The Tightrope Men / The Enemy

‘Ah, yes,’ the professor said vaguely, and waved his hand a little helplessly. ‘It was a long time ago, you know; so much has happened since – it is difficult to remember.’ He picked up a cake and was about to bite into it when he said, ‘I remember – it was something to do with some aspects of the properties of X-rays.’

‘Did you work on that project?’

‘No – that would be Liisa – or was it Olavi?’

‘So you don’t know the nature of the work he was doing?’

‘No.’ Kääriänen’s face broke into a smile, and he shook with laughter. ‘But, knowing your father, I can tell you it had no practical application. He was very proud of being a pure research physicist. We were all like that in those days – proud of being uncontaminated by the world.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘A pity we’re not like that now.’

The next hour and a half was spent in reminiscences from Kääriänen interspersed with Denison’s desperate ploys to fend off his inquiries into Meyrick’s work. After allowing what he thought was a decent time he excused himself and he and Lyn took their leave of the professor with assurances that they would keep in professional contact.

They came out into Senate Square and made their way back to the hotel along Aleksanterinkatu, Helsinki’s equivalent of Bond Street. Lyn was thoughtful and quiet, and Denison said, ‘A penny for your thoughts.’

‘I was just thinking,’ she said. ‘It seemed at one time as though you were pumping Professor Kääriänen.’

Did it, by God! thought Denison. You’re too bloody smart by half. Aloud he said, ‘I just wanted to know about my father, the work he did and so on.’

‘You didn’t give much back,’ said Lyn tartly. ‘Every time he asked a question you evaded it.’

‘I had to,’ said Denison. ‘Most of my work is in defence. I can’t babble about that in a foreign country.’

‘Of course,’ said Lyn colourlessly.

They were outside a jeweller’s shop and Denison pointed. ‘What do you think of that?’

She caught her breath. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’

It was a necklace – chunky, rough-hewn gold of an intricate and yet natural shape. He felt reckless and took her arm. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Inside.’

The necklace cost him £215 of Meyrick’s money which he paid by credit card. Apart from the fact that he thought that Meyrick ought to pay more attention to his daughter he thought it would take her mind off other things.

‘Your birthday present,’ he said.

Lyn was breathless with excitement. ‘Oh, thank you, Da … Harry.’ Impulsively she kissed him. ‘But I have nothing to wear with it.’

‘Then you’ll have to buy something, won’t you? Let’s go back to the hotel.’

‘Yes, let’s.’ She slipped her fingers into his. ‘I have a surprise for you, too – at the hotel.’

‘Oh? What is it?’

‘Well, I thought that now you’re back in Finland you ought to become reacquainted with the sauna.’

He laughed, and said cheerfully, ‘I’ve never been to a sauna in my life.’

She stopped dead on the pavement and stared at him. ‘But you must have. When you were a boy.’

‘Oh, yes; I went then.’ He cursed himself for the slip. Carey had given him books to read about Finland; language was one thing but there was a minimum any Finn would know, expatriate or not. The sauna definitely fitted into that category. ‘I tend to regard my years in Finland as another life.’ It was lame but it would have to do.

‘It’s about time you were reintroduced to the sauna,’ she said firmly. ‘I go often in London – it’s great fun. I’ve booked for us both in the hotel sauna for six o’clock.’

‘Great!’ he said hollowly.

FIFTEEN (#ulink_bc89d903-7ac8-5422-bd9a-5c4d43cd6487)

In the hotel he escaped to his room and rang the number he had been given. When Carey answered he gave a report on his interview with Kääriänen, and Carey said, ‘So it all comes to this: Merikken was working on X-rays at the time but no one can remember exactly what he was doing. Those who would know are dead. That’s encouraging.’

‘Yes,’ said Denison.

‘You don’t sound pleased,’ said Carey.

‘It’s not that. I have something else on my mind.’

‘Out with it.’

‘Lyn has booked me in for the sauna this evening.’

‘So?’

‘She’s booked us both in.’

‘So?’ There was a pause before Carey chuckled. ‘My boy; I can see you have a wrong impression or an evil mind. This is not Hamburg nor is it the lower reaches of Soho; you’re in Helsinki and the Finns are a decent people. I think you’ll find there is one sauna for gentlemen and another for ladies.’

‘Oh!’ said Denison weakly. ‘It’s just that I don’t know much about it. One gets the wrong impression.’

‘Didn’t you read the books I gave you?’

‘I must have missed that one.’

‘In any case, there’s nothing wrong with a father joining his daughter in the sauna,’ said Carey judicially. ‘It may be done in your own home but not, I think, in an international hotel.’ He paused. ‘You’d better read up on it. Meyrick wouldn’t have forgotten the sauna – no Finn would.’

‘I’ll do that.’

‘Have fun,’ said Carey, and rang off.

Denison put down the telephone and rummaged in his suitcase where he found a slim book on the sauna written for the benefit of English-speaking visitors to Finland. On studying it he was relieved to find that the sauna appeared to be little more than a Turkish bath in essence – with differences.

He turned back the pages and read the introduction. There was, apparently, one sauna for every six Finns which, he reflected, was probably a greater incidence than bathrooms in Britain. A clean people, the Finns – mens sana in corpore sauna. Stones were heated by birch logs or, in modern times, by electric elements. Humidity was introduced by löyly – tossing water on the stones. The booklet managed to convey an air of mystic ritual about what was essentially a prosaic activity, and Denison came to the conclusion that the sauna was the Finnish equivalent of the Japanese tea ceremony.

At quarter to six Lyn rang him. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I’ll meet you afterwards in the swimming pool. Have you got your trunks?’

Denison mentally ran down a checklist of Meyrick’s clothing. ‘Yes.’

‘At half past six, then.’ She rang off.