Mixed Blood: A Cape Town Thriller

By Roger Smith

An American fugitive hides out in Cape Town—one of the world's most beautiful and violent cities—in this riveting debut thriller that asks: Can you ever outrun your past?

Reluctant bank robber Jack Burn is on the run after a heist in the United States that left $3 million missing and one cop dead. Hiding out in Cape Town, South Africa, he is desperate to build a new life for his pregnant wife and young son. But on a tranquil evening in their new suburban neighborhood they are the victims of a random gangland assault that changes everything.

Benny Mongrel, an ex-con night watchman guarding a building site next to Burn's home, is another man desperate to escape his past. After years in the ghetto gangs of Cape Town he knows who went into Burn's house. And what the American did to them. He also knows his only chance to save his own brown skin is to forget what he saw.

Burn's actions on that night trap them both in a cat-and-mouse game with Rudi "Gatsby" Barnard—a corrupt Afrikaner cop who loves killing almost as much as he loves Jesus Christ—and Disaster Zondi, a fastidious Zulu detective who wishes to settle an old score. Once Gatsby smells those missing American millions, the four men are drawn into a web of murder and vengeance that builds to an unforgettable conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Mar 3, 2009
• ISBN: 9781429919401

Roger Smith

Roger Smith, an accomplished screenwriter, director, and producer, was born in Johannesburg, South Africa, and now lives in Cape Town. He is the author of the thrillers Mixed Blood and Wake Up Dead and is writing a third novel.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Jack Burn stood on the deck of the house high above Cape Town watching the sun drown itself in the ocean. The wind was coming up again, the southeaster that reminded Burn of the Santa Anas back home. A wind that made a furnace of the night, set nerves jangling, and got the cops and emergency teams caught up in people’s bad choices.

Burn heard the growl of the car without mufflers as it came to a sliding stop. The percussive whump of bass bins bulging out gangsta rap. Not the usual soundtrack of this elite white neighborhood on the slopes of Signal Hill. The car reversed at high speed and stopped again, close by. The engine died, and the rap was silenced in mid-muthahfuckah. Burn looked down at the street, but he couldn’t see the car from this angle.

Susan watched him from inside the house, the glass doors open onto the deck.

Come and eat. She turned and disappeared into the gloom.

Burn went inside and switched on the lights. The house was clean, hard-edged, and modern. Very much like the German rich kid who had rented it to them for six months while he went home to Stuttgart to watch his father die.

Susan carried the fillet from the kitchen, moving with that backward-leaning, splay-footed waddle of the heavily pregnant. She was beautiful. Small, blonde, with a face that stubbornly refused to admit to being twenty-eight. Aside from the huge belly, she looked exactly as she had seven years ago. He remembered the instant he first saw her, the feeling of the breath being squeezed from his lungs, his head dizzy with the knowledge that he was going to marry her. And he did, not six months later, laughing off the difference in their ages.

Susan looked the same, but she wasn’t. Her lightness was gone, her easy laugh a memory. Lately she’d seemed to be in constant communion with her unborn child. That’s how she referred to it, as her child. Her daughter. As if Burn and Matt were another species, outside of this exclusive club of two.

Burn sliced into the fillet with a carving knife, and blood pooled on the cutting board. Perfect. Rare, the way they all liked it. Matt lay on his belly in front of the plasma TV watching the Cartoon Network. Just like home.

Hey, get over here and eat, Burn said.

Matt was about to protest; then he thought better of it and came across to the table, dressed only in a pair of baggy shorts. He was four, blond like his mother but with some early trace of his father’s frame.

Susan was seated, piling salad onto their plates. She didn’t look at Matt. Go and wash your hands.

They’re not dirty, he said as he clambered up onto a chair. He held his hands out for her to inspect. She ignored him. It wasn’t intentional; it was just as if she wasn’t tuned to his frequency anymore. As if her son reminded her too much of his father.

Burn tried to get Susan’s eye, to somehow draw her back to them. But she stared down at her plate.

Listen to your mother, he said gently, and Matt took off for the bathroom, sliding on his bare feet.

Burn was carving the fillet when the two brown men came in off the deck. They both carried guns, pointed action-movie style at right angles. From the way they were laughing, he knew they were cooked on speed.

The night the trouble came, Benny Mongrel was watching them, the American family, out on the deck of the house next door. The guy drinking wine, glimpses of the blonde woman, the kid running between the deck and the house, the sliding door open onto the hot summer night. A snapshot of a world Benny Mongrel had never known.

He had been in and out of jail since he was fourteen. He wasn’t sure, but he guessed he was turning forty. That’s what his ID said, anyway. When he was paroled from Pollsmoor Prison last year after serving a sixteen-year stretch, he swore he wasn’t going back. No matter what.

So that’s why he was pulling the night shift on the building site as a watchman. The pay was a joke, but with his face and the crude prison tattoos carved into his gaunt brown body he was lucky to get a job. They gave him a rubber baton and a black uniform that was too big. And they gave him a dog. Bessie. A mongrel like him, part rottweiler, part German shepherd. She was old, she stank, her hips were finished, and she slept most of the time, but she was the only thing that Benny Mongrel had ever loved.

Benny Mongrel and Bessie were up on the top floor of the new house, the roof open to the stars, when he heard the car. It was tuned loud the way they did out on the Cape Flats. He walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down. A red early-nineties BMW-3 series sped down the road toward him, way too fast. The driver hit the brakes just below where Benny Mongrel stood, and the fat tires found builder’s sand and the car fishtailed before stopping. The BMW reversed until it was level with the entrance to the building site. The wheelman cut the engine and the hip-hop died.

Everything went very quiet. Benny Mongrel could hear Bessie wheezing as she slept. He could hear the pinging of the BMW’s cooling engine. He was tense. He was aware of that old feeling he knew so well.

Benny Mongrel stood watching, invisible, as the two men got out of the car. He saw enough of them in the streetlight, caps on backward, baggy clothes, the Stars and Stripes on the back of the tall man’s jacket, to recognize members of the Americans gang, the biggest on the Cape Flats.

His natural enemy.

He was ready for them. He put the baton aside and slid the knife from where it waited in his pocket. He eased the blade open. If they came up here, they would see their mothers.

But they were going toward the house next door. Benny Mongrel watched as the tall one boosted his buddy up, the shorty pulling himself onto the deck like a monkey. Then he was reaching a hand down to the other guy. Benny Mongrel couldn’t see them from where he stood, but he knew the American family would be eating at the table, the sliding door open to the night.

He closed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket.

Welcome to Cape Town.

Susan had her back to the men. She saw the look on Burn’s face and turned. She didn’t have time to scream. The one closest to her, the short one, got a hand over her mouth and a gun to her head.

S’trues fuck, bitch, you shut up, or I’ll fucken shoot you. The hard, guttural accent. The man’s skinny arms were covered in gang tattoos.

The tall man was round the table, waving his gun at Burn.

Burn put the carving knife down and lifted his hands off the table, in plain view. He tried to keep his voice calm. Okay, we don’t want any trouble. We’ll give you whatever you want.

You got that right. Where you from? asked the man coming at Burn. He was as lanky as a basketball player.

We’re American, said Burn.

The short one was laughing. So are we.

Ja, we all Americans here. Like a big flipping happy family, hey? The tall man nudged Burn with the muzzle of the gun, positioning himself behind the chair to Burn’s right.

The short one pulled Susan to her feet. Oh, we got a mommy here.

Burn watched as the man slid his hand under Susan’s dress, grabbing at her crotch and squeezing. He saw her eyes close.

It was coincidence, pure and simple.

Somebody had told Faried Adams that his girlfriend, Bonita, was selling her ass in Sea Point, when she was supposed to be visiting her mommy in the hospital. Faried hadn’t minded that she was hooking again, but he’d absolutely minded that she wasn’t giving him any of the money. He wanted to catch the bitch on the job.

So lanky Faried went and banged on the door of his short-ass buddy Ricardo Fortune. Rikki lived in one of those ghetto blocks in Paradise Park where washing sagged from lines strung across walkways and the stairways stank of piss. Rikki had a car. But he also had a wife, Carmen, who moaned like a pig about everything. Which is why Rikki smacked her all the time. Faried would do the same; in fact that bitch Bonita was gonna get a black eye tonight, too. If she was lucky.

Faried and Rikki took the BMW to Sea Point after Faried put a couple of bucks in Rikki’s hand. They cruised up and down the hookers’ strip, slumped low in the car, bouncing to Tupac as they drove. There were a few brown girls working the street, all thick makeup and dresses that just about covered their plumbing, but no Bonita.

I fucken had enough of this, man, said Rikki. Let’s go.

Okay, tell you what. Drive over to Bo-Kaap. My cousin Achmat is there. We can come back later, and maybe I catch Bonnie swallowing some whitey’s dick.

Rikki was shaking his head. I don’t want to go to Bo-Kaap, man. I rather go home.

We can smoke a globe. And then we come back later.

Achmat going to have a globe?

No, I got it by me.

Why the fuck you only tell me now? Rikki was throwing the car into a U-turn, ignoring the minibus taxi that had to slam on its brakes.

Rikki shot up Glengariff Road, wanting to hang a left into High Level, the quickest way to Bo-Kaap. But his cell phone, a tiny Nokia he had recently stolen from a tourist at the Waterfront, blared out the opening bars of Tupac’s Me Against the World. Rikki fished it out of his cargo pants, saw who was calling, and sent it to voice mail. Fucken Gatsby. The fat cop wanted money. Money that Rikki didn’t have no more.

Distracted, he overshot the turn and ended up on the slopes of Signal Hill.

You missed High Level, said Faried.

I know. I’ll cut through.

Rikki was speeding the car down a narrow road, fancy houses hugging the slope. Then he hit the brakes and the car skidded to a stop.

What the fuck? asked beanpole Faried, his head banging the roof.

Rikki was reversing back up the road. You got your gat?

Your mommy wearing a panty? Faried patted the Colt shoved in his waistband. Why?

Rikki stopped the car and cut the music. Let’s go into that house. He pointed to a house with a deck built over the garage.

Faried was staring at him. You fucken crazy, brother?

Quick, in and out. Those places is full of stuff. Maybe we have some fun, too. Rikki smiled, showing his rotten teeth. Let’s smoke that globe, and we do it.

Faried thought for a moment; then he shrugged. Why the fuck not?

He took the stash of crystal meth and the unthreaded lightbulb from his jacket pocket. With practiced ease he fed the meth into the bulb and held it out. Rikki applied his lighter to the base, and within seconds Faried was sucking up a big chesty of meth. It made a tik-tik sound in the globe, the sound that gave meth its Cape Flats name. He held the tik smoke in his lungs and passed the globe to Rikki, who sucked at it. Rikki blew out a plume of smoke.

Nothing like Hitler’s drug to put you in a party mood.

The short man, the one with his hand under Susan’s dress, gyrated obscenely, moving his hips against her. His mouth gaped, and Burn could see the blackened front teeth. Susan opened her eyes and looked straight at Burn.

The guy behind Burn laughed. We gonna have us some nice fun tonight.

And that was when Matt came running back into the room. The eyes of the two men were drawn to the boy, who skidded to a stop, staring at them.

This gave Burn the moment he needed. As he twisted in his chair, he grabbed the carving knife from the table and buried it to its haft in the tall man’s chest. Blood geysered from his ruptured heart. Burn stood, grabbed him before he fell, and used his body as a shield. He felt the lanky man take the bullet fired by the short one. Then Burn shoved him away, launched himself, and grabbed the short guy by his gun arm. His weight took both of them to the floor. Burn twisted the man’s arm and heard it break. The gun clattered to the tiles.

Susan backed away. Burn kneed the short guy in the balls, and he curled like a worm into a fetal position. Burn looked over his shoulder. The tall one was dead, his spreading blood almost reaching Matt’s bare toes. His son was frozen, staring.

Burn reached back onto the table for a steak knife.

Take Matt out of here, he told Susan.

Jack . . .

Take him out of here!

Susan rushed across the tiles, grabbed the boy, and disappeared down the corridor toward the bedrooms.

Gripping the steak knife, Burn kneeled over the short man, who was staring up at him, wide-eyed. Mister, we wasn’t gonna do nothing . . .

Burn hesitated for only a moment; then he reached down and cut the short man’s throat.

CHAPTER 2

Carmen Fortune fed her four-year-old son, Sheldon. He lay in a small crib, his withered limbs jerking and his sightless eyes moving in their sockets. The food dribbled from his mouth.

He had been born three months premature, blind and deformed, with massive brain damage. Nobody knew how or why he’d survived. Except Carmen. She knew God had cursed her. Made sure that every time she looked at her son she remembered all the tik she had smoked while she carried him inside her. He was a constant reminder of the hell that waited for her one day.

If it wasn’t for the grant the state paid every month for Sheldon, she would put a pillow over his face and no one could blame her. But her useless bastard husband, Rikki, smoked away whatever money he scammed or stole.

What the fuck, she was already in hell. Could it, honest to God, get worse?

Carmen was twenty but looked thirty. Her faced was bruised and swollen from the latest beating. Rikki hit her because she wasn’t giving him a normal child, one that he could show off to his buddies to prove that he didn’t father only mutants. That’s what he called Sheldon: a fucken mutant.

The doctors told her that her womb was finished; she couldn’t have no more kids. She didn’t tell Rikki. He would have killed her. Better just to take the beatings.

When she heard the banging on the door, she knew there was only one fat white bastard who would hammer like that.

Uncle Fatty! She yelled across to where an ancient rail-thin man, wearing only a pair of dirty briefs, slumped in front of the TV. He drank from a bag of wine, his toothless mouth sucking at it like it was a tit. Uncle Fatty, open the fucken door! He mumbled something but stayed where he was.

The banging continued. Carmen drew her nightgown around her body, crossed to the door, and pulled it open. Gatsby filled the doorway, fat and stinking.

He’s not here, said Carmen.

The white plainclothes cop pushed her aside and walked in. Without a word he crossed the small living room, stuck a head into the kitchen, and then went into the only bedroom. She heard the closet doors banging and the sound of breaking glass. Then he came back out, wheezing like a cheap concertina.

Carmen stood with her hands on her hips. I tole you.

Where is he? Gatsby came right up to her, and she could feel his foul breath on her face. He had food in his mustache.

How the fuck must I know? He went out with Faried. In the car.

Where to?

I dunno.

Gatsby had her against the wall. Jesus, he stank. Talk to me.

They said something about Faried’s girl whoring in Sea Point.

That’s all?

Yes, that’s all. And what is this? The Weakest fucken Link?

Gatsby stared down at her. No wonder he smacks you. You’ve got a mouth like a shit-house.

And you stink like one.

Gatsby’s fist came up. She didn’t flinch. Hit me, you bastard. I’m used to it.

He wheezed and dropped his hand. Tell that fucker Rikki I want my money. Tonight still.

She shook her head. Good luck.

Gatsby slammed out, and she locked the door. Uncle Fatty had passed out in a spreading pool of piss. Carmen went into the bedroom and saw that the fat boer had broken her mirror.

Men, she said to herself as she sat down on the bed. I wish they would all fucken die.

Burn washed the blood from his hands at the kitchen sink. As he wiped his hands he stood and listened intently. Nothing. No shouts, no sirens, no concerned neighbor ringing the buzzer. He walked past the bodies toward the bedrooms, closing the passage door behind him. Burn found Susan and Matt in the main bedroom, huddled on the bed. Susan cradled their son.

Matt looked at him over Susan’s shoulder. Daddy . . .

Daddy’s here, Matty. Burn sat down on the bed. Everything’s fine. He reached out a hand and touched Matt’s hair. He knew he couldn’t avoid looking at his wife’s eyes any longer. You okay?

Susan stared at him. What do you think?

Burn reached a hand toward her face. She pulled back. Don’t.

He dropped the hand. She looked at him with haunted eyes. So what happens now?

I clean up. Get rid of the . . . them.

Just like that? And what, we just forget this happened? Go to the beach in the morning? Her eyes were locked to his.

I did what I had to do, he said.

That’s your mantra, isn’t it, Jack? And you’re sticking to it. She was still staring at him, hating him.

He stood. I’m sorry.

Sorry for what? That we’re not at home? That you brought us to a place where animals like that . . . She stopped, shaking her head, her eyes pinning him. Or are you sorry that you’ve become one of them?

He dragged his eyes away, unable to offer her any words. He had cleaning up to do. As he reached the door she spoke.

Jack. There was something urgent in her voice. A different kind of fear.

He turned to her. She was watching a pool of blood spreading from between her legs onto the white duvet. Jesus, Jack, I’m losing her . . .

Benny Mongrel, squatting on his haunches, took Rizla papers and a bag of Dinglers cherry tobacco from his uniform pocket and rolled a cigarette, his fingers deft and practiced. His eyes hadn’t moved from the American’s house since the two men had crossed the deck and disappeared inside. He’d seen nothing more. All he’d heard was the single gunshot.

Bessie had reared up at the sound of the shot and started to whine softly. Benny Mongrel had put a hand on her head to calm her. Shhhhhh, Bessie. Still.

The old dog had keened once more, then collapsed onto the concrete with a sigh and lay there with one eye open.

Benny Mongrel had sat and watched, waiting. Waiting to see the gangsters come out of the house and drive off into the night in that red BMW. But there was no sign of the men. Or the American and his family.

The guy who had called him sir.

Benny Mongrel had been called many things. He had been called bastard, bushman, rubbish, and, for many years, Prisoner 1989657. White men in suits had called him a menace to society. Brown men bleeding from his knife had called him brother as they begged for mercy. He had none to show them. Cape Flats gutter curses had been spat at him since he was ripped from the womb of a woman he never knew. But nobody had ever called him sir.

Not until the American.

Benny Mongrel and Bessie were walking the front of the site one evening, the old dog dragging her back legs, when the little white kid had come running up to them. He only had eyes for Bessie and reached out to pet her. Benny Mongrel wasn’t sure how Bessie would react and he pulled back on her chain, but she wagged her tail and stood there docile as you please, the kid stroking her matted fur.

Then the white man came over. He’d been unlocking the street door to the neighboring house, a high-walled fortress like all the others in the street, when the kid scooted over.

Hey, Matt. Take it easy.

The guy spoke like the people on those TV shows the other prisoners had watched in Pollsmoor Prison. American. He looked a bit like somebody from those shows too, biggish with a clean face and some gray in his dark hair.

Even though it was nearly 7:00 p.m., the sun was still high, so when the kid looked up at Benny Mongrel for the first time, he could see his face clearly. And that was when the kid let go of Bessie and jumped back, like he had seen about the worst thing imaginable. He stood and stared up at Benny Mongrel, unable to tear his eyes away. He opened his mouth to scream, but all he could find was a whimper.

The big guy scooped the kid up and held him, face into his shoulder. Then he looked Benny Mongrel straight in his good eye. I’m sorry, sir. Excuse my son.

Benny Mongrel said nothing. Just stood there looking at the white guy who never reacted, never even blinked as he took in the horror that was the left side of his face. Benny Mongrel had lived inside this mess of misshapen bones and keloid scar tissue for more than twenty years. He didn’t care. His face had served him well. It had been an asset in the life he had lived.

Most people reacted the way the kid did when they saw his face, but the American guy stuck out his hand. My name’s Jack. I live next door.

Benny Mongrel had never shaken hands with a white man, and he wasn’t about to start now. He hauled at Bessie’s chain, whistled sharply to get her moving, and headed back onto the site.

But something about the American had got his interest. He would watch them from the top floor of the building site, the big guy and his small blonde wife and the kid. In their house or driving away in their fancy Jeep.

Benny Mongrel finished rolling his cigarette. He lit it, his ruined face visible in the flaring match. He sucked the warm smoke deep into his lungs, and as he exhaled he heard the siren.

The ambulance screamed up to the house and two medics got out. The door in the garden wall buzzed open, and Benny Mongrel watched as they hurried inside. The medics carried the white woman out on a stretcher. They put her in the back of the ambulance and drove away. The light flashed, but the siren was

Reviews for Mixed Blood

[col2910_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Blurb...... An American fugitive hides out in Cape Town—one of the world’s most beautiful and violent cities—in this riveting debut thriller that asks: Can you ever outrun your past?


Reluctant bank robber Jack Burn is on the run after a heist in the United States that left $3 million missing and one cop dead. Hiding out in Cape Town, South Africa, he is desperate to build a new life for his pregnant wife and young son. But on a tranquil evening in their new suburban neighborhood they are the victims of a random gangland assault that changes everything.


Benny Mongrel, an ex-con night watchman guarding a building site next to Burn’s home, is another man desperate to escape his past. After years in the ghetto gangs of Cape Town he knows who went into Burn’s house. And what the American did to them. He also knows his only chance to save his own brown skin is to forget what he saw.


Burn’s actions on that night trap them both in a cat-and-mouse game with Rudi "Gatsby" Barnard—a corrupt Afrikaner cop who loves killing almost as much as he loves Jesus Christ—and Disaster Zondi, a fastidious Zulu detective who wishes to settle an old score. Once Gatsby smells those missing American millions, the four men are drawn into a web of murder and vengeance that builds to an unforgettable conclusion.


Show More


Show Less


i I was unaware of Roger Smith, until a recent browse around a Waterstones had me scurrying to the till with Dust Devils. I was intrigued enough to dig through his back list and track down this copy of his first novel. I’m so glad I did.


Smith has delivered a fast-paced, violent, gritty little book, peppered with intriguing characters from both sides of the tracks; Burn – an ex- US marine with a gambling Jones that forces him on the run, Mongrel - a survivor of the ghettos and some serious jail-time, now trying to move on with his life and leave the gangs behind and Gatsby – a corpulent, stinking, corrupt and zealous-Jesus loving cop, feared by all on the impoverished Cape Flats.


With Burn fearful of losing his family and his liberty after dealing with a violent home invasion, witnessed by Mongrel and Gatsby under threat from an outside investigation, led by Zondi, their paths cross.


Gatsby cracks Burn’s cover and senses opportunity to get out from under Zondi and mayhem follows.


In addition to the strong characters Smith has drawn, none of them particularly likeable, but all memorable; his portrayal of a city of contrasting fortunes acts as an interesting back-drop for the book. Gangs, ghetto, drug use, tik-whores, poverty and apathy......it’s all in here.


Having recently read both Deon Meyer and Mike Nicol, I would put Smith and Mixed Blood equal first with Nicol’s Payback and a little way ahead of Meyer’s Trackers, in my SA crime league table. I have further books to read from all three, which I’m hoping will enliven the months ahead.


As this was Smith’s debut novel, can he possibly get better with his subsequent books?


I’ll track down the others and find out,


Cape Town
1. Mixed Blood (2009)
2. Wake Up Dead (2010)


Novels
Dust Devils (2011)
Capture (2013)
Novellas
Ishmael Toffee (2012)


Best book this month so far, 5 from 5.


Highly recommended.
I bought my copy on e-bay after a bit of bargain hunting.

[lallybroch_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Roger Smith's debut thriller is a fast-paced book with many twists and turns. The character's actions, ever the minor ones, have great influence on the course of the book. The connections between the characters and well done and believable. Sometimes in mysteries things come together a little to conveniently, and I didn't have that feeling with this book.The characters aren't really deep, but in a mystery the attraction is the action, and there is plenty of that here. The setting of South Africa is also interesting. It lent an air of unfamiliarity that added some extra spark to the book. Some of the slang didn't make complete sense to me, but I was always able to get the general idea. If you prefer your mysteries to by cozy, this may not be the book for you. There is some violence and foul language. I like my mysteries gritty, and this one fit the bill. Smith is working on another book set in South Africa and I will be on the lookout for it.

[doondeck · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This is a typical fast moving thriller in many ways. However I found it more violent than most. There's not a socially redeemable character in the entire book. And it's sure not an incentive to visit Cape Town.

[stephmo_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

If you're looking for an action-thriller read with film-like quick cuts, anti-heroes that wear mostly white-ish hats and fast enough pacing to keep the action moving, this is your book. Smith won't bog you down with anything too intricate or even mysteries that stay hidden for very long, but is that what you're really looking for when you're two bodies in by the end of an eight-page first chapter? I didn't think so?Smith's jacket bio lists the screenwriter-director-producer credit (no actual credits are given), and film influence is heavy throughout the book. There's meticulous detail in background elements as if Smith had envisioned a sort of "smarter" action film treatment for Mixed Blood when writing about the wildfires being fought by heliocopter or when describing visions of the dead for one character. At the same time, he also gives background sketches to even the briefest of bit players; where we could just learn about a watch one character wears, we are treated to how this character feels about the watch and why that influences his unfortunate choice around a dead body one hot afternoon. It could have just as easily been done without the description or the motivation, but Smith's extra touch is noticeable. Of course, there are times this detail comes across as an action thriller trying too hard to be more, but it works for the most part.A nice diversion, but don't expect high art.

[maryc22_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Roger Smith has written a tough, gritty, dark depiction of life in South Africa Cape Town. A family has moved to Cape Town to escape the law and some bad choices. Rather than getting a new start they find themselves immersed in more bad decisions that send them plummeting downward. Characters are flawed and beaten down by life. The life Smith paints is grim and the characters are flawed and dangerous. Mixed Blood was a tough read for me, I tend to look for sparks of light in books I read and it was hard to find any in this one.

[kenkwa · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

From the first chapter to the last sentence of this book , the author takes you through one wild ride through the streets and countryside of Cape Town. I found myself having to slow my reading down at moments, as the plot was getting more and more exciting, and found myself not being able to wait to see what was going to happen next. This was quite a thrilling mystery/action-packed novel. I found it amusing that the Americans had such boring names as Jack, Susan and Matt Burn. But the characters from South Africa had the most beautiful and interesting names, Berenice September and Disaster Zondi being my favorites. The plot was well thought out, and I can see where the author is a screenwriter...the book read like an action packed movie. I am very thankful that the conclusion of this book was pretty much completed with giving the reader some idea of how each of these characters resolved themselves (if that makes sense....I hate novels that leave holes and makes you wonder what ever happened to so-and-so. All of his major characters (the ones you really care about) were given resolutions of some sort, enough to let you know their final fates. The only thing that really bothered me was a consistent amount of penis, hemorrhoid, and dirty butt references that seemed a little juvenile at times. There was even one description of Barnard's finger described like a penis in a condom while sticking out to ring a doorbell (can't find the reference now that I am thinking about it...will edit this if I misquoted) - And also a couple of times of the application of hemorrhoidal cream with a little TOO much detail. (YIKES!!!) No wonder Barnard was always in a foul mood! :-) Butt (pun intended) overall, I really enjoyed this book! I am so looking forward to the authors next book...and thanks to early reviewers for sending me this book!

[thesecretllama_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When one looks for a fast-paced, violent international thriller, with fugitives, one does not expect an ending that leaves the reader heavy-hearted, lonely, and happily depressed. Mixed Blood leaves the reader feeling lonely with a smirk. This dark and bloody novel stars Jack Burn, a bank robber turned murderer, who flees the country with his pregnant wife and young son. The action boils over when they are all caught up in the local Cape Town gang violence. In the end all of the reader's vengeful cravings are fulfilled, yet the reader is left in a pool of pity and guilt.What makes this book good is that it moves quickly. The action is not supplanted with long dramatic tirades of character over-development. It reads like an action drama. At the same time, it is extremely violent and dark. Violence is committed without discrimination of gender, race, or age. At times this becomes too heavy. On several occasions I had to stop, set the book down, and take a deep breath. It is clear that Roger Smith intimately understands and perhaps identifies with the book's setting, Cape Town.In the end I would not recommend the book to just anyone, but if you enjoy a good hard-boiled, violent, and vengeful, then Mixed Blood is for you.

[bill_11 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Roger Smith caught my attention on the first page and did not let go. He captures the sweaty grit of Cape Town and southern California’s Santa Anas with ease. Jack Burn is on the run from his criminal past and wishes he could love his family more than himself. He loves his wife and child, yet he puts them in harms way with little thought for anything other than his own freedom. Benny Mongrel is reconciled with his fate, yet he opens his heart to an aging, devoted watchdog past her prime. Rudi Barnard is a cop and a dinosaur from South Africa’s apartheid past, believing just a bit too much in God’s plan. He is oblivious to the changes around him and lives in the reality of his youth, openly abusing Cape Town’s power to satisfy his own need to feel superior and powerful. Their lives cross in a random, most unfortunate way in Smith’s thriller. I found it difficult to put down. Each man follows the path ordained for him even though each could step out of his respective story line at several points. Their insistence on staying the course is fully supported by the characters Smith develops and the story lines end with a logical satisfaction. I’m looking forward to his next book, Wake Up Dead.

[khrystibooks · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Smith is a screenwriter, and you can tell reading this book-it's very cinematic. This book makes you want to keep reading, and it's fastpaced. However, there are several very disturbing images, and it's hard to tell if the characters really redeem themselves. Maybe they're not supposed to. I didn't dislike this book, but I was relieved to finally finish it.

[margrieta_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I should start of by stating that this is not my usual genre of novel. I don't really care for the mystery/thriller that much and tend to steer clear.This book however must be bad even for such a category -- the premise seems unlikely to begin with and there are simply no real characters in the book at all.The story is based in Cape Town, South Africa and I've no doubt that that city has it's sordid sections and could believe that it would be dangerous to find yourself in those neighborhoods and of course such a tale would be worthy of telling precisely because it would be out of the norm. But just the chain of events leading up to the main plot is incredulous.There are essentially three main characters - the hero, the hardened convict with the heart of gold, and -- of course -- the crooked cop. And there are a few secondary characters to keep the plot moving -- the hapless wife who -- of course -- is pregnant and on the verge of giving birth, the young son, the "tik" (crack) whore, the sexually repressed uptight police inspector, and the mangy old guard dog with the heart of gold.To try and make interesting characters, the author has created some glaring personality conflicts within some of these characters, but there is no evidence in the writing, their actions, speech or motivation to convince us of any of these characteristics -- they are the flattest of flat characters, though the author keeps trying to insist to us that they are interesting.Take for example the crooked cop -- of course he's crooked, we know this from the get-go as he is described as being physically grotesque in so many ways. The author wants us to see that his crookedness infuses his whole person in a most cliched way. Not only is he obese and ugly, he chews with his mouth open, he abuses the waitress, he stinks badly. But then we are told of the conflict... He is a Devout Christian. We are told over and over what a Devout Christian he is. He even owns a bible. No really -- Devout Christian. But his Devoutness does not influence his thought or action in the slightest. He doesn't exhibit one shred of Christianity. We are merely drilled in the fact that he is a Devout Christian by the author until you feel like if you don't at least pretend to believe it someone will pull out your finger nails.The hero is a Decent Man who has made some mistakes -- but again there is no actual evidence of his being a decent man. He gambles his family's future away, commits a murder, forces his family to a dangerous and violent city, commits another murder (in self-defence?), and continues to keep his family in danger rather than put himself at risk -- but the author keeps insisting to us that he is a decent man.Things roll along and take some twists and turns, until finally everyone gets their come-uppance. Not to exciting all told and to make sure that there are no loose ends remaining the final twist eliminates all of the main characters conveniently.There is a decent amount of violence if that is what you want and a as much suspense as one can muster when you can't bring yourself to care what happens to any of the people. A dog is killed and then everything is wrapped up. Not much more to ask for except some real writing and at least one person that sparks your interest or concern.

[shanlizluv · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Well, I have mixed feelings about "Mixed Blood." (Good grief, I apologize for that. Spider Robinson would have my head.) This is a thriller about an American on the run from his past who settles in Cape Town, South Africa with is pregnant wife. It is always frustrating when an author can't help his reader visualize locations, particularly when the reader is completely unfamiliar with them and in the regard, Smith does an excellent job. The book itself, however, is pretty standard. The plot is nothing new and, as a result, predictable. The characters are quite one dimensional and at times smack of "Mary Jane-ism." (He gets attacked in his home by a gang and manages to kill them all. Wow.) As for pacing, there are exciting moments, but its inconsistent. All in all, its not a bad book, but its not a very good one either.

[jjking_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

From the first page to the last its a roller-coaster ride,,,starting when two men with guns come over the deck and shatters the quiet life of a America family in Cape Town.It becomes a race to keep there secrets and to put things right.Mixed Blood will take you to a world of colorfully character and a life I did not know existed ... well worth your time and money.... :+}

[dougcornelius_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Roger Smith has written a gritty, violent thriller full of deeply-flawed people trapped in bad luck and the violence of Cape Town, South Africa. Some books slowly weave a tapestry of ideas. Mixed Blood is not one of those books. It’s rapid rollercoaster with scenes quickly moving through the ups and downs of his cast of characters. The background and flaws of the characters are fired with the staccato of a machine gun into the narrative. You probably won’t like any of the characters. Most of them are bad people. Jack Burn is bad gambler willing to kill. Benny is gang member who places little value on human life. “Gatsby” Barnard is evil cop, ruling the streets with violence. Even not liking the characters, you do care what happens to them. They are flawed, but incredibly human. Several are either fighting for survival or for a chance at a new life. Will they find redemption or death of both? You will keep turning the pages to find out.There is lots of death and violence in the book. It’s gripping, but not for the faint of heart.Mixed Blood is Roger Smith’s debut thriller. I read his second, Wake Up Dead, back in January. The publisher was nice enough to send me this copy.

[alluvia_3 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Fast-paced, nearly brutal, but a real page-turner - reminded me of film noir and gave a very interesting look at some down-and-dirty characters as well as of the complex (also dark) society of Cape Town.

[sruszala · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This book was a breeze to read but much harder to enjoy. Not even a single character is truly likable, most have killed, tortured or lied, and the main female character, Jack's wife Susan, follows her wanted husband halfway across the globe only to abandon her 4-yr-old son to have her labor induced, alone. Without one character to root for, I found myself racing through the story, enjoying the considerable suspense and action without really caring one way or the other about what happened to the characters. The ending preview of Smith's next book, Wake Up Dead, promises more of the same.I did enjoy the Cape Town setting and the political backdrop of the story.

[kysmom02 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Although the book started off fast and kept up a good pace with twists and turns, I had a hard time getting into it. First of all, the language was difficult for me. Don't get me wrong, I have a potty mouth from time to time, but it was pretty pronounced and hard for me to ignore. The author also used the slang dialect of the area which was hard to get used to, but not as distracting toward the end of the book as it was during the beginning. I did find that the further I read, the harder it was to put down. I did want to find out what was happening and how everything was going to tie together in the end. However, I will tell you that the last chapter, which provided "closure" for a few of the characters, was not at all what I expected. My immediate reaction to the last few sentences was anger. It seemed like an abrupt ending to a story that had woven itself into so much more.

[chuck2_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was nothing less than the nitty gritty of the squaller, poverty and hatred found in Cape Tow, South Africa. It reminded me of the 40's film noir crime movies. I requested copies for two friends and will recommend this author to others.

[evilynj · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Struggling with gambling debts, security specialist Jack Burn agrees to help with a bank robbery. A cop is killed and now Jack and his family are fugitives living in Cape Town, South Africa. When local thugs attack his family, Jack instinctively reacts and kills them. Now he's trapped in a cat and mouse game between an ex-con security guard who saw what happened and a corrupt local cop who is looking for a way to retire rich. Gritty and realistic language and situations give the reader a look at the `real` South African culture. Fast-paced and well-plotted. Not for the squeamish. Highly recommend.

[wigster102 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is not a pretty book, but it is a good book. This is a story set in post-Apartheid South Africa, and the racial lines are still thickly drawn. The Mixed Bloods of the titles are throughout the book, and even though they are not the main focus of the story, they are the most heroic characters of the book. The characters are mostly believeable, although when the most dislikeable characters are almost over the top. However, the majority of them are believable. The story itself is well told, and draws you easily from one scene to the next; it was a difficult book to put down.The ending was a mixed bag. And if you don't want to know anything, skip the rest of this paragraph. The main character's action almost seems out of character for him, although it is an indicator of his selfishness. The final resolutions of each person's story is almost exactly what you would guess from a few chapters in. However, the story is told well enough that it does take a few chapters to really get a grasp on those characters.Overall, I would recommend it. As I started off, this is not a pretty book. There is violence, drug abuse, foul language, and a completely unredeemable character. But it was a very good read.

[diogo79_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another book from LT early reviewers, "Mixed Blood" was more than a read-and-toss thriller, it reached me at intellectual and emotional levels as well. Mixed Blood is a solid thriller with the plot, action, and violence that make this type of thriller enjoyable. But while I thoroughly enjoyed it as a thriller, there is something much more that makes it stand out for me. This is the role South Africa plays in the story. Cape Town itself is a character in the story. I enjoyed Mixed Blood as a straight-up thriller and also for the intense sense of place that Roger was able to weave into the story. Recommended highly for readers who like thrillers and don't mind a bit of stomach churning violence. Looking foward to reading more of Roger Smith's books.

[maureen61_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This graphic tale of murder and mayhem in South Africa depicted a difficult and traumatizing culture of violence and death. The main characters were well defined and displayed the mayhem of vile behavior that poverty and fear often precipate.

[markpsadler · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

In Mixed Blood Smith has a way of taking the most obnoxious, despicable character and painting them in such a fashion that you find yourself rooting for them, all of them. As each main character is introduced, each one worse than the previous one, you are able to find some unbidden trait that makes you want to see them succeed. From Jack Burn, the American bank robber, hiding out in Cape Town under an assumed name, to Benny Mongrel the ex-jail-bird and long time gang-banger to the slime-ball, power hungry Boer cop Rudi Barnard, each one reels you in.
Jack's pregnant wife, coerced into his drama after the botched robbery, is wanting a divorce to move home and turn herself in. Benny has taken a real job and found a dog, the first thing he ever loved and is trying to stay on the straight and narrow. Rudi, for all the hard-nosed tactics he takes is just another Bible-thumping fat slob whose hemorrhoids ache and who never gets laid since his wife moved out. Something to feel for with each character, which makes the end result for each of them even more memorable.
This in-you-face gritty crime drama will keep you turning pages until the book is done and well worth the time.

[sjmccreary · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This thriller is not so much a roller coaster ride as a free fall - there are no "ups". Beginning with Jack Burn, an American who was involved in a bank robbery in Milwaukee that resulted in the death of a police officer. Never mind that he was a reluctant participant, he is now on the run. And he has run, together with is 4-year old son and heavily pregnant wife, to Cape Town, South Africa. Of course, with the millions from the bank robbery (he was reluctant to participate in the robbery, but all too willing to accept the booty), they live comfortably and peacefully in the most exclusive part of town. The rest of the city is a cess pool. Crime and corruption are rampant. So bad, in fact, that the new house being built next door to the Burn's has an overnight security guard to watch the property when there are no workers on site. This guard, an ex-con gang member trying to go straight, sees quite a lot - including the 2 men from a rival gang entering the back of the Burn's house just as they are sitting down to dinner. But they don't come back out. He hears a shot, then later an ambulance drives up and takes Mrs Burn away. Mr Burn and the boy follow in their car and all is quiet. For a while.Meanwhile, Inspector Rudi Barnard, the most disgusting and corrupt character I've come across in a long time, is looking for these same 2 intruders - wanting to collect his share of the money from their drug sales. When he doesn't find them where they should be, he begins to become suspicious. Later, their car is discovered on the street next to the Burn house and Barnard begins to investigate Jack.There are no nice people in this book. Everyone has something to hide, but Smith does a good job making several of them sympathetic, in spite of their backgrounds. I found myself rooting for both Jack and the night watchman. As I said, Barnard was a filthy, disguisting person - and Smith never let us forget it - commenting in every scene about his obesity, or halitosis, or corruption, or racist beliefs, or something. A very satisfying villian. The setting is grim, but Smith is South African and makes it believable - however awful. The book reads quickly, and is hard to put down. Kind of like a traffic accident - there's nothing you really want to see, but you can't keep from looking all the same. Very good for what it is - a fast paced thriller, with lots of violence, strong language, and drug use.

[norinrad10 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What an excellent read. Smith is going to take his place among my favorite new Authors Charlie Huston and Don Winslow. The setting of this story is Cape Town South Africa and it's as big a character in this book as anyone. The local flavor really seeps through. The other characters are spot on and three dimensional. You really get a sense of their lives and what brought them to this place. Strongly recommend.