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-Eastern terrorists. Besides, I had a personal interest in this job.
They had stole $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.