‘Gripping storytelling. Features all the hallmarks Scandi-book fans have come to adore’ 
Guardian on Mercy by Jussi Adler-Olsen


At first the prisoner scratches at the walls until her fingers bleed. But there is no escaping the room. With no way of measuring time, her days, weeks, months go unrecorded. She vows not go mad. She will not give her captors the satisfaction. She will die first. 

Copenhagen detective Carl Mørck’s been taken off homicide to run a newly created department for unsolved crimes. His first case concerns Merete Lynggaard, who vanished five years ago. Everyone says she’s dead. Everyone says it’s a waste of time. He thinks they’re right. 

The voice in the dark is distorted, harsh and without mercy. It says the prisoner’s torture will only end when she answers one simple question. It is one she has asked herself a million times:  

WHY is this happening?

» Read the first pages of Mercy by downloading the Penguin Taster here

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Mercy - Book Trailer

Watch the book trailer of Jussi Adler-Olsen's Mercy.

Jussi Adler-Olsen Interview

An Interview with Scandinavia's new bestselling crime writer, Jussi Adler-Olsen, in three parts.

Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3

"Jussi Adler-Olsen tells his stories as wickedly as Dean Koontz and has his detectives work as hard as Stieg Larsson"
Jydske Vestkysten

"An unusually fine and extremely fascinating thriller which will keep you breathless till the very last page"
politiken.dk

Prologue

She scratched her fingertips on the smooth walls until
they bled, and pounded her fists on the thick panes until
she could no longer feel her hands. At least ten times she
had fumbled her way to the steel door and stuck her fingernails
in the crack to try to pry it open, but the door
could not be budged, and the edge was sharp.
Finally, when her nails started pulling away from the
flesh of her fingers, she tumbled back on to the ice-cold
floor, breathing hard. For a moment she stared into the
thundering darkness, her eyes open wide and her heart
hammering. Then she screamed. Screamed until her ears
were ringing and her voice gave out.
She leaned her head back and again felt the fresh air
streaming down from the ceiling. Maybe she could jump
up there if she got a running start and then grabbed hold
of something. Maybe then something would happen.
Yes, then maybe those bastards outside would have to
come in.
And if she stuck out her fingers and aimed for their
eyes, maybe she could blind them. If she was fast enough
and didn’t hesitate, maybe she could. And then perhaps
she could escape.
For a moment she sucked on her bleeding fingers, then
pressed them against the floor and sat up.
Blindly she stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was too far
to jump. Maybe there was nothing for her to grab. But she
had to give it a try. What else could she do?
She took off her jacket and carefully placed it in a corner
so she wouldn’t trip over it. Then in one bound she leaped
off the floor, stretching her arms in the air as high as she
could, but she touched nothing. She did it a couple more
times before retreating to the far wall, where she paused
for a moment to collect herself. Then she took a running
start, and with all her might jumped into the darkness, her
arms flailing after hope. When she crashed back down,
her foot slipped on the smooth floor and her body landed
on its side. She gasped loudly as her shoulder struck the
concrete, and she screamed when her head smashed
against the wall, slamming her brain full of flashes of
light.
For a long time she lay very still, wanting only to cry.
But she didn’t. If her prison guards heard her, they’d take
it the wrong way. They would think she was on the verge
of giving up, but she wasn’t. On the contrary.
She was going to look after herself. For them she was
the woman in the cage, but she was the one who decided
how far apart the bars would be. She would think thoughts
that opened out on to the world and kept madness at bay.
They would never break her.