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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Luke had only one thought going through his mind: Is the Chief losing his marbles? Has he summoned us up here at the end of a long day just to show off his idea of an art collection? Maybe it really was time for Sir Adam to move on. But, no, he was now indicating a man sitting opposite him, tanned, with short black hair and a lot of product worked into it, wearing a button-down Brooks Brothers white shirt and a well-tailored suit. This man had ‘Langley’ written all over him, Luke thought.

‘This is Art Krantz,’ the Chief repeated, ‘one of our senior colleagues from Langley. Our friends at the CIA have made a disturbing discovery, which they have been kind enough to share with us. Art?’

The man from Virginia cleared his throat, looking first at Jenny, then at Luke as he spoke. ‘Well, it’s really the folks at the NSA who did the heavy lifting on this one, but I guess I’m the guy who’s bringing you the bad news.’ He looked across at the Chief, who nodded. ‘We’ve run the deep-trawl analysis on the intel you’ve sent us and, guess what?’ Luke and Jenny looked at him with blank expressions, waiting for the punchline.

‘We have a mole. Or, more precisely, you have a mole …’ Again, he looked from one to the other. ‘Someone inside UK intel is leaking. There’s classified intel from here popping up on far-right extremist forums on our side of the Pond.’

Luke exchanged a meaningful glance with the Chief. This was further corroboration that Earl Grey had been telling the truth. It was the Lithuanian lawyer who had first alerted Luke to this fact, back in the nightclub in Vilnius, and Luke had passed it on to Vauxhall immediately. But he felt no sense of triumph on seeing his work vindicated. If anything, this could end up being deeply embarrassing for the Service. Sure, the Americans had had their share of disasters in this department – the FBI’s Robert Hanssen passed secrets to the Soviets and Russians for twenty-two years; the CIA’s Aldrich Ames turned out to be a highly valued KGB double agent. Yet it had taken years for US intelligence to get over its sheer horror at the extent of the damage done by Britain’s ‘Cambridge Spy Ring’: the decades-long betrayals to Moscow carried out by the likes of Kim Philby, Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean. The most damaging of all the double agents, George Blake, whose treachery sent hundreds to their deaths, lived on in Russia until 2020, celebrated there as a hero till the end.