The Deceiver
Frederick Forsyth
Language: English
Pages: 496
ISBN: 0553297422
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Sam McCready serves Britain as Chief of Covert Operations for the Secret Intelligence Service. He's competent, dedicated, in his prime. Why then this push to get him out?
The options are painful -- early retirement or an administrative backwater. But he has one other option: it's a wild card, confrontational, risky.
Risky because McCready knows too much. He senses the move is more about destabilizing SIS than settling a score with him. Who wants him out, and why? And what happens if he refuses to go quietly?
already on it. Just before midday Rowse glanced out of the porthole and saw the green mass of the Troodos Mountains slipping away beneath the wing. He thought of Monica, and Mahoney still propping up the bar, and al-Mansour and was glad to be going home. For one thing the green fields of Gloucestershire would be an awful lot safer than the cauldron of the Levant. Chapter Five Rowse touched down just after lunch, with the time gained from flying west from Cyprus. McCready had preceded him by an
area, quite close to Canary Wharf. His own passion was a Morgan 4+4 sportscar, but Elaine drove a Ford Escort GTI. ‘Convertible, of course,’ said Parker. ‘Of course,’ murmured Hannah. I’ve got a dinky, he thought; dual-income-no-kids. A high-flyer. Parker had gone straight from school to a red-brick university and got a degree, starting with PPE (politics, philosophy and economics) and switching to law. He had joined the Metropolitan Police straight from there and after the mandatory cadetship
died. The Englishman chewed his raw fish and listened. ‘I think he may have seen a man on Sunshine, and been seen himself. A man we used to know in Metro-Dade as Francisco Mendes, alias the Scorpion.’ Eight years earlier the turf wars had started in South Florida, notably in the Metro-Dade area. Prior to that the Colombians had shipped cocaine into the area, but the Cuban gangs had distributed it. Then the Colombians had decided they could cut out the Cuban middlemen and sell direct to the
School, or the accounts, or the files. Because he is a field man by training and instinct. And one of the best, if not the best.’ ‘No dispute,’ murmured the Controller of Western Hemisphere. Edwards shot him a warning look. ‘The point is,’ suggested Gaunt, ‘that if it really wanted to, the Service could probably find a place for Sam. Russia, Eastern Europe, North America, France, Germany, Italy. I am suggesting the Service ought to make that effort, because . . .’ He approached the man from
of who was right and who wrong, careers were made and broken, for it is axiomatic the careers of those behind a major success will start to rise. In the case of Pyotr Orlov there was no such hostile faction to be found and the glory fell upon the Head of the Office of Special Projects which had brought him in, Calvin Bailey. The day after Joe Roth began to share his life with Colonel Orlov in Virginia, Sam McCready quietly entered the portals of the British Museum, located in the heart of