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312 pages, Hardcover
First published February 4, 2021
To those who buy and sell and own and build, the past is simply a shortcut to what's yet to come, and what's yet to come offers magpie riches to those prepared to embrace the changes demanded. Or so the promises run.
He thought: And this is the world I move in now. Where decisions are based, not on the greatest good or the most just cause, but simply on f*cking up the opposition, even if the opposition's your own side.
... [Lamb] looked like an exhausted tramp... His shoes were scuffed lumps, the hems of his trousers frayed, and his overcoat might have been stitched from the tattered sail of a pirate ship. And she had little doubt that the odor of cigarettes and scotch would grow apparent the nearer she came ...
...little doubt, too, that for all his repose he knew damn well she was approaching...
And for half a second she had a troubling glimpse of another Lamb inside the shell of this one; one who had posed for the image in front of her, and whose carefully composed decrepitude was a sculptor's trick.
She preferred to hold to a more fundamental verity: that villains were arseholes who needed locking up ...
Here on Spook Street, the option of arresting the bad guys wasn't open to her.
If it had been, Jackson Lamb would have been on her list. She didn't care that he used to be a joe--didn't buy into that whole romantic notion of the bruised survivor of an undercover war--and wasn't impressed by his apparent determination to bully or alienate everyone around him. She simply thought him a bastard, and the best way of dealing with bastards was to cut them off at the knees.











