Slow Horses

“He’d heard Taverner was desperate to alter the rules of the game; not so much change the pieces on the board as throw the board away and design a new one.”

River compares the work of espionage to a game, a common trope in spy thrillers. Unbeknownst to him, he is one of Taverner’s pawns in her current game. Her attempt to “alter the rules of the game” ends in the deaths of agents and the betrayal of Slough House. The cynical strategic treatment of people as “pieces” her character will reveal is foreshadowed here.

“The days when he’d been a creature of instinct were in Jackson Lamb’s past. They belonged to a slimmer, smoother version of himself. But previous lives never really disappear. The skins we slough, we hang in wardrobes: emergency wear, just in case.”

Again, people are not what they initially seem. Though Jackson Lamb is both personally crude and physically slovenly, he is not the failure that everyone sees. The synecdoche of his skin stands for the man as a whole, an apt metaphor for his ability to transform himself into a capable force to be reckoned with when trouble arises, and to the spy’s essential skill in adopting and discarding identities. His disheveled appearance is, this passage suggests, a disguise. If others underestimate him, then he can operate with surprise. Herron explicitly refers to his pun “slough,” suggesting Lamb wants to cast off both his identity and the irritation of Slough House.

“As for the old man: when River thought back on scenes like that—on the umpire’s hat and the jumper holed at the elbow; at the trowel and the rivulets of sweat creasing his round country face—it was hard not to see it as an act.”

Just as Jackson Lamb is good at the art of disguise, so too is David Cartwright, River’s grandfather, usually referred to as the O.B. In his retirement, the O.B. putters about in the garden and engages in domestic work that seems harmless. This, the novel increasingly suggests, is a spy’s habit of disguise. The O.B. is not what he seems, either: His role in the death of Charles Partner at the hands of Lamb is part of the denouement and serves as a cliffhanger for the novel series.

“That was the true purpose of Slough House. It was a way of losing people without having to get rid of them, sidestepping legal hassle and tribunal threats.”

Instead of firing spies for professional mistakes, the reason given for Slough House is to limit reputational and financial risk. There they languish in obscurity, and the menial tasks to which they are assigned are designed to encourage them to quit. However, the novel increasingly shows that this reason itself is a cover, as the Slough House agents are indispensable to Regent’s Park as scapegoats.

“The colour of his skin was enough. That he didn’t share their religion. That they resented his presence, his very existence; that he was an affront to them—he could swear, or get down on his knees […] it didn’t matter. His crime was who he was.”

Here the novel explores the nature of the fear and threat experienced by Hassan Ahmed when he realizes that his captors’ racist beliefs have the effect of dehumanizing him in their view. It traces the moment when Hassan realizes that his captors will not take pity on him and that he can expect little kindness or compassion, let alone the hope to appeal to them, human to human. By showing Hassan’s realization of the racist motivation as subsequent to the moment of his abduction, the novel engages seriously with the effects of racist prejudice.

“Everywhere, everybody would be doing what Lamb had said: reconfiguring their earlier position that this was Islamist extremism.”

Characteristically, despite Lamb’s cynicism and general air of disinterest, he is one step ahead of everyone else. He understands immediately that the hostage represents an enemy combatant to the terrorists, racist and misguided as they are. He knows that their impulse is to enact symbolic revenge, achieving nothing. His cynicism helps him perceive a homegrown threat when others look elsewhere.

“What this is, we’ve a far-right group performing a terrorist act the same day we pull a data-theft on the highest-profile right-wing nutcase in the country. No way is that just one of those things.”

River tries to enlist Sid Baker in his quest to find the links between the two. Like Lamb, River is correct, though he does not know that the entire incident is a false-flag operation cooked up by Diana Taverner. The journalist, or, in River’s words, “right-wing nutcase,” has overheard Taverner discussing her plans. This passage shows the building of plot through characters’ expressed instincts, which are also expressive of their characters. Here River’s language contextualizes the extreme right-wing views of Hobson and his affiliates in the everyday diction of mainstream British attitudes.

“At the time, Lamb had been in transition; making the jump from foreign holidays—as the joes all called them—to tending the home fires. This was in that blissful break when the world seemed a safer place, between the end of the cold war and about ten minutes later.”

When Charles Partner introduces Catherine Standish to Lamb, the world is in flux. After the Berlin Wall falls, all of the pieces in the game of espionage scatter. Lamb returns home while Partner’s treasonous behavior is discovered. The author employs his specialized lexicon to describe their world: the “joes” (agents) come back from “foreign holidays” (field work). Catherine remembers this time with nostalgia, expressive of both her personal regrets and the novel’s complex relationship with and glamorization of the past.

“River remembered something else: that Hobden used copies of Searchlight, the anti-fascist newspaper, to wrap his kitchen leavings in; an up-yours to anyone who rifled his dustbins.”

The journalist is aware he is being watched, so he calls out the surveillance team with his choice of newspaper. The joke is that, while simultaneously covering his tracks, he is accusing the state and the agents that serve it of being a fascist entity, as he believes his freedoms are being impinged upon—although he himself holds extremist far-right views. That River thinks this is part of the novel’s layering of unspoken assumption, secret evidence, and double bluff. 

“‘We both know you know nothing, Cartwright. But that doesn’t mean Regent’s Park won’t be looking for you.’ He led the way round the back, to the familiar scarred door. ‘I won’t say this is the absolute last place they’ll look, but it won’t be top of their list.’”

Lamb takes River to Slough House after Sid Baker has been shot. While Lamb dismisses River’s importance, he is also acutely aware that River will now be a target of Regent’s Park. This highlights both the place of Slough House in the pecking order—far down the list—and Lamb’s deep devotion to the agents he continually demeans.

“‘I’ve never been sure what disturbs me more,’ Peter Judd said, filling Hobden’s glass. ‘The fact that MI5 is run by women, or the fact that everybody seems to know this. I mean, didn’t it used to be called the secret service?’”

This gives the reader insight into Peter Judd’s character and beliefs: He is sexist and glib. His comments show what sort of prime minister he would make and raise the jeopardy of the novel’s plot. His formulation here falls into the pattern of speech often used in discriminatory speech or microaggressions: He uses a tone that allows him to dismiss this as “just a joke,” a well-established sexist trope.

“Do I look like I’m keen? You’re right, this evening’s out of control. I want it over, quickly and quietly. With someone I trust at the reins. And like it or not, Slough House is part of this now. You’ll all get turned over. And poor Catherine…Well, she doesn’t even know the trouble she was nearly in, does she?”

“Lady Di” Taverner is trying to coerce Lamb into sending in his team to clean up the mess she has created with her false-flag operation. Actually, she is setting them up to take the fall should anything go wrong. Lamb is aware of her potential for treachery, but he is also aware that his team might be offered a chance at redemption if they handle the situation well. Taverner’s attempt at blackmail—that she will dredge up the treason charges against Catherine Standish if Lamb does not agree—ultimately fails.

“Even in the webbed-up world, where conspiracy theories spread faster than a blogger’s acne, PJ had not difficulty believing that elements within MI5 might have concocted this piece of Grand Guignol, and it even impressed him, a bit. A little less cloak-and-dagger and a bit more reality TV: that was the way to catch the public imagination.”

Peter Judd analyzes the situation before he decides to make the calls that will blow the agent’s cover. “Grand Guignol” refers to a popular theatrical production that relies on sensationalism. The metaphors here reveals snobbishness and that he believes the Service has become less glamorous and more crass, appealing to the masses with emotional displays of hostage-taking and rescue.

“All was clear. Months of waiting for a real job to do: they weren’t about to pass it up. ‘Okay. Don’t anyone get shot or anything. It goes on my record.’”

Lamb’s words here are characteristically dismissive, although by this point in the novel his gibes are more cheerfully amusing, as the reader knows them to be a front. Even though the slow horses know that the likelihood that they are being set up to fail is high, they still want the chance to prove everyone wrong. The chance for redemption trumps the risk. Ironically, the slow horses do reveal Taverner’s schemes and locate the hostage, but it is all kept under wraps: They will remain slow horses.

“‘We’re mopping up. I’ve one of Lamb’s people downstairs. It won’t take long to get cast-iron proof. All we need is something that puts Lamb with Black since Black quit the Service. Let’s face it, Jackson Lamb’s not the Friends Reunited type.’

‘You’re very keen on playing the judge.’”

Taverner speaks with her boss, Ingrid Tearney. Tearney picks up on Taverner’s eagerness to indict Lamb and his team; in her panic, Taverner is arousing suspicions. Ironically, the piece of evidence needed—the proof that Lamb and Black have been conspiring—is what River eventually retrieves to show that it is, instead, Taverner with Black.

“The axe was there too, wrapped in a blanket. In videos he’d seen, they’d used swords; whacking great blades that sliced through bone like butter. Curly had an English axe. Different strokes for different folks.”

This passage employs dark humor and juxtaposition to make a serious point about extremism, hatred, and racial prejudice, of any type. Hassan has seen sword beheadings, presumably those committed by Islamic extremists. The novel creates an irony that Hassan has been captured because he has a Pakistani Muslim cultural background, showing how personal identities and views should not be conflated with cultural or racial assumptions. As well as making a political point, the “English axe” is frightening as it is not an efficient tool for decapitation. Hassan’s threatened death will likely not be swift.

“Like all the slow horses, Loy lived alone. That seemed a stark statistic, and it was odd that it hadn’t occurred to Min Harper before.”

Living alone here is presented as a subtle paradox. Min’s thoughts suggest that the slow horses live alone because they have problems with trust and relationships but, as the plot indicates, it also leaves them vulnerable to being picked up by the Dogs without witnesses. As the book develops, the slow horses slowly come together as a team, which makes them much more effective than when they try to work alone. It is unclear whether the slow horses are loners because they have been relegated to Slough House or if loners are the ones who make the mistakes that lead to the slow horses. Either way, working as a team, and protecting one another, proves far more successful.

“What felt like a long time ago, back when he was first feeling his way round the Service systems, Roderick Ho had gone into his personnel records and changed his address. If he’d been asked why, he wouldn’t have understood the question. He did it for the same reason he never gave his real name when taking out a loyalty card: because you never gave a stranger the inside track.”

This discloses the kernel of Roderick Ho’s personality. He is both aggressively paranoid and exceedingly arrogant. Everyone is a stranger to him except for the anonymous hackers with which he communes on his computer at night. His unlikability is signaled by the others’ behavior toward him. Only Catherine Standish seems to see him with some compassion, calling him Roddy.

“Tonight, he gave the impression that someone was riding his coat-tails. He was always secretive, but she’d never seen him look worried before. As if his paranoia was paying off. As if it had found an enemy that wasn’t only his past, lurking in a shadow his own bulk threw.”

Catherine observes Lamb’s changed demeanor. He is worried because he knows he and his team—including Catherine, whom he has vowed to protect—is in danger. The past is personified here, an enemy hiding in the shadows and waiting to pounce.

“Next to [Blake’s grave] is a memorial to Defoe; Bunyan’s tomb is yards away. Nonconformists all. Whether that was why Lamb chose it as a meeting place, nobody was prepared to guess, but that was where they gathered all the same.”

Clearly, Lamb relishes the idea of meeting at the graves of iconoclastic writers. He likes to envision himself in such company. It also indicates the author’s own influences and a surprising side to Lamb: These revered authors of English literature were moralists as well as “nonconformists.” It nods to an erudition not usually found in the genre.

“Min reminded himself that Catherine Standish had been Charles Partner’s Girl Friday. Partner had been before Min’s time, but he was pretty much a legend himself.”

Louisa thinks of her as Miss Moneypenny, of the James Bond novels, while Min conjures the Girl Friday trope of a female office assistant. The original Friday, of course, was the indigenous helper that Robinson Crusoe enlisted to his cause in Daniel Defoe’s eponymous novel. Again, literary influences are revealed as Catherine’s esteem is elevated.

“Regent’s Park—the building—was lit up: blue spotlights at ground level cast huge ovals across its façade, drawing attention to the fact that important stuff took place inside.”

Regent’s Park is the diametric opposite to Slough House: While Slough House is all shadows and gloom, Regent’s Park is brightly lit and in the spotlight. It is the center of the action, while Slough House is on the far fringes. Nevertheless, in the book, the underdogs of the backwater outwit the bright minds at the Park.

“So if Webb had burned River at King’s Cross, on Taverner’s instructions, he’d have kept evidence of it, to make sure he didn’t end up in the line of fire himself. Given Taverner’s expertise at throwing former allies to the Dogs, this was wise.”

James “Spider” Webb plays by “London rules,” by which he means to protect his own career should anyone threaten it. He keeps the evidence that would allow him to blackmail Taverner. The upshot here is that Taverner’s taste for disloyalty begets disloyalty in her subordinates.