The CIA agent looked more dead than alive. Alex wondered if he had been hit, but there was no sign of any blood. Perhaps he was in shock.

We live in an age when there is no room for the impossible.

But then, he thought, most politicians are small and shabby, the sort of people who have been bullied at school. That's why they become politicians.

In the old days, spies had done they'd done because they loved their country, because they believed in what they were doing. But he'd never been given a choice. Nowadays, spies weren't employed. They were used.

You can kiss me if you like," she said. Alex let go of her and turned away. "Thanks, Fiona," he said. "But frankly I'd prefer to kiss the horse.

My favorite part of writing a book is thinking up the ideas, and that can start a long time before I actually sit down at my desk.

You'd better get onto MI6. They'll be in charge of security at the airport." "Of course." Sir Graham moved toward the door. He stopped and turned around. "And what happens if you're wrong?" he inquired. "What happens if these soccer players do somehow get killed?" Kellner shrugged. "At least we'll know what we're dealing with," he said. "And they lost every single one of their games while they were in Nigeria. I'm sure we can put together another team.