The Russian Intelligence

The Russian Intelligence

Michael Moorcock

Language: English

Pages: 115

ISBN: 0450057925

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Meet secret agent, Jerry Cornell: the polar opposite if a super sleuth.

Jerry is always careful to choose a case that will solve itself so he can spend most of his agency's time in bed with a beautiful woman. But his luck runs out when he accidentally takes on the the assignment code-named 'Devil Rider'.

The Russian Intelligence is the hilarious sequel to The Chinese Agent.

Moonraker (James Bond, Band 03)

Dire Straits

The Sleepwalker (Cherub, Book 9)

Empire (Empire, Book 1)

Afghan Storm (Nick Woods, Book 3)











all…?” “I suppose you’re right,” Brook-Hopkins agreed. He downed the last of his whisky. “Besides, we poets don’t write for the moment, do we?” A poet! Now Cornell remembered. Brook-Hopkins was one of a dying breed — the Civil Service poet. Brook-Hopkins had enjoyed some eminence before the War and just after it. He was interested in Victoriana — especially architecture — and a line or two of his work came back to Jerry from schooldays. Jerry opened his mouth and began: “Walking up Streatham

his wounded shoulder. “Thank you, sir, whoever you are! I’ll always be grateful.” He began to crawl off down the road. Cornell stared after him, mystified. He didn’t know that for the last two years the young private had been trying to get himself out of the army. The wound was the excuse he needed to be declared unfit. With luck he would be invalided out. Cornell leaned against the cigarette machine sweating. They knew where he was after all. The people who had killed Judy Judd and Henry

Devil Rider in cold, mocking tones. “You will learn that he cannot be escaped.” “We haven’t done anything,” Cornell said weakly. “Have you not?” The Devil Rider laughed again. “Have you not?” The horse snorted. “I say that you have and that you will suffer the Devil Rider’s terrible justice!” From all around them now came masked figures. All wore the half-masks of devils, just as the Devil Rider’s helpers in the comic strip wore masks. Cornell and Polly clung together. “How horrible!” said

this idea was the War Amongst the Angels sequence which added absurdist elements also functioning as a kind of mythology and folklore for a world beginning to understand itself in terms of new metaphysics and theoretical physics. As the cosmos becomes denser and almost infinite before our eyes, with black holes and dark matter affecting our own reality, we can explore them and observe them as our ancestors explored our planet and observed the heavens. At the end of the 90s I’d returned to

wished he would shut up and get on with dying. The sounds became clearer, but Cornell still couldn’t make out the sense. “Is inners trip,” Thorpe said. Or perhaps it was “Its innards drip”, or maybe “Its inner trip”. “Don’t talk now,” Cornell said with an effort. Obediently, Thorpe stopped talking. He shuddered once and then went limp. With a sigh of relief, Cornell realised that Thorpe was dead. He let go of the body and laid it on the slab. He stood up and looked down at Thorpe’s mangled

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