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347 pages, Paperback
First published May 7, 2013
The friendlier the territory, the scarier the natives.
The Service, like everyone else was hamstrung by rules and regulations: sack the useless, and they take you to tribunal for discriminating against useless people. So the Service bunged the useless into some godforsaken annex and threw paperwork at them, an administrative harassment intended to make them hand in their cards. They called them the slow horses. The screw-ups. The losers ... and they belonged to Jackson Lamb.
He said, "I was thinking last time we got dragged into a Regent's Park op, someone was looking to screw us over."
Slough House had briefly gone live. Things had settled since but optimism hadn't entirely died. They suspected that Jackson Lamb had serious dope on Diana Taverner; enough that, if she wasn't his sock puppet, she was at least in his debt.
And debt meant power.
Lady Di Taverner ... was one of several Second Desks, but top of most people's list whenever there were rumours of a Palace coup.
... but there was a base line these days that hadn't always been there, and it was simply stated: Cartwright was a slow horse, same as himself, same as Louisa. Once, that hadn't meant more than being tarred with the same brush. But now, if they didn't stick together exactly, they didn't piss on each other in front of others. Or not in front of Regent's Park suits, anyway.
"I'll do it," River said again.
"... this is MI5, not a kiddies' playground. Operational decisions don't turn on who says bagsies. I decide who goes." Lamb counted them off from the right. "Eenie meenie minie mo." At mo, his finger rested on River. He moved it back to Shirley. "Meenie. You're it."
River said, "I was mo!"
"And I don't base operational decisions on children's games, remember?"
"Dead Lions," Molly said.
"What about them?"
"It's a kids' party game. You have to pretend to be dead. Lie still. Do nothing."
Lamb stood, gazed at the nearest tree as if in sudden awe of nature, lifted a heel from the ground and farted.
"Sign of a good curry," he said, "Sometimes they just bubble about inside you for ages."
"I keep meaning to ask why you have never married," River said.