More raucous fun from the author of The Verdict (1980, written as Barry Reed): here, a retired cop stumbles into some nasty warfare and a lovely romance when his law-enforcement reflexes accidentally land him with a bag of syndicate loot at Kennedy Airport. It's the perfect end to a perfectly lousy trip on a thoroughly crummy errand to Chicago for small-time investigator and ex-policeman Jack Mann. He gets mugged. Right there at the airport. You're supposed to relax and let these things run their course, but Jack can't help himself. He fights back and wins. Or loses. He kills the mugger in a fight, opens the guy's flight bag, and finds a couple of million dollars in freshly stolen cash. Fearing the inevitable paperwork associated with the discharge of an unauthorized firearm, lack decides to drive off with the body and cash for unofficial disposal elsewhere. He dumps the body but hangs on to the cash--only to learn that the dollars belonged to the syndicate and the mugger was an Irish Republican Army soldier. Jack's beloved late wife's silly nephew tips everybody off when he dips into the cash to buy a stolen Ferrari from a chop shop, bringing the Mob and the cops down on Jack's modest Queens home. The poor nephew gets robbed out, and Jack goes on the warpath--which takes him to an IRA pub (also in Queens) where he wins a hilarious joke war and the heart of Nora the Irish barmaid, whose fanatical brother Michael started the whole mess. Michael, by the way, is in the States to shoot Maggie Thatcher's plane out of the sky. But he hasn't planned on Jack. . . Fast-moving, mostly credible, totally charming.