A desert reconnaissance for Quiller this time -- somewhere near the Tunisian border looking for the wreck of a plane referred to as Tango Victor on what amounts to not so much as an intelligence operation but ""a suicide pact."" Alone. Most of the time he's transmitting or receiving (say two-thirds of the book) via codes of one sort or another before he reaches his-their objective -- namely cylinders of nerve gas. In case you didn't get the message, the action is sketchier than in other Quiller appearances but you do read it, edgily, partly in the anticipation of what is to come and partly with a kind of 20-20 nostalgia to which Michael Caine's dark glasses have contributed materially.