Detective William Warwick reads a crime scene the way others read a catalogue. Across three paperbacks, he moves from the art to the drugs squad and, finally, on to the investigation no copper wants: the one pointed at his own side. Crime fiction with a conscience under the collar.
Jeffrey Archer, Nothing Ventured
Archer launches his detective with burnished, auction-house polish and an unfailing instinct for the next page. William Warwick is earnest and a touch priggish, which suits him, and his pursuit of a stolen Rembrandt gives the book a handsome, glinting centre. Miles Faulkner wears villainy like a well-cut coat, all charm and no scruple, and Archer clearly enjoys every minute of him. Old-fashioned storytelling, delivered with relish and very little padding.
Jeffrey Archer, Hidden in Plain Sight - Archer trades the hush of the gallery for the grime of south London, and the story quickens accordingly. Newly promoted to detective sergeant, William joins the drugs squad to pursue the Viper, a feared south London drug baron, while his old adversary Miles Faulkner refuses to stay out of the picture. The pace seldom flags, asking little of the reader and giving a good deal back. This is the sort of book that disappears in an evening.
Jeffrey Archer, Turn a Blind Eye - Setting a policeman against his own is a gift of a premise, and Archer works it for every ounce of moral pressure it will bear. William goes undercover among colleagues, and the discomfort of that, with its awkward loyalties and sidelong glances, gives the novel its edge. The deeper he digs, the colder the corridors of the Yard become. Tightly wound and properly uncomfortable, this is the pick of the three.
