Superb as always. I nominate Hall as my favorite action author. To write with this much authority at such a frantic pace --and in the first-person-- puts him in the league of Hammett and the other great pulp craftsmen from the sister-genre of crime-writing. Just as in (for example) a Cornell Woolrich tale--there is no 'waste', 'drag', or 'surplus' in this kind of page-flipper.
Hall writes with total economy and poise in his brand of espionage. A powerful mix of psychology and thrills--all the psychological insights found in LeCarre, are here in the Quiller series. But all the action which LeCarre is lacking, is here as well. And the exotic locales from Hall, are just astounding.
In this book, 'Quiller' --a 'thinking man's spy'--is in Bangkok. At first, I worried that Hall would not be able to pull it off convincingly. Very difficult setting to convey. Most authors stumble, trying-too-hard to express the exoticness; and losing the thrust-of-the-plot to do so. Not Hall. Quiller is as comfortable here as he is anywhere. He knows this city. He simply gets on with the business of ass-kicking as he usually does.
As an author, Hall experiments with everything. In this tale the assassination takes place in the **middle of the book** and then the tension and suspense is drawn out for a full fifteen more chapters. Each time, you're sure he is going to wrap it up at last... but the twists don't stop coming.
Hall also never lets a chapter go by without some kind of wrenching surprise: that's just the way Hammett always did. And his protag, 'Quiller' really gets into some crazy dirty violence. Down-in-the-gutter violence. He never gets through a mission without rolling around in places no other spy would ever wind up.
What's also juicy is how well he knows his body: he is 100% astute about his 'physical limits'. Constant little 'asides' about how memory works, how reflexes function, how best to aim a weapon or survive a blow to the head. Quiller is all about defense and survival; he never assumes he can just skate through trouble unscathed. He talks about his fears, his worries, his anxieties.
Great one-liner in the first third of the book, (when he is dogged by a would-be femme-fatale): "Loman was a hell of an intelligence director if he couldn't keep this bitch out of my way.." Ha!
Quiller is no James Bond; (he carries no gun) but he has --if anything--even less compunction towards women (why not? in these plots, they're usually in bed with his enemies) than Fleming's hero. But if its any consolation, at least Quiller doesn't make phony love to them before booting them to the curb. He doesn't 'play it two ways'. He doesn't see them as sex-objects, he sizes them up only for how they help/hinder his mission. No more, no less. One has to admire that.
This novel is a tale of assassination--so it's got great content--and a steady build-up of suspense, as all such tales enjoy. This is familiar and reassuring to every thriller reader. You know its gonna be 'hot' at the end of this story, whatever happens. Except--as I mentioned above--the 'hit' happens in the middle of the book! Insane!
The only thing to count on is that Hall keeps the action throbbing along at manic pace. He is as solid in this style as Deighton and LeCarre are in theirs.
Highest recommendation.