The Father: Made in Sweden Part I by Anton Svensson Read Free Book Online

bit more, while the muzzle pointed at the bonnet of the black car.

    Leo looked at the guards, at Jasper driving, and out of the window as they passed the hill. There was a clear shot from up there all the way down to the bridge. Especially with an AK4 with a telescopic sight he’d ordered specially because anyone could hit anything at three hundred metres using it.
    If someone was following them, one shot should be enough.

    Felix was shaking. The black car was still close. Too close.
    Then you wait. Don’t leave or let go of your gun until we’ve gone past and you’re sure no one is following us.
    The white security van turned left after the flyover at the intersection. Thirty metres behind, the same car was following them.
    In, out.
    He let the sight rest towards the front, on his knuckles, and squeezed the trigger. Squeezed.
    The black car suddenly veered to the right, heading in the opposite direction. Increased its speed and disappeared.
    Felix wasn’t trembling any more, he was shivering, breathing rapidly.
    Two people had been sitting in the front seat, on their way home, a single finger tap away from death because they’d been driving on the wrong road at the wrong time.
    He got up from the wet grass, put the gun in his bag, and rolled the fabric covering his face into a collar again. And ran. Down the hill, through the woods and the community garden. It was dark and he fell over a low, pointed fence, dropped the bag and stood up, ran until he reached the car parked at the bottom of the hill.

    They’d passed the hill. Felix hadn’t fired.
    They weren’t being followed.
    Leo looked at the locked door. Inside were seven more batches of collected cash – eight, nine, maybe ten million kronor.
    They’d had a few seconds to react. They’d needed one more.
    The security guard had managed to enter the code, and the steel wall had slid down to protect the safe. They were supposed to open and empty all the compartments before they got to the rendezvous. That was no longer possible. But they still had time to deviate from the plan.
    ‘Where … please, please … do you take us?’
    They could shoot open the door at the rendezvous – but that was too noisy.
    ‘What … please, I beg you, please … will you do with us?’
    They might be able to force someone at headquarters to open it from a distance – but that would take too long.
    ‘I have … please please please please … I have children!’
    The security guard lying on the floor, bleeding a little, put one hand inside his uniform, and Leo struck his shoulder hard with a gun.
    ‘
You stay put!
’
    The movement was interrupted, but the guard continued, put his hand back inside his jacket, held something up.
    ‘My children! Look! Pictures. Please. Please!’
    Two photographs came out of his wallet.
    ‘My oldest. He is eleven. Look!’
    A boy on a gravel football pitch. Thin, pale. A ball under his arm. His hair sweaty, he smiled shyly, his blue and white football socks rolled down.
    ‘And this … please please look … this is … he is seven. Seven!’
    A table in a dining room or living room and what looked like a birthday party; a crowd, every seat taken, everyone dressed up, sitting around a white tablecloth and a big cake. The boy leaning over, about to blow out half the candles, missing two front teeth.
    ‘My boys, please, two sons, look, look, brothers …’
    ‘
Turn around
.’
    He snatched the two faded photographs and dropped them on the floor.
    ‘Two boys, my boys … please!’
    ‘
Turn around! On stomach! And stay!
’

    Vincent guided a rubber boat across calm water. Drevviken. One more wide turn, his hand on the steering rod of the two-cycle engine, and to his left he saw the light beyond the forest’s edge – Farsta – and the darkness straight ahead of Sköndal Beach. He turned off the engine, gliding towards the jetty and the beach. He got out, and pulled the boat into the reeds. He’d thought for the last two kilometres he