By Ken Follett
Ken Follett’s The Key to Rebecca took readers and critics by means of hurricane whilst first released greater than two decades in the past. this day, it continues to be the best espionage novels ever written.
A very good and ruthless Nazi grasp agent is at the free in Cairo. His venture is to ship Rommel’s advancing military the secrets and techniques that might liberate the city’s doorways. In all of Cairo, basically humans can cease him. One is a down-on-his-luck English officer not anyone will take heed to. the opposite is a weak younger Jewish woman. . . .
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Extra resources for The Key to Rebecca
She felt so silly that she blushed. She shook Billy’s hand. “How do you do,” she stated. “I’m Elene Fontana. ” “We by no means recognize what time Dad’s coming home,” Billy stated. “I wish you won’t need to wait too lengthy. ” She had no longer but recovered her composure. “Don’t fear. I don’t mind—it doesn’t subject a section . . . ” “Would you're keen on a drink, or whatever? ” He used to be very well mannered, like his father, with a formality that was once by some means disarming. Elene stated: “No, thanks. ” “Well, I’ve obtained to have my supper. Sorry to depart you on my own. ” “No, no . . . ” “If you would like something, simply name Gaafar. ” “Thank you. ” The boy went out, and Elene sat down seriously. She used to be disoriented, as though in her own residence she had chanced on a door to a room she had now not recognized was once there. She spotted a photo at the marble mantelpiece, and received as much as examine it. It used to be an image of an attractive lady in her early twenties, a funky, aristocratic-looking lady with a faintly supercilious smile. Elene fashionable the gown she was once donning, anything silky and flowing, putting in stylish folds from her narrow determine. The woman’s hair and make-up have been excellent. The eyes have been startlingly usual, transparent and perceptive and lightweight in colour: Elene learned that Billy had eyes like that. This, then, used to be Billy’s mother—Vandam’s spouse. She used to be, after all, precisely the type of girl who will be his spouse, a vintage English good looks with a pretty good air. Elene felt she have been a idiot. girls like that have been queuing as much as marry males like Vandam. as though he may have bypassed them all merely to fall for an Egyptian courtesan! She rehearsed the issues that divided her from him: he used to be decent and he or she was once disreputable; he used to be British and he or she used to be Egyptian; he was once Christian—presumably—and she used to be Jewish; he used to be good bred and she or he got here out of the slums of Alexandria; he was once nearly 40 and he or she used to be twenty-three . . . The record was once lengthy. Tucked into the again of the picture body was once a web page torn from undefined. The paper was once outdated and yellowing. The web page bore a similar picture. Elene observed that it had come from referred to as The Tatler. She had heard of it: it was once a lot learn by means of the better halves of colonels in Cairo, for it mentioned the entire trivial occasions of London society—parties, balls, charity lunches, gallery openings and the actions of English royalty. the image of Mrs. Vandam took up such a lot of this web page, and a paragraph of style underneath the image said that Angela, daughter of Sir Peter and girl Beresford, was once engaged to be married to Lieutenant William Vandam, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Vandam of Gately, Dorset. Elene refolded the slicing and placed it again. The kin photograph used to be entire: beautiful British officer, cool, confident English spouse, clever fascinating son, attractive domestic, funds, classification and happiness. every little thing else was once a dream. She wandered round the room, puzzling over if it held from now on shocks in shop. The room have been supplied through Mrs. Vandam, in fact, in ideal, cold style. The decorous print of the curtains toned with the restricted hue of the upholstery and the based striped wallpaper.