By Roger Pearce
A Groundbreaking new mystery by means of the previous Commander of designated department. A suspected terrorist is frisked for explosives at the Embankment. Operators do that so skilfully he continues to be thoroughly unaware...In New Scotland backyard a brand new model of supervisor fails to house escalating threats - 'aggressive indecision' is what Detective leader Inspector John Kerr calls it...He discovers that cocaine-fuelled intercourse events in Knightsbridge are pulling in businessmen, Russian diplomats and senior contributors of the British government...When Kerr's investigations are blocked by means of his bosses in Scotland backyard, he makes a decision to head it by myself and starts to show a cover-up that extends to all degrees of the British institution. Agent of the country is the 1st novel by means of Roger Pearce, a former particular department officer at New Scotland backyard who rose to develop into its Commander and a key participant in Whitehall's intelligence community. it truly is an actual account of ways the British intelligence companies paintings in any respect degrees and of the hypocrisy of the British institution.
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Additional resources for Agent of the State (John Kerr, Book 1)
Instructions were repeated. The guards used their axes and iron bars to pry open the wreckage, carefully at first and then with a terrible, almost wilfully destructive abandon. The rest of the young woman’s body simply was not there. There were no complete bodies anywhere in this pile of wreckage, only mismatched tatters of torn clothing and random bits of flesh and gouged bone. There was not so much as an identifiable scrap of her dress left behind. There was only the pale arm ending in the bloodless and tightly curled and now motionless fingers.
I do not know if Ellen Ternan and her mother went with him. I do know they returned with him. A lady whom I have never met nor much wish to, a certain Mrs William Clara Pitt Byrne (a friend, I am told, of Charles Waterton—the naturalist and explorer who reported his bold adventures all over the world but who had died from a silly fall at his estate of Walton Hall just eleven days before the Staplehurst accident, his ghost later reported to be haunting the place in the form of a great grey heron), loved to send little bits of malicious gossip to the Times.
She was face-down in the swamp, her arms under her body. He rolled her over to be certain that she was no longer among the living, when suddenly her eyes popped open in her mud-covered face. ” she gasped. ” It took a moment before Dickens noticed the infant clasped fiercely between the fat woman’s heavy arms, the small white face pressed deep against the woman’s pendulous bosoms. The baby was dead—either drowned in the shallow swamp or asphyxiated by its mother’s weight. Dickens heard a hissing call, saw Drood’s pale form waving to him from the web of shadows under the broken bridge and walked towards him, but came first to a collapsed, upside-down carriage where a young woman’s bare but shapely arm protruded from what was left of a window.