The Marksman #11: Counter-attack (Frank Scarpetta, 1974)

I'm far from being an expert in men's adventure novels (come to think of it - I'm not an expert on any kind of novels), but I'm 100% positive that something is definitely wrong with this one. Doesn't feel like a finished product at all. It's more like a bare manuscript that the author would pitch to a publisher and then complete quickly after approval. While having a drink or two, probably.

Starts somewhat ambitiously with a complicated plot that involves five crates of heroin smuggled from Egypt (poppy fields in a fucking desert?) into America. So what's ambitious about such trivial plotting, you might ask? The thing is that these crates were intercepted by the US customs (and/or some secret UK agency) and then stolen back by the Mafia before finally, our man Magellan got to them. Their content changed from heroin to marijuana to a pile of bricks and even sand during this period. All this enfolds really fast, and I admit that I lost track a bit. But to my defence, it seems like Mr Scarpetta, too, got a little lost, so he, fortunately, stopped fooling with this nonsense and made it clear that they indeed do contain heroin (worth $650 million) and that they indeed are in Marksman's possession.

From here on, it settles a bit, but it again goes totally wild in an abrupt ending. Only a few pages before the conclusion, another girl is introduced (and immediately forgotten), and then the final shootout happens on the very last page in no more than four (4 !!!) paragraphs.

You can, and you should read a proper and super cool review on the one and only Glorious Trash blog. I'll just abruptly finish mine with a quick summary:

• slightly pathetic hero
• incredibly pathetic pair of villains. One is such a sissy that suffers a mild stroke upon receiving some bad news
• no sex
• let me repeat: there's no sex in this men adventure novel! The closest it gets is this: Magellan made her nakedness complete, then stood back and coolly regarded her in the dim light. The sight of her beautiful, young body kindled a pang of memory, but only briefly.
• pathetic body count. For some reason, Marksman uses a gas grenade in the last shootout and thus spares the lives of two main villains and seven gangsters who "represented some kind of an execution squad"
• no globe-trotting. The whole thing takes place in New Orleans
• no "world domination" or "communist takeover" grand plot

At least it's short. However, it's so bizarre that it's hardly amusing.

2/5

Facts:

Hero: 
Philip Magellan, The Marksman - "A cruelly efficient killing machine, crazed for revenge"

Location:
New Orleans

Body count: 
7 (one single kill and a couple of triplets)

The object of desire: 
He had one thought! To personally wipe out the narcotic traffic here and, in process, blast open the immaculately kept secret of who masterminded the formidable crime organization whose headquarters was in New Orleans. 

Dames:
Chantal, Choisi's daughter. Her role is very mysterious and never quite explained...

Blackouts: 

/

Title: 
I wasn't sure about this. I thought initially that Marksman was left with some score to settle with Mafia from one of the ten preceding volumes or that he was still revenging the death of his wife and daughter. But no, the back cover informs us that "Summoning the enormous power at his command, Borghese launched a blistering counterattack to recover the smack and wipe-out The Marksman."

Edition: 
Belmont Tower Books, April 1974 

Cover: 
One of the mentioned triplets killing. It's cool, but inaccurate because the Marksman did both of them disguised in a hippie outfit.

Cool lines: 

/

Murder with Honor (Philip Wilding, 1960)

Kicks off as a blackmail case that our hero solves swiftly in just a couple of chapters by kicking the shit out of the bad guys. In the build-up to this scene, we learn about some Nazi conspiracy, and pretty soon after, there's a jewels theft (you know - "a new angle") followed by an inevitable corpse.

So, a lot is happening, and I liked some of it. The plotting is decent, the characters are colourful enough, it has that lovely old-fashioned feel about it (Heathrow airport is still called Heath Row), and it's pretty fucking hard-boiled considering it was written in 1960.

But it just doesn't work, or at least it didn't work for me. Nothing major is wrong with it, but the sum of minor flaws outweighs the benefits of the cool things. All that Nazi crap is totally redundant. Hero is a bit of an asshole - he's one of those know-all types (for some reason, he keeps tampering with evidence). He also appears to have a sixth sense for determining someone's guilt based on the initial impression he gets of them.

Also written poorly. Some of the dialogues work, and every now and then, there's an occasional hard-boiled-ish flash (see 'cool lines' below), but mostly, the text is dry and dull (for some reason, the author needs to go into great detail about how people are dressed). There's a scene in which Crane is saved by his sidekick, Red, and the entire rescue operation spans 10+ pages, which are painfully boring and actionless, describing every little detail without a single line of dialogue. Wouldn't it be better and more efficient to just fast-forward this crap and then maybe later have Red or Crane do a quick recap?

There are some cute moments (the main villain is referred to as "Herr Leader"), but there are also many nasty ones. Italians are called wops, women are sometimes bitches and so on.

I don't know; nothing is horrible, but everything is far from good. It was a struggle to finish those 150 pages of small print. Herr Leader does manage to escape at the end, so I speculate that Wilding resurrected him again. However, I don't think I'll bother looking for any more of his stuff...

2/5

Facts:

Hero: 
She read the card and stared up at him wide-eyed. "Nicholas Crane, Private Investigations? Then you - you're detective?"
He nodded. "Keep it under your hat, Gladys," he said, thinking this would be most unlikely.

Vittori went pale, "The Police?" he gasped.
Winthrop knew better. "He's no copper," he sneered. "He sounds more like a G.I. who's lost his way home."
Crane said: "Shut up, Pansy!"

Location: 
London and some estate called Manor House in Denton, Sussex

Body count: 
7

Discovery of Lucy's body is pretty funny: "He bent down and touched her face and noticed the patch of blood on the breast of the suit. The dame was stone cold. Lucy d'Avigne had been killed!"

Dames: 
Bunch of them. We have a french maid who is a "tasty dish", Terry Logan who "was a hot number whichever way you looked at her" and - definitely my favourite! - Crane's secretary Betty, who speaks in super cool street-tough slang. But they are all overshadowed by Honor d'Avigne! Every single fucking time she appears, the entire following paragraph is padded with detailed descriptions of her dress, radiant beauty, intelligence, devotion to France...

Blackouts: 
He almost faints during the first fight:
Crane began to see a red misty curtain before his eyes... Nick Crane's brain tried to convey a message to his body, but it would not respond... [after taking a couple of shots of Scotch] the room went round once, and then came back right side up.

And later, there comes the proper blackout:

He was half-way into the big room when it came. He had not heard a sound. It was very quiet. Too quiet. A crashing blow behind his ear send a thousand star-spangled pains through to his eyes. A great red wave that changed rapidly to black engulfed him, completely obliterating any interest in the outside world.
Crane had been sapped as easily as a third-rate amateur.

Nothing special, but I liked that "third-rate amateur" conclusion.
 

Title: 
A bit silly words play. You do get it, don't you? Honor d'Avigne, honor...

Edition:  
Banner Books, looks like the first edition

Cover: 
Honor d'Avigne in front and her murdered sister Lucy in the back

Cool lines:  

"Listen, rat!" he said. "I'm going to take you apart and find out what makes you tick. Afterwards I'm going to clean this joint up and take back the jack, or what's left of it, to Honor d'Avigne. The dough you've been high-jacking her for over the last year."

But if some observant character should glance that way it would look like a parked car belonging to a necking couple who had gone off into the woods to find out whether they had anything in common.

He stood in the darkness and mediated. Not on infinity, but on an immediate line of action.

Cut Me In aka The Proposition (Hunt Collins aka Ed McBain, 1954)

Routine stuff, I don't have much to write about. I don't know whether it qualifies as a 'proper' mystery novel. I mean, it does have all the required ingredients, like corpses, beautiful women, cops, and a showbiz background, etc., but our hero is more or less completely oblivious to all this. Josh Blake has lost an ultra-lucrative contract that would launch him and his publishing company into the big time, and now his sole interest is in getting the damn paperback.

It does start a bit more promising. We find our hero hungover in the opening scene and just waking up next to a beautiful girl. One night stand it was, and he cannot even remember her name. A bit predictable but still cool, as this can mean nothing else but that sooner or later, he will need her to confirm his alibi for the last night. The next scene is a nice nod to the Maltese Falcon - Blake's partner was killed, and now his freshly widowed wife tries to seduce Blake. But he doesn't care much about Gilbert's demise or his horny wife. So, everything is set for an "innocent man without an alibi on the run" type of story... which, unfortunately, never materialises.

Instead, it turns into a very simplistic and rather dull affair that loses its suspense with every chapter you read. I would say that the most ridiculous one is the 9th, in which Blake gets abducted by two thugs. But don't expect some hard-boiled beatings and/or interrogations and/or spectacular shootout escape because our trio soon starts drinking and playing cards!

With lots of dialogue, simple language, a flat storyline and some sexy bits thrown in for good measure, it at least isn't boring. A quick read, but unfortunately, I didn't particularly enjoy this one. McBain or no McBain...

2.5/5
(like for So Nude, So Dead, I'm adding an extra half point for the included excellent short story Now Die In It)

Facts:

Hero: 
Josh Blake, a surviving half of the Gilbert & Blake literary agency

Location:
New York

Body count: 3

Dames: 
A bunch of them: Lydia the secretary ("a shrewd, talented bitch"), Mr Becker's secretary (with just a single appearance and without any role whatsoever but still "one of the most thriving creatures I had ever seen") and of course "cleanly built, with full, flowing curves" Cal Stewart.

Shrewd, thriving, cleanly built???

The object of desire:  
Don't misunderstand me. I wasn't playing cop. I'd never played cop in my life, and I certainly wasn't starting now. I was, I suppose, primarily interested in the deal, and what the murders could do to kill the deal. 

Blackouts: 
My cheek exploded in a yellow burst of pain, and then little yellow bubbles drifted across the top of my skull, turned to purple, brown, black. They all flooded together, like black pebbles being sucked down a drain, and the blackness swirled faster and faster until my consciousness went down the drain with the pebbles.

Hardly surprisingly, he loses consciousness again after drinking a shitload of vodka and gin. But what is weird and doesn't exactly make sense is that less than two hours later, he manages not only to wake up but also to drive to Miss Stewart's house, where they have sex. Strange brand of Vodka indeed...
 

Title: 
I'm unsure how to interpret either the original or the revised one. In both cases, it has something to do with that copyright contract. Were those TV rights proposed to Blake? Was he cut in on the deal? Does it even matter?

Edition:  
Hard Case Crime #122

Cover: 
By McGinnis, one of his trademark long-legged beauties. With a little exception... why the sore knees?

Cool lines:

/

Good luck, Sucker (Richard Telfair, 1961)

D.C.I. spy Monty Nash is flown all the way from the UK to a US Marine base in Puerto Rico to be briefed about two of their European agents (one in Paris, the other in Rome) who have gone rogue. You might wonder why D.C.I. couldn't simply put together a conference call with all parties involved (Monty, his boss, and the Marine general) during which Monty would be told where to go and who to kill. Wonder no more - the thing is that Americans want to test Monty's skills before trusting him with their dirty laundry.

This (somewhat idiotic) test covers the first 20 pages. Once he passes it (with flying colours, of course), the next 20 pages are spent on his briefing, and another 20 on his preparations for the mission. Must admit that at that point, I slowly started to lose interest. Just seemed like the damn thing didn't move anywhere.

However, after a couple of decent killings, it gradually starts to come to life. And there's a funny interlude at this point. Things are going smoothly, and the story is straightforward and easy to follow, but still, there's a four-page break in which Monty dictates a report to HQ, describing again everything that has happened so far. Not sure why that shit is there since it's totally unnecessary. It almost feels like Mr Telfair doubted the intelligence of his readers and their (mine) ability to follow his narration or comprehend the plot. Whatever. It doesn't hurt, and the intro to his briefing is super cool (see the 'hero' section of the facts below).

So now we are in Paris, and after two more corpses, we come to a cross. The Cross! You can find its full definition on page 92, so I'll just give you a brief one. A cross - in spook lingo - is basically when investigations of the two agents working on separate cases cross paths. So Monty is crossed by (or with?) Phil Tate, his fellow spy from the London office. This brings us to the most memorable and coolest scene in the book. After the two killings mentioned above, our two spies need to synchronise their stories before giving the "official" one to the French cops. Mind you, the flics from Sûreté are already there on the crime scene, so they hardly have a minute or two available to do so.

But they do take their precious fucking time! The entire, frantic, and at times hilarious exchange of ideas and information spans almost ten pages. But all you really need to know about it is this:

... 
"Who is them?"
"The Reds."
"Okay."
...
"You're kidding."
"I'm not kidding."
"Never." Tate made a gesture of pure anguish. "Good God, don't tell me they've gotten to the Marines!" 
...

So we have a leak in the Marine Corps and a Red Cadre behind it. It's funny and a bit unusual that reds (Reds?) are never really identified. Are they Russians or Chinese? Maybe Bulgarian (one bad guy has Bulgarian roots), or is this menace coming from the Korean peninsula (where both of our suspects were held as POWs). We will never know, and it's not really important. The communist threat was global during the Cold War, right?

However, it improves as it progresses. Monty does use his brain occasionally, and not just his muscles and trigger finger. His investigation finally brings him to Rome, and at this point, it seems like Mr Telfair got bored with the whole thing, so Monty simply shoots all the bad guys. The End.

It's okay, probably around 50 pages longer than it should be. Don't think I'll pick up another one of this series.

2.5/5

Facts:

Hero: 
Monty Nash, a spy for D.C.I. - Department of Counter Intelligence. So, the Brits have another spook organisation besides MI6. So clandestine that even Google is unaware of it.

I not only had to get out of the can, but I had to get things rolling. I called Operator 25.
The voice that answered was softly accented.
"Code Rascal," I said.
... "What is the name of the character and what is his status?" she asked, in a tone of businesslike efficiency.
I couldn't help but smile. "Mickey Mouse lives," I said.
"The number of your party is Santurce 7890," she said.
"Thank you." I depressed the receiver and dialled the number. A thickly accented voice answered.
"Hello?"
I waited, counted ten and then spoke. "One," I said distinctly.
I then started counting to myself. "One-and-two-and-three-" and up to twenty. He came right in on the beat of "twenty-and-" with his reply.
"One-hundred-and-one," he said.
"This is Montgomery Nash. Know about me?"
"Nothing except that you're here in PR [Puerto Rico], Code Rascal, and you get the red-carpet treatment."

Don't you just love this Cold War spy communication "encryption" lingo!? Such charming nonsense.

Location:
Puerto Rico, Paris, Rome

Body count: 13
Before the final shoot-out, Monty himself calculates the body count, and I'm pleased to say that the figure he comes up with totally matches mine: it is eleven. But then he kills another two:

This made it thirteen dead. Far from a record. But I was keeping my average up... I was hot. Man, I was going. I was killing left and right.[The Coolest!]

Dames: 
See the back cover scan. Needs to be said, though, that women play a minor role in this one. In fact, all three are killed, and two of them are treated like shit by our macho Monty.

Blackouts:
Yes, he passes out when two assassins try to kill him (it was a near miss).
 

Title: 
[from another of top-secret communiques]
"That's tough," I said. "But do you know why we get all the breaks?"
"Why?"
"We're smarter than you are."
"Sure," the voice was still needling me. "Good luck, sucker. When they start shooting at your head from dark alleys, I'll be a solid citizen of Puerto Rico enjoying a refreshing rum collins while I lounge around on the beach and study neat little rumps in tight bathing suits."

Edition: 
Gold Medal, 1962 

Cover: 
Chick & Gun - what a man's adventure books are all about!

Cool lines:  

"Where shall I put the boxes?"
"What boxes?"
I didn't answer that. She was a woman. And I said I had boxes. She would open the door. There isn't a woman in the world who could have restrained herself.

She looked up at me and she did not move. Maybe it was because she was scared, maybe she was a little stunned, or maybe it was because I had the .45 aimed at her hard little belly.

It was something I had learned a long time ago in my work as an agent in D.C.I. Strike a genuine, one-hundred per cent U.S. citizen and you strike a man that will drop everything and come running when Uncle Sam needs them.
They have, they do and they will.
And that's the difference between them - and us.
Them.
The Red cadre.

I had the .45 out then and started throwing lead.[The Coolest!]

I thought a moment. "True. It could have been nothing. But it could have been something that Stuart thought was something."[The Coolest!]

I waited.
I waited some more. One minute, as long as eternity.
One more minute, longer than eternity.[The Coolest!]

The sound of my gun had been muffled a bit in the fog. Not quite enough.[The Coolest!]

Pay-Off in Blood (Brett Halliday,1962)

Blackmail goes wrong as the victim is murdered shortly after the money handover. What makes this short little pulp unusual and memorable is that none of the protagonists seems much interested in the blackmailing aspect of the crime at all. Our gumshoe hero, his sidekick friend and the cops just want to find out who the killer is.

Fast and furious. A lot happens, and it happens in under a couple of days. Shayne is super busy and relentless in his pursuit. Even though he has a reputation as a ladies' man, he ignores the advances of Miss Belle. Two goons "put him out cold" (see the facts below), but he returns the favour by kicking the shit out of them and their asshole debt-collecting boss. Where does he get all this energy, I wondered. Maybe all those cognacs helped?

Good stuff with some excellent plotting and a clever twist that I didn't see coming. Maybe a bit too old-fashioned for the 60s, but that's the way I like them. My only objection is that it's slightly too fast. Apparently, Davis Dresser got tired of writing Shayne in '58 and handed the series to a publisher. I assume that he supervised the novels anyway and maybe imposed the word count limit on his ghostwriters? It doesn't really matter, Pay-Off in Blood definitely pays off!

4/5

Facts:

Hero: 
Mike Shayne P.I.

"Give him a fast shake-down, Jud. This joker has a rep for having all sorts of tricks up his sleeve." 

By the way, I watched The Man Who Wouldn't Die after reading this one and found the whole thing too silly. Are the TV episodes from '61 with Richard Denning as Shayne any better? I can see on Amazon that a DVD was released in 2007 with a couple of episodes, but it's a bit pricey...

Location: 
Miami

Body count: 

1

Dames:

The widow:
"...one of these, well, sort of professional southern belles... pretty and plump and young-looking, and never forgetting that her family was real southern gentility... the way she'd been brought up, she just couldn't help flirting... soft, platinum hair... very wide and very blue eyes..."

Miss Belle Jackson, Dr Ambrose's nurse:
"quite a hunk of a woman... beautifully formed thighs... big breasts... well-fleshed, un-lined face and soft, blue eyes..."

Had some trouble imagining Belle: what the hell is a "well-fleshed, un-lined face" supposed to be!?

Blackouts: 
"Put him out cold, Jud."
Jud was, as Shayne had realized the first moment he saw him, a professional. He carried out the boss's order swiftly and efficiently. Shayne felt numbing pain, and then he heard no more and was conscious of nothing more for a long time.

Title: 
A bit overdramatic. The blackmail money handover occurs without any problems, so pay-off is not exactly in blood... But still sounds cool and definitely better than something like "Bloody Pay-Off".

Edition: 
Mayflower-Dell Paperback, 1963

Cover: 
By Robert McGinnis, beautiful and hot as they all are. I would assume that it wasn't commissioned for this novel specifically, since the lady is neither the Doctor's widow (with soft, platinum hair) nor his nurse (a hunk of a woman).

Cool lines: 

"Lots of people come to me who are being blackmailed. Just as people come to you with venereal diseases. Some deserve it and some don't. How bad is it, doctor?"

To be honest, this is one of Shayne's rare witty ones. Mostly, his retorts go as far as a cynical "Very, very funny". But there are some cool lines reserved for the bad guys:

He relaxed against the seat cushion and asked, "All right if I reach for a cigarette?"
Jud said indifferently, "Sure. Just don't make any sudden moves because my trigger-finger is nervous."

"I see him, Jud. I guess he likes the kind of games we play."
"Sure," Jud agreed happily. "I bet he's one of them mas-so-kists."

The Killing Man (Mickey Spillane, 1989)

I'm not sure what the story behind 'The Killing Man' is, but according to Spillane's Wikipedia page, it was originally published as a short story and later adapted into a novel, which was also serialised in Playboy magazine. I have no idea which came first, but the serial concept would explain why this is all over the place.

Once again, Hammer doesn't even get properly hired by a paying customer. Trouble finds him when he walks into his office on a Saturday noon. He finds his beloved Velda beaten, unconscious and half-dead lying on the floor. Keeping her company is a very dead dude tied to a chair. Tortured, his fingers cut, and with a sinister, threatening message addressed to our hero pinned into his head. A bit gruesome, but so far, so good. This shit is going to be personal!

We have a fluke going here and I don't know where or how, but damn it, I'm involved now. I'm sure as hell involved. When he put Velda down I was in and I'm going to stay in until that fucking psycho gets nailed to the wall.

But then, with every single chapter (or was it every monthly Playboy issue?), it goes wilder and crazier, and I got the impression that Spillane didn't really have any concept and was just making up this shit as he went along. Because it soon makes no sense whatsoever. The plot doesn't progress at all, and the only amusement I had was trying to predict who or what would come on the scene next. We start with the usual NYPD and DA involvement, joined later by the State Department, CIA, FBI, Mob, Medellin drug cartel, some super-smart guy called General Skubal, etc.

And yes, you've guessed it by now:

"Penta's beginning to have an international flavor." +
"...the security of the United States could be compromised."  +
"Now we're into the heavy cocaine scene."

I wanted to like it, but it's really a mess. In the end, there's some ludicrous vice-president assassination attempt/plot thrown in, and the big finale twist is nothing more than an amateurish "twins mistaken identities" trick. Depressing read. It made me a bit sad about the ageing maestro...

Published 20 years after the previous Mike Hammer novel, it was likely intended to be a dramatic comeback and was therefore written in an over-the-top style. Again, I'm not familiar with its backstory, and I'm not particularly intrigued to do research (but I will definitely try to find the original short story!). I thought that The Goliath Bone was the lowest point of modern Hammer, but this one beats it.

2/5

Facts:

Hero: 
Mike Hammer, P.I. 

Still grinning all the time (43 times to be precise), still bossing everyone around without hardly ever saying "please" or "thank you", still calling everyone kid or kiddie (and women are still kittens, dolls, sugars, honeys,...).

But he is getting older because it's been four years now since the last time he "took down" a bad guy (that "son of a bitch Julius Marco"). And in this one, he also makes just a single kill:

The grin got to him. I was grinning at him the way I had at his brother back in the courtroom...

He had thrashed around so he was pointing away from me, blood spatters streaking the wall. I felt some of it on my face and grinned again...

The agony foaming at his mouth. He saw my grin again and choked out another scream...

There was one smashing roar of the .45. His blood went all over the place. Fresh specks of crimson were on the back of my hand. I stood up slowly and gave him a hard grin he couldn't see any more.

Location: 
New York

Body count:  
9 + Penta's killing. 

But since Penta is so elusive and secretive, his killings are impossible to count. We'll need to trust General Skubal's super computer database: "Sixteen known assassinations were attributed to him, all of them with various forms of digital butchery done to the victims."

And in case you were wondering: 

I said, "Digital butchery?" 
"Newspeak for finger-chopping." 

The object of desire: 
Like everything else in The Killing Man, this, too, is hard to explain. At first - pretty out of the blue - Candace comes with this:

She put her finger under the $905 million total and said, "That's what they want to kill you for, Mike." 

I don't think it ever gets explained how Ice Lady came up with this number, but I think it represents the street value of "tractor-trailer solidly loaded with the purest cocaine you could find". But a bit later, she must have recalculated the whole thing or used a different methodology:

"Wild, huh? Tell me something. How much is the street value of the junk today?"
She told me. I let out a low whistle. No wonder Penta could afford to pass up the VP for an old hood. Nine-digit figures are understandable.
 

Dames: 
Candace Amory, presently working as an assistant to the district attorney but aspiring to become the president of USA:

She was a tall patrician-looking blonde with a cover-girl face and a body that didn't just happen. Every bit of her was carefully cultivated and when she moved you knew she danced and could ski and in the water could take two-hundred-foot dives in scuba gear.

You would never call Candace Amory "Candy." You would want to kiss the lusciousness of those full lips until the thought occurred that it might be like putting your tongue on a cold sled runner and never being able to get it off.  

There was a dominance about her that she was exuding like an invisible veil and I smiled, just barely smiled with my eyes licking hers, and for an instant there was the minutest change of expression, the cat suddenly realizing the mouse was a cobra, and the veil was sucked back in.

It goes on and on, and I don't want to bore you or myself with cobras and scuba gear.

Then there's Edwina West, General Skubal's secretary. But!

"Let's keep it simple and square, Miss West. No secretary garbage."
"Oh?"
"You're CIA, aren't you?"
There was no hesitation at all. "Yes, I am. Why should you ask?"

She has no function/role in the plot whatsoever, but still, there's a four-page description of her:

Some women can hit you with a visual impact you'll never forget... total thing that makes them woman...crazy electric blue eyes... beautifully full breasts... generous swell of her hips... she had a dancer's legs, muscularly rounded, but perfectly curved... they hardly make them like that any more... "You're some kind of doll, Miss West", "Please, call me Edwina."... "Watch it, Edwina, you're touching nerves I didn't know I had."...

But, having a role or not, this perfectly curved spook lady and Mike almost end up fucking mere five minutes after they've met. But Hammer is on the case. He needs to go and simply leaves her with:

"You are one special woman, Edwina. The air seems to shimmer around you. I can feel your body heat and watch you pulse with whatever's going on inside that body of yours."

And, of course, there will always be Velda:

"Velda. Beautiful, gorgeous Velda. Those deep brown eyes and that full, full mouth. Shimmering auburn hair that fell in a page-boy around her shoulders."

Blackouts: 
It wasn't a mugging. I felt the needle go into my hip and within seconds the drowsiness started.
 

Title:
"That one son of a bitch is going to fall. I don't give a damn what happens to all the money or all the coke as long as I get that bastard under my gun. We're playing around with somebody who likes to kill, likes to get paid for killing and likes to sign his name in chopped-off fingers."

But I think it should simply be titled "Penta" since this super assassin's code name is mentioned no less than 126 times! Or even better, what about "Penta, Penta, Penta" or "Killing Penta" or "Penta Killing"?

Edition:  
Clio Press, 1993. Published in "Large Print", which was something entirely new for me. Hardly any margins, and the font size is so large that it makes the book almost 350 pages long!

Cover:
Nice illustration credited to Kevin Feeney. For the details, see the bottom of the 'dames' section.

Cool lines:  

"You're a damn killer, buddy," he told me. "We need people like you." [The Coolest!]

I couldn't play it smart. I had to explode and rammed through the door in a blind fury ready to blow somebody into a death full of bloody, flying parts...[The Coolest!]

The Cunning Linguist (Troy Conway, 1970)

And now for something completely different! Why not finish this year in some style?

I won't even try to analyse this. It cannot be done; it is indescribable. And my vocabulary and my sense of humour are both beneath this little masterpiece of craziness. Just take a couple of minutes and go through the facts section below. Satisfaction guaranteed!

I'm not even sure to call it a guilty pleasure, but this deserves five out of five stars for its sheer insanity. Cannot believe this stuff was actually written. And published. And that it followed 31 novels in this series!

So, happy New Year 2016! I'm off to eBay to buy myself a gift. Yes, you've guessed it - more of the Coxman's adventures. They are a bit pricey, but I have no doubt that this will be money well spent! Stay tuned for more of Rod's whipping...

5/5

Facts:

Hero: 
I am a Wisconsin Whoremaster, after all is said and done.
But still a spy, for all of that. A Coxeman, a secret agent, a transatlantic James Bond with wheels on. A very hard working spy, to tell the truth and shame the Commies. Nobody had accomplished more in so short a time as Rod Damon.

"...the leading sexologist in the universe. Since I am barely thirty, and am well-hung and uncomplicated, I am the cock of the walk. And rightly so. I have made thousands of female truth-seekers happy."
 "No man is bigger than I am. Nor as insatiable. I simply can never get my fill. My women have to quit on me long before I do."

But I'm reluctant to think Rod's rod is probably the actual hero. Only that it's not called a rod or something as vulgar as dick or cock or even penis. Instead, it ranges from the good old fashioned "family jewels", "shipping department", "heavy artillery", "secret weapon", "instrument of desire" to somehow more daring "shaft", "whip" and "ploughboy" to slightly bizarre "glittering kingpin" and "Great White Waler". Among others...

Or simply "my greatest gift to womankind"!

Sally Parker had stretched  the truth a bit in her gratitude for the kicks we had had. Let the truth be known. I'm not fifteen inches, bless her two-coloured eyes.
Fourteen and three quarters is nearer the fact.

Location: 
Like The Devil's Cockpit, this one also takes place in Budapest. Once again, Red Commies are plotting against the USA on Hungarian soil (btw - Hungary is frequently referred to as "Over There"). But Rod hasn't done his homework in geography because he flies to Munich and then drives a small Fiat for 12 hours to Budapest. 

And it seems like Mr Conway had also missed a lesson or two in geography since Rod was able to see the Austrian Alps from Budapest (approximately 400 kilometres away). I'm not sure if he had been aware of the political situation during the Cold War, either, because Rod was able to cross the Hungarian border pretending to be a travelling salesman (selling bras) on his way to a convention in Budapest. 

But I'd better stop; this is just some needles and pointless hair-splitting. We all know by now that Rod has plenty of other talents, right? Fuck geography. Who needs it?!

Body count: 
Only 6, which is probably a record low for a super-spy adventure novel. And there's a good (big?) reason for such a low total:

I'm not much for guns. I think better without them. Anyway, my other gun is quicker and far more reliable. I definitely do not like killing people. Any kind of people. Maybe that's another reason I am one of the world's greatest lovers.

None of the killings is memorable, but they make Magda even hornier, so the orgies that follow them are unforgettable!

The object of desire:
Albanians (?!) working for China (!?) trying to stir shit between USA and Russia:

"Say, a colder cold war, where the Soviets will eternally worry about the U.S. and not about China nibbling away at her Siberian border? Yes, that is even better, I think. It is devoutly to be desired."

A colder cold war!? Don't you just love this stuff? 
 

Dames: 
First and foremost, there's Magda. For her detailed and juicy description, I suggest you read page 40. But some short ones below will give you a starting point: 

She was the Lust and the Bust and the Power and the Glory. All in a nice wholesome blonde package.

There was nothing I could ask of her body that it could not perform. She was in a word - magnificent. Magda the Magnificent. Magda the Great. She might have been a female Rod Damon. That's how good she was at being a woman.

My kind of woman, all right. Her raison d'être, like mine, was Sex!

And then there's mysterious Siri, and we come to the only part of the Cunning Linguist I didn't like. Because you see, Siri is a Lesbian (yes, with a capital L), and (as you would expect) Rod's mission is to convert her into a "real" woman. Which turns into a bit of nasty misogynistic crap, to be honest...

Whatever Siri was or might turn out to be , personality-wise, there was nothing wrong with her in the physical department. In a word - ring-adinga-ding! ... was a dream out of Orgyville... Her face was an oval of amazement. A remarkably chiseled set of features, as if they had been chipped out by a Michelangelo. 

But the finishes of the two scenes (each one several pages long) in which Rod has sex with them for the first time are unforgettable. 

Magda (after she has been "demolished sexually"): 
"Merry me... Never have I - you must whip me again and again. I want you to whip me twenty-four hours a day." 

Siri (after her "Venus Mound had been bombarded with monumental force and savagery"):  
"You will stay with me... and we shall live happily ever after."

And in case you're confused about that Magda's whipping, do not be alarmed! With a couple of exceptions (again, both funny as hell), there's no fucking. But we do have "whipping", "scourging", "tattooing" (!?!), "jouncing", "pumping", "love-humping", etc, etc

Blackouts: 
Nope, unless we count an orgasm as a momentary loss of consciousness
 

Title: 
I know what you're thinking, but stop your dirty mind! Of course, Rod is cunning and speaks several languages (Hungarian, the "goulash language," is one of them), but the title is about Siri. She operates the "Transmitter X", which intercepts the radio signal of "Voice of America" (don't ask). She uses her linguistic skills to impersonate and alter the voices of the UN speakers (I told you not to ask!).

"This Siri. A cunning linguist, a great scientist, a sex fiend, and a bit of a maniac. It was frightening. I stared down at her  with fresh respect."

Edition:  
Flamingo Paperback, 1973

Cover: 
Rod and Magda (we can tell this for sure because Magda is blonde and Siri is dark). It's sexy, but it could be better (as all the American edition covers are). For one thing, Rod's face looks stupid. And he uses a gun only once (he uses The Gun frequently, though!). Plus, I don't recall Magda wearing a bikini...

Notable cover blurbs: 
There are no blurbs, but the back cover story summary describes Rod as "Capitalism's favorite tool", which is spot on!

 
Cool lines:  

The whole damn thing is infinitely quotable. I simply stopped taking notes because it took me too long to actually read it. Here are some of the finest:

As much as they wanted me, they wondered how they could stand up to such a man. I smiled to relieved their fears.

[after the whole chapter of fucking the triples on their birthday]
Nobody, man or woman, on their twenty-first birthday, has ever blown out a bigger candle.

I stepped out of the shorts and shirt and let the horse escape from the stable. Never have I seen a woman's eyes try to pop that much out of her head.

I could tell she'd been to the races before. She'd obviously just never had a jockey as big as me. Poor denied child.

I continued like a maniac. I was mad but like Hamlet, there was method in it.

I only hoped they wouldn't shoot me below the waistline. The undertaker that gets me ought to get the thrill of his life.

We moved as a unit and produced barrels and barrels of oil. 

One thing I would never do is kill a rabbit. Or a bull or a rooster.
Like me, they have far too much to live for.

She looked good enough to eat. I intended to do so if the opportunity presented itself.

For a woman in her thirties, I must have been something not to be believed or confused with reality.

"Yes, it is big. Very big. But can you use it? A gun is only as good as the man who uses it." 
"You saw Shane too, huh?" I bowed. "Like him, I am the best gunslinger in my field."

Time plays tricks on you, specially screwing time.

Little things can mean a lot. Big little things, of course.

She shifted her snake pit to accommodate the sliding majesty of that with which no other man is blessed.

But speaking sexually, I was my own thermonuclear fallout. Ask Siri, ask Magda, ask anybody. No explosion they would ever encounter would match the galvanic, bombastic assault I was now delivering for their education, edification and exhilaration. I was slamming them with all the slam at my command.

And for the grand finale, let me leave you with a list of Rod's sexual techniques. Each and every one of them is totally insane, and I'm not sure if I understood half of them. Unfortunately, his sexologist books are long out of print (apparently, he has sold over three million copies), so if you're interested in a particular one, send me a message. I'll be happy to transcribe it and send you the details. Or even better - go find this book and check them all yourself! You won't regret it...

• Toronto Trot
• The Damon Drop
• The Wheelbarrow
• Nokama's Nip
• The Texas Twister
• The Grand Central Getaway
• The Rear March
• Japanese Rope Trick
• Lost Horizon
• Bookend Play
• Yankowski's Ploy
• The Tent,  
• Dealey's Gambit
• Trots, Gallops, Walks
• 178 Positions
• Samson's Northwest Passage
• Magda's Ploy