The Russian Intelligence
Michael Moorcock
Language: English
Pages: 115
ISBN: 0450057925
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Meet secret agent, Jerry Cornell: the polar opposite if a super sleuth.
Jerry is always careful to choose a case that will solve itself so he can spend most of his agency's time in bed with a beautiful woman. But his luck runs out when he accidentally takes on the the assignment code-named 'Devil Rider'.
The Russian Intelligence is the hilarious sequel to The Chinese Agent.
latest pick-up’s flat only to find that Shirley had called before him and frightened the girl off. He could never find out exactly what it was that Shirley said that frightened them so much. Their lips were sealed. Whenever he referred to her, their eyes went wild and their mouths trembled. Little mewling sounds would come from their lips and their faces would turn very pale. Jerry was driving very slowly home. He took his special short route there. It involved crossing a red light and going
that’s the road that intersects Fleet Street at the top of Ludgate Hill. They’re the publishers.” Cornell sighed. “All right, sir.” “I’ll tell you what I think the connection is,” Fry said after a pause. “It was how Thorpe died, d’you see?” Cornell felt uncomfortable. He wished Fry hadn’t brought that subject up. “Oh, really?” he said faintly. He reached into his inside pocket, took out a cigarette case and lighted a fag. He inhaled heavily. “Yes,” Fry pressed on. “The way the poor fellow
never again to see print. Until very recently, this meant that anyone interested in reading any of these books would have been confined to scouring second-hand bookshops. The advent of digital publishing has changed that paradigm for ever. The technology now exists to enable us to make available, for the first time, the entire backlists of an incredibly wide range of classic and modern SF and fantasy authors. Our plan is, at its simplest, to use this technology to build on the success of the SF
editorial offices to put discarded papers on — like a bill-spike they are?” “N-no n-need to f-finish…” Cornell told him, but Crapper had got in his stride. “Someone grabbed him and rammed him down on one — got him in the brain, right through the left eyeball.” “Yeccchh…” said Cornell, making for the Gents’. “You’d better look out yourself,” the Chief Inspector said with satisfaction. “The big saw’s coming nearer and nearer to Vera, eh, Mr Cornell?” “Shut up!” said Cornell in insane panic. He
Whitehall?” he said, mainly to keep some sort of conversation going. “Secrets? I don’t know what you mean,” Wharton said, stopping to pick up the iron and replace it in the brazier. “We’re not spies here. This isn’t a spy game.” “Mine is,” Cornell said. “I’m a Secret Service agent. Honestly. It was my job to track down the people who were somehow managing to get secrets out of the country — we thought they were using your comic in some way.” The Devil Rider/Wharton chuckled icily. He certainly