The CIA sends Artemis Aphrodite Procter to become their chief of station in London and help “rebalance things with the Brits.” She accepts the assignment reluctantly, as she’s dismissive of the British in general and London in particular. Told that the city is lovely, she replies that’s the problem. The Brits are pickpockets, she claims, who often do good work but will usually rob Americans blind. Anyway, she prefers to run ops and “likes to get her hands dirty out in the field” and is “a lunatic…[w]ith a stellar reputation.” The first challenge is that the allies have lost four Chinese assets, and now China’s Ministry of State Security Officer Gao Shiyan is in town as part of a trade delegation. Against the Brits’ explicit request not to do so, Procter surprises Gao on a London street and cold pitches him to betray his country. The result is a scene that highlights Procter’s lunacy but not her competence. Read about a “suddenly bald woman with an armpit sprouting breasts” following a collision with an e-bike while she’s wearing a disguise and you might reasonably expect goofiness throughout. Mostly, though, it’s a standard thriller with its share of murders and one spectacular death. Mimir, an intelligence gathering firm, sells intel to various rivals, and the good guys chase a bad guy to nigh-on the Earth’s end—and the novel’s. But at its core, the story is about an old married couple that hasn’t suffered a serious tiff since 1812, and the occasional tensions work themselves out. Procter, who’s had stints in Moscow (Moscow X, 2023) and Afghanistan, maintains a mental “violence jar” to which she contributes every time she resists beating the crap out of an annoying colleague. Even her back displays her dedication when she’s not covered up. Ten tattooed stars stretch from scapula to scapula, each representing a CIA comrade fallen since her days in Afghanistan.