For his third sensational tradecraft thriller, The Seventh Floor, former CIA analyst David McCloskey returns to some characters fans will recognize--namely CIA officers Artemis Aphrodite Procter and Sam Joseph, who both featured prominently in his debut novel, Damascus Station. McCloskey's ability to balance their strengths and flaws, their dark senses of humor and their exquisitely honed survival instincts make these larger-than-life personalities look almost like the folks next door in their all-too-human foibles.

With her intelligence, reflexes, and risk-taking, Procter would be the person you'd want in charge of any surveillance mission. Except when she figures out that one of her closest friends, with whom she was trained at what the CIA calls "the Farm," must be the mole who betrayed Sam Joseph. Procter has sent Sam to a high-stakes baccarat table in Singapore to get intel from a Russian called Golikov. Golikov winds up dead, and Sam ends up in a Russian interrogation cell; Procter gets viciously fired over the debacle. And those are just the opening chapters. Sam, like Procter, has had his issues with the CIA, but both are passionate about their work and good at what they do. Procter will not rest until she figures out which of her friends--together known as "Bratva"--is the traitor.

McCloskey puts his insider knowledge of the CIA to excellent use, describing "the Seventh Floor," the administrative hub of the CIA, and how files--and secret names--are kept (and leaked), and demonstrates how indispensable a wry sense of humor can be at defusing high tension. As the Bratva gang--Mac Mason, Gus Raptis, Theo Monk, and Procter--await their meeting with new CIA director Finn Gosford and deputy director Deborah Sweet, McCloskey describes the mood: a "room full of nervous analysts, whose fidgeting and tapping and murmuring recalled the rising comprehension of steers on their way to slaughter." Gosford and "Debs," as they refer to her (she was also a classmate at the Farm), proceed to put Procter through "bureaucratic torture" before cruelly dismissing her, whereupon Procter heads to Kissimmee, Fla., to wrestle alligators at her cousin's theme park.

The perfectly paced novel moves smoothly from the Seventh Floor at Langley to Moscow to Kissimmee and beyond, slowly building tension as Procter and Sam (and readers) gain more information about the intricate web of spies and double agents from the East and the West. To McCloskey's credit, the complexities of characters on both sides cause readers to weigh what may have motivated even those it might be tempting to write off as pure villains. Rem, who heads up the counterpart to the CIA in Russia, started as KGB and takes a patient, long view of bringing down the CIA from the inside. His respect for Procter's intelligence can't help but make readers respect him, at least a little: "[S]he is the only one capable of piecing it all together," Rem observes. And his annoyance with the younger, ambitious Bortnikov, who nearly capsizes Rem's efforts through his rush to make an impact, will have universal resonance with readers familiar with corporate heirarchies. Given each character's complexities, McCloskey has a talent for capturing a personality in a single sentence, such as Procter's observation about another Bratva pal: "Theo Monk would have risen far higher inside CIA if not for a hungry cock and thirsty liver."

Even supporting characters, such as Peter and Irene Venable (aka MICKEY and MINNIE), living in Dallas with a dog named Joseph Stalin, can be admired for their patriotism for the Motherland, as the children of Russian immigrants--bloodlust and twisted ethics aside. IMPERIAL, a Russian who defected to Las Vegas after serving as an asset to the CIA, is "an appetite inhabiting a human body," as described by Petra Devine, chief of the Special Investigations Unit (known as the "Dermatology Shop: CIA's molehunters"). But IMPERIAL just might be able to help Procter in her search for her mole. Petra Devine is another terrific supporting character; she starts out as a thorn in the side of the field agents--always pointing out possible anomalies in the information from assets, as recorded in cables the agents send in to headquarters--but her theories become crucial when an actual mole might be undermining the work of the entire agency.

The friendship between Procter and Sam forms the heart of the novel. Their fierce loyalty to each other propels it. Sam tells only Procter what the message was from Golikov; Procter is determined to avenge Sam's imprisonment. Their bond outshines even the 25-year alliances Procter has with Bratva--especially now that she suspects one of them to be the traitor. In a moment of rare self-reflection, Procter tells Gus, "It's a challenge to wrestle your demons and gators at the same time. More of an either-or situation, turns out."

Readers will be rooting for Procter and Sam to find their mole and set the CIA back on track, despite its mishandling of these extremely capable if flawed human beings. Luckily for readers, McCloskey is hard at work on a fourth novel. --Jennifer M. Brown

David McCloskey (photo: Claire McCormack)

David McCloskey, referring to his third novel set within the CIA, The Seventh Floor (coming from W.W. Norton on October 1, 2024), confessed, "This one was harder because it was a whodunnit." Shelf Awareness admitted to madly rereading the book to search for breadcrumbs along the way, leading to the mole inside the Central Intelligence Agency who's feeding information to the Russians. "I hope I supplied enough information on each subject to make everyone a suspect," McCloskey said. Indeed he did. He is the author of two previous novels, Damascus Station--in which the main protagonists of The Seventh Floor, Artemis Aphrodite Procter and Sam Joseph, are also both leading characters--and Moscow X. A former CIA analyst, McCloskey worked in field stations across the Middle East and has briefed senior White House officials and Arab royalty. He lives in Texas.

Procter mentions that her lead instructor told her: "Spying is writing." Is that also your belief? How has each informed the other for you?

I like that line. It's not the Hollywood view of the business. Yet the agency record can only exist as what is written down [by the agent]. It is vital for everyone in [CIA] headquarters. If a case officer is meeting with an asset, that's the only record of what was said at the meeting. It's about the clarity of writing, being concise; it's kind of mundane. It's not sexy. Coming out of the agency and writing now, it's very different.

Economy of language and being concise is still important. The training by the CIA helped in the analytic writing of novels. The president's daily briefings, the script of life, the anodyne, bureaucratic stuff--those are not stories. It's a less linear process to write characters and to discover voice. I'm not limited to brief, concise paragraphs.

Procter and Sam also figured prominently in a previous novel. Do you start with characters and then find situations for them to operate within? Or do you begin with the plot and then populate them with the right characters?

The answer varies throughout the books; it's always a bit of both. In The Seventh Floor, I wanted to try a mole hunt story. I knew I wanted Procter to be a prominent player. I didn't know what role she'd play or the menagerie of suspects. I used to outline; I don't now. I start by playing around with characters and voice.

I knew I wanted there to be a group of friends at the agency--some are suspects, some are not. It's a messy process, but I don't have a better way. It's a very inefficient way.

Although you always keep the narrative in the third-person point of view, you have a wonderful way of getting inside the head of each of your characters--Procter certainly, but also Rem (head of Russia's "Special Section") and even Rem's wife, Ninel (Lenin spelled backwards, brilliant!). Does that come easily in early drafts? Or is that something you massage later?

There were certain voices that hit right in the beginning. In the first couple drafts, Rem did not exist. Nor did Sam. Irene/MINNIE [an assassin hired by the Russians] was more psychotic in the early drafts. She was fun to write, but not working in the storytelling. Yet I needed that destabilizing entity.

Rem came pretty quickly in later drafts. Now I think, how could the book exist without him? There are people you meet and feel like you've known them forever. Others, it's a longer process to get to know them. It's not any less deep, it just takes longer. Other people, you instantly know you don't click and want to find ways to get away from them. It's the same with characters, some of them deepen with time.

The name Ninel was common for girls born [in the U.S.S.R.] in the early '30s. She's a little young to have that name, but I wanted to indicate these were died-in-the-wool true believers.

Petra (a "derm," whose job at the CIA is to look for moles--aka anomalies in the agents' reports) was a favorite character for this reader.

When you dig into counter-espionage molehunters--in both the U.S. and in Britain--the derms are always older women, trusted. Not typically a case officer, usually they've come up through a less traditional route. They provided operational support and don't have much political sway.

Petra is like Procter--both have sweat equity with the agency. They have complaints about it, but they're loyal to the CIA. They're both wrestling with the question: What do you owe the place?

Humor seems like a survival tool for Procter and Sam, as well as Theo perhaps, and maybe even, deep down, Debs. Would you say that's a crucial tool for a good agent?

I think so. The reason I say this, the case officer job, the successful ones, have a way of communicating well and understanding people. Dark humor and an ability to laugh at the insane things that happen on the job. It's hard to do the job if you don't have a working sense of humor.

With this book, I wanted to write a story about friends and what different friendships can look like, how they can change over a lifetime, and the limits of what you can know about people.

The juxtaposition of humor and horror is so effective in the novel.

To me, the humor arises from the characters I seem to find. Procter has a dark sense of humor and uses it as a coping and defense mechanism--though she'd never admit it. Give her any dark situation, and she'll approach it with humor. Even when she shits her pants in the director's office, she has something to say. From a reader's standpoint, you have to enjoy that to go along on the Procter ride. It's there in Rem's humor, in Sam's humor.

Humor lets readers breathe a bit. You can manage the horror with humor.

Can you talk a bit about the Kassab brothers? They clearly agreed to help because of their friendship with Sam; when Procter joins them, Sam notes a look from them that says, "Not this lady."

The Kassab brothers played a decently large role in Damascus Station. There are people the CIA needs for their ability to do things in hostile and hard-to-get-around societies; they don't have the secrets themselves.

One of the reasons I wanted to put Sam in this story is that Procter and Sam go through hell together. In a book about friendships, Procter and Sam's was a genuine reciprocal friendship. Even though they don't know each other well, they probably have the most genuine friendship. Procter has a longer history with Bratva [her classmates at the Farm--Gus Raptis, Mac Mason, Theo Monk]. But she has a purer friendship with Sam.

Procter's life has been the Central Intelligence Agency. She's avenging people for CIA but also for herself. Because she's spent her life there, if she turns her back on it, she turns her back on herself. --Jennifer M. Brown