The Father: Made in Sweden Part I (11 page)

And then it was over.

Images from the Swedish parliament turned into pictures from the UN headquarters in New York.

She had no idea how long it had lasted. Thirty, maybe forty-five seconds. But it had been
that
van, it had been about them, about her.

She went back out onto the balcony for a cigarette and leaned over the railing to get a better view of the viaduct and the underpass, her feet almost leaving the cold floor.

The sirens were gone. Now there was only wind, and music coming from an open window one floor down.

She felt so light and leaned even further out. What if she fell? It would be so painful.

She was the one who’d told Leo where to find the wigmaker, who’d said she could transform them into two immigrants. She’d brushed them and painted them, and the first few times they shook with laughter. And she was the one who’d designed and sewn the polo-neck collar that could be pulled up to cover their faces, and Leo had said they were so good they should sell them to other robbers.

And there they were.

She stood on the balcony, looking down on them as they exited the viaduct, lit by the short streetlights. They carried a bag each over their shoulders from which their hockey sticks projected, hiding their machine guns and more than one million kronor.

And there they were.

She was flooded with the kind of warmth she only felt when they made love, or like when she’d seen Sebastian for the first time, sticky and newborn on her stomach.

She wanted to run to the door, but didn’t – Leo mustn’t see how worried she’d been. He wouldn’t like it.

Jasper entered first. And it was as if he was about to explode, as if he desperately needed to tell her something, over and over again in different words. He marched into the living room, put the bag on the floor, turned on the TV,
hurry up, Leo, for fuck’s sake, come and see
, and then he laughed, or sang, still traces
We!
of adrenalin left
Made!
from pushing a gun into another
The!
human being’s mouth, he tore off his
Front!
jacket and shirt and T-shirt and it smelled strongly of sweat
Page!
and unlaced his boots and pulled off his pants and his erection showed through his underwear.

Then Felix and Vincent came in. Arms above their heads in triumph, wide smiles and muffled shouts of joy as they took turns embracing her, like Jasper smelling strongly of sweat, then threw themselves down in an armchair as relieved as they were proud. Finally, she heard his step. Leo.

She kissed him and whispered, ‘They don’t have any leads on us, I just heard it now, on the news.’

‘They had time to lock the security door.’

He passed her on the way to the kitchen with a plastic bag full of mobile phones, opening them one by one.

‘The door?’

He plucked out the SIM cards and cut them apart with pliers.

‘To the money.’

Filled a small pot up halfway with acetone and then put the bits of SIM card in to dissolve.

‘But they just said on the TV … they said you got a million.’

‘And missed nine.’

‘Missed?’

‘Nine million fucking kronor behind a locked steel door. And it was my fault. I was the one who … it won’t happen again.’

He put the mobile phones, minus SIM cards, into a fabric bag.

‘But all the rest?’

‘What “all the rest”?’

Tied a string tightly around the bag until it was completely closed.

‘The collars I sewed?’

‘They were perfect.’

‘And the makeup, how …?’

‘It worked.’

He took a hammer from the drawer under the kitchen sink and put the cloth bag on a chopping board and struck it, repeatedly, until the four phones became impossible to piece together again.

‘You did a good job. Sweetie – it’s like you were with us the whole time. Right?’

His hand against her cheek. And she saw it on him. That he’d thought it would feel different. He should feel pride, joy. But he was empty, he had already left her and she knew it. Even though he’d just got home, he was already on his way to the next job.

He had the same look on his face as he pretended to be happy, beside her on the sofa with Jasper on his other side, Felix and Vincent in the armchairs; the same look as when Felix overturned an imaginary wheelchair and jumped over a wall, and everyone laughed, when Vincent picked up a large empty fish bowl and filled it to the brim with money, or when Jasper hugged him and wanted his attention,
Leo, did you see, when you
were on the bonnet, how he looked at you first and then at me, did you see his eyes
, then he raised his voice and pretended to be an Arab again,
we know your names
, pretended to pull off their IDs,
sharmuta I will come for you
.

It was at that point she realised what this reminded her of: it was as if they were talking about a movie. As if they’d gone the other way, into the city, seen some new movie together, and now sat drinking a beer at a bar, comparing their favourite scenes, trying to outdo each other in recreating them. She hadn’t seen that movie. That’s why she sat in silence and squeezed Leo’s hand until he noticed that she felt left out, and stood up and walked over to the goldfish bowl and waited for everyone to fall silent. And when they were quiet, he started taking out handfuls of notes, 20s and 100s and 500s, counting them out, and then handed them ten thousand kronor each.

‘Are you kidding me?’

Felix wasn’t sitting in a pub and recounting scenes from a movie any more. He got up from his chair in a shabby flat in a shabby concrete suburb and started taking more bills out of the goldfish bowl.

‘Hey! Felix, what the hell are you doing?’ snapped Leo. ‘Ten thousand each.’

‘And I’m saying – are you kidding me?’

‘Ten thousand.’

‘Shit, there’s more than a million in there. And I’m going out tonight. I wanna go through five thousand, ’cause I’m worth it. And tomorrow I have to pay the rent. And—’

‘We’ll talk about that then. Tomorrow.’

‘Damn it, ten thousand kronor, that’s what an eighteen-year-old makes at McDonald’s!’

‘
Tomorrow
.’

Felix held the stack of money in his hand, looked around, trying to delay making a decision, and then dramatically started to put the notes back into the goldfish bowl one at a time.

‘Are you done?’ asked Leo.

One at a time.

‘Are you?’

Until they were lying there again, every one.

Leo got a piece of paper from the kitchen and wrote on it while the others sat and watched.

‘Yes, there’s a million there. But we were counting on ten. It’s clear as
fuck you should party and celebrate. But we have to live until next time, too. That’s my responsibility. And we have to be able to
accomplish
the next one. That’s also my responsibility.’

The paper was in the middle of the coffee table, next to the goldfish bowl, and he pointed with a pen to columns of figures.

‘Out there in the car park are two cars that belong to the construction company. We need to look like we’re going to work every day. Cars, clothing, tools. There are ongoing expenses that have to be met so that we can do this instead: clothes that will all be burned, leasing a container for weapons, a boat that will have to be sunk. And that was just this time. Next time will cost even more. You know how a business works? In order to make money, we need to invest money until we have so much damn money that we don’t need any more.’

Felix and Leo looked at one another. And they were kids again – one who challenged the other and one who accepted that challenge and would beat it every time, as you must to be in charge.

But they’d never done it standing around a bowl full of banknotes.

‘Are we agreed?’

No answer.

‘Are we?’

Felix pursed his lips.

‘Mmm.’

Leo pulled him closer to himself, hugged him.

‘You wily bastard.’

Anneli sat so close to them and yet so far away. She’d never really understood it when siblings belonged together like this. She had an older sister and a younger brother and it had never felt like this – now they rarely even talked. These were siblings who trusted each other. Needed each other. And she didn’t like it; when people got that close, it was difficult for other people to get inside, to belong.

LEO SAT ON
the edge of the bed, sweat on his face and running down his back. 03.05. Persistent rain was drumming against the windowsill.
He’d been freezing when he went to bed, and now he was suffocating from the heat.

Anneli was sound asleep on the other side of the bed, snoring, whimpering a little. She’d been so tense when he came home. Then, as he reached for her, her body had collapsed, as if she wanted to avoid explaining to him what she truly felt.

She didn’t need to explain.

He knew the time he’d been spending on the firm’s new project was creating a rift between them. But he was going to make up for it. When you love someone, you give back what you’ve taken.

Leo kissed her lightly on the tip of the nose. Held his face close to hers. Her calm breath was warm, and now, with her anxiety gone and finally asleep, he could see what he’d been unable to understand last night or the night before.

Even though I love you, Leo, I can leave you.

And it didn’t get any better when he tried reversing the words.

Even though I love you, Anneli, I can be left by you.

It sounded so simple. And it terrified him.

Another kiss on the cheek, but not so fleeting, as if he wanted to wake her, whisper to her.

When you rob a bank together, you can never leave each other.

He sat up quickly on the side of the bed.
What the hell am I doing?
Adversity should never cause doubt, should never be directed at the family.

Nine million kronor locked behind a steel door – that was why he wasn’t able to sleep. It had nothing to do with Anneli, they belonged together and would never betray each other. He, if anyone, knew the consequences of driving away someone you love.

He went over to the window and stood there for a moment looking out over the suburb he’d grown up in.

Same tower blocks. Same asphalt.

But he’d chosen a different life now. Bank robber. And he was going to do it better than anyone else. Because he
had
to do it better than anyone else. He couldn’t fail, getting caught was not an option – his brothers were part of this, and they were all going to become financially independent together.

It was my fault.

That’s why he couldn’t sleep – he should have done better tonight.

It won’t happen again.

He took a folder out of the desk between the sofa and the corner cupboard, laid it down on the table and opened it.

A sketch of a bank.

Four escape routes that led to four roundabouts, each with four new exits, and a search area that included a total of sixty-four possible escape routes.

The doorbell rang.

He threw a blanket over the goldfish bowl and a lid over the toolbox and the four guns it contained.

The doorbell rang again.

He stood up and looked out over the car park and the road from the centre of Skogås. Empty. The driveway to the gate, empty. He walked carefully across the floor, shut the door to the bedroom and her heavy breathing, proceeded to the front door and bent down to look through the peephole.

Felix. Leo didn’t realise how tense he’d been – how prepared.

‘Weren’t you going to go into town? And “go through five thousand ’cause I’m worth it”?’

‘We never made it to fucking Crazy Horse. Jasper went to some underground club and then Vincent went off with a girl. Can I crash here?’

Leo opened the door and nodded towards the bedroom door with a finger to his lips. He took the blanket off the goldfish bowl and threw it onto a fully clothed Felix, who sank into the sofa.

‘What the hell is that?’ Felix asked, grabbing the drawing from the table.

‘The next one.’

‘Where?’

‘Handels Bank. Svedmyra. Let’s sleep now.’

‘Sleep? Cheers, brother! Here’s to financial independence!’

‘It’s not about the money.’

‘And that fucking goldfish bowl, then? It’s filled to the brim!’

‘It’s about making sure no bastard can
ever
tell us what to do again. After this you and I and Vincent won’t have to depend on anyone ever again.’

Felix looked at his big brother who, trying to avoid more questions, went over to the window, lifted the blinds a little and peered outside.

‘Leo?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I don’t get how you can fucking live here.’

Leo could hear in his voice that he was drunk. But he meant it.

‘Sometimes you know every bush, every staircase.’

‘That’s what I’m saying!’

‘We grew up here.’

‘We grew up here – and you moved back voluntarily!’

A car reversed and turned round in the car park. A cyclist rode through the underpass. Otherwise, it was peaceful in a way that only existed between the hours of the final news bulletin and the arrival of the morning paper.

‘We’ll be moving soon.’

‘What I don’t understand is why you moved back in the first place.’

‘Sometimes you have to.’

‘But here!’

‘And then we can move. Again. For real. Anneli wants a house. And I … I’ve already chosen one.’

‘A house?’

‘Yeah.’

‘A lawn? Cutting the grass? You?’

‘There is no lawn. And no basement. That’s the whole point.’

It had been a virgin robbery by four beginners: a code to a steel door that he hadn’t anticipated; ten million that ended up being only a million.

But next time, everything would be perfect.

Leo lingered in front of the living room window, which was covered with stray raindrops – outside was Skogås, a suburb south of Stockholm whose tower blocks were almost identical to all the others built in Sweden in the sixties and seventies.

The asphalt that had been his whole world.