Elly Conway. Argylle. Bantam Press, 2024.
Vasily Fedorov, formerly Christopher Clay, man of extreme wealth and extreme ambitions; Aubrey Argylle, man of few wants and few expectations. Here's yet another fave ploy of mystery writers: two story lines that will somehow merge—and in this case, both come together pretty quickly. Oligarch Fedorov is campaigning for the presidency of Russia, promising to reinstall the original stolen (by Hitler) Amber Room of the Catherine Palace, which will apparently ensure his election victory. His sociopathic personality and Stalinist politics do not sit well with the West. As for Argylle, he is lifted out of his laidback, minimalist lifestyle in Thailand and dropped into a crack CIA task force. Their mission is to seize the intricate, expensive bracelet acquired by Fedorov, who believes it holds the secret code for the Amber Room's hidden location.
Exotic is the word for it as the CIA team plunges from one global locale to another, from a glittering ball in Monaco to the impossible cliffs of Mount Athos in Greece and the fanciful follies of Fontainebleau Palace. The fourteen-strong team, individually chosen and directed by the CIA operations officer, Frances Coffey, is a mass of diverse skills and bruising egos. Argylle's martial arts and numerous languages serve him well, but he has to prove himself to his colleagues, not easy to suppress his natural sensibilities. Wyatt, Carter, Quinn, Schneider, Corcoran—are some of the team members he interacts with. Each mission is on split-second timing. None of it goes smoothly, especially because Fedorov's killers, led by the brutal Sergei Denisov, are mysteriously anticipating their every move. Suffice to say, surprises galore.
Full of hair-raising action and amusing repartee, this story moves—likely why a feature movie was created so soon. The intricacies of covert intelligence work are brilliantly amazing, even if fictional. A little farfetched here and there? Just sit back and enjoy the thrills! "Elly Conway" is no doubt a pseudonym; join the identity-guessing game.
Bits
▪ "He's never been trained and yet he knew how to use a transponder as a makeshift GPS. And he blew the cover of one of our most promising operatives in less than twenty-four hours." (49)
▪ He also knows that the same US government that is offering him these 'opportunities' would happily have locked his parents up in a maximum-security jail and thrown away the key. (50)
▪ And now, on top of it all, here comes Denisov, pointing at Irina Fedorova's wrist, which is being hooked up to a drip, despite her objections. (136)
▪ "Remind me, Argylle. When was it you announced to the group that you were one hundred per cent dick-swinging heterosexual?" (147)
▪ "Please don't make the mistake of assuming that because these guys are monks, they are all smiles and benign intentions," Coffey had warned them. (153)
▪ He reminds himself that the Agency runs through her veins like blood, that she grew up in a CIA petri dish, steeped in its culture, its norms, its risks and rewards. (163)
▪ "The Greek police are talking Russian?" Carter sounds incredulous. (184)
▪ "Fedorov is riding a wave of populist momentum and bringing vast swathes of the disaffected Russian electorate with him." (193)
▪ "Jeez, Wyatt, don't get all three-dimensional on me now," she says. "I might have to start actually liking you." (246)
▪ "Get on to Hooper," he commands Quintano. "And tell him to cram as many cigarettes in his mouth as he can and light them all up at once under the smoke detector in his room." (280)
▪ "Everything I do, I do because of him," Quinn goes on. "Everything I am is because of who he was. God, I sound like an asshole." (303)
Tracy Clark. Hide. Thomas and Mercer, 2023.
Experienced Chicago detective Harriet Foster has transferred to a new police station. The trauma of losing her cop partner, a good friend, to suicide necessitated taking time off. Earlier, she'd suffered the shocking death of her son Reggie. Her new boss in a fresh start, Sgt. Griffin, seems decent but being partnered with old-school cop Jim Lonergan would tax anyone's patience. He's widely deplored, not only by his colleagues. Their first case is a stabbing death on the riverbank, a redheaded young woman. Identified as Peggy Birch, her friends and associates need interviewing; why was she in that location in the middle of the night? Harriet plays fair cop while Lonergan annoys or alienates most of them. More murders follow, some of them redheads, similar method; the only good news is that before too long, Vera Li becomes Harriet's next partner.
Parallel to the search for a brutal killer is the presence of twins Amelia and Bodie Morgan. In their impressionable pre-teen years they were exposed to the murderous perversions of their father who abandoned them when they entered college. Bodie didn't graduate; he drifted, getting into minor troubles until he was locked up for a month's psychiatric treatment. Amelia, now an artist, has always tried to keep him centred. Their horrifying family secret is never discussed. Each seeks casual hookups at bars full of a like-minded generation. Where will the two stories interconnect? Harriet, with her sterile home life, living with daily reminders of Reggie, is not the only one who struggles with loss. Self-identifying is a major concern for several characters.
Clark builds a carefully constructed study of a psychopathic mind while the police painstakingly build their case. But even a proud psychiatrist like Dr Silva can make an error in judgment about a serial killer. Well done, Tracy Clark!
The Cops
▪ "I'm asking, Detective Harriet Foster, if you have your head in the game and your waders on tight." (9)
▪ "We woulda swept up Jesus if we found him passed out next to a body," Lonergan said. (49)
▪ Foster was so over Lonergan's gruff, macho posturing. He was a bull in a china shop, a dull blade where a surgical knife was needed. (66)
▪ Was it significant that Birch was hidden, yet not hidden well? (102)
▪ "First day back. How was it? Don't say fine." (104)
▪ She'd covered for her partner, even if it was Lonergan, and their nods and winks of approval signaled to her that she had earned their respect and fraternity. (124)
▪ "You disrespected that woman," she managed, lowering her voice, burning, burning. "You judged her, and you were nasty about it." (154)
▪ "She's got a screw loose. She's worked so long in antisocial personality disorders that some of it probably rubbed off." (240)
▪ She was here, alive, damaged, but coming back. (292)
The Twins
▪ He knew what he was. Tainted, a creature of habits, of types. (18)
▪ How strange was it that they both favored the same stress reliever, wanting to experience the city at the same time at night when the streets were practically theirs alone? (112)
▪ She needed a drink and she needed company and she needed not to have to think about her brother. (113)
▪ Her book on antisocial personality disorders with case studies highlighted to prove her theories would transform the psychiatric field and return her to her rightful place. (184-5)
▪ "That's the problem with psychiatrists. They see mental dysfunction everywhere they go." (197)
▪ He hated that Am never rattled and he always did. He hated being the weak one, again. (227)
▪ "It's not great being orphaned before you're twenty, but you learn to deal with it. Bodie had a harder time finding his way." (284)
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