Again not one of his Black-Mask-ed mysteries but a story like Snowbound (1974) lurching from page to page under a backpack of grotty prose. Kennedy-styled Senator David Jackman goes off, with his lover Tracy, to the presumably deserted island of his childhood in Maine. He's full of memories of his Old Man and nightmares of Vietnam and although Tracy has aroused him until now, his puissance is giving way. So is his nerve particularly after some Mansonesque manifestations on the island, the theft of his guns and boat, and the killing (?) of Tracy. Finally Jackman realizes that the only game is attack. An ugly atavism smears the pages and there's very little lebensraum between the groin and the gut.