The good thriller with a small mistakes spreadging through the text like worms just about any time author gets to rescribe something related to Russia/Soviet Union. Which is about a quarter of the book.
Being the curious and attentive native of the country, I cannot stand the long description of "house arrest" (the unexistent pinishment in this country), the repeated address of "124 Gorky Street four hundred yards from Marx Prospect" (there are just a few streets with more than 100 house numbers in the whole city, and the place described is really in the first dozen), the same story about "Petrovski Avenue 236" (in addition to numbering, it is and always was Boulevard rather than Avenue), with another non-existent number 237 being right across the street, $400 for the tire of the Shkoda car (more like $100 at the time described), Tven instead of Tver as a geographical name, and the same fate for Yaroslavi instead of Yaroslavl. What you will think of the book where Baltimore is spelled Baltimot or Leeds as Leens?
It is like a small nails slightly above the surface which stop your otherwise smooth movement toward the end of the book...