"They certainly were a tricky bunch, with their acids and their silencers and their disguised blowguns." It was not a peaceful way to die, but there was nothing Matt Helm could do for his fellow agent. He had found him in a Canadian motel room, his once-handsome face eaten away by acid. Scratch one agent. The women wouldn't be lining up for him now. But it created further problems. The most likely culprit was a woman Helm had orders to protect—no matter the cost.
