Holland (the deMaury Papers) taps together, in a businesslike way, a plot of international terrorists, a chirp of students in an expensive primary school on Manhattan's Upper East Side, and a brace of family scandals--all of it having to do with narrator Avril Marchington. Avril, now a successful commercial artist and portrait painter, was once into the California pot-and-pill culture of the Sixties and bore an illegitimate child--which was somehow whisked away from her. Avril is still grieving over that loss, but more immediate problems await her, because between Avril's home and the primary school is a connecting corridor--and in the school's basement are terroristic goings on. Joined by former intelligence officer Julian, Avril must rescue (twice) tiny Randy, a sprout from the school who has innocently caught on to the terrorists' secret. And the good guys must put it all together just in time to defuse a shoot-out at a U.N. reception at which the children are performing. Along the way there's a murder--Avril's brother-in-law--and an agonizing decision regarding Avril's ten-year-old ""niece,"" who reminds Avril of herself. . . . Tidy all the way, antiseptically so--in about the same class with Holland's earlier, equally busy gothics.