When you come across the phrase “the unpredictable tradecraft of the alcoholic, as challenging in its own way as that of any Russian spy” you know this is a story deserving of your attention.

Jonas is a British intelligence officer, a member of “the second oldest and the second best” profession when it comes to watching and observing. As an analyst he tries to make sense of the “assumptions, vendettas, half-truths and bald lies that constituted the majority of the intelligence that crossed his desk.” His father has traveled to Syria as part of a church delegation and is kidnapped by ISIS. The ransom is exorbitant and the British government won’t help him.

Jonas is not especially street-smart. He knows just enough, as they say, to get into trouble. His main asset is a prodigious memory, practically photographic. That, and the will to get his father back. He travels to Beirut and recruits an alcoholic former priest who has been known to negotiate with kidnappers with mixed results. He draws the attention of Hezbollah. MI6 and the CIA are all over him because he has stolen classified documents to trade for his father. He gets hit in the head a lot.

A very smart, fresh and restrained but thrilling novel of espionage and a son’s love, and need, for his father. ( )

When reading this British spy thriller, you may feel that, like the protagonist, you’ve gone for a stroll in a dangerous section of town and found yourself in over your head.
Jonas’s father, part of a church delegation visiting Syria, has been kidnapped by Islamic fundamentalists, who demand a $100 million ransom for the 75-year-old cleric. Father and son have been a bit at odds, but despite that—or because of it—Jonas has vowed to rescue him.
Jonas did work for the MI6, yes, but in a desk job. His tradecraft is thin and contacts are few. Thus does Wolff put Jonas and his exploits in the realm of the doable. He makes decisions and takes actions an ordinary person, as opposed to an espionage superhero, might—a believable, somewhat erratic, and doubt-ridden character, easy to identify with and root for.
The story starts in a seedy Beirut bar, where Jonas seeks the help of the middle-aged former priest Tobias, who has previously negotiated the release of terrorist-held hostages. Jonas doesn’t tell him everything, wondering “how it had come to pass unnoticed that deceit had been worn into him like grooves in a record until all he could play were false notes.” Tobias is reluctant to get involved, but he has an interest in a woman named Maryam also stuck in Syria. Jonas says, if he helps, “we’ll get her out.” We?
Because this shaky rescue mission has no official standing, he’s unlikely to deliver on this promise, or on any of the commitments he ultimately makes with Hezbollah representatives, the espionage establishment, and anyone else he thinks can help him. You feel you’re mounting a wobbly tower made of playing cards, a fragile edifice that may collapse at any moment.
MI6 sends the tennis-playing Desmond Naseby to befriend and spy on Jonas and persuade him to give up his efforts. Naseby is quickly followed by CIA case office Harvey Deng. Deng is all business, aggressive and profane, but Jonas and Naseby banter amusingly. Says Naseby, “You can’t stand to be cooped up. Smell of the sea, bustle of the bazaars.” “Thwack of the tennis racket,” responds Jonas.
Edward Snowden taints the narrative like a malevolent spirit when it dawns on MI6 higher-ups that Jonas may have availed himself of some of the secret reports he’s been reading at his desk all those years. When it appears he is trying to trade a USB drive for his father, they give his case the operational name LEAKY PIPE and, well, panic sets in.
What keeps the pages turning in this highly entertaining tale, is that, like Jonas’s MI6 and CIA opponents, you can never be quite sure how much he really knows, what his strategy really is, or even if he has one. As a result, the outcome of his dangerous mission might succeed or, as seems much more likely, go disastrously wrong. ( )