By Stella Rimington
MI5 Intelligence Officer Liz Carlyle is summoned to a gathering along with her boss Charles Wetherby, head of the Service's Counter-Espionage department. His counterpart over at MI6 has acquired alarming intelligence from a high-placed Syrian resource. a center East peace convention is deliberate to occur at Gleneagles in Scotland and several other heads of kingdom will attend. The Syrians have discovered that people are mounting an operation to disrupt the peace convention in a manner designed to be magnificent, laying the blame at Syria's door.The resource claims that Syrian Intelligence will act opposed to the pair, possibly through killing them. nobody understands who they're or what they're planning on doing. Are they operating jointly? who's controlling them? Or is the total tale a delicately laid path of incorrect information? it's Liz's task to determine. yet, as she discovers, the danger is way more than she or a person else can have imagined. the way forward for the complete of the center East is at stake and the convention cut-off date is drawing ever nearer.
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Extra resources for Dead Line (Liz Carlyle, Book 4)
She walked around the kitchen and, peering in, observed a brass mattress, well made. at the bedside desk there has been a dog-eared replica of England’s a thousand top church buildings, and at the wall a framed photograph of Jesus at the move. Then she heard the noise. anything being moved, or driven, the sound of wooden sliding, coming from the room round the corner. chickening out to the kitchen, she regarded round for whatever to guard herself with. no longer a knife, she concept; dealing with an improved guy, she may well discover a knife grew to become opposed to her. yet there has been a heavy frying pan at the range. Grabbing its deal with, she moved to the closed door and opened it carefully. She was once simply in time to determine a guy drop from the again window. “Stop! ” she shouted, understanding he wouldn’t, and by the point she acquired to the window, the fellow was once scaling the low wall that separated the rear backyard from Hampstead Heath. All she acquired used to be a glimpse of his footwear. Slip-ons, nonetheless glossy. Her pulse racing, she positioned the frying pan down and appeared round the room, which was once a small research. unlike the squalid sitting room, the research was once tidy and good organised. Books coated of the partitions, well prepared, and a small vintage bureau sat subsequent to the window, its lid right down to double as a writing floor. On it sat a closed notebook computer, a electronic tape recorder the scale of a cigarette lighter, an A4-sized pc and 3 HB pencils, sharpened and aligned in a row. The arsenal of a pro author. She tested the tape recorder, however it used to be empty. Noticing a pile of dossier folders at the bookcase, she extracted the head one, which lay askew around the neat stack. She learn its label with surprising curiosity. Al-Assad Interview, Notes and ultimate reproduction. the item on Syria’s President that The Sunday instances was once anticipating so eagerly. but while Liz opened the dossier it used to be empty. used to be that what the “gardener” was once after? “What the hell do you think that you’re doing? ” Liz jumped on the unexpected noise in the back of her. She became and located a middle-aged guy in denims and a white blouse status within the doorway. He was once tall and he was once very angry—an associate of the burglar she’d simply stunned? Liz appeared quick round, however the frying pan used to be out of succeed in. It appeared most sensible to take the initiative; possibly she may perhaps trap him off-guard lengthy sufficient to get prior him. “Who are you? ” she demanded. “My name’s Marcham. Now might be you’ll inform me simply what the hell you’re doing in my condo? ” 15 Sophie Margolis sat within the kitchen of her huge Highgate residence, considering her better half's mother. For as soon as, Sophie had time on her fingers, a cup of espresso in entrance of her and Hannah for the instant out of the way—the attentive granny, jogging little Zack at the Heath. Sophie had continually beloved Hannah, yet she mirrored how little she particularly knew approximately her. For something Saul had continually bought within the way—Hannah’s former husband, a bullying missile of a guy who mistook pugnacity for strength, monopolised recognition and had performed his most sensible to undermine every body round him. now not least David, his son, Sophie’s husband, whose gentleness had so attracted her, and nonetheless did.