Another back title from my 2018 NetGalley shelf . . .
EXCERPT: Prologue
The Girl from Belgrade
The first thing they took was her passport.
The man jumped down from the cab of the lorry and snapped his fingers at her.
Click-click.
She already had her passport in her hands, ready for her first encounter with authority, and as she held it out to the man she saw, in the weak glow of the Belgrade streetlights, that he had a small stack of passports. They were not all burgundy red like her Serbian passport. These passports were green and blue and bright red – passports from everywhere. The man slipped her passport under the rubber band that held the passports together and he slipped them into the pocket of his thick winter coat. She had expected to keep her passport.
She looked at him and caught a breath. Old scars ran down one side of his face making the torn flesh look as though it had once melted. Then the man clicked his fingers a second time.
Click-click.
She stared at her kid brother with confusion. The boy indicated her suitcase. The man wanted the suitcase. Then the man with the melted face spoke in English, although it was not the first language of either of them.
‘No room,’ he said, gesturing towards the lorry.
But she gripped her suitcase stubbornly and she saw the sudden flare of pure anger in the man’s eyes.
Click-click, went his fingers. She let go.
The suitcase was the second thing he took. It was bewildering. In less than a minute she had surrendered her passport and abandoned her possessions. She could smell sweat and cigarettes on the man and she wondered, for the first time, if she was making a terrible mistake.
She looked at her brother.
The boy was shivering. Belgrade is bitterly cold in January with an average temperature of just above freezing.
She hugged him. The boy, a gangly sixteen-year-old in glasses that were held together with tape on one side, bit his lower lip, struggling to control his emotions. He hugged her back and he would not let her go and when she gently pulled away he still held her, a shy smile on his face as he held his phone up at head height. They smiled at the tiny red light shining in the dark as he took their picture.
Then the man with the melted face took her arm just above the elbow and pulled her towards the lorry. He was not gentle.
‘No time,’ he said.
In the back of the lorry there were two lines of women facing each other. They all turned their heads to look at her. Black faces. Asian faces. Three young women, who might have been sisters, in hijab headscarves. They all looked at her but she was staring at her brother standing on the empty Belgrade street, her suitcase in his hand. She raised her hand in farewell and the boy opened his mouth to say something but the back doors suddenly slammed shut and her brother was gone. She struggled to stay on her feet as the lorry lurched away, heading north for the border.
By the solitary light in the roof of the lorry, she saw there were boxes in the back of the vehicle. Many boxes, all the same.
Birnen – Arnen – Nashi – Peren, it said on the boxes. Grushi – Pere – Peras – Poires.
‘Kruske,’ she thought, and then in English, as if in preparation for her new life. ‘Pears.’
The women were still staring at her. One of them, nearest to the doors, shuffled along to find her space. She was some kind of African girl, not yet out of her teens, her skin so dark it seemed to shine.
The African gave her a wide, white smile of encouragement, and graciously held her hand by her side, inviting the girl from Belgrade to sit down.
She nodded her thanks, taking her seat, and thinking of the African as the kind girl.
The kind girl would be the first to die.
ABOUT ‘DIE LAST’: 12 DEAD GIRLS
As dawn breaks on a snowy February morning, a refrigerated lorry is found parked in the heart of London’s Chinatown. Inside, twelve women, apparently illegal immigrants, are dead from hypothermia.
13 PASSPORTS
But in the cab of the abandoned death truck, DC Max Wolfe of West End Central finds thirteen passports.
WHERE IS SHE?
The hunt for the missing woman will take Max Wolfe into the dark heart of the world of human smuggling, mass migration and 21st-century slave markets, as he is forced to ask the question that haunts our time.
What would you do for a home?
MY THOUGHTS: I have enjoyed this series but somehow missed reading Die Last (Max Wolfe #4) when it was published. I was excited when I found it on my shelf. Unfortunately, Die Last never really gripped me like Tony Parsons’ books usually do. It may have been the content – human trafficking. I had this ‘been there, done that’ feeling.
Initially the whole human trafficking subject was treated with a great deal of empathy and compassion. I can only imagine how desperate you would have to be to agree to being smuggled into a foreign country; how frightened. But somewhere along the way the tone changed. It may have had something to do with Max’s boss who didn’t seem to have a very high regard for human life at all; not for that of her staff and certainly not for the refugees.
There’s a bit of everything in Die Last – human traffickers, old style gangster families, Chinese tongs and corrupt businessmen.
The resolution to this left me stunned – in more ways than one. I didn’t see it coming re who was behind the human trafficking. I liked that he did, in the end, get his just desserts, BUT I was with my favorite character, Edie Wrenn when she cried, ‘Max, no! No, Max, no!’ I couldn’t see the justification of what he was doing – the wrong people were being punished and I just couldn’t see the point to it.
While this isn’t my favorite book of the series, it certainly is a thought-provoking one.
Die Last by Tony Parsons was published 22 February 2018. I listened to the audiobook of Die Last, superbly narrated by Colin Mace.
⭐⭐⭐.3
#DieLast #NetGalley
THE AUTHOR: Tony Parsons is a British award-winning journalist, broadcaster and bestselling author of contemporary books.
Born in Romford, Essex, Parsons dropped out of school aged sixteen in order to work on the night shift of Gordon’s Gin Distillery in Islington, London, before being offered a journalism job on New Musical Express.
He for the next couple of years travelled with and wrote about legendary musicians such as The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, The Clash, The Sex Pistols and others, before eventually leaving his job to pursue writing.
Tony, whose books have been translated into over 40 languages, currently lives in London with his wife, daughter and their dog.
DISCLOSURE: Thank you to Random House, UK, Cornerstone, Arrow via NetGalley for providing a digital ARC of Die Last by Tony Parsons for review. All opinions expressed in this review are entirely my own personal opinions.
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