Twenty-four days before Christmas Philip Kimberly read the newspaper galleys of his own obituary, dateline Moscow, March 24. When next he finds himself alone, powerless and consumed with pain in a hospital recovery room, the reader is driven to discover who this desperate man is and why the KGB has sacrificed him to the treachery and the vast, inhuman dimensions of the international intelligence game.
After ten years of service as a comrade dedicated to the ideal of the Communist state, after years of conferences in the Special School of the State Security Services and contented strolls though the Kremlin corridors, Philip Kimberly has lost his soul and adopted vodka in its place--he had become a nuisance to the very men who had exploited his courage and skill. A stranger even to himself, he had emerged from anesthesia to find his cushiony stomach surgically pared away, his sagging face pulled taunt by stitches behind his ears, the corners of his eyes drawn into a Slavic slant.
Kimberly, the KGB's cosmetic wonder, would be flown to London as a commercial attaché to the Russian Embassy. His rebirth as Sergei Kuzminsky would coincide with the death of Philip Kimberly, renowned double agent who had been British subdirector of counterintelligence before defecting to Russia in 1964. Throughout those following ten years, both British and Russian intelligence agencies had poured several million pounds into recovering a crucial portfolio, the Russian paymaster's file in England. Both states suspected Kimberly had stolen the portfolio to use for personal barter. And now that the Russian government had profited from ten years of loyalty from their famous spy defector, they were sending him back to England to retrieve that missing portfolio. Kimberly was fully aware that whether he failed to deliver the file or whether he succeeded and want on to collect his promised life pension in Switzerland, the Russians had set him up only to execute him in the name of the Communist state.
On landing in London, Kimberly (now Kuzminsky), breaks away from the Russian guard and sets out to save his own neck in the climactic coup of his dazzling career. He contracted his unsuspecting odd crony Commander Scaith, solicits the help of his ten-year-orphaned daughters, Penelope, and pays a night visit to his retired Oxford professor Piers Purloe. Wounded and delirious, he eventually makes his way to a rendezvous in the gracious old Woburn Abbey, where the Duchess of Bedford, Miss Nichole Nobody herself, is presiding over tea for her friends from the Foreign Office.
Ms. Bennet brings the drama of Philip Kimberly's cunning scheme to a conclusion as shocking as the suspense is gripping. Her characters--roguish, wily, and drawn in every shade of black and white--are all well met, their dialogue delightful , and the settings authentically cooked. No one will put THE JIGSAW MAN down before finishing the whole enchanting book.
I couldn't finish it because it was so confusing and dumb. I would compare it to an action oriented television soap opera. I just didn't like it and wouldn't recommend it to anyone, unless you like boring action stories that drag on and on.