Read Online The Girl Who Takes an Eye for an Eye: Continuing Stieg Larsson's Millennium Series by David Lagercrantz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Lagercrantz
Ads: Link
ground-breaking, but it was interesting at least that he referred to studies of children and the importance of self-confidence.
Blomkvist went into the kitchen to clear the table and tidy up around the sink. He resolved that he would hear Mannheimer’s talk at the Fotografiska Museum, even without Malin. He was going to get to the bottom of this story. But before he could take his thoughts further, there was a ring at the door. He was annoyed – people should really telephone ahead. He went to open the door anyway.
CHAPTER 5
18.vi
Faria Kazi sat huddled on the bed in her cell, arms clasped around her knees. She was nothing more than a pale, vanishing shadow, that is how she thought of herself. But nearly everyone who met her was enchanted. It had been that way ever since she came to Sweden from Bangladesh at the age of four – and now she was twenty.
Faria grew up in a tower block in the Stockholm suburb of Vallholmen with four brothers, one younger and three older. Her childhood was uneventful. Her father, Karim, set up a chain of dry cleaners, became relatively prosperous, and later he bought an apartment with large picture windows in Sickla.
Faria played basketball and did well at school, especially in languages, and she loved to sew and to draw manga comic strips. But in her teenage years her freedom was gradually taken away from her. She knew it was a direct result of the wolf-whistles she attracted in the neighbourhood once she hit puberty. Yet she was convinced that the change came from the world beyond, like a cold wind from the east. The situation worsened when her mother, Aisha, died of a massive stroke. The family lost not only a mother, but also a window on the world and a force for reason.
As she sat in her prison cell, Faria remembered the evening Hassan Ferdousi, the imam from Botkyrka, had paid an unexpected visit to their home. Faria was fond of the imam and she had been longing to talk to him. But Ferdousi had not come on a social call. From the kitchen she heard him say in an angry voice:
“You misunderstand Islam. If you go on like this, things will end badly – very badly.”
After that evening she believed so herself. Her two oldest brothers, Ahmed and Bashir, exuded a grim hatred that seemed increasingly unhealthy. It was they, and not her father, who insisted she wear her niqab even to go round the corner to buy milk. If they had their way she would sit at home and rot. Her brother Razan was not as categorical, nor was he particularly involved. He had other interests, although he tended to follow Ahmed and Bashir’s lead. But that did not make him an ally; he too kept an eye on her.
Despite the supervision, Faria managed to find occasional windows of freedom, though it involved lying and being inventive. She was able to keep her laptop and one day she saw on the net that Hassan Ferdousi himself would be taking part in a debate at Kulturhuset with a rabbi called Goldman on the religious oppression of women. It was the end of June. She had just graduated from Kungsholmen high school and she had not been outside for ten days. She was so longing to get away it almost killed her. Her aunt Fatima was a cartologist and single, and she was Faria’s last ally in the family. It was not easy to convince her. But Fatima could tell how desperate Faria was and eventually she agreed to say that she and Fazi would be meeting for a simple dinner. The brothers believed the story.
Fatima greeted Faria at her apartment in Tensta, but she allowed her to head straight into town. Faria had to be back at 8.30 p.m., when Bashir would come to collect her, but she had a bit of time. Her aunt had lent her a black dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes. That was perhaps overdoing it a little – she wasn’t going to a party, she was attending a debate on religion. But being nicely dressed gave her a sense of occasion. In fact, she hardly remembered the discussion, she was far too caught up by just being there and
Blomkvist went into the kitchen to clear the table and tidy up around the sink. He resolved that he would hear Mannheimer’s talk at the Fotografiska Museum, even without Malin. He was going to get to the bottom of this story. But before he could take his thoughts further, there was a ring at the door. He was annoyed – people should really telephone ahead. He went to open the door anyway.
CHAPTER 5
18.vi
Faria Kazi sat huddled on the bed in her cell, arms clasped around her knees. She was nothing more than a pale, vanishing shadow, that is how she thought of herself. But nearly everyone who met her was enchanted. It had been that way ever since she came to Sweden from Bangladesh at the age of four – and now she was twenty.
Faria grew up in a tower block in the Stockholm suburb of Vallholmen with four brothers, one younger and three older. Her childhood was uneventful. Her father, Karim, set up a chain of dry cleaners, became relatively prosperous, and later he bought an apartment with large picture windows in Sickla.
Faria played basketball and did well at school, especially in languages, and she loved to sew and to draw manga comic strips. But in her teenage years her freedom was gradually taken away from her. She knew it was a direct result of the wolf-whistles she attracted in the neighbourhood once she hit puberty. Yet she was convinced that the change came from the world beyond, like a cold wind from the east. The situation worsened when her mother, Aisha, died of a massive stroke. The family lost not only a mother, but also a window on the world and a force for reason.
As she sat in her prison cell, Faria remembered the evening Hassan Ferdousi, the imam from Botkyrka, had paid an unexpected visit to their home. Faria was fond of the imam and she had been longing to talk to him. But Ferdousi had not come on a social call. From the kitchen she heard him say in an angry voice:
“You misunderstand Islam. If you go on like this, things will end badly – very badly.”
After that evening she believed so herself. Her two oldest brothers, Ahmed and Bashir, exuded a grim hatred that seemed increasingly unhealthy. It was they, and not her father, who insisted she wear her niqab even to go round the corner to buy milk. If they had their way she would sit at home and rot. Her brother Razan was not as categorical, nor was he particularly involved. He had other interests, although he tended to follow Ahmed and Bashir’s lead. But that did not make him an ally; he too kept an eye on her.
Despite the supervision, Faria managed to find occasional windows of freedom, though it involved lying and being inventive. She was able to keep her laptop and one day she saw on the net that Hassan Ferdousi himself would be taking part in a debate at Kulturhuset with a rabbi called Goldman on the religious oppression of women. It was the end of June. She had just graduated from Kungsholmen high school and she had not been outside for ten days. She was so longing to get away it almost killed her. Her aunt Fatima was a cartologist and single, and she was Faria’s last ally in the family. It was not easy to convince her. But Fatima could tell how desperate Faria was and eventually she agreed to say that she and Fazi would be meeting for a simple dinner. The brothers believed the story.
Fatima greeted Faria at her apartment in Tensta, but she allowed her to head straight into town. Faria had to be back at 8.30 p.m., when Bashir would come to collect her, but she had a bit of time. Her aunt had lent her a black dress and a pair of high-heeled shoes. That was perhaps overdoing it a little – she wasn’t going to a party, she was attending a debate on religion. But being nicely dressed gave her a sense of occasion. In fact, she hardly remembered the discussion, she was far too caught up by just being there and
Similar Books
