In the penitentiary back East, there were four of us slated for parole. And we had plenty more on our minds than just freedom. We had a plan. If it worked, it would be the first time a successful heist had ever been pulled in this gambling town - a town where every cop had eyes in the back of his head and a hand on his gun 24 hours a day. There were a couple of snags - like the fact that we hated one another’s guts, and the fact that a casino girl named Nancy was bugging me to get out and go straight.
How can a man’s own wife be mixed up in one tawdry scheme after another, right under her husband’s nose, and keep the secret? Ask me - I’m the husband. It was four years too late when I discovered Louisa was a woman who made her own rules. For everything, including what every discontented little housewife needs - a foolproof method for becoming a wealthy young widow.
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....
Staying out of trouble might be relaxing for some guys. But too much peace and quite make me very nervous. Hazel—the luscious lady who keeps me busy and happy during long winter evenings—was trying to sell me her retirement plan. I was tempted. But then suddenly an old pen pal turned up with a couple of friends and a scheme that started my motors going full blast. A two million dollar heist. Cash.
I was driving Hazel’s niece, Melissa, to the airport when it happened. The car right behind me in the parking lot stopped and two men burst out. Crouched low, they came at me in a rush.The next thing I knew I was hit in the face with a stream of acid spray. I fell backward into the car. And that’s the last I knew. Until I came to. The two guys were gone.
And so was Melissa…. Operation Deathmaker…a whiplash story of suspense, kidnapping, and murder, and a man who wouldn’t give up - Drake.
It wasn’t at all like Hazel to go off without a word to Drake. But she did. He tried calling her at the motel, but they said she’d just checked out. No, no messages. Drake figured he’d better do a little checking on his own. Which is why he went to see Hazel’s business manager, Nate Pepperan, in Hudson. It had been Pepperman’s phone call which had taken Hazel to Hudson in the first place. Nate would surely know where she was.
Drake wasn’t expecting visitors …Which is why he was so wary when Hazel told him about the two strangers pulling into their drive. Drake watched as the two men got out of their car and walked toward them. They were Easterners; the cut of their business suits announced that.They didn’t look like hoods. And they weren’t cops. Drake had a built-in radar for fuzz. But there was something cop-like in the swaggering attitude. Whoever they were Drake didn’t like them.
Drake had the assignment. He was sent to steal confidential files of the Mafia that had been stashed somewhere in a bank vault on an island in the Bahamas. Drake got the files. He also got himself trapped into a deadly private war - with the Syndicate, the local police, and a gang of freelance assassins. The only man who could help him out of the trap was being held incommunicado - behind the thick walls of a Bahamian prison.
Meet Pete Karma, the man who broke jail and wound up neck-deep in a gangland bloodbath. Pete had a lot of hate stored up inside. He hadn’t committed the murder he’d been sent up for, and it didn’t take him long to figure out who’d framed him and how. After two and a half years in the slammer, Pete had his plan down perfect. His crooked lawyer, Charlie Risko, would get it first. But as soon as Pete had a spare moment, there were some other things that had to be taken care of.