In this story, King deserts her linear chronology, and takes the reader back to a sojourn in Palestine alluded to in the first Holmes/Russell mystery, The Beekeeper's Apprentice. I thought that revisiting Holmes' and Russell's pre-connubial relationship would be interesting. And it was. Except that, although they spend the first half of the book in almost constant proximity, because of the demands of the plot they can't talk much to each other. Carrying this off is a neat literary trick that King performs flawlessly; but, gee, it is arid when the reader is longing for the moist pleasures of Albion.

To escape peril in England, Holmes and Russell have retreated to the Holy Land at the behest of Holmes brother, Mycroft, who has given them a mysterious assignment. The assignment remains a mystery to the sleuths for a very long time as they wander through the desert accompanied by two pseudo-Arab spies. When they finally arrive in Jerusalem, the constraints of language and appearance that have bound the protagonists disappear, and the action picks up. But thwarting one measly explosion of the navel of the universe is small recompense to the reader who has come to expect more from Holmes and Russell.

This is not to say that the book is not brilliant. It is intensely researched and beautifully told. Russell's moonlight swim in the Dead Sea is, alone, worth the cost. But if, by chance, you have not yet encountered this intrepid duo, start with The Beekeeper's Apprentice, A Monstrous Regiment of Women, A Letter of Mary, and The Moor.

--Lee Gilmore