The Boy From Sweden, Page 2
Craig Smith
the gang. Getting his brother out of jail just sounded too good to be true. “How?”
Jacobs had a quick look around. “If you help me jack one car I will use the profits to jump Tomboy out of jail.”
Siswe fought the urge to roll his eyes. Jacobs had obviously been watching too many American gangster movies.
“You can’t buy someone out of jail.”
“Oh yes you can,” said Jacobs, raising his left eyebrow, and making the scar above it more prominent. “I have some new contacts. They can do pretty much anything for the right amount of dough.” He had never seen Jacobs so calm before. Normally the man was a fiery pot of hot temper. This made Siswe even more wary. Was there some other motive behind him helping his brother?
“I don’t know,” said Siswe. His mother often said that the right place for Thomas was prison, but he knew that she would love nothing more than to see Thomas out of prison.
“It’s easy, don’t worry about it.”
“My mom would kill me,” said Siswe, grabbing at straws trying to get out of it. It would be easier for his brother to make something of himself if he waited his time out and came out properly, but he knew his brother well. Thomas would probably be doing the things he was doing before within a week of getting out. He knew it was a foolish and naive way of thinking, but maybe his brother had changed.
“Eish, be a man, show your brother he can count on you,” said Jacobs getting up and making as if to leave.
Siswe didn’t reply.
“I will be back for you in an hour.”
Siswe was left alone with his very conflicting thoughts. His first urge was to run, and hide for the rest of the morning, but he knew if he did that Jacobs would probably harass his mother.
Sunday 9:45am
Fifteen minutes before his mother’s tea break, Siswe left the house and waited on the corner. He didn’t want his mother to see that Jacobs was there. If all went smoothly his mother wouldn’t have to know and soon they would be a family again. Siswe knew it was a pipe dream, but he really missed his brother. He had put on very dark clothes and wore sunglasses. He also brought a balaclava with him just in case. He didn’t want his face all over the papers if someone caught a good look of him. Deep down he hoped that Jacobs wouldn’t pitch up and he could get on with his life, but that thought was too good to be true. An old Nissan pickup with huge rust marks and a big dent in the passenger door came tearing around the corner. It was Jacobs and he was playing very loud music. It was the latest Kwaito song. It wasn’t Siswe’s favourite; but he liked the beat.
Siswe thought of his brother locked behind bars and fought the urge to make a run for it. Jacobs screeched to a halt next to him.
“Let’s go, man!” said Jacobs reaching across and opening the passenger door. Jacobs was wearing a bright red leather jacket. Siswe thought that the man dressed a little too brightly for a person who was wanted by the police for many crimes, and who was just about to commit another one.
Siswe hesitated and looked back to his house and he almost hoped that his mother would be there so she could call him in, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Jacobs swore.
Siswe gritted his teeth and jumped in. Before he could even close the door properly Jacobs sped off.
“Ready?” asked Jacobs.
Siswe just nodded.
Jacobs swore again.
Sometime later they stopped a few hundred meters away from an intersection. Jacobs pulled up on to the pavement behind some bushes. He silently got out and they made their way to the intersection. Once they were close enough they stood near a street lamp and waited. There were two men there selling fake sunglasses and another selling pirated DVDs. They came up to Jacobs and Siswe to offer them their wares. Jacob didn’t say a word. He just opened his jacket and revealed his gun. Both the street hawkers stared at the gun for a second and hurriedly made their way across the road and away from the intersection.
A part of Siswe wanted to be running away with them. His stomach felt like it was tied into a thousand knots and he wanted nothing more than to be away from Jacobs. But he was in it this far and if his brother knew he had chickened out on Jacobs and getting him out of jail he would be in a whole lot more trouble.
They waited in the blazing sun for what Jacobs said was the right candidate. There were a few, but most of the cars got through because the lights didn’t stay red for long enough. Then suddenly when he thought they would be able to forget the whole thing and go home a brand new BMW came up to the traffic light and parked there. There seemed to be a middle aged man in the driver’s seat and no other passengers.
Jacobs tapped Siswe on the shoulder and ran towards the car. Siswe hesitated for a second and then ran to the car too. He went for the passenger door while Jacobs went for the driver’s side. The man inside was taken by surprise and was waving his arms around wildly. Siswe hoped that Jacobs didn’t get carried away and shoot the man.
Sunday 10:15am
The Johnson’s car was an oldish Volvo estate. Not too different from the one Gunter’s parents had at home. Gunter sat by the window and couldn’t help but stare at the things outside. The roads were very busy for a late Sunday morning and the drivers didn’t seem to be that friendly. James was cut off twice by other cars.
Gunter asked Fred a few questions, but the boy seemed to be pretty shy and didn’t say much more than single word answers. Amy was still on her phone and was now listening to music through some earphones and Mary and James were discussing a business matter. Gunter thought he would be fending off questions left, right and centre, but he didn’t mind the quiet. It gave him time to look around and get used to the fact that he was in another country. Maybe they had been told to leave him alone, because they knew he would be tired. Even though he had only been with the Johnsons for a very short while he felt safe with them.
They came up to an intersection. James slowed down, hoping to anticipate the light changing back to green, but it didn’t work. They stopped a fair distance behind a silver BMW. The intersection was fairly quiet. Gunter caught a movement out the corner of his eye. It looked like a man in a red jacket running towards the BMW.
“Why is that man running?” asked Gunter.
Another man appeared.
“Quickly! Everyone down!” shouted Mary, turning to the back and putting Fred’s head down. Amy followed suit and also ducked for cover. Gunter did what he was told, but he could still see the man. He had a gun and he was pointing it at the driver of the BMW, and another man was trying to get the passenger door open. The man in the car was moving around frantically. Gunter’s heart pounded like a drum. All the tiredness he had felt was gone. The only time he had ever seen a real gun was when he went to museum with his school and even then the gun had been decommisioned.
The light turned green and James floored the gas pedal. They swerved to the right of the car. The man who had been pointing the gun was clipped by the Volvo’s big side mirror. He twirled around.
Gunter watched in horrified fascination, the moment went by in slow-motion, Gunter caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the man’s neck. It looked like three swords facing down. Then everything seemed to speed up again and they zoomed across to the other side of the intersection. Mary started to hit him. James had to slow down.
“What are you trying to do?! Get us killed? I thought I told you no heroics!” she said in a breathless shout.
“He didn’t see us...” protested James.
“He’s getting up,” said Fred.
They all turned around and looked. The man was on his knees and he was raising his gun to point at them.
“Go go go go go!” shouted Mary.
James floored the car again. It wheel spun and jerked away.
They heard a very loud crack and Gunter suddenly felt a sharp pain in his side. Gunter eyes went big as he looked down and watched red spread across his shirt. A very rich red. Gunter heard some screaming and he passed out.
Siswe stood there frozen with his hand trying in vain to open the car door. The driver of the car had also stopped moving. Siswe wanted to run before the cops got there. Getting up from being clipped by the car, Jacobs saw his face and pointed the gun at Siswe as if daring him to try and leave.
“Don’t move!”
Jacobs pointed his gun at the frightened driver and indicated for him to leave. The man put his hands in the air, opened the door and slowly got out. The driver stood next to his car as if waiting for instructions.
Jacobs swore at him and the man ran off. Just before he reached the bushes on the side of the road Jacobs shot in the air; the man thinking he was the target dived on to the pavement.
“This is going all wrong!” said Siswe still stuck at the passenger’s door.
“Shut up and get me into the car!” said Jacobs. There were more cars at the intersection, but most of them seemed to know what was going on and drove around them while a few had stopped a distance away. Some seemed to be on their phones.
Siswe ran around the car and grabbed Jacob’s hand. His ankle seemed to be twisted quite horribly and he was in a lot of pain.
“Your foot!”
“Damn it, just get me into the car!” Siswe made as if to put Jacobs in the driver’s seat. “I can’t drive, you idiot.”
“Me neither,” said Siswe, mostly to himself because he knew that Jacobs wouldn’t care if he could or couldn’t.
Siswe bundled
