Writing Wilbur Smith's name on the cover of this book amounts to fraudulent representation. Small, pale print below indicates that it was co-authored by one Tom Cain. It is an insipid, childish tale which bears no resemblance or comparison with Smith's output over the last few decades. The only grown-up thing about the book is a passage which I forecast will be a contender in next year's "worst sex" award. Plotting is superficial: there is no character development to draw one in: one does not care whether our hero lives or dies...nor any other protagonist. How Smith was persuaded to lend his name and selling power to such rubbish one can only speculate. He has certainly lost me from his list of automatic buyers.