The book is at its core a revenge tale. John “Killer” Cain, a veteran ATF agent haunted by a tragic early career that includes the disaster at Waco, Texas, is pitted against Bobby Ray Hooker, a racist gun dealer who blames Cain for his brother’s death. Cain pursues Hooker from the back alleys of Los Angeles to the backwoods of Alabama, each just waiting for the chance to deliver a lead lobotomy.

It’s a story that would probably make a solid action film, but as a book it’s undistinguished – at several points I felt like I was just reading a film novelization and drifting from scene to scene. Though the dialogue is natural the novel’s overall language is unimaginative, and similes like “fell like a ton of bricks” and “kid in a candy store” only mar the story with each use.

Cain is nowhere on the level of Philip Marlowe, with little to recommend him even as an anti-hero seeking redemption. He picks up hookers, wallows in self-pity and eventually gives up the system in favor of his own. Other characters in the book are stereotypes ranging from skinhead to housewife, and Foreman’s effort to share their viewpoints only detracts from the novel’s flow.