The Name of Death

This book is a blend of historical chronicle and gripping thriller. It has everything: brave heroes and sinister geniuses, traitors and fools, a reward of ten million for one head. There are wicked and treacherous women, ampoules of potassium cyanide — and penicillin, but only in Britain. There is a blond violinist nicknamed the Hanger and an oak coffin covered with a black flag adorned with silver lightning bolts. Spring Prague, a castle and a magical crown, severed heads and a village burned to the ground. An open Mercedes and a jammed submachine gun, a driver and a butcher, a church and a crypt beneath it, surrounded by an army of SS men.

There is blood. There is death. But there is also life.