A hint of duelling banjos, more than a touch of Richard Hannay, an undertow of Jack Parlabane - this book is like an Islay whisky, with the flavours bursting in your mouth, warming your throat and pouring out through the hole the villain has just put in your stomach. A darkly humorous comment on male friendship, as events spiral out of control, with the boys and a girl running headlong from a pair of homicidal maniacs.
The light was almost gone and snow covered the ground by the time they reached the bottom of the headland. Adam looked back the way that they had come, thin threads of footprints trailing back to the crumpled car, now being lapped by the waves. He could just make out Ethan's body.