Novels No. 69

 

Alafair Burke. The Note. USA: Alfred A. Knopf, 2025.

May Hanover has just ushered out two policemen from her home, lying to her fiancé Josh about why they came to see her, then quietly warns her friends Lauren and Kelsey that they too can expect a police visit. And so a tantalizing mystery begins. Cause and effect; ripple effect. Six days earlier the three women, besties since music camp days, share a vacation home in the Hamptons. Always in touch by texting, they've dubbed themselves The Canceled Crew—because each experienced some form of public humiliation to their reputations. Kelsey is now working in her father's lucrative real estate business, but it took years to recover from her husband's unsolved murder and the social shunning that blamed her for it. Lauren is a gifted musician in her own right whose position heading a major symphony orchestra is attributed maliciously to her influential, married lover. May's legal training and admired prosecution style almost collapsed when she lost it in public over one-too-many racist slurs; a video of her raging and screaming at the wrong man went viral.

Before you can say martini, the trio begin a marathon party night at local bars and restaurants, reminiscent of their younger, wilder days. At one point, a smug driver deliberately steals the parking space they were waiting for; later they vilify him among themselves in high spirits. Kelsey doesn't tell them when she places a nasty note on the anonymous man's car—the Note that comes back to haunt them. Without spoilers, I can merely say that although each woman now avoids publicity like the plague, one little note intended as a mean joke, one little harmless lie to the cops, and the matter swells to unforeseen dimensions. Because the man in question disappears that weekend, feared dead by family, and three charges of murder are coming.

Brilliant, just brilliant: Burke outdoes herself detailing the lives and associates of our three. As long as you know what ghosting and gaslighting and catfishing and FOMO mean ☺. Each personality is carefully drawn, including conscientious detective Carter Decker, exploring friendship, professional stability, and legal complexities—the latter Burke's specialty—in the most absorbing way.

Bits

▪ To my assailant, I wasn't just a Chink or a bitch, but the most despised combination of all: an Asian American woman. (108)

▪ Once Lauren began to hear rumours that the camp owner's hand had gone up her skirt, she knew she could not remain an effective den mother. (122-3)

▪ "She was an extraordinary talent. When he called me to say her body was found in the lake, he just broke down." (154)

▪ "It was just a stupid note. A practical joke. It's not a crime. And you told the truth." (174)

▪ "Wait, you said your name's Kelsey? That's not what I have. Am I looking at the wrong records?" (178)

▪ "You go off on Kelsey for keeping secrets, and yet here you are, after all these years? After all the chances you've had to tell me it was you?" (188)

▪ "The responding patrol officer found the driver's-side seat fully reclined. Two gunshots, right in the face." (190)

▪ "Luke could have forced Kelsey to destroy the embryos once they were divorced. But with him deceased, she gets to make the call on whether to implant them or not?" (205

Michael Idov. The Collaborators. USA: Simon & Schuster, 2024.

Ari Falk is a seasoned pro with America's premium intelligence agency in an espionage tale of familiar enemies: CIA vs KGB (or GRU, FSB, whatever the current acronym). That is to say, the tale begins thusly but veers off script somewhere between the hammam in Istanbul and the shootout in Ari's Riga office (exposing Russian corruption but masquerading as a news agency). His best Russian asset, Anton, turns into a poisoned corpse (remember real-life Litvinenko who died from drinking tea in England?); his two invaluable employees are dead, the office destroyed. Ari was probably meant to die too, but why? What has he done or learned recently to cause this mayhem? His boss Harlow orders him two weeks R&R in London before a return to Langley HQ. But Ari hoodwinks his MI6 minder and hooks up with Alan Keeger, an idealistic data processor with a massive network of volunteer sleuths. Ari's going to get to the bottom of this with or without CIA blessing.

Serious spy stuff, of course—but what style! Author Idov's tongue is firmly in cheek at the right moments. Ari is just getting started. So is Maya Chou Obrandt, an aspiring actress in LA whose financier father Paul suddenly drowned himself off a yacht near Portugal. She can't read the letter in cursive Russian her dad left her, but with so many mixed feelings she needs to know what took place on that yacht. Off Maya goes to Tangier seeking the yacht captain; instead she meets Ari Falk who saves her life, although the captain is a goner. It's much more complicated as we learn about Maya's family in the 1990s and Ari's off-the-books pursuit to avenge his dead colleagues. Duplicitous bankers, gobs of stolen money, evil assassins, missing travellers, disgusting Moscow restaurants, and a headstrong Maya—the revelations are dizzying and Ari's tradecraft skills are challenged to the max.

Definitely not your average spy story, and in addition to the cheeky humour we get fascinating insights into past international election interferences (think "collaborators"). Feel the subtle reverberations of our own present days. It's all too credible enough to ask yourself who really runs the world. Let's have more Ari Falk.

Fragments

▪ That was the way the game was played now: each side making its lies as shameless as possible and daring others to do something about it. (20)

▪ "She said 'my husband.' But older Russian women say that about anyone they date for over a week." (33)

▪ "What? Is he not a piece of shit for what he did? And I don't even mean leaving you to clean up the mess," Maya yelled, fully unhinged now and feeling almost elated with rage. (57)

▪ Karikh couldn't have felt stupider. ... No one coming off the plane made eye contact. Was this a setup? A prank? Some kind of operational redundancy? (60)

▪ "Right now you've got three dead guys around you, one potential ally, and one free motorcycle. If you don't come out in ten seconds, it's just going to be you and the dead guys. Your choice." (111)

▪ "In the eyes of the world, you will come to Russia supported by the sane European center and not all-the-way-to-Stalin left, while the old US of A keeps throwing its weight behind Boris." (161)

▪ Much less explicable than the attack itself was the fact that two untrained journalists fought it off well enough to send both assailants into the grave with one clean head shot each. (83)

▪ A whole tableful of puzzle pieces clicked together. Balashov's spectacular Saul-to-Paul conversion was a psyop, the revelations in his essays preapproved, and the corrupt officials he was blasting had likely just fallen out of favor with his bosses. (177-8)

▪ Of course. How could I forget. The Russians don't exfiltrate. No asset is worth the trouble. (206)

▪ They walked into the low-ceilinged living room, depressingly neat and done up in a mix of Desert Modernism and International Grandma. (215)