Durell could recognize that special knife thrust as the favorite technique of Helmuth Dinov, commander of Moscow's deadly Blue Squad Four, elite professional assassins who could kill a man in any of a hundred brutal ways.

Could Lisette Pollini tell him what Dinov was after? Or was she luring Durell to his death among the ancient monuments of Venice?

Sam Durell could have been enjoying himself. Venice was his for the taking, and given the chance he could have taken the lot. But some spoilsport had decided to make a pin-cushion out of the Italian Defence Minister--and that meant work. It was a neat job--deep under the heart. The type of knife thrust that Durell had to admire, although this time Moscow hadn't been too smart. General Pollini had talked and everything was blown wide open. A few clever minds had engineered the smuggling of nuclear rockets into Albania, and they were now pointing in two directions--East and West. Which meant that, with firework night less than 70 hours away, the top card had fallen to China--and they were bidding for the world.