The Healer by Antti Tuomainen Read Free Book Online Page A

Finnish,” she said. “It’s all right.”
    â€œTapani,” I said, extending my hand.
    â€œNina.”
    Her hand was warm and narrow in mine, and I held on to it longer than was necessary for a handshake. Its slenderness immediately reminded me of the dream I’d just had about my wife, whose hand was just as smooth and delicate. My mind was flooded with memories, and in all of them I was touching Johanna. On the street at night coming home from the movies, under the table at a boring dinner party when no one was watching, walking her to work on an early summer morning.
    Nina noticed.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said.
    Hamid intervened: “You’re in some kind of difficulty.”
    It was close enough to the truth, so I nodded.
    â€œCan you tell me about it?”
    Why not? Provided he would tell me where I was.
    â€œYou’re in Kallio,” he said.
    I told him that my wife had disappeared and I had to keep looking for her. The gun was mine, and I would pay Hamid for having returned it to me. He kept his eyes on me all the time I was speaking.
    Nina got up from the chair, went out into the restaurant, and came back carrying her purse. She took out a packet of painkillers and handed it to me.
    â€œThank you,” I said, taking out two tablets and swallowing them with some water.
    Next Hamid went into the restaurant, clattered around for a moment, and came back carrying a cup and saucer.
    â€œTea. With lots of sugar.”
    The tea was as dark as coffee, burning hot, and so sweet it sent a stab through my teeth. I drank the whole cup in a few swallows. I felt the hot liquid in my throat and a moment later in my stomach.
    When I was sure the tea would stay down, I got up and stood for a moment. I took a few tottering steps toward the door and went out into the restaurant. The room was the size of a small office. Half the space was taken up by an open kitchen and buffet counter that stretched along one wall. The other half was set aside for three small tables. The wooden chairs around the tables were empty. A television on the wall was showing a report about a wildfire.
    â€œIs this the local news?” I asked.
    Nina shook her head.
    â€œOur home country,” Hamid said.
    I looked at the fire again. It looked like all the other fires in the world.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said to Hamid.
    â€œMe, too,” he said.
    Nina picked up the remote from the counter and changed the channel. The Helsinki area information station reported news of the capital continuously. I asked her to call up the latest news broadcast. She pressed the remote.
    I took out my phone and asked for a charger. Hamid snapped up the phone and took it behind the counter.
    I sat in one of the restaurant’s chairs and looked at the clock on the wall: twelve past one. I felt weak and sick. Ideas came into my mind, but I didn’t want to follow them to their conclusions. Most of the thoughts revolved around Johanna, and the mere idea that something might have happened to her like what had just happened to me hurt more than the beating I’d taken.
    The local news didn’t offer any more clues. Armed robberies had increased—they were being committed in the daytime now, and closer to the city center. A skyscraper in central Pasila had been set on fire earlier in the evening. Traffic from the Russian border to the capital was jammed again. There was also good news: The metro tunnels had been pumped out, and the metro was back up and running. They had also increased the number of armed guards there.
    But none of that was any help to me.
    Hamid sat on the other side of the table.
    â€œI’m sure things will get better,” he said when I turned away from the television and looked at him.
    *   *   *
    I STOOD FOR A moment in front of the pizzeria, breathing in the night’s thin air, feeling it in my throat, and keeping my eyes on the trees that stood stock-still