John Smith is the moniker but there's nothing ordinary about the adventure this ""private i"" finds himself involved in. The reader is prepared for the worst from the start as our hero delivers a post-caper monologue from an insane asylum. But there's nothing predictable about the sequence of events which took him there. A spy novel rather than a detective story, this takes off when Mr. Smith's ex-wife pops in one day asking John to trail her current husband who seems to be conducting an extra-marital affair with another man. He turns up dead and turns out to be the possessor of an ultra-secret list of names, desperately wanted by the London Secret Service. Coincidentally, John is also an ex-member of the Service...he had quit because of the dirty games agents play. But they get dirtier with John suspect and sought after as the scene switches from London to the South of France back to London and on to Switzerland. Just what does Max, his old superior really have in mind? It's big league intrigue, as scrappy a dossier as has appeared this year and Mr. Sangster also manages a neat, wry turn of the phrase. Good!