The Corporal’s Wife

Gerald Seymour, master puppeteer, makes his characters dance for their lives across this devastatingly topical and authentic thriller set in the dust of Iran, the offices of Whitehall and the mountains of Austria.

The Corporal, driver for a Brigadier in the al-Qods Brigade, is snatched by the Secret Service. He is needed for his knowledge of Iranian military secrets – surely as a driver he must have overheard any number of private and informative conversations … driven to any number of secret installations? Stashed in an eerie in Europe’s mountains, offered the softly, softly approach to divulging all he knows, the Corporal digs his toes in. He will not talk. Unless his wife is brought out of Iran to join him.

The SAS turn down the job as too dangerous, but MI6 need their prize to talk. So a special team is put together: a young interpreter who can speak colloquial Farsi; a tough, tight, group of ex-fighting men to escort, guide and protect … words are dropped in ears, palms are greased, the ‘rescue’ is implemented.

But Farideh doesn’t want to come.

It is only when she realises that her life is in danger if she stays that she reluctantly agrees. Perhaps she sees a future, where there is none if she stays in Iran, perhaps it is a private thing between her and the young interpreter. Either way, the chase is on.

With the disgraced Brigadier fighting for his military survival and all of the al-Qods looking for them in the air, at road blocks, in the scrub and dust of Iran, the small team of fugitives dodge and scrape their way towards the border. All the while the Corporal is slowly – very slowly – offering up his knowledge…he believes his wife will be with him shortly. He has no idea she is running for her life.