Insurance-claim detective Sam Gross used to be a lawyer. Now he's a ""Jewish Quixote"" or a ""veritable Sir Lancelotnik"" or, according to his unpleasantly testy friend Karen, ""a beautiful man and a great lay."" Anyway, when Sam investigates an unexplained air crash--all passengers zapped as well as the six million in gold on board--he stumbles onto a huge evil scheme, ""too big to be believed, maybe too big to stop"" with ""roots somewhere in government administration."" What this actually is never becomes quite clear--(something about using kinky sex to turn terminally ill folks into kamikaze killers)--but it's such hot stuff (Jack Ruby?) that Sam's apartment blows up, he has tiring car chases, and ""People are dying all over the place."" Incredibly complicated, sporadically frenetic, terrifically unsatisfying.