Flashpoint

    I had lived so long on the wrong side Of. the law I felt
out of place as a special undercover agent for Uncle Sam. But I had no choice.
One of the top brass in U.S. Intelligence had my number. So we made a deal-his
silence for my services in tracking down and infiltrating a gang of Mid-East
terrorists. Besides, I had a personal interest in this job. They had stolen
$75,000 from me.
    So there I was-Earl Drake, bank robber and safecracker,
playing on the side of the angels to outwit a bunch of fanatic Turks who were
using their embassy for cover.
    I started with a Turkish delight. Talia. I conned her
into leading me from the bedroom to their inner sanctum. I wished I
hadn't.
    One look at the cold, bulbous eyes in the mound of flesh
seated on the cushioned sofa before me told me I had stepped in the path of a
rattlesnake. And if I couldn't charm it, I was a dead Drake.