A contract killer with Caribbean roots is hunted by a ruthless gang of Trinidadian thugs.
Known by several aliases, the young woman aptly nicknamed Reaper plies her trade with the arsenal and martial arts tool kit of an ultraviolent video game. Schooled in her trade by her father, Old Man Reaper, a native of Barbados, Reaper has made a decent living carrying out the grim directives of the Barbarians, the shadowy organization she works for, whose official business is “collections.” Now, however, she has not only bungled a job (in her bosses’ view), but is wanted by the LKs, the depraved Cosa Nostra of Trinidad. Sent to murder a Trini-Indian politician, Reaper, adept at mimicry and disguise, adopts the persona of a sexy New Zealander in order to infiltrate the LKs, who are guarding the politico. But an LK orgy throws her off stride, and she's forced to execute the target in public, in a bank, with plenty of collateral victims, witnesses and security-cam footage. With grudging help from the Barbarians, Reaper escapes to Barbados, where she swelters in a safe house, broke—her paychecks have been held up. There, she meets—by coincidence (or maybe not)—another of the elder Reaper’s daughters. This half sister, also an assassin for hire, helps Reaper with her money problems by throwing some freelance work her way. Mindful that Trinidad is not that far away, and unsure whether the Barbarians are going to help her, pay her or terminate her employment with utmost finality, Reaper rides a Ducati around Barbados, wreaking havoc and soaking up Bajan parlance and local color. Much murder, mayhem and torture ensues, no gruesome detail spared.
The gratuitous and graphic depictions of violence will put many readers off what could have been a stylish thriller if Dickey had concentrated on his flair for dialogue and ear for speech patterns of all stripes.