by Harold Robbins
The richest man in the world goes to a clinic in Yugoslavia to buy immortality. "I know you incorporated the procaine, magnesium and minerals of Asian, the fresh placenta implants of Filatov and the unborn ewe cells injected by Niehans," he tells the doctor in charge. "I think there is a secret ingredient." Oregano, maybe? The doctor's gorgeous young assistant loves a KGB agent. The KGB, of course, wants to destroy the rich man's worldwide network of capitalistic enterprises. The novel's first sex scene is on page 17. The second sex scene is on page 37. Things keep up at that pace. The caviar and cocaine flow in boxcar loads. The hero builds a lab that includes a nuclear reactor and spouts some gobbledgook about DNA. The villain is a crook who has taken on the disguise of a maharishi, and he's after the immortality formula too. This is comic-strip land, an X-rated one to be sure, that loses its energy much too early on. Even Robbins' most uncritical fans are likely to be disappointed. (Simon and Schuster, $15.95)
Your Reaction
