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never groped Jonny between the legs or made inappropriate suggestions!” The superintendent had looked at her in astonishment and had left the room without a word. The matter had never been mentioned again.
    “Five minutes until the press conference,” Andersson informed them grimly.
    He got to his feet, signaling the meeting was over.

Chapter 6
    W HEN THE H UMAN Trafficking Unit in Göteborg had been formed six years earlier, it had been an experimental project. Linda Holm had been a detective inspector in the unit, working in a team of three. Over the years the unit had become a permanent fixture and had expanded; there was now a team of eight, and a year ago Linda Holm had been promoted to superintendent. The former chief was now a project leader, traveling all over the country giving talks to police officers and other groups that might come into contact with the problems associated with the increase in trafficking. Irene had found this out during the information day she and her colleagues from the Violent Crimes Unit had attended last year.
    Superintendent Linda Holm was on the phone when they got to her office. As the door was open, they couldn’t help overhearing parts of the conversation.
    “…  that’s okay. How long have the girls been here? I see. In that case, there’s no time to lose.”
    She fell silent, listening attentively. At the same time she glanced up from her notepad and caught sight of Irene and Birgitta standing just outside the door. With a fleeting smile and an exuberant gesture, she waved them in.
    “Have we got enough for a search warrant? Preferably tonight … Okay. In that case we’ll aim for tomorrow. I’ll get in touch with the prosecutor. Keep me informed. Bye now.”
    Linda Holm ended the call and turned her attention to her visitors. She was a few years younger than Irene. A quick appraisal of the superintendent led Irene to reflect that there might be a grain of truth in Jonny’s anecdote. Nor was it particularly surprising that the superintendent, with her naturally curly hair, was referred to as Blondie.
    Birgitta got straight to the point and explained why they were there. She gave a brief outline of the case and said she suspected the murdered girl was a victim of trafficking. When she had finished, Linda Holm nodded.
    “I agree. It sounds as if there are grounds to suspect that trafficking is involved. Let’s see if we can find her on the Internet,” she said.
    Superintendent Linda Holm’s fingers flew over the keys, and she quickly scrolled through the pages she brought up, her brow furrowed in concentration.
    “Here,” she said after a while, turning the laptop around so her colleagues could see.
    There was a whole page of ads. It was obvious they were advertising sex because several of them were accompanied by photographs. Naked and half-naked girls in an assortment of sexy poses, with their first name and a brief introduction.
    “This week’s available girls in Göteborg,” Linda Holm said dryly. She pointed to the flags at the side of each text. “The flags show what languages the girls speak. Impressive, don’t you think?”
    Irene could see that most of them had three or four flags, and that the most common were Russian, Latvian, Estonian, German and English.
    “As far as German and English are concerned, it’s usually just odd words the girls picked up while being shuttled around Europe,” Linda said.
    Like most police officers, both Irene and Birgitta had come across various forms of trafficking during the course oftheir work, but Irene wanted to know more about the current situation. “How long do they stay in one country?” she asked.
    “One to four weeks. And they spend only a few days in each town. A lot of the girls have been kidnapped; the family might be looking for the girl, and they might have reported her as a missing person, so the pimps don’t want to stay in one place for too long. They have often bought the girl from the