THE GLORY BOYS - Book review

Gerald Seymour’s The Glory Boys, published in 1976, was his second novel and is sadly still topical today. The Palestine Liberation Organisation has despatched three men to London to kill David Sokarev, an Israeli nuclear scientist who is visiting to give a lecture. The PLO’s purpose is to make a statement and instil fear. Two of the men are intercepted by Israeli Intelligence; only one, Abd-El-Famy, escapes.

Famy is untried but determined to continue with the assassination attempt: ‘... his enemy, tired now, outdated, unable to compete in the new and modern world that he was seeking, unable to comprehend the hitting power of the Palestinian movement, unable to defend itself against the new philosophy of revolution and attack’ (p67).

As planned, Famy obtains the assistance of McCoy, a Provisional IRA killer, who is to supply the weapons.

Alerted that there was a third PLO man hell-bent on assassination, the Security Service attempts to locate the Arab before he can fulfil his mission, and surprisingly they use an old drunk, Jimmy, as the trigger-man; indeed, he may like his tipple too much, but he was a damned good shot and a cold-blooded experienced killer.

A tense man-hunt is under way, involving several innocent women as well.

 

Even though the world has moved on since this book was written, becoming more hi-tech, there’s no denying the narrative power of Seymour’s story. As ever, he gets into the skin of the protagonists and it reads like it really happened and it still grips the reader.

PRISONER WITHOUT A NAME, CELL WITHOUT A NUMBER - Book review

Jacobo Timerman’s autobiographical book Prisoner without a name, Cell without a Number was published in 1980, its English translation released in 1981.

Timerman was the editor of La Opinión, Argentina’s leading liberal newspaper. The paper was not popular with the military government because he was not averse to castigate both the Left and the Right for human rights abuses. Inevitably, it came to a head one dawn in ‘April 1977 some twenty civilians besieged my apartment in midtown Buenos Aires. They said they were obeying orders from the Tenth Infantry Brigade of the First Army Corps’ (p9). He was covered with a blanket and bundled in a car and taken away. Eventually, blindfolded and handcuffed, he discovered he was kidnapped ‘by the extremist sector of the army’ (p29) ...which was at the heart of Nazi operations in Argentina...  In effect, they mistakenly believed he was part of a Jewish anti-Argentine conspiracy!

He was held for two and a half years – tortured, abused and humiliated – without charges ever being brought against him.

It was probably because he was internationally known and his wife continued to raise awareness of his plight that he was not murdered – or ‘disappeared’. Certainly, he believed that his only crime was to be born Jewish.

‘Entire families disappeared. The bodies were covered in cement and thrown to the bottom of the Plata or Paraná rivers. Sometimes the cement was badly applied and corpses were washed up along the coasts of Argentina and Uruguay... (others were) thrown into old cemeteries under existing graves... (and some) heaved into the middle of the ocean from helicopters... (while others were) dismembered and burned... Small children were turned over to grandparents or more commonly presented to childless couples in Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil ...’ (p50/51).

Then in late 1979, his citizenship of Argentina was revoked and he was expelled from the country, and then resided in Israel.

Timerman was born in Bar, Ukraine, to Jewish parents. To escape the Russian persecution of Jews and pogroms there, the family emigrated to Argentina in 1928, when he was five years old.

This is a searing account of a brave man. He died in November, 1999, aged 76.

NO TIME TO SPY: 1 – COME SPY WITH ME - Book review

This, the first book in the trilogy No Time to Spy by Max Allan Collins & Matthew V Clemens (published by Rough Edges Press, 2021) is highly enjoyable. The authors are after my own heart with their playing with words – both book titles and chapter headings. Some chapter headings: Harbour Frights, Dominican Dominoes, The Brother-in-Lawford, and Sand Storm, for example)

The action of all three books spans from 1959 to late 1963. The central conceit is splendid: John Sand is a recently retired MI6 agent, now married to Stacey. His real-life exploits have been written as fiction by a friend and former colleague not a million miles removed from Ian Fleming. ‘Though retirement had been forced upon him by his colleague’s novels – and because Sand’s body carried more lead in it than a crate of number two pencils – he relished his new freedom.’ (p13)

Unfortunately, the past tends to raise its ugly head in the guise of an old enemy, Raven, who attempts to kill not only Sand but his wife! It is possible the attempt is connected to a secret mission the US President wants Sand to undertake – go and protect Castro from a planned assassination!

Apart from the local colour, the authors also inject the Rat Pack into the story – capturing the voice and mannerisms of Sinatra et al (yes, including Peter Lawford). The period is well-realised, as are the references: ‘Wearing a smile on a face on loan from Troy Donahue, the blond boy said…’ (p105)

There are several amusing scenes, plenty of wit and suspense, a dash or two of sex, glamorous settings, and the kind of fast-paced action we’ve come to expect in the life of a famous spy. ‘Sand let go of the assassin, a corpse now, and let him sink like the stone he’d had for a heart.’ (No spoiler page number here).

I look forward to savouring the other two books: Live Fast, Spy Hard and To Live and Spy in Berlin.

Book review - Rogue Male

Geoffrey Household’s classic novel Rogue Male was published in 1939, which gives it immediacy for that time. The unnamed narrator, a British aristocrat, has just failed to assassinate the tyrannical leader of a European country – whether it’s Hitler (probable) or Stalin is not explained. He is captured by secret service men and tortured and questioned but tells them nothing. They believe he is working for the British government; he insists he is a private individual and was simply hunting near their leader’s House.

The first implausible plot-point then arrives. Instead of killing him as an inconvenience, they engineer an ‘accident’, throwing him off a cliff with his belongings. ‘British aristocrats meets with unfortunate demise while hunting’. But, naturally, our resourceful narrator survives the fall (or we wouldn’t be reading the story) and, though seriously injured, sneaks away before the local police can ‘find’ the ‘unlucky tourist’.

The survival and escape from pursuit are Household’s strengths in this tale. He describes the difficulties well, and we can empathise.

To begin with, we don’t know why he should have set out on this mission. As he says, ‘I am not an obvious anarchist or fanatic, and I don’t look as if I took any interest in politics.’ (p1) I have to wonder how does someone look who is interested in politics. The first clue to his motivation is here, however: ‘One can hardly count the upsetting of one’s trivial private life and plans by European disturbances as a grievance.’ (p9)

The ploy to use an unnamed narrator is to bolster the feeling that this is in effect a true story. ‘Lest what I write should ever, by accident or intention, become public property, I will not mention who I am. My name is widely known.’ (p8)

More than once, Household’s narrator appears to judge people by appearance, attributing base motives. While hiding in a field, he fears he may be detected. ‘There were several peasants on their way to the fields. I could only pray that they wouldn’t enter mine. They would have had some sport with me before handing me over to the police; they seemed that sort.’ (p22)

Where Household’s narrative falls down, and thus diminishes the ‘believability’, is in his description of the characters he encounters during his escape. They are virtual cyphers, without colour in their eyes, without facial features of note. ‘Mr Vaner received me in his cabin. He was a dashing young man in his early twenties, with his cap on the back of a head of brown curls.’ (p35) Plenty of writers don’t over-describe, arguing that the reader can visualise the character however they like. But in a novel that purports to be ‘real’, every tiny detail adds to the verisimilitude. The intimacy of detail lends credibility.

As a thriller, it succeeds in several aspects: the chase, the suspense engendered by hiding and the risk of discovery. The action, when it occurs is muted, reported rather than visualised. There is little ‘show’, only ‘tell’. The deathly struggle in the Underground is without visuals; fine, it’s dark, but there’s no visceral feeling of being there. (p55) The dramatic moment is lost.

Writers must observe, and Household was a keen observer, and described the world well: ‘… wandered through the quiet squares which smelled of a London August night – that perfume of dust and heavy flowers, held down by trees into the warm, well-dug ravines between the houses.’ (p57)  And, another: ‘I have noticed that what cats most appreciate in a human being is not the ability to produce food – which they take for granted – but his or her entertainment value.’ (p76) Yes, there is humour, despite the tense situation. And, surprisingly, considering the beginning of the novel, ‘To be shot from ambush is horribly unnerving.’ (p105)

The narrator decides to go to ground – literally – and constructs an under-earth burrow, stocking up with tinned goods. ‘Space I have none. The inner chamber is a tumbled morass of wet earth which I am compelled to use as a latrine. I am confined to my original excavation, the size of three large dog-kennels, where I lie on or inside my sleeping-bag.’ (p118) The description of the construction of his lair is well done, to make it very real and claustrophobic. Here, in a hedgerow (there were a lot more in England in 1939!) he makes the acquaintance of a cat. ‘We live in the same space, in the same way, and on the same food, except that Asmodeus has no use for oatmeal, nor I for field-mice.’ (p119)

One of his persistent pursuers goes by the name of Quive-Smith and the final confrontation with him is quite suspenseful. Here, we learn from Quive-Smith that ‘It’s the mass that we are out to discipline and educate. If an individual interferes, certainly we crush him; but for the sake of the mass – of the State, shall I say?’ (p136)This might indicate the Soviet frame of mind, rather than that of the Nazi. Hence, the leader could conceivably be Stalin, not Hitler; it matters not, both were worthy of assassination, as millions of dead souls would testify.

It is only when we get to p143 that we glean the motivation behind the narrator’s abortive mission. A nameless woman, his only love, put up against a wall and shot by followers of the leader. This section is woolly. We don’t know why she was done to death, though it’s likely she objected in some manner to the leader’s creed. And we certainly don’t see her in the narrator’s mind’s eye; so we have no empathy.

The story is told in three chapters, originally scribbled in an exercise book, which he posted to his solicitor friend, Saul (another character without description).

Reading this now, we know that whatever the narrator’s intention at the end of this written record, he failed. [However, there is a sequel, Rogue Justice (1982), in which we follow the narrator on his subsequent killing spree against Nazis.]

This book has been considered superior to Buchan’s The 39 Steps (1915), but I don’t believe it is. Certainly, it employs much that became familiar in thrillers – long flight and pursuit and the resourcefulness and pluckiness of the hero as exemplified by Buchan’s novel. They are both books of their time, and indeed both have inspired future thriller writers. If you’re a fan of thrillers and you haven’t read either of these, now is a good time to remedy that omission.

Book review - I Kill

André Warner, manhunter is back, and with a vengeance. That’s what he deals in, sometimes – vengeance. Most of the time, he’s an assassin for hire, as we learned in End as an Assassin. Lex Lander’s sequel to that fast-paced traumatic thriller is a page-turner, and again no holds are barred.

It begins with a death – one planned, one unplanned. An echo of the start of End as an Assassin, almost; but with a difference. This time he really has retired from his deadly profession. Or so he thought. As his employer/contact says, ‘Some professions are not for quitting.’

So, his latest hit was in Tangier, with an alias. While sorting out his hardware issues for the hit, he encounters Clair Power, who is staying at the hotel with her teenage daughter, Lizzy. Before long, he’s helping them to ward off the unwanted attentions of Dutchman Rik de Bruin.

Yet again we’re immersed in the faux reality of Warner’s world, the details so convincing that it must be ‘real’.

Warner’s relationship with Clair – and later with Lizzy – becomes complicated as the plot thickens. There’s abduction, gunplay, brutal violence and sex in roughly equal measure.  And poignancy, and death too.

Another highly enjoyable breathless tale told in Warner’s own words. And, happily, more will follow with the third adventure, The Man who Hunted Himself due out later this year. I’ll be there.

Book review - End as an Assassin

I enjoyed Lex Lander’s first outing, Another Day, Another Jackal (as evinced by my blog of 30 May 2014 - here), so thought I’d try his latest, with a new anti-hero, the intriguing André Warner, Manhunter, assassin for hire. 

As before, Lander has the knack of creating believable characters, immersing them in real places where he seems very knowledgeable. His knowledge also stretches to cars and guns.

Warner wants to retire and this is to be his last job. He has been given a new target to kill. One rain-sodden night, crime boss Fabrice Tillou is surprised when Warner confronts him; it will be a clean kill. Unfortunately, it isn’t – because Tillou’s mistress interrupts…

From that moment on, Warner’s future is highly uncertain.

Warner is not modest, by any means. He knows he’s good at what he does; he also believes that he’s popular with women: a lady-killer, though not in the literal sense, of course: he’s definitely not politically correct! However, his reason for being cold and calculating where the fair sex is concerned can be traced to the loss of his wife, Marion. He’s surprised to find that his heart can be still be stirred; and perhaps his brief encounter with the delightful Georgina will prove it. Could this new love be the one? To end his career as an assassin? Life’s not that easy, or that kind, it seems.

Warner is a rounded creation, and gradually evokes your sympathy as he becomes entangled in events that threaten to crush him.

There’s sex, violence and death aplenty. So be warned.

Since his release of the Jackal book, it seems Mr Lander has been busy, as End as an Assassin is published concurrently with its follow-up I Kill, which I'll read and review shortly.

FFB - Another Day, Another Jackal

You’ve probably guessed it from the title. Yes, this is a thriller in the mould of Frederick Forsyth’s Day of the Jackal. Fiction told as fact – or is it the other way around? That’s just one of many questions that arise in this slick pacey, racy thriller, Another Day, Another Jackal by Lex Lander.

It’s 1996 and another French president is marked for assassination. The novel is written in a documentary style, coldly methodical, often an omniscient point of view, ostensibly its facts gleaned from a number of sources after the events.

This works very well, and provides a strong sense of verisimilitude, thanks to the vast amount of precise detail, which clearly shows that Lander knows France, his weapons, his European cities, cars and boats.

The assassin is Lux, an American who prides himself on doing things right. As you’d expect, he’s an expert in weaponry and the varied methods of dealing in death. He’s hired – albeit through middle-men – by a dying New Zealander who has a final agenda, to start a green war. There’s plenty of verbal fencing between him and his new lieutenant, which is fun to read.

Naturally, nothing is straight-forward and there are double-crosses and deception, with the odd twist thrown in. There are plenty of characters involved, from the president’s office, through the police, to the co-conspirators, and they’re all delineated with skill.

As with Forsyth’s Jackal, we know the attempt fails, but thanks to the tightly plotted, fast-moving narrative, we really want to know what happens next, and whether Lux can get away, even if it isn’t murder. Yes, when you reach the end you do tend to ask, was this entirely fiction?

If you liked Day of the Jackal, you’ll love this. Lex Lander is a name to watch.