Bernard Samson is back, and I’m pleased to report that Len Deighton hasn’t lost his knack for making the world of Cold War espionage feel like a particularly unpleasant place to earn a living. Spy Line, the second book in the Hook, Line and Sinker trilogy, continues the story begun in Spy Hook, drawing Samson further into the familiar tangle of professional rivalries, personal loyalties and intelligence that may or may not be worth trusting. If you enjoy your spy fiction with a healthy dose of cynicism and characters who rarely tell the whole truth, there is plenty here to keep you entertained.

Samson remains the main attraction for me. I like his dry humour, his impatience with management nonsense and his ability to recognise that the people running the intelligence services don’t necessarily know what they’re doing. He has spent enough time in the business to understand that official explanations deserve a certain amount of scepticism, yet he is still capable of being caught off guard by the people around him. That combination of experience and fallibility makes him feel like a real person rather than a fictional agent who always knows best.

What I particularly enjoy is the way Samson’s professional instincts are complicated by his personal relationships. He understands that people rarely reveal their full motives, yet he is still emotionally involved with those around him. His professional life demands caution, while his personal life requires a degree of faith in others that doesn’t always come easily. I find that tension one of the most compelling aspects of the series. Watching Samson try to reconcile his knowledge of human nature with his feelings for particular people gives the espionage plot an emotional dimension that might otherwise be missing.

Deighton is also very good at making the reader work. Conversations carry hidden meanings, apparently important details can turn out to be distractions, and new information has a habit of forcing you to reconsider earlier assumptions. I found myself trying to piece together the various strands alongside Samson, occasionally feeling rather pleased with myself before discovering that I might have overlooked something important. It is plotting that rewards attention, although there are moments when keeping track of the competing interests requires a little effort.

The Cold War setting gives Deighton plenty of scope to explore the difference between political ideals and the practical business of maintaining power. The confrontation between East and West is ostensibly a struggle between competing visions of society, but the intelligence services operate in a world where secrecy, manipulation and expediency frequently take precedence over moral certainty.

One of the things I appreciate about Deighton’s approach is that he doesn’t turn espionage into a simple contest between the good guys and the bad guys. Both sides are prepared to bend the rules when it suits them, and neither is immune to the influence of personal ambition or institutional self-interest. The people involved may justify their actions in terms of national security, but that doesn’t mean their motives are always as noble as they would have us believe.

There is also a good deal of social commentary in the treatment of the intelligence establishment itself. Bureaucracy, professional jealousy and the protection of careers can be just as troublesome as anything an opposing intelligence service might arrange. The people making decisions are not necessarily the people who will suffer the consequences, and loyalty often seems to be expected from those lower down the chain without any guarantee of loyalty in return.

I find this aspect of Samson’s world particularly convincing. He understands that doing his job well is not always enough to keep him out of trouble. He must also navigate the egos, rivalries and hidden agendas of the people supposedly working towards the same goal. It makes the intelligence services feel like recognisable human institutions rather than glamorous organisations populated by superhuman operatives.

There is no getting away from the fact that Spy Line belongs to another era. Its technology and communications can feel old-fashioned, while the measured pace and detailed plotting may not appeal to readers who want their thrillers to move at breakneck speed. Deighton occasionally asks us to absorb a great deal of information before its significance becomes clear, and I can see how that might frustrate some readers.

For me, though, these are small blemishes rather than serious problems. The lack of instant communication and modern surveillance technology means Samson has to rely on judgement, experience and the occasional educated guess. That gives the story a particular kind of tension, where information must be painstakingly gathered and decisions can have consequences long before anyone has the full picture.

Ultimately, Spy Line is another thoroughly enjoyable entry in the Bernard Samson series. Deighton combines an absorbing espionage story with a protagonist whose dry wit and human weaknesses make him easy to spend time with. The Cold War backdrop may now belong to history, but the themes of institutional self-interest, compromised loyalties and the gap between public principles and private motives remain familiar.

I may not always agree with Samson’s judgement, and I certainly wouldn’t want his job, but I remain firmly in his corner. Deighton has created a world where even the most experienced intelligence officer can be blindsided by events, and that makes for a cracking spy thriller. I’m looking forward to seeing how he brings the trilogy to a close in Spy Sinker.

Buy your copy here