So this is the book which proceeded The Russian Intelligence!i have now read both and realise that this is not a bad way to discover these books. They work as a two hander but can very reasonably be enjoyed as seperate entities as Michael moorcock loads both with enough info to allow the reader that freedom. We are dealing with a world where nothing is what it seems and almost all narration is unreliable. A world of spies and counter espionage. If you are not being lied to chances are you are not speaking to another spy.
A mistake is made at the start of this book, the kind of mistake you would expect to occur in a Hitchcock film. Or a Morcombe and Wise film.Its a mistake where solutions lead to a series of further mistakes and a journey into the impoverished underworld of inner London. Its a world of cruel povertry where people sell themselves, a world of corrugated fences and crumbling Victorianna.Its the flipside of Bondian glamour, more John Cooper Clarke than Ian Fleming.There is a lengthy chase scene which feels like a mixture of Bedknobs And Broomsticks and a Harry Palmer story. Its also very funny, with the most self serving and cowardly British Secret Agent being constantly misunderstood as a brilliant and ruthless killing machine.
Both books have proved to be witty and engaging and just long enough, or perhaps short enough, for neither to outstay their welcome. Somewhere in between Chinese Agents and Russian Intelligences is a British secret service that probably bought all their clobber from Grace Brothers.
Some spy networks do 'Ave 'Em.
