Close Call: A Liz Carlyle Novel (Liz Carlyle Novels)
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The Arab Spring has swept through the Middle East and Liz Carlyle and her compatriots in the Thames House's counter-espionage division are racing to investigate arms deals in Yemen. There's a UN embargo forbidding any member country from supplying arms to either side in the uprisings, but Andy Bokus, head of the CIA's London Station, has evidence that the weapons being smuggled into Yemen are not only being sold to both sides, but are coming from a connection in the UK―a highly embarrassing black mark on the government and, if true, full of disastrous consequences.
British-American cooperation widens as Liz teams up with her old rival Bruno McKay, MI6's Head of Station in Paris, and Isobel Florian of the French domestic service, the DCRI, to trail and trap the elusive weapons dealer. The evidence points to a former French intelligence officer, Antoine Milraud, who leads them all on a mad chase across Europe until investigators witness him passing something to an elegantly dressed, very mysterious man.
When Milraud is caught and informs on his fellow conspirators, Liz finds herself embroiled in a larger, potentially explosive situation that twists all the way back to what she feared most―that the arms are being sold through the UK, and the mysterious man is closer and more capable of brutal violence than she ever could have imagined.
– than her usual return home after the club’s closing. She was worried about being the only one released. It must have been Halliday’s doing, she decided. Hadn’t he told her he would look after her? But she wished he hadn’t done it this way. The other girls were bound to wonder what set her apart. They were loyal to her, but only up to a point. She did her best to look after them, and she could protect them from the drunks or abusers or the ones who didn’t want to pay. But there was no
phone in the hall rang. ‘I’d better get that,’ she said. Peggy started to make her excuses but Mrs Donovan waved her in. ‘Come inside and close the door before you catch your death.’ While she went to the phone, Peggy waited patiently in the hall. The woman wasn’t long. ‘Bloody tele sales,’ she announced, coming back into the hall. ‘They are a nuisance,’ said Peggy, shivering slightly. It was a raw day outside, and in her anxiety to look authentic she had not put enough clothes on. The weather
Chief thought for a moment, then said, ‘Here’s what I propose. I said we were just about ready to confront him with what we’ve learned in our investigation. Well, we’ll bring that confrontation forward and we’ll do it tomorrow morning. I’ll make it quite clear to him that we have enough on him to prosecute him for corruption, and if he’s convicted he’s likely to get a good stretch in prison, which he’ll know anyway. ‘If you agree, I’d like to add that we have now learned that he may be involved
quietly, ‘Nothing doing. And no sign of him through the window. I can see into the living room.’ Carnier said, ‘Are you sure the buzzer’s working? Maybe you should knock.’ ‘I can hear the buzzer from outside. The walls of this place are paper-thin.’ ‘Maybe he’s in the shower – or asleep. Try knocking.’ So this time Philippe knocked on the door as well as pushing the buzzer again. ‘That’s enough,’ said Isabelle. ‘He’ll alert the neighbours and they’ll think it strange he’s so persistent.’ But
the derby tomorrow, at Old Trafford.’ He handed the ticket to Liz. As she studied it, he added, ‘They’re like gold dust.’ Liz handed the ticket to Pearson, and said, ‘We’ve dug pretty deep into young Atiyah’s past but I’ve never seen anything in the file about a love of football. Nor that he had the money to fund this sort of expense.’ She turned to the policeman. ‘Do you ever go to Old Trafford?’ ‘I’ve been known to attend a match,’ he admitted. ‘Do they search you when you go through the