The book-jacket praise likens Frederick Reuss to Graham Greene and John le Carré. Both comparisons have point. All three authors have written novels with a background in espionage, but not with the thriller aspect as their only focus. Le Carré has been increasingly concerned with the effects of the profession on the human beings involved, and their relationships with others. Greene, before him, concentrated on the moral, even spiritual, dilemmas that come of having to redefine one's loyalties. Is is surely not coincidental that Reuss' protagonist is a devout Catholic who, near the climax of the book, consults with his priest about his loss of divine grace.
But Reuss is cooler, almost distant. There is virtually no thriller aspect here at all; any violence that occurs is relayed by satellite images from Waziristan, to be deconstructed in air-conditioned government offices. Greene's sense of locale is so strong as to have gained its own name, Greeneland, and le Carré writes in the same tradition. If anything, Reuss is even more concerned with locale; his leading characters are professional map-makers, and each chapter begins with a map coordinate that may be precisely pinpointed on Google. But they are bland, almost sterile places: Washington office buildings, leafy suburbs, golf clubs, quiet lakeside towns in Switzerland, a square in downtown Munich. For all his emphasis on maps, the territory that Reuss stakes out is the inner landscape of the mind. While he opens his characters with the precision of a surgeon, I might have preferred a less aseptic approach; I missed the visceral torment of Greene or the thrills of le Carré.
Noel Leonard works in the Defence Intelligence Analysis Center in Washington, viewing images, making maps, selecting targets, and analyzing the effects of the resultant strike. Sometimes mistakes are made; the scurrying white larvae on the green night-scope images of a strike on a supposed terrorist stronghold turn out to be innocent school-children. Noel's wife is provisionally supportive, but he can only tell her that he is a government bean-counter. His college-age daughter has troubles of her own and excludes her father from one of the most important decisions of her life. Losing any sense of self, Noel eventually turns to his priest, but by that time he has a lot of repair work to do, in his career, his family, and his soul.
There is another equally important character in the book: an unnamed narrator who is also employed in Washington making maps. Although we know little about him, he is in many ways the more interesting of the two, because his goal is to open out his life, rather than desperately holding it together. The book opens with his father's funeral in Bern. A chance encounter with a man who describes himself as his father's oldest friend makes him wonder if his father had been working for the CIA. His unraveling of the secrets will bring him to a fuller appreciation of his dispersed family, even as Noel Leonard, on the other side of the tipping scales, faces the danger of losing his.
The book is completely enjoyable as the separate but parallel stories of two richly developed characters and the secrets that shape their lives. But there is a hint towards the end that the two may in fact be connected. Fascinating, if so, but I wish it were more than a hint.