A Perfect Spy: A Novel
John le Carré
Language: English
Pages: 624
ISBN: 0143119761
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From the New York Times bestselling author of A Delicate Truth and Our Kind of Traitor which is soon to be a major motion picture starring Ewan McGregor
The Pigeon Tunnel, John le Carré's first work of non-fiction, will be available from Viking in September 2016
Over the course of his seemingly irreproachable life, Magnus Pym has been all things to all people: a devoted family man, a trusted colleague, a loyal friend—and the perfect spy. But in the wake of his estranged father’s death, Magnus vanishes, and the British Secret Service is up in arms. Is it grief, or is the reason for his disappearance more sinister? And who is the mysterious man with the sad moustache who also seems to be looking for Magnus?
In A Perfect Spy, John le Carré has crafted one of his crowning masterpieces, interweaving a moving and unusual coming-of-age story with a morally tangled chronicle of modern espionage.
Rick called Judy Colonel. I have an idea it was a reference to a celebrated lesbian who had been involved in a court case. Whatever the reason, Pym did not care for it. “The boy had them kissing the ground, Rickie,” Perce Loft confirms. “Not the only thing he’s been kissing, if you ask me,” says Rick and everybody laughs because it is Rick’s joke. Pym leans in for the good-night bear-hug and hears Rick sniff his cheek, which has Judy’s smell on it. “Just you keep that old mind of yours on the
the lugubrious Watermaster forefinger. The second version takes a less apocalyptic tone. The Highest in the Land was not ranting against youth’s sinfulness, far from it. He was offering succour to the youthful falterer. He was extolling youth’s ideals, likening them to stars. To believe this second version, you would suppose Makepeace had gone star crazy. He couldn’t get away from the things, nor could the writer. Stars as our destiny. Stars that guide Wise Men across deserts to the very Cradle
If he agrees, I agree. I’ll keep your name out of it. Just give him to me and you and Steggie need never hear from him or me again.” “Sounds to me as though you’ve more to lose than we have,” said Sir Kenneth, surveying the results of his manicure. “I doubt it.” “Question of what we’ve all got left, I suppose. Can’t lose what you haven’t got. Can’t miss what you don’t care about. Can’t sell what isn’t yours.” “Pym can, apparently,” said Brotherhood. “He’s been selling his nation’s secrets by
Mary. They were alone. He was as broad as an old blockhouse and, when he wanted to be, as rough. His white forelock had fallen across his brow. He put his hands on her hips the way he used to, and drew her into him. “God damn it, Mary,” he said as he held her. “Magnus is my best boy. What the devil have you done with him?” From upstairs she heard the squeak of castors and another loud thud. It’s the bow-fronted chest of drawers. No, it’s our bed. Georgie and Fergus are taking a look round.
measures the distances between each object on the desk with her gloved hand. As gently as if she is lifting bandages from a wound she lays them in the same pattern on the tablecloth. The papers on the desk now lie free for her inspection. She has not reckoned with so much dust. Just by crossing the floor she has set up clouds of it. I’m a tomb robber, she thinks, as the dust burns her throat. She is gazing at a wad of handwritten manuscript. The top page is dark with crossings-out. She picks up