The only person standing between London and Armageddon is Brent Crude.
‘One of our Dreadnoughts is missing…’
‘It’s not a ship, it’s a boat.’
‘My name is Adverse Camber. I am the Chairperson and Chief Executive Director of WEEVIL, Waffenschmuggel: Explosiv Expressgut – Vergangenheitsbewältigung in Lederhosen…’
When Mimsy Borogoves gets the summons at 3 am to attend Cabinet Office Briefing Room A, she knows that Something Really Bad must have happened. A dastardly international criminal organization has hijacked a nuclear submarine and intends, should Her Majesty’s Government refuse to pay the ransom, to annihilate London.
Mimsy watches as the Prime Minister, the Cabinet, and the military top brass struggle to mount a coherent response to the threat. She alone knows that there is one man who is indispensable at this time of national crisis. His name is Crude. Brent Crude.
But Crude, charismatic, unpredictable, and flawed, is not a team player. When the Cobra committee rejects his strategic advice, he slips under cover, picks up a lead in a dingy Viennese Bier Keller, and embarks on a lone-wolf hunt for Adverse Camber.
Meanwhile WEEVIL has a mole in Cobra. And Mimsy Borogoves knows the Prime Minister isn’t up to the job. Deep down, the PM knows it too. Just because you suffer from Impostor Syndrome doesn’t mean you aren’t a real fake.