Alexander's debut on the spy scene is the decent, deliberate, but not especially convincing tale of an assassin--in London, where else?--stalking his prey and stalked by Security. Richard Abbott's the aspiring killer, a British Intelligence pro with a grudge and hideous memories of the African prison where he landed when his mission--kill Idi Amin-ish dictator Njala--was betrayed by his own superiors; a uranium deal had suddenly turned Njala from enemy to ally, and there was no other way to call Abbott off. Now Abbott is home, a fugitive determined to complete his assignment and revenge himself on both his torturer Njala (who's in London for negotiations) and his erstwhile comrades (who'll be fired if Njala dies). Before the inevitable double-death denouement, Abbott's ex-wife and secretary-mistress aid, abet, and wax wistful (""Kiss me. With the kisses of your mouth""), jovial Njala reluctantly hides out in the country with helicoptered-in playmates, and the British authorities, from bobby to Minister, come off rather badly indeed. No Le Carre complexities or last-bullet surprises--just another Whitehall black-sheep story with slightly more flesh on the bones and slightly less blood on the pavement.