Slough House

Les Arbres

What it is

A big house in the middle of France, in the country the pages locate by Angevin and Poitiers. River reaches it by train from Paris to Poitiers and then by bus to Angevin, on the river Anglin; the house itself is a walk out of town, walled off, in woods, and the café customer who gives him the name says that finding it is “yes and no”.

By the time River gets there it is a burned shell. The fire was three nights earlier and deliberate; the house is empty; no bodies have been recovered; tyre tracks and melted white goods sit in the mud. Everything the place might have told an investigator is ash, which is what the narrator says and what the plot then has to work around.

What it was in 1990 is given by the people who were there. A commune of eighteen or twenty men — Russian, English, German and Czech — run by an American everyone obeyed, with six or seven boys raised on the premises and taught by a Frenchman called Jean. Bad Sam Chapman remembers eight male adults, first names only, a regimented house, few women and some children, and an ex-KGB officer calling himself Yevgeny. There were fields round the house where the boys learned to shoot, and a cellar where each of them was locked in on his twelfth birthday until he asked to be let out.

Book 4 — Spook Street

Why it matters

Les Arbres is where Spook Street puts its origin story, and it puts it in France so that the Service can deny it. A walled house, a handful of men with first names only, a school with no register and no curriculum beyond a language and a weapon: the place is the physical form of deniability. Everything the book later finds in London — the cold bodies, the cellar discipline, the boy who believed his own cover — was manufactured here, in a building with no official existence.

It is also the book’s most efficient piece of plotting. River arrives three nights late, so the exposition has to come from people rather than documents: a hunter, a woman who was thrown off the property, an ageing Dog who stayed in a hotel in Angevin. Each witness supplies a different Les Arbres — Victor’s is a rumour, Natasha’s is a memory of 1990, Chapman’s is a posting — and none of them can say what it became.

The cellar is the image the book keeps. A twelve-year-old locked in the dark until he asks to be released is a compact description of the whole Cuckoo method: obedience dressed as endurance, and a boy taught that survival is a thing he can be granted. The terms — seventeen days, a month, two months — are the book’s only measure of its antagonists as children, and the longest belongs to the one who bombed a shopping centre.

Open questions

Book 4