The Oligarch by Joseph Clyde - review

The Oligarch by Joseph Clyde (Gibson Square, £8.99)

In so many spy thrillers agents achieve the impossible. They drive invisible cars, survive jumps from giddy heights and utilise an array of gadgets to ensure the safety of Queen and country. But there is one thing they don’t do: they never grow up.

In The Oligarch, Joseph Clyde presents a Bond for the ages or, perhaps, the aged. Clyde’s name itself is a subterfuge, the pseudonym of former diplomat George Walden, who released his first novel, A State of Fear, two years ago.

His hero, Tony Underwood, is a veteran who has proved himself a reliable asset over the years and now, naturally, he has to go. Replaced and handed a retirement package, he must choose between an uncomplicated life as a civilian or a lucrative offer from a wealthy Russian. He chooses the latter.

Arshile Grekov is a billionaire in need of a new head of security to keep his unpredictable son Sasha in check. Young, spoiled and not particularly bright, when Sasha hears that the Russian President is visiting France, he launches an assassination attempt involving an ingenious mode of execution. The target is a boor, loathed in the West and proficient in topless horse riding. Why bother creating a classic villain when one already exists?

Underwood is thorough and diligent, expressing immediate loyalty to this new client. It is jarring, then, that he shows such little care for those close to him. He justifies the questionable ethics of his new position by reminding himself of the financial rewards, which will pay for his ill wife’s new conservatory. But he shows a lack of conscience when hiring a prostitute or pursuing an affair with a colleague.

Indeed, Underwood is not exactly attuned to the fairer sex. “There’d been women in the service he’d joined all those years back, though in junior positions mostly,” following his dismissal by the formidable Judith Thornberry. “Now they had degrees, spoke hard languages and could be technologically savvy.” Heaven forbid.

Surprising, then, that Clyde’s most fascinating creation is Svetlana, Sasha’s lover. At times she is a mere caricature of a Russian expat but she is regal, sensual and tempestuous and, as the plot thickens, she is clearly pulling the strings. And there are many of them: Clyde has created a detailed and authentic intrigue, and sustains a subdued tension throughout.

This is a well-paced thriller with a refreshing sense of realism from a writer with clear expertise. But it is Svetlana who is ripe for a spin-off.

Go to eveningstandard.ca/booksdirect to buy this book for £8.54, or phone 0843 060 0029, free UK p&p