This sixty-year-old classic was recently recommended in the Journal’s Saturday edition of 'the 5 best,' likely because of its nitty-gritty and excellent depiction of the Cold War’s front line. Harry Palmer is in and out of Berlin getting ready for the defection of a Soviet chemist/enzyme expert. The whole thing feels a bit off, but Harry proceeds as directed by London. The mystery woman who shows up in Harry’s bed—as well as in the bed of Harry’s middleman in Berlin—turns out to be an Israeli spy hunting for a war criminal. The middleman, Johnny Vulkan, actually is the war criminal, working both sides to get paperwork that will allow him to access stolen Jewish money in Switzerland. The whole thing goes cock-up, with Vulkan dead. Harry walks away.
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