This was disappointing. I had hopes for this story, given the reputation of the author. How did he get such a great reputation. His writing is stilted, bordering on purple, with such lines as, "Oh, I see what you mean," said the tall, attractive, and formidable Antonia,...," and, "Our?...Taleniekov is dead. He's gone!" "Not in my head, Cameron Pryce. He never will be."
This last leads me to another point, his character identification. Cameron Pryce is sometimes Cam or Cameron or Pryce or Cameron Pryce. The old master-spook, Brandon Scofield is sometimes Brandon, Bram, Scofield, Brandon Scofield, or his code name Beowolf Agate. The names change sometimes in the same conversation. And italics are thrown around like rose pedals at a wedding, with no regard for their place in the sense of the dialogue.
Speaking of which, Ludlum's dialogue is stiff with endless conversations that, seem to bring the characters themselves to scream, "Get to the point!"
In his favor, I was attracted to the idea of an aging CIA spook, years past his prime, revisiting an old enemy. There were so many possibilities for this book, but Ludlum seems to have taken the road most traveled and written a trite, simplistic yarn that could have had so much more tension.