Mystery of the Amber Room

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Teemu Koivusaari had his hands full with the illegal product he was trying to fence, but once he managed to get a buyer it was all worth the trouble. It had been six months since he had left Helsinki to join two of his associates on the Aland Islands where they pursued the lucrative venture of counterfeit gems. They flogged anything from cubic zirconia to blue glass as diamonds and tanzanite, sometimes passing off — quite skillfully — base metals as silver and platinum to unsuspecting amateurs.

“What do you mean, there is more?” Teemu asked his associate, a corrupt African silversmith by the name of Moola.

“I need another kilogram to fill the Minsk order, Teemu. I told you that yesterday,” Moola complained. “You know, I have to face the clients when you screw up. I expect another kilogram by Friday or else you can go back to Sweden.”

“Finland.”

“What?” Moola scowled.

“I’m from Finland, not Sweden,” Teemu corrected his partner.

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