By Anders Roslund
The foreign mystery that Stockholm urban hailed because the top Crime Novel of the yr has eventually crossed the Atlantic! Three years in the past, Lydia and Alena have been hopeful women from Lithuania. Now they're intercourse slaves, lured to Sweden with the promise of higher jobs after which trapped in a Stockholm brothel, pressured to pay off their “debt.” abruptly they're given an unforeseen likelihood at freedom, and with it the chance to take revenge on their enslavers and reclaim the lives and dignity they as soon as had. what is going to ensue now that the tables are grew to become and the sufferers struggle back? In this masterful mystery, the prestigious group of Anders Roslund and B?rge Hellstr?m delve into the seedy underbelly of Stockholm. There we meet Lydia and Alena as they embark on a determined plan to reveal their captor and insist justice; law enforcement officials Sundkvist and Grens, at the path of either Lydia’s enslavers and Jochum Lang, a infamous mob enforcer; and Hilding Old?us, a junkie on what can be his last—and such a lot destructive—bender. on the S?der medical institution, their destinies start to converge in unforeseen and explosive ways. Box 21 is a Scandinavian mystery of the top order: a mindblowing mental drama written with strong depth. while it used to be released in Sweden, Solo known as it “suspenseful, gripping, and intelligently written . . . virtually most unlikely to place down,” whereas SVT exclaimed: “Forget crime literature; this can be, easily positioned, nice literature!”
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Extra resources for Box 21: A Novel
The road was better now: no potholes, no jolting and no more jabs under her ribs. She was actually holding the grenade when the police broke the door down and burst into the big room. Dad and the other men shouted to each other but they were too slow off the mark, and just a few minutes later they舗d been pushed up against the walls, handcuffed and beaten. She couldn舗t remember how many police had come into the room, maybe ten or even twenty. All she remembered was that they kept screaming zatknis again and again and that they carried the same kind of gun that Dad sold, and that they won before they even started.
They usually gave in after the third or fourth try, came along to open up and stood aside just enough for him to push past. With only one night left, he obviously wouldn舗t want to do anything out of order, but once outside they might meet him anywhere in town, and sometimes it was wise not to have too much shared history with inmates. He got up, walked about. A couple of paces to the window, a few more back to the metal door. He packed as slowly as he could, cramming two years and four months into a plastic carrier bag.
She could feel his eyes on her back, burning, his eyes already abusing her body. She stopped by the bed. She undid the dress, three buttons at the back, rolled it down over her hips and let it fall to the floor. Her bra and panties were black lace, just as he wanted and he had brought them personally, making her promise to use them only for him. Only him. The moment he lay down on top of her, she no longer had a body. That was what she did. It was what she always did. She thought of home, about the past and all the things she missed and had missed every single day since she came here.
Box 21: A Novel by Anders Roslund