Book III of the second Jim Brady trilogy. Jim Brady finds that facing a diving Stuka is relative child's play to what he faces ashore under the command of a deadly guerilla leader.                                                                                                                                     'You bloody idiot,' Grimsdale hissed, his bloodied knife pointing at the soldier Brady had felled. His stare hardened at Brady. 'Well?'                                                                        'Well what?' said Brady, knowing with ugly certainty what was meant.                                'It's your man, boxer boy. Finish him.'                                                                                'God, no!'                                                                                                                         Grimsdale stared at him a second longer, then he bent and with one swift movement slit the Italian's throat. 'Heave him into the bushes,' he ordered. 'Unless you mind getting blood on your overalls. Bloody amateurs!'