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Now back in print?a taut spy thriller from The New York Times bestselling author of The Company
With the publication of his New York Times bestseller The Company, Robert Littell re-established his position among the highest ranks of writers of literary espionage novels. In The Debriefing, long out of print until now, Littell offers another novel of exquisite suspense.
Stone is the head of an elite arm of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?and a master of the psychologically sophisticated art of debriefing. When Oleg Kulakov defects from Russia, handcuffed to a sealed diplomatic pouch, it?s Stone?s job to find out if he?s genuine. As Stone uncovers Kulakov?s darkest secrets, he penetrates Russia itself to learn the chilling truth . . . a truth that tears his own world apart.
human comedy, while others see the comedy of the human tragedy.” “Which do you see, Stone?” “I’ve got a foot in both camps, Admiral,” Stone says, smiling self-consciously. “Sometimes I go one way, sometimes the other, depending, I suppose, on what I had for breakfast, or whether the last time I made love, I made it well.” “Hmm.” The admiral studies his cigar with admiration. “What you’re saying, if I have it right, is the hell with consistency.” “Consistency is the last refuge of the
her ritual: she peers at her body in the mirror, trying to see it as she thinks others see it. “When I was a small girl,” she tells Stone, “my mother always told me that somewhere in the world there is someone living the same life as you—a kind of mirror image, the only difference being her hair is parted on the other side.” She looks across at Stone. “You will come to understand that such things can be true,” she announces, and before he can comment either way she asks, “Have you decided to
two years. You become attached to a plant, you know. It struggled through the winter, only to give up at the first sign of spring. If only it had hung on for a bit, I would have nursed it back.” She flings a magazine across the room in disgust. “It’s the damn electricity,” she mutters. Stone, amused, asks, “What’s wrong with the electricity?” Katushka pours herself a glass of celery juice from a pitcher. “Has it ever occurred to you there is a direct relationship between electricity and sex?
him. The man doesn’t move a muscle until Galya motions with her chin for him to leave. Stone gives her a glimpse of his identification card, but she ignores it. “Who you are is written all over you.” She smiles belligerently. “I want to know about Oleg Kulakov,” says Stone. “What makes you think I know anyone by that name?” Now it is Stone’s turn to smile. “You met him at the Actors Union buffet. You kissed him on the lips. Later you moved in with him. If you’re not willing to discuss this
communications center. As soon as he leaves, Kiick leans toward Stone. “These young guys get on my nerves,” he says. “Listen, Stone, before I forget, I want to thank you again,” he adds earnestly. “If it hadn’t been for you, well …” Stone waves away Kiick’s thanks. “The CIA’s loss is my gain. They were dumb to dump you, is how I look at it.” “I want you to know I’m grateful, is all. And I won’t let you down. If there is ever something I can do for you, well, you get the idea.” Mozart comes