A wily old Nazi hooks up with the young recreational-drag industry in Colombia; the CIA does business where it ought not to; and the National Security Agency's David Warfield, last seen in the The Black Chamber (1987), takes them all on. Welcome to Medellin. Warfield arrives at Colombia's beautiful drug capital only to learn that his supersecret mission is anything but. He's spotted and tailed as soon as his plane lands. Who blabbed? Good thing he's landed with Jesus Maria Robles, one of Colombia's cleverer taxi drivers, who is able to get him out to visit local political expert Balthazar Marmelstein without being tailed. But even Jesus can't do anything about the exploding plastique fruit in the basket in Warfield's hotel room. As soon as he can stand up again, Warfield beats it out of the ICU and starts looking seriously for the Nazi he came down south to capture--and even more seriously for the jerks who tried to blow him away. With the help of a straight-shooting and quick-thinking NSA associate, Warfield works his way up the line from the hired hoods to the top dogs, learning all about management practices in the cocaine industry as he blows his tormentors away. Colombia's not an awfully big country, so it's not surprising that the Nazi line and the drug line eventually come together. What is surprising is the CIA's eagerness to see that Warfield gets nowhere as quickly as possible. A quick starter with no down time. Lots of Nazi hokum, much bang-bang.