Naturally, I blame the Russians for the Beast from the East and all this bad weather. Well, they’re getting the blame for everything, so why not add one more charge to the sheet?
Am I surprised that an ex-KGB man got mysteriously poisoned in a little English town? No. The Russians have form in keeping grudges warm even through their winters.
But surely ex-secret service people would bump each other off in more sneaky ways? Nope. Polonium-210 infused tea, anyone?
If I wanted to put the frights on any other ex-employees out there, a bit of a statement hit would send that message.
It might not have been Vlad himself. Perhaps some retiring ex-underling just wanted to tie up a few old loose ends. It’s amazing what people take as a memento when they leave their jobs. Desk calendar, that photo of the 1999 Christmas Party, oh look, that nerve agent in the novelty glass Stalin’s head. Happy memories.
Beyond Bond, I know little of the shady word of espionage, but I’m guessing it’s the sort of industry where office score settling goes further than the usual backstabbing bitching to the boss.
Unless that back’s being stabbed with a poisoned brolly, of course.