Just Finished Reading: Cold Cold Heart by James Elliott (FP: 1994) [344pp]

It was quite the catch. A high ranking KGB officer wanted to defect with more high level information in his head than the CIA had acquired in decades. A new identity and a lifetime on the government payroll was a small price to pay. The fact that he was apparently under investigation by his own side only added to his credibility. Years later, now known as John Malik, the ever present ‘itch’ is back. It’s been too long since he managed to scratch and the environment was SO target rich. The complication, once the bodies of the young girls started appearing was the FBI ongoing investigation. Despite the CIA’s less than stellar regard for their law enforcement colleagues there was always a chance, a small chance, that they might stumble upon the fact that their killer was part of a CIA protection programme. It was time to do some covering up. That’s where the problem really started. Malik’s CIA handler was in jail – serving 3 years for contempt of Congress by refusing to spill the beans on the Agency. Now they wanted him to help them sort out their dirt, now they wanted him to put the suicide of his wife to one side long enough to help his country and the Agency avoid the inevitable publicity and embarrassment this could cause. His price was going to be steep but worth it. If, that is, he could get to Malik before the FBI did or before the whole sordid episode became public knowledge care of the ex-cop journalist from the Washington Post already hot on Malik’s trail.

I have no recollection of buying this so I’ve probably had it for years (as usual) gathering dust in a corner somewhere. As a story it’s pretty standard stuff – psychotic serial killer (with the twist that he’s ex-KGB so we get CIA/FBI added to the mix), multiple body count, race against time, yadda yadda. It is, however, rather well written, fast paced and very cinematic (in fact more than once I thought I was watching a movie play in my head or at least that the author was pitching a script to someone). So, the pages turned. Characterisation was above average although only just above the clichés we know so well from the serial killer genre. Of course looking back 26 years this sort of thing is very hackneyed plus not a little disturbingly offensive in the killers drive to hunt, capture and kill (rather graphically) young women who somehow ‘challenge’ him. If it wasn’t generally unpleasant it would actually be boring. There was a fair bit of nose wrinkling going on throughout the book but times have changed a great deal since its publication. A reasonable thriller of its type but not really recommended. Definitely not for the faint of heart or easily disturbed.