Boris Starling's writing career began at the age of eight, when his English teacher spotted that his short story was (a) unusually good for a child his age (b) copied verbatim from Tintin's 'Prisoners Of The Sun.' (That was also the first time he learnt the word 'verbatim', not to mention the term 'copyright violation'.)
It’s the height of the Cold War, and as the Great Fog rolls in over London, a man meets his death in the icy shallows of the Long Water. Some say he was just drunk, wandering through Hyde Park. But for Scotland Yard’s new detective, Herbert Smith, the body will lead to a far more interesting trail when it’s discovered that the young victim’s death was no accident. He was a biochemist, and just hours before he died he had claimed to be in possession of a secret that could change the world. Smith tried to turn his back on the murky world of spies when he traded in his job at MI5, but now he’s being tailed again, thinly veiled threats emerge, and Scotland Yard cannot insulate him against an underworld of international conspiracies. The CIA, the KGB, and even MI5 had every reason to want the dead man’s secret, even kill for it. As the body count climbs, it’s clear that each time Smith inches closer to the truth, he gets closer to his own perilous demise.