The British Agent by Simon Conway (Michael Joseph £16.99, 448pp)

A female British agent, codenamed Chuff, is sent by His Majesty’s Government to Ukraine to retrieve four missiles. They may have been taken by the rogue Russian mercenary group, Wagner.

The attempt sees her all but killed twice in the forests of the country and then in a mad dash to Turkey to persuade a Russian oligarch to sell them, in the company of a mysterious, possibly American agent, called Natasha.

So begins Conway’s richly detailed, sprawling story of intrigue at the highest levels in Washington and London, where Chuff finds herself fighting to prevent a global catastrophe. Packed with authentic detail it is a wonderful tribute to former army officer Conway’s skill as a writer.

The Killer’s Mark by M. W. Craven (Constable £22, 480pp)

The socially inept Washington Poe, unquestionably one of the most engaging detectives in recent crime fiction, has left the National Crime Agency and set up on his own.

Together with Tilly Bradshaw, part-time analyst for MI5 and all-round computer genius, they have become ‘Gumshoes for Hire’. One of their clients is a rude 15-year-old American girl who wants to find her mother – whom she thought was dead, but recently saw in a porn film.

Poe is led into the world of pornography and confronts an ultra-secret Triad organisation that provides concubines for rich men. Tongue-in-cheek storytelling, a byzantine plot and brilliant characters, this is Craven at his darkest and best.

Eyes on You by Adele Parks (HQ £16.99, 400pp)

At the age of 15, the girl now called Amy – but then called Hannah – witnessed her father killing his mistress.

The memory traumatised her, an effect made worse by the fact she became the chief prosecution witness at his trial, which saw him convicted of murder and sentenced to 25 years in prison.

She has to get away, so eventually leaves home and becomes a waitress in London. When she meets the handsome and rich Oliver, she cannot get him out of her mind. But boarding school-educated Oli is not what he seems. Neither is Amy. Could there be a slice of her murderous father in her?

Written in first person, it evokes the pain women feel trapped by memories and suspicions of men. It is not for the faint-hearted.