The Father: Made in Sweden Part I

by Anton Svensson

  ‘It’s not important.’

  ‘It sounded important.’

  ‘Concentrate on the road.’

  Felix was in the driver’s seat, as always; he knew this car now, how it accelerated, the braking distance, the steering. A Dodge van. It was the kind of vehicle they’d be using in the bank robbery, and the kind they’d switch to when they fled the scene. Felix had practised driving it but he’d also learned exactly how it was put together. He had been given the job of stealing two vehicles the night before the robbery, and he’d spent hours practising jemmying the lock until he was sure he’d be able to open the door of a Dodge in less than twenty seconds.

  The old shooting range lay at the end of the gravel road. They parked and heard shots being fired in the distance.

  ‘There’s someone else here,’ said Vincent.

  With their bag of ammunition, four camping roll mats, and automatic weapons, they started walking down a gravel path that turned into a track. Two men were lying on a mound three hundred metres from the targets on a sandy embankment.

  Leo paused, listening.

  ‘MP5s. They must be in the SWAT team.’

  ‘Leo, let’s go, they’re looking for us, damn it!’ said Vincent, pulling on his eldest brother’s arm. ‘We have to get out of here.’

  ‘No. You have to learn this.’

  ‘Leo, damn it, we—’

  ‘Listen, the cops are looking for two Arabs.’

  Vincent walked more slowly, near the back. He’d seen Leo like this before, when you couldn’t talk to him, when he felt the need to challenge you, to win even though it wasn’t necessary, just to show that he could. And it was at that exact moment that the two men in dark uniforms stood up, packed their things and set off.

  Towards them.

  They looked bigger as they approached from the other end of the narrow path. Broad shoulders, wide necks, they looked like adults. Not even Leo looked like that when he moved.

  ‘You here to do some shooting, fellas?’

  The gravel rustled as they moved over to examine the weapons.

  ‘Let me have a guess … Home Guard?’

  Suddenly Jasper ran out into the grass, past Leo, in order to proudly show off their weapons.

  ‘That’s correct. Järva’s Home Guard battalion.’

  He held his AK4 like a marble statue, confident smile carved between his pointy nose and sharp chin, revealing the gap between his front teeth. Vincent took another step back, hunched over. If Leo wanted a pissing contest, wanted to win, Jasper wanted to belong.

  ‘MP5?’ asked one.

  Now they’d stopped to look at the gun, just as they were about to move on.

  ‘You’re in the SWAT team, right?’ replied Jasper.

  Vincent closed his eyes. It wasn’t enough. Showing off their stolen weapons, risking everything. Jasper also had to go and grab hold of theirs too. He stood there, exchanging admiring glances, and loving it. Brotherhood.

  ‘Yeah. We’re in the SWAT team. Good luck out there, there’s no wind, a good day for target practice.’

  They nodded as people do when they’re preparing to leave. Vincent looked down at his feet, breathed as carefully as he could while they passed.

  ‘You there.’

  The one who’d talked the most and showed off his weapon stopped in front of Vincent.

  ‘Aren’t you a bit young for this?’

  ‘I …’

  Vincent tried to look up from his feet, but couldn’t.

  ‘HGY.’

  Leo had answered.

  ‘Home Guard Youth.’

  The policeman was still looking at Vincent.

  ‘When I was your age, I spent my time chasing women, not doing combat training.’

  Vincent tried an uncomfortable smile, still not breathing. He didn’t stop until they’d taken their MP5s and gone on their way. Jasper had already unrolled the mats on the gravel, and Leo had taken a pile of targets out of the barracks, and even though Felix had opened the ammunition boxes and distributed cartridges, he couldn’t relax until the two police officers had started their car and were driving away.

  ‘They didn’t even check the fucking serial numbers,’ said Leo.

  His smile was the real thing: happy, proud. He had confronted them sure he could win, and he had won. Now he filled the magazine, threaded the strap around his forearm in a standing position, switched the gun to automatic fire, got one of those cardboard figures in his sights and squeezed the trigger. The staring paper face was torn to pieces.

  ‘In order to learn how to use an AK4, you also need to learn how to stand,’ he said.

  Leo reloaded and handed the weapon to Vincent – but didn’t let go.

  ‘If you don’t brace yourself for the recoil with your body weight, if you don’t push on your weapon with both your shoulder and your left hand, it’ll bolt upwards and your third shot will end up half a metre above the target.’

  He handed it to Vincent again and let go completely this time.

  It was difficult to breathe normally, to keep the sweat off his hands. Vincent pressed against the butt of the gun as Leo had shown him, put the weight on his left leg like Leo, held his hand on top of the barrel like Leo. And fired. The butt rebounded into his shoulder. And the barrel bolted upwards as if an invisible rope were pulling on it.

  Twenty shots fired into the sandy ditch. And the cardboard figure stared at him with indifferent eyes.

  Jasper almost ran forward, as he’d done when they met the guys from the SWAT team, and gently kicked Vincent’s left foot.

  ‘Vincent! Concentrate! Legs apart. And then push with your left hand just like Leo said. Press on it, damn it!’

  ‘You shut up.’ Felix had left his place just as fast, placed himself between Vincent and Jasper. ‘When you talk to my brother there will be no shouting or kicking. Do you understand?’

  ‘Move. Both of you,’ said Leo.

  He waited until they were finished staring at each other.

  ‘Your breathing, Vincent.’

  He turned his little brother’s face gently until they were looking at each other.

  ‘Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. And then … fire.’

  The butt firmly against his shoulder. Left hand like a lock on the barrel.

  And Vincent took another shot. And … hit! The cardboard figure’s head, neck, chest.

  A new magazine. More shots. Until enemy after enemy gave up and fell to the ground in pieces. And sometimes, just like yesterday in the garage, Leo lingered further away, observing the little brother he’d lifted up out of his crib, built red and blue Lego cities with, made jam sandwiches for. You’re not old enough to vote. Not old enough to buy alcohol. And smiled with pride. But you can fire an automatic weapon and in thirty-three hours you’re going to rob a bank.

  29

  IT WAS LATE evening when they drove into the yard. Leo took some shopping bags inside to Anneli, while Felix, Vincent and Jasper carried the equipment and weapons into the garage. Vincent put the bag of magazines and the remaining ammunition on the floor and felt his right shoulder jerk involuntarily, a muscle memory from the recoil.

  ‘Gun cleaning,’ said Jasper.

  Vincent knew what this was really about. It had always been like this. It didn’t matter who or where, as long as he belonged.

  ‘Felix, Vincent, come on, damn it!’

  Jasper put his weapon on the workbench. He quickly disassembled it, piece by piece.

  ‘Now you do it. Disassemble and clean your own weapons. And I’ll watch.’

  Felix put down the AK4 he’d been firing at cardboard men, leaned over and whispered to Jasper instead.

  ‘Jasper?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Why do you act like you’ve got a machine gun shoved up your arse?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You run around here like you’re some kind of fucking commando. Me and Vincent don’t really … like that.’

  ‘Thi
s is an exercise dammit!’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Every combat exercise needs a combat leader. But you don’t get that! Because you didn’t do your military service.’

  ‘I’ll only say this once. Stop it.’

  ‘Stop what?’

  ‘Just stop it.’

  ‘If we end up in a tight corner you’ll thank me.’

  ‘Tight corner?’

  ‘If you hesitate in battle, you die. It’s that fucking simple.’

  ‘Listen … if we end up in the middle of a battle, it will be your fault.’

  Jasper got closer, staring him down. Vincent had seen that look before – like the time Jasper had bought a nightstick and walked around waiting for someone to look at him funny. Until he decided Big Steffe had and whacked him twice on the wrist. He’d had that same look when the bone broke, so easy, did you see that, just like a dry twig. He’d regretted it later that evening, worried as hell, not about Steffe but about getting in trouble, that he wouldn’t be able to do his military service. And now he stood there staring at Felix with those same eyes. That was when Leo opened the door and walked in with a large cardboard box in his arms.

  ‘What’s going on here?’

  Neither Felix nor Jasper said anything as they both took a step back.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Vincent.

  ‘I can see something’s going on.’

  Jasper dropped his weapon on the workbench for a second time.

  ‘They’re questioning my expertise, and I’m fucking tired of it!’

  ‘Not your expertise – your attitude!’ said Felix.

  ‘Attitude? I’ve never questioned your expertise on a building site, when you told me I was holding my hammer too high on the handle or put it back in the wrong damn box – I’ve listened to you and respected you! So you need to fucking listen to me when I’m teaching you something I’m good at!’

  Leo stood right between them, pushing them both gently in opposite directions.

  ‘Jasper? Shut up.’

  ‘You said I should teach them everything I know.’

  ‘Keep your mouth shut and clean your gun. And you, Felix? Listen to Jasper when it comes to stuff like this – he knows what he’s talking about. He knows how you should protect yourself. Just like he protected you! When those fucking idiots from the round house beat you up, and he stayed there even though he’d taken a baseball bat to the head, he stayed there and kept beating them until I could get there. Don’t you remember that?’

  They were tired, he knew it. And tense.

  ‘OK?’

  He waited for one of them to continue bitching, as they usually did. But this time there was only silence, the silence he’d first stepped into.

  ‘Good. Let’s do this one last time. With vests. Fully equipped.’

  Leo opened the box and handed everyone a bulletproof vest. Never order equipment from a Swedish company. If the cops were to start investigating security companies, requesting that they disclose information, that was precisely the type of lead they might find. This, American Body Armor, a supplier to the US Army, was a safer bet.

  ‘If everyone looks the same.’

  The second box had been under their worktable for a while now. Four new jumpsuits, blue like before, all identical.

  ‘If no one stands out it’ll be a hell of a lot harder to give good descriptions.’

  One last time.

  Dress rehearsal. Fully equipped. Target takeover.

  From a Dodge to a makeshift bank and back again.

  Exactly 180 seconds.

  Then the cashiers’ desks would return to being wooden planks and plywood, while the bank walls and windows and vault would become a sticky ball of rolled-up tape.

  ‘Take the petrol can and bin bag and follow me out,’ said Leo, nodding to Jasper.

  He led him to the back of the garage, where a wall stood between them and their neighbour’s house and hedge towards the main road. A rusty oil drum was standing just a few metres away, and Leo emptied out a bin bag full of stuff that Jasper doused with petrol.

  ‘Five fifty p.m. Ten minutes till closing time. Everybody’s trying to get their errands done in time.’

  Two matches. Sketches, drawings, maps all started to burn.

  ‘And Jasper – you have to stay in control.’

  ‘I know what the hell I’m doing.’

  The flames ate up their plans and escape routes.

  ‘Like when you put the barrel of the gun into that security guard’s mouth?’

  The key was not to lose control. To never, ever become part of the violence, but to direct it. He’d seen it in his father’s eyes long ago, and now it was in Jasper’s eyes – eyes that were being controlled rather than in control.

  ‘Or when you shot up the security van even though we could see the lights of the cop cars in the distance?’

  The difference between crushing a nose with a punch and burning down a house.

  ‘Look at me, Jasper. I have to be able to depend on you. Can I do that?’

  Nineteen hours and twelve minutes left.

  ‘Yes. You can depend on me.’

  30

  LEO WATCHED AS his little brother unbuttoned his bulletproof vest to the waist and pulled the strap one notch tighter. They were crouching in the back of one of the two vans Felix had stolen late last night. They couldn’t see outside, but Leo nevertheless knew exactly where they were, exactly how far they had to go.

  ‘What if I get stuck?’ asked Vincent.

  ‘Stuck?’ replied Leo.

  ‘What if I get stuck in the window?’

  ‘Which window?’

  ‘The cashier’s window. When I’m on the way through?’

  He was going to rob his first bank in four minutes and twelve seconds.

  ‘You won’t get stuck.’

  ‘But if I do?’

  ‘Vincent, look at me. You won’t get stuck.’

  They’d been looking for a van with a handyman’s insignia on its sides, and they’d found the perfect one. A huge logo saying HEATING SOLUTIONS, a vehicle that could be driven up close to a bank without setting off any immediate alarms – and everyone who saw it would be able to give a clear description later.

  Leo grabbed the rear door handle for balance as the van leaned – the last roundabout. Twenty metres left – a noticeable bump as they left Handelsvägen, crossed the pavement and rolled onto the Svedmyra Square. The last stretch, tyres braking on wet asphalt, a sucking sound gliding along the floor.

  Leo straightened his ear protectors and verified that the microphone was firmly connected to the collar of his jumpsuit, waiting while Vincent, Jasper, and Felix adjusted their own ear protectors. Now they pulled down the cloth over their faces – from this distance, it looked as if someone had cut three pieces out of a magazine and pasted them directly onto the fabric, paper eyes, paper mouths.

  ‘Mickey Mouse!’ Jasper smiled as he held his hands against his ear protectors, which stuck out like big round balls under the black fabric.

  ‘Mickey Mouse, damn it!’

  ‘Jasper, that’s enough,’ snapped Leo.

  ‘Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse, Mickey …’

  ‘Enough.’

  Leo had only just calmed Vincent down; Jasper’s nervousness was harder to watch, a man preparing for adult violence by acting like a child. Their first real bank robbery. They all had their own way of coping.

  ‘Testing.’

  The transmitter was in the right-hand pocket of his jumpsuit, index finger on the small angular button, and he spoke softly.

  ‘One two. One two.’

  His voice in their heads. The voice that would soon be leading them.

  ‘Felix, the police scanner?’

  Felix had parked the van in such a way that he was able to see the entire bank in the side mirror, and in the rear-view mirror he could see the three bank robbers preparing to jump out.

  ‘Set to the right frequency. Encrypted. We’ll know exactly where the
cops are.’

  ‘Good. Vincent?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We’re gonna go straight through them.’

  ‘Straight through.’

  The sound of four automatic weapons being loaded simultaneously ran around the walls and floor.

  ‘In five …’

  The time was five fifty p.m.

  ‘Four …’

  Leo put his hand gently on the rear door handles.

  ‘Three, two …’

  ‘Wait!’

  Felix turned the rear-view mirror.

  ‘There’s an old man with a walking frame on his way out. And there’s an old lady behind him.’

  Leo lowered his weapon. He’d counted down. Vincent had been calm, Jasper focused. It had been the time.

  ‘Felix, damn it …’

  ‘We have time. We’ll just let them walk out.’

  ‘There’s no fucking old man with a walking frame! No fucking old lady! From now on … they simply do not exist. We go straight through them. The only thing that’s in there is our money!’

  ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘Felix, we …’

  ‘An old man with a walking frame. And an old lady.’

  Felix turned the rear-view mirror a little.

  ‘They’re out now.’

  31

  EIGHT STEPS TO the glass door of Handels Bank. Leo first. Vincent one step behind, Jasper two steps behind him.

  It was raining a little, the smell of late autumn leaves through the fabric of the mask, wet and slippery and brown, glued to the cobblestones of the square. And everywhere, eyes. People sitting in a row, drinking beer in the window of the pizzeria, and the florist and his wife in warm clothes inside their flower tent, and the two customers at one of the bank’s ATMs who had just turned round.

  Real leaves and real eyes. Real rain. Real people. Real sky and real wind.

  A real bank door.

  No more practising. There was no turning back.

  Vincent focused only on Leo’s neck. If he just looked into it and stayed there, and kept walking at the same pace, he’d make it to the bank and follow him inside.

  If this is going to work, they have to see a grown man. Do you understand, little brother?

  Six steps left. Five steps. Four steps.