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Lieutenant Fred O’Connor of the NYPD Narcotics Bureau has a secret: an apartment on Central Park West, jointly purchased with ill-gotten gains by Fred and a corrupt fellow officer. The place is a refuge for Fred from a society he finds repellently ill-ordered. But his own equilibrium is disturbed, first by a series of brutal murders of his colleagues, then by the appearance at the apartment’s door of wan Leo Smith, who claims to be the cop-killer… ‘Fleetwood is a compulsive pattern-maker, and a master of the ambiguous thread which finally pulls all together. It is a rich, gruesome, irresistibly readable book.’ Times ‘Fleetwood can write like a dream… and really get into your head. He reaches down and stirs with venomous delight the nameless, faceless things swimming far below the level of consciousness.’ Scotsman

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