The national headquarters of the American Literary Historical Society is in Washington, DC, its purpose ostensibly for literary analysis, advance and achievement. No one goes there and takes tours -- they can't get past the main desk without proper clearance. In reality, it's a CIA office where people read and analyze mystery and spy novels (what a dream job!) to seek out correlations between fiction and fact.
One of the employees there, Ronald Malcolm, advises another employee (Heidegger) to ignore it when he finds a record for two crates of books that the society never received, but for which they had paid. Malcolm's advice was not followed. Shortly after this, it's Malcolm's turn to go out and get lunch for the group, which he does, taking his time. Upon his return, he finds everyone at the society dead. Sizing up the situation, he realizes that now he's in danger, and he does what he's been trained to do: calls the panic line at CIA headquarters, where he identifies himself as Condor. From this point, things go horribly wrong for Malcolm, and he finds himself on the run, with his life on the line.
An awesome book -- you seriously don't know who you can trust in this story which heightens the experience and the aura of suspense which builds throughout. Even 34 years later this book still has the ability to keep you turning pages. Recommended for people who enjoy espionage fiction, suspense or people who like stories about the CIA.
I know I saw this movie (dating myself, I think probably when it came out and Robert Redford was still young), but I just bought it anyway. I have this thing...when movies are made from books that I've read, I have to watch them to see how they measure up to the book. So I'll make an addendum and let you know.
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