The across the world acclaimed writer of Blood on Snow and the Harry gap novels now offers us the tightly wound story of a guy operating from retribution, a renegade hitman who is going to floor a ways above the Arctic circle, the place the never-setting sunlight may perhaps slowly force a guy insane.
He calls himself Ulf—as reliable a reputation as any, he thinks—and the single factor he’s trying to find is a spot the place he won’t be came across through Oslo’s such a lot infamous drug lord: the Fisherman. He was the Fisherman’s fixer, yet after betraying him, Ulf is now the only his former boss wishes fixed—which is probably not an issue for a guy whose felony succeed in is boundless. whilst Ulf will get off the bus in Kåsund, on Norway’s some distance northeastern border, he sees a “flat, monotonous, bleak panorama . . . the appropriate hiding position. Hopefully.”
The locals—native Sami and fans of a very harsh Swedish model of Christianity—seem to simply accept Ulf’s clarification that he’s come to seek, whether he has no gun and the season has but to begin. And a bereaved, taciturn girl and her curious, talkative younger son provide him with nutrition, using a cabin deep within the woods, a weapon—and companionship that stirs anything in him he proposal used to be lengthy useless.
But the agonizing watch for the inevitable second whilst the Fisherman’s henchmen will show—the hour of darkness solar placing within the sky like an unblinking, all-revealing eye—forces him to query if redemption is in any respect attainable or if, as he’s continually believed, “hope is a true bastard.”
From the Hardcover edition.