Tom Bradby: The White Russian

Chief investigator Sandro Ruzsky, disinherited son of one of Russia's aristocratic families, returns to St Petersburg in 1917 from his exile post in Siberia. Choosing a career as a common policeman led to his exile from his family. Crossing the secret police led to his exile to the cold place. Now he's about to cross them again. The guy never learns.

His cow of a wife is living with his formidable father and having an affair with a grand duke. She won't let him see his son. Ruzsky is in love with a ballerina who wants to be just a friend. He lives in a freezing-cold flat in an apartment where the hallways stink of tramps' urine.

In the bread queues the talk is of revolution. On the streets the graffiti depicts the Tsarina in lewd poses with the recently murdered Rasputin.

Now Ruzsky is investigating the murder of a young couple on the ice near the Tsar's Winter Palace. And the secret police are warning him to keep his nose out.

This is a terrific yarn with a backdrop of political and historical intrigue and the knowledge that some really significant murders are about to happen.

Ruszky is world-weary, loyal, heartbroken and impoverished - like Russia itself - and beautifully melancholy in a way that not even Russian vodka (prohibition is in place, so it's rugged stuff) can cure.

Bantam Press

$34.95