WHEN THE HIGH AND MIGHTY OF HOLLYWOOD FALL VICTIM TO A DIABOLICAL BLACKMAIL CULT MOROCCO JONES SETS OUT TO RIP THE MAFIA NEW ONE!
"Glorious! The writing is good … with a firm command of craft, character, and plot." —Pop Culture magazine
Morocco Jones figured his assignment would be a breeze. After all, sending a guy who specialized in busting up crime syndicates and international spy rings to Los Angeles to track down some two-bit blackmailer seemed like using a cannon to kill a mosquito. To Morocco it seemed like a good excuse for into a nice little Hollywood vacation—catch a bit of sun, hook up with a few starlets, and relax poolside with a large snifter of brandy.
But Morocco couldn't have been more wrong!
Because this was no two-bit black scheme. Whoever was behind the plot, the half-a-billion-dollar payoff was money worth killing for, even when it involved a South American playboy like Parano.
So, from the moment Morocco Jones hit Fabulous Movieland, things began to explode in some very strange and terrifying directions. First there was the reception committee of musclemen who waylaid Morocco in the dark right outside his client's fancy Spanish villa. Next was the ex-hood who had become high priest of a powerful and sinister religious cult that didn't draw the line at murder when it came to keeping its secrets secret. Then there was the scandal sheet that raked in the do-re-mi from the studios—for the truly scandalous stories it didn't print about Screenland's kings and queens. Add in a crooked cop named Doheny who didn't like Morocco's lip; he was out gunning for Morocco and wasn't waiting for a good a reason to shoot. And there was the unsolved double murder of a famous screen beauty and her husband that tied into it all somehow. Nor could Morocco overlook the incendiary blond starlet in the oh-so-revealing dress who seemed to have slept with half his suspects and was always one step ahead of him, wherever he went. There were a lot of angles to figure, even for an operative like Morocco Jones—and his only hope of solving it was a lush out cold from a ten-day bender and a raw cub reporter who looked more destined end up being written about in the Obits than getting his by-line on the story of the year—when and if it broke.
It was a case with distinct odor of the underworld, an organized blackmail ring, with syndicate tie-ups and an army of hired killers. The body count was about to go up bigger than in most movies.
Vacation, hell. This was war!
Another tense, bruising classic of terror and suspense with the man whose mind is as sharp as the edge of lightning and whose fists are as deadly as a forty-five — for fans of Mack Bolan, the Executioner, Elvis Cole and Jack Reacher.
"MURDER, MOLLS AND MAYHEM." —The Pensacola News