Yep, it’s another spy-rific spectacular, but if you’re expecting some of the usual suspects, sorry to disappoint. This week, I’m covering three authors new to this column, all of whom have their own series, whether long-running or short-lived.

THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM by Adam Hall – This is the first in the lengthy Quiller series. The only thing we know about our hero is his code name: Quiller. He’s just finished a six-month assignment in Germany when he’s approached by one of his contacts for another job. It seems Quiller is a bit of a Nazi hunter, and he’s told of rumblings regarding some former Nazis still in Germany, so Quiller begins a quest to infiltrate the group. But everywhere he goes, people die.

This is a fine thriller that some call a bit dated, but geez, it was written in 1965, for crying out loud. Also, one of the characters’ intentions is as obvious as a nose on a face, but it doesn’t take away from the enjoyment. Quiller is a cold-blooded spy who knows his job and likes to be left alone doing it. You sense he doesn’t like interference from anyone. There is a great interrogation scene as Quiller fights off the effects of a certain drug while being questioned.

With two storylines going concurrently, Hall manages a great balancing act, keeping you glued to the story. This should come as no shock, since Hall is a pseudonym for Elleston Trevor, who wrote THE FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX. I’ve got other Quiller novels in my collection, but if you’re going to start, it might as well be with the first.

HAMMERHEAD by James Mayo – This 1964 book is all about doubling up in everything: sex, violence and exposition. It claims to be better than James Bond. Short answer: It’s not.

As hard as it tries, this is the first in a very short series, introducing us to Charles Hood, a super-secret agent with a love for art and a love machine to all the ladies. His task is to find out about a man called Lobar. I think the name is short for Laborious, since that’s how I felt reading the book. Sure, it might be packed with girls and guns, but it’s a task to sit through, making the reader wish he never started.

At least the villain is an extremely evil man, but he seems like a combo of every baddie out there – you know, the suave type with a huge setup. But what drives him is that he is just sadistic, using girls like they were paper towels. Hell, most of the first quarter feels like a description of his luxury yacht. You know what’s that called? Padding out a weak story, which is what the book is.

Even for a spy novel, HAMMERHEAD is extremely weak. You have no empathy for Hood at all. He’s a pretty shallow dick, to be honest. I mean, we all know Bond beds down women, but every girl Hood meets wants to sleep with him. Give me a break.

Once we get to the climax and why Lobar is so evil, you won’t even care. For a lack of imagination, it just settles into spy escapes and saving the day. I actually tried to read this book more than a year ago and put it down after 30 pages. I should have stuck with my gut. Win some, lose some.

THE KIWI CONTRACT by Philip Atlee – Joe Gall is a contract worker for the U.S. government. His job pays big, but is never easy. As a spy, Joe has to double a oil baron by the name of Michael Donoghue, so if any assassination attempts are made, it will be at Joe’s expense and not the real Donoghue.

That is pretty much the whole of this 1972 book. I’m not joking. For a short novel – 140 pages – there is very little action at all. One attempt is made on Joe’s life, but he deals with it so fast, you can blink and miss it. The only thing we get in great detail is the daily life of this millionaire that he impersonates, going town to town and making speeches.

We do get a little sex thrown in, with Joe bedding a local girl while he has the hots for a reporter also. Throw in a drunk Australian stereotype and we’re done. CONTRACT leads us on for so long that in the last few pages, everything is revealed.

I’m going to give away the big surprise so you won’t have to bother reading it: The millionaire Joe is doubling is also a secret Russian agent. I think it’s thrown in there to tie up this travelogue of a tale, because that’s what the book feels like: one long brochure about how lovely New Zealand is. That’s something better left to THE LORD OF THE RINGS movies.

Next time: Private eyes, girls, and a crapload of guns in bite-size portions. –Bruce Grossman

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