Description:
If ever a novel proves the rule that writers should write about what they know, Thomas Powers's first novel is it. Powers, the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and longtime nonfiction writer on all things clandestine (Heisenberg's War: the Secret History of the German Bomb and The Man Who Kept the Secrets: Richard Helms and the CIA, among others) has found a home, should he want it, at the Cloak and Dagger Arms. Frank Cabot is next in line for the CIA directorship. He already holds the post of acting director, and the president and committee chairman both want him for the job. And with his clean record, all that stands between him and the corner office are the right answers to the right questions--a routine confirmation hearing. Until the pissing starts. As questions are raised and answers are vetted, Brad Cameron, Cabot's handpicked assistant, finds a missing name, a missing man, and missing records for each, any one of which could put an end to Cabot's confirmation, his career, his reputation, and the careers and reputations of half of official Washington, living and dead. They laid out everything they knew: the 1978 memos about Golenpolsky and his report of an American in the Gulag, the details added by Terry Tyler, protection of the Golenpolsky file in Akmolinsk records, a flag to the Ames case, and finally Warren DeForest's explanation of what Ames had to do with it. DeForest had visibly suffered before spilling the beans. Who was Brad? What was he doing here? Working for Cabot? Oh, my God. That created a bit of a--well... "Look, Myrna, this is going to be a real mess. I think we should save our talk till morning. Will you trust me on this?" As Brad and his partner--the wonderful septuagenarian Myrna Rashevsky, who deserves a book of her own--defy the spooks, make nice with the Mossad, pull the beards of cold war lions, and schmooze with the likes of Aldrich Ames, Cabot and his supporters are plagued from within and without by investigative reporters, crazed militiamen, alcoholic wives, and indiscreet nieces. While The Confirmation would benefit from a slightly quicker tempo and a greater sense of urgency (particularly down the homestretch), it remains a sharply plotted work with strong characterization and dialogue that rings true. And how many up-tempo works wouldn't be the better for that? --Michael Hudson
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