A kingsized insanity and outrageous stretcher (halfway between, say, Donald Westlake and Richard Condon) which follows one General Hawkins (he's halfway between, say, Charles Bronson and John Wayne -- a gross, volatile, galvanic man with muy male energy) after he's desecrated a statue in Peking by shooting the balls off it. With a stutter of ""Goddamns,"" Hawkins returns to the U.S. where he has four attractive wives, recruits a lawyer with a fine record of apprehending violators in high places, and then founds his Shepherd Company (get it? -- none of this is hard to get) dealing in religious artifacts. Live ones. Like the Pope, whom they kidnap with a ransom of four hundred million in mind. He thinks big (so do the publishers who expect this to be big) and it's funny enough in spots if you're in the mood for ballsy flapdoodle.