It was better not to think about what Holcomb had gone through before he died. First torture─slow, deliberate, beyond all human endurance. Then the terrible agonizing escape to this empty island in the Tarakutas off the coast of Borneo, somewhere between the Celebes and Sulu Seas. And finally the raw, relentless sun that blasted him into insanity. He was a raving, dying madman when the beautiful blonde in a pale bikini pulled his body from the milky waters and tried to piece together his words: "Commander . . . Peter Holcomb . . . Naval Intelligence. Polaris sub . . . Andrew Jackson . . . crazy, crazy . . . men being slaughtered. Get to Durell . . . Honolulu . . . Sam Durell, C.I.A. . . . " He didn't live to finish, and he wouldn't ever know just who─and what─this golden girl who appeared out of nowhere had been to Sam Durell . . . . **From Back Cover Blurb**