave the owner of the Duck Tunnel the opportunity to return the item in the event that either Toy of Finland or its owners are found to have broken contractual law – or any other law, for that matter – and to select a replacement item from the catalogue. The same principle applied to the repurchasing clause regarding the entire company, and using this clause I managed to return ownership of Toy of Finland, via the adventure park, to its rightful owner, Hannes Tolkki. Osmala was right: everything has been a combination of domino effect and following a carefully laid plan. To my great satisfaction, I can say that our customer numbers are once again on the up.
But even more than the Moose Chute, I am fascinated by Laura’s artworks. Their ingenuity, their forms, shapes, colours and different dimensions offer something new and pleasing every time I look at them. I no longer even try to think of a rational explanation for why they captivate me so profoundly that I could stand there examining them for hours. I like them, that’s all, and I let them awaken exactly the kind of thoughts and emotions they want to. This is a new experience for me, and, naturally, it too comes from Laura Helanto.
I continue on my way towards the Curly Cake Café. Again I see the part of the park where most of the guests are milling around, talking feverishly and pointing at the works. I see a few of the park’s employees among them. Esa is taking care of security, Johanna is in charge of the catering, Samppa is keeping the conversation going and offering support to anyone who needs it, Kristian is the general technical manager, making sure everything is running smoothly, and Minttu K is mingling voraciously, striking up marketing deals not only for the park but for Laura Helanto’s artwork too.
I head straight for the kitchen. I leave the empty tray in the sink and step towards the fridge to choose one of the many full ones. One of the trays instantly catches my attention. Some of the treats have already been nibbled, and there are teeth marks in them.
I know of only one person who would do something like this. Only one person who thinks (probably sincerely) that nobody will notice little nibbles like this, that nobody will notice his little incursions because they are only small, harmless and barely even visible. I return to the hall and gaze out across the crowds but can’t find what I’m looking for. Then I think back to where all this began. I sigh, then walk to my office and stop at the door.
Juhani is standing with his back to me, going through some papers on the desk. He lifts them, turns them, gives them a cursory glance, then puts them back at random. He is doing this so feverishly, with such concentration, that he doesn’t hear my arrival. I let him examine the desk a moment longer, then say:
‘Looking for something in particular?’
Juhani spins around.
‘Henri!’ He only seems confused and surprised for a fleeting moment. Then he’s back to being Juhani again. ‘Great to see you. You’ve got a party going on, I didn’t want to disturb. I see you’ve finally got the Moose Chute. So, everything was cleared up in the end.’
He smiles, as though everything being cleared up was his doing. And that’s quite possibly what he thinks too, I imagine. I realise that though I’m still filled with joy and happiness, that feeling is in danger of fading and disappearing, sliding into something altogether different. And so, I must be as quick as possible.
‘As I said,’ I begin, ‘if you’re looking for something in particular, it’ll be faster if you ask me. The opening party is—’
‘A roaring success, of course it is!’ Juhani interrupts me. ‘Listen, Henri, there’s no need to worry.’
I say nothing. Throughout my entire life, every time Juhani says there’s nothing to worry about, it always means the exact opposite.
‘Anyway, it’s not this adventure park I’ve come back for,’ he says. ‘I just came to see … if I’ve forgotten anything.’
It takes a moment to fully grasp what I’ve just heard. And I don’t mean Juhani’s last sentence.
‘This adventure park?’ I say. ‘Which adventure park have you come back for then?’
I can see from Juhani’s expression that, once again, he realises he has said something he shouldn’t have.
‘I just mean I’m not, I mean, I don’t want to … run or … be … I don’t want what I used to want. That’s what you wanted to hear. So now you’ve heard it. The park’s yours. All of it. Good news, right? Your evening just keeps getting better…’
Words gush from his mouth. I watch him. Something about him has changed. He isn’t as desperate as the last time we saw each other. I can see it in his body language, hear it in the levity of his voice. He’s regained a certain … certainty. I’m beginning to think I know the reason why.
‘You just said you’re not interested in the park. And you haven’t even mentioned money. What’s happened?’
Now Juhani shifts position, he seems to stand more sturdily, and his expression turns serious.
‘Right, yeah,’ he says. ‘In fact, you and I might have some shared interests there. Given my new job and who I’m working for.’
‘Really?’
Juhani nods firmly.
‘I’m a consultant,’ he says.
‘Good for you,’ I say sincerely. ‘Congratulations on your new job. And who are you … consulting?’
‘Right now, Somersault City in Espoo,’ he says. ‘But I’m still a free agent…’
I raise a hand, my palm facing Juhani, to stop him in his tracks. ‘Our competitor?’ I ask.
‘They really value my expertise in the field and they’re looking to increase footfall in a big way,’ he says. ‘And they’re aiming to shore up their position as market leader in the adventure-park scene in and around the capital…’
‘I know what their aims are,’ I say. ‘I’d be careful with them. They’re not members of the Association of Finnish Adventure Parks. There’s something not quite right about their ownership structure. And I don’t know how they’ve got enough money for the constant expansion and acquisitions. Their customer numbers can’t grow that fast, though we temporarily lost a few customers in their direction. But that’s not even the crux of the matter. The bottom line is, you cannot work for me and them at the same time.’
‘I’m a freelance consultant.’
‘Maybe, but if you work for two adventure parks at the same time, you might be a freelance industrial spy too. I’ll have to ask you to leave.’
Juhani looks as though I’ve just slapped him round the face. He’s offended.
‘After everything I’ve done for you.’
I didn’t plan to say what I say next, but I realise at some point I have to tell him I know what happened.
‘I was almost murdered because of you,’ I say. ‘Round the back of the park.’
Juhani doesn’t seem nearly as perturbed that I know what I know as he does about the accusation itself.
‘I saved you,’ he says.
‘From a situation that you created.’
Juhani shakes his head. Now he is both offended and agitated.
‘Henri,’ he says. And I can hear the anger in his voice. ‘Without my help, they’re going to crush you.’
The room is suddenly silent. I imagine it must be down to several simultaneous factors. We have both said what we’ve been meaning to say, what we’ve wanted to get off our chests. Juhani has done what he came here to do: to look for something without finding it, to try to sell something nobody wants to buy. And I have let him know what I know and learnt what I feared. Juhani straightens his blazer. He looks at me, his expression tense but perhaps a little apologetic.
‘This is war,’ he says. ‘Adventure-park war.’
I say nothing. Juhani stares at me a moment longer, then sets off. I hear his footsteps disappear along the corridor, then I watch him from the window as he walks through the Christmas lights in the car park towards his Toyota, sits down and drives away.
I return to the exhibition and the opening gala via the Curly Cake Café. Carrying my tray, I walk with determination – I have a clear goal and destination. Once I reach it, the tray is empty and I hand it to Kristian, who takes it back to the café like a runner who has grabbed a relay baton.
This is my goal, my destination: Laura Helanto. She notices me, thanks the couple standing in front of her, then turns towards me. She is holding a bunch of roses, her cheeks are almost as dark red as the petals, there is a glimmer of happiness and emotion in her eyes, and she kisses me on the lips.
We place an arm around each other, and during the course of our kiss I calculate what I have to do in order to keep all this, to keep our happiness.
Now I know where to start.