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London, 1958. Chief Superintendent Frederick Troy of Scotland Yardnewly promoted after good service during Nikita Khrushchev’s visit to Britainis not looking forward to a European trip with his older brother, Rod. Rod has decided to take his entire family on “the Grand Tour” for his fifty-first birthday: a whirlwind of restaurants, galleries, and concert halls from Paris to Florence to Vienna to Amsterdam. But in Vienna, Frederick Troy crosses paths with an old acquaintance: British-spy-turned-Soviet-agent Guy Burgess, who makes an extraordinary confession: “I want to come home.” Troy knows this news will cause a ruckus in London, but he doesn’t expect that an MI5 man will gunned down as a resultand Troy himself suspected of the crime. As he fights to prove his innocence, Troy finds that Burgess is not the only ghost who has returned to haunt him. Richly atmospheric and full of twists and turns, Friends and Traitors will satisfy John Lawton’s many fans and win him new ones as well.
|Product dimensions:||5.40(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.00(d)|
About the Author
John Lawton has written seven previous Inspector Troy thrillers, two novels starring Joe Wilderness, one standalone novel, and a volume of history. His Inspector Troy novels have been named Best Books of the Year by the New York Times , Los Angeles Times , and New York Times Book Review. He lives in England.
Read an Excerpt
Burgess plonked his briefcase on the coffee table, sloughed off his coat and jacket and began to prattle.
“Odd thing, bumping into you twice so soon. I don’t seem to run into you in any of my clubs. Although I suppose you’re not a clubbable sort of person. Of course your father was. And I’m pretty sure I first met him in one club or another. I forget which. The Reform, Brookes, the Garrick? Come to think of it, it probably was the Garrick. He was a member, wasn’t he? An awfully good choice now I come to think about it. After all, it’s the actors’ club. Unlikely to be full of fellow-hacks. And I suppose what anyone wants from their club is a haven. Perhaps even an escape. Did he ever put you up for membership? But I suppose policeman aren’t really clubbable, are they?”
Troy hit him in the sternum. More of a tap than blow. Just enough to send Burgess backwards into the sofa.
“How quickly you catch on.”
“Bloody hell,” said Burgess. “I mean, bloody hell.”
“Stop pretending, Guy.”
“Stop pretending what?’
Troy picked up the briefcase. Yanked on one of the many pieces of string holding it together and scattered a dozen sheafs of paper across the table. White, buff and red covers. Every one of them stamped ‘Secret’ or ‘Top Secret.’
“In case you’ve forgotten, Guy. A red cover means ‘Do Not Remove From Office’. You didn’t knock your briefcase over accidentally. I know you can be a clumsy fucker, but after one drink? Guy, whisky is to you as mother’s milk is to a baby. It’s the stuff of life. There’s nothing you can do sober that you can’t do pissed. You knocked it over just to be certain you had my attention.”