By Tom Black, Jack Tindale
Harold Wilson ruled British politics for nearly twenty years. His political ability observed him make robust enemies and sour opponents, either contained in the Labour social gathering and out. Conspiracy theorists, a few in very excessive locations, even circulated rumours that he was once an agent of the Soviet Union. actually, after all, there has been no longer a shred of fact to those malicious claims.
But what if there had been?
In Agent Lavender, Harold Wilson flees Whitehall at nighttime, with MI5 and the police quickly in scorching pursuit. occurring in past due 1975 in a Britain weary of alternate union disputes and frightened of army coups, the institution needs to stream speedy to revive order with out showing heavy-handed. yet nonetheless, the top Minister has simply been outed as a communist spy…
Part-historical epic, part-pulpy mystery, and that includes a cavalcade of Seventies public figures from Enoch Powell and Gerald Ford to Jack Jones and Michael Bentine, Agent Lavender takes readers right into a maelstrom of intrigue, civil disobedience, satire, chilly warfare tensions, and downright farce.
The winner of 8 Turtledove Awards together with most sensible tale, most sensible chilly conflict Timeline and a number of top personality awards, this acclaimed exchange historical past novel blends politics with espionage and provides a sprinkle of the absurd.
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Additional info for Agent Lavender: The Flight of Harold Wilson
Harold realised he didn’t have very much time, and sprang to life. “Thank you, Reg,” he began, leaning forward to the driver, “But that will be all for tonight. ” Reg looked puzzled. ” Harold opened his door, exasperated, and got out of the car. He half-jogged round to the driver’s window and spoke again. “Look, Reg, there’s no time to explain. You too, Nick. You can head back to London for the night. I’m meeting an old friend here and he doesn’t like pomp and circumstance. ” Hampton began to shake his head and Harold’s eyes darted around the bushes near the road.
Four hundred miles away, and fifteen hours later, a Viennese barman jogged into the street, waving a briefcase. ” he shouted after the Englishman who had left in a hurry, “you forgot your–” “I will take it to him,” said a tall man in a dark coat. His accent was not English. Before the barman could object, the man’s firm grip had taken the case from him, and the Englishman, his case, and its new owner were gone as quickly as they had appeared. The barman could have sworn the second man went in the opposite direction to the first.
Temple reached the door. Taking a moment to recall the exact layout of the hotel room, he retrieved the key (it had been left for him under a newspaper in the panorama restaurant, where he had enjoyed a light supper three hours ago) and placed it in the lock. The sounds coming from the other side of the door suggested Temple would be entering in a moment of some intimacy. From experience, Temple knew that would either simplify or complicate matters. It always happened very quickly. This time was no exception.
Agent Lavender: The Flight of Harold Wilson by Tom Black, Jack Tindale