In David L. Robbins’ THE ASSASSINS GALLERY, we have the season’s – and perhaps the year’s – best historical thriller, one that proves utterly engrossing from open to close.

ASSASSINS plays upon a “what if?” situation: What if President Franklin D. Roosevelt had been assassinated? (If you think I’m giving anything away, relax; it’s printed right there on the back cover.) Such a plot is forwarded when two Civil Defense wardens are found dead on a Massachusetts beach on Jan. 1, 1945. After investigating the scene, Secret Service Special Agent Nabbit gets the feeling from evidence that an assassin has arrived on U.S. shores, so he calls in some unlikely help: an old acquaintance and current Scottish weapons trainer.

Enter Prof. Mikhal Lammeck, a Brit with no love with FDR or his policies, yet an expert on assassins throughout history. Nabbit – to whom Lammeck long ago gifted the nickname “Dag” – believes the professor’s knowledge can help provide the means to find the killer before the President can be harmed. While unknown to them, the identity of the killer is not to us: She’s known as Judith, a highly skilled and fiercely trained young woman of Persian descent who manages to masquerade as a poor black woman in Washington D.C.

So while Judith hunts FDR with murder on the mind, Lammeck also hunts FDR, knowing it’s the only way he’ll come across his own target. Their quests make for fascinating and exhilarating reading. As they get closer to their individual pursuits, the plot is rousingly breakneck.

The political assassin thriller is nothing new – indeed, it’s been a mainstay since the days of Frederick Forsyth’s THE DAY OF THE JACKAL – but it’s nice to see one that doesn’t get bogged down in politics. The politician is there simply for the antagonist to have someone in her crosshairs, to get the story rolling. It’s also nice to see an alternate history novel that is not steeped in sci-fi, as are the many novels of Harry Turtledove.

Don’t let the drab cover dissaude you from a most colorful novel. Nor should the word “history,” as Robbins is not interested in wearing readers down with period detail. This is, after all, a book unafraid to drop the phrase “ninja shit,” 1940s setting be damned. He is interested, however, in thrilling, and THE ASSASSINS GALLERY is a first-rate read in that department. This goes on the shortlist for 2006’s finest. –Rod Lott

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