woman in a red coat, but another mule had also disembarked. Who? They had spotted Karjalainen, the junkie, but what about after Marju Mägi?
The director hadn’t asked why Suhonen wanted to see the footage again. It had been enough that Suhonen had asked for it. They also had footage of the parking lot, which Suhonen and Toukola hadn’t needed the night before. All of the footage was on a hard drive, so Suhonen could switch between cameras and zoom in on passengers.
The director had also shown Suhonen how to print the images. They could be emailed as well.
Before leaving the control room, the director had lamented the fact that facial recognition software wasn’t fully functional yet. In the future, cameras would be able to identify people based on their facial structure. Facial metrics—the distance between one’s eyes or between one’s nose and ears, the length of one’s chin measured from the bottom lip—were unique to each person. Every person with a driver’s license or passport photograph, for example, would receive a unique facial ID. Computers would be able to match that ID to individuals captured on security camera footage. However, the director knew that the current systems still had a 25 percent failure rate, even under near-laboratory conditions
With corresponding legislation, the technology would be implemented in Finland. He had surmised that the legislation would be passed under the guise of counter-terrorism. If passengers could be positively identified before boarding, those deemed dangerous could be picked up then. It would be even better if the system were integrated with the police database.
That done, it was only a matter of determining who would be deemed dangerous, thought Suhonen. A history of nights in the drunk tank probably wouldn’t qualify. At least the shipping lines would make that argument, since they’d lose their best customers.
The footage swirled on the screens. Karjalainen, the junkie, wobbled across the monitor and Suhonen printed off a screenshot. Same with Marju Mägi. The shot could be used as evidence in court, but Toukola probably wouldn’t need it. A short while later, Suhonen watched as he and Toukola were trailing Mägi in the concourse. He tried to track Karjalainen outdoors, but the man had escaped the cameras. The outdoor wide-angle lens showed the cops escorting Mägi into the van.
Then Suhonen reviewed the footage of the remaining passengers in the gangway, but saw no familiar faces. Perhaps it would help if people were identified on screen, along with their criminal histories. Perhaps it would be nice if they integrated the software with people’s movements based on their cell phone signals, as well as their credit card purchase histories. In principle, this was all fully possible.
Passenger traffic thinned out, then dried up completely. Suhonen hadn’t noticed any suspicious passengers. On the other hand, Marju Mägi wouldn’t have aroused any interest without the tip from Estonia.
Suhonen pondered the situation. His friend, Salmela, had directly implicated himself in a drug smuggling operation. The twenty ounces already found would earn him the same punishment as Mägi: about two and a half years. Salmela wouldn’t survive another prison term—he barely seemed to be surviving on the outside.
Suhonen would have to pump Salmela for more details about his connections to the Skulls.
CHAPTER 9
FRIDAY, 12:30 P.M.
SKULLS’ COMPOUND, HELSINKI
Eight men were seated in the main room of the Skulls’ headquarters. Larsson sat on a tall stool next to the bar, the others around the tables. Larsson glanced at Aronen, who nodded.
“Except for Steiner, looks like everybody is here, so let’s get started,” Larsson said in a calm voice. “I’ve known many of you for a long time. A few faces are new to me, but I can say this: We’re
The director hadn’t asked why Suhonen wanted to see the footage again. It had been enough that Suhonen had asked for it. They also had footage of the parking lot, which Suhonen and Toukola hadn’t needed the night before. All of the footage was on a hard drive, so Suhonen could switch between cameras and zoom in on passengers.
The director had also shown Suhonen how to print the images. They could be emailed as well.
Before leaving the control room, the director had lamented the fact that facial recognition software wasn’t fully functional yet. In the future, cameras would be able to identify people based on their facial structure. Facial metrics—the distance between one’s eyes or between one’s nose and ears, the length of one’s chin measured from the bottom lip—were unique to each person. Every person with a driver’s license or passport photograph, for example, would receive a unique facial ID. Computers would be able to match that ID to individuals captured on security camera footage. However, the director knew that the current systems still had a 25 percent failure rate, even under near-laboratory conditions
With corresponding legislation, the technology would be implemented in Finland. He had surmised that the legislation would be passed under the guise of counter-terrorism. If passengers could be positively identified before boarding, those deemed dangerous could be picked up then. It would be even better if the system were integrated with the police database.
That done, it was only a matter of determining who would be deemed dangerous, thought Suhonen. A history of nights in the drunk tank probably wouldn’t qualify. At least the shipping lines would make that argument, since they’d lose their best customers.
The footage swirled on the screens. Karjalainen, the junkie, wobbled across the monitor and Suhonen printed off a screenshot. Same with Marju Mägi. The shot could be used as evidence in court, but Toukola probably wouldn’t need it. A short while later, Suhonen watched as he and Toukola were trailing Mägi in the concourse. He tried to track Karjalainen outdoors, but the man had escaped the cameras. The outdoor wide-angle lens showed the cops escorting Mägi into the van.
Then Suhonen reviewed the footage of the remaining passengers in the gangway, but saw no familiar faces. Perhaps it would help if people were identified on screen, along with their criminal histories. Perhaps it would be nice if they integrated the software with people’s movements based on their cell phone signals, as well as their credit card purchase histories. In principle, this was all fully possible.
Passenger traffic thinned out, then dried up completely. Suhonen hadn’t noticed any suspicious passengers. On the other hand, Marju Mägi wouldn’t have aroused any interest without the tip from Estonia.
Suhonen pondered the situation. His friend, Salmela, had directly implicated himself in a drug smuggling operation. The twenty ounces already found would earn him the same punishment as Mägi: about two and a half years. Salmela wouldn’t survive another prison term—he barely seemed to be surviving on the outside.
Suhonen would have to pump Salmela for more details about his connections to the Skulls.
CHAPTER 9
FRIDAY, 12:30 P.M.
SKULLS’ COMPOUND, HELSINKI
Eight men were seated in the main room of the Skulls’ headquarters. Larsson sat on a tall stool next to the bar, the others around the tables. Larsson glanced at Aronen, who nodded.
“Except for Steiner, looks like everybody is here, so let’s get started,” Larsson said in a calm voice. “I’ve known many of you for a long time. A few faces are new to me, but I can say this: We’re
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