An inventive but overblown and tiresomely complicated IRA-conspiracy thriller. The horror begins when a St. Patrick's Day parade down Fifth Avenue in Manhattan is blown to bits by bombs placed in the big bass and other drums. This drives the U.S. President (nameless) to demand a summit conference on the Isle of Man for the permanent ironing out of the Irish troubles. But, meanwhile, a strongminded, self-made Irish-American millionaire has devoted himself to the IRA objective of a unified free Ireland and has assembled a vast, secret Ireland arsenal of munitions and bazookas and rockets--enough ordnance for the taking over of Dublin itself. (His reasoning is that the rebels' former concentration on Belfast has been misplaced; the real head to lop off is the government in Dublin.) And the millionaire hires Rex Lang and his crew of international terrorists to kidnap the summit-conference leaders; Lang sets up a phony film crew as the cover for the operation. Two men, however, might save the day: Inspector Slowey of Dublin, who's trying to crack the terrorists' ring; and Vietnam veteran Tom Dillon, who's tagging along with Lang and falling in love with lovely provocateur Frankie McNagen. All plot-lines lead to the climactic summit-conference ceremonies, during which a pack of maddened, bomb-carrying German shepherds starts exploding in the crowds. Lots of blood, lots of hokum--not for anyone who expects an Irish-Troubles thriller to provide reality, conscience, or issues.