The CIA has degenerated under its current management and can't perform its main mission: to supply "humint", or human-gathered intelligence, to the Government, and to prevent as much as possible anything unfriendly or detrimental to the US from happening. It therefore has to outsource some (or most) of its non-paper-shuffling-bureaucratic activities to private contractors. A former CIA case officer, employed by one of those contractors, must uncover and neutralize a network of Islamic terrorists. But he must also battle the CIA itself, that apparently is foiling his (and others') efforts to fulfil his (their) mission. At the end, things sort themselves out.
Amazon's US site reviewer John writes "I kept having to remind myself that I am reading fiction, because this novel is so authentic ... ". He's totally right, and that's the trouble. For a thriller, this is (IMO, of course) very, very boring: I think half the space is taken up by remarks or thoughts of one character on another, or the author himself, saying something like "Now, if this were a detective novel/whodunit/spy story/thriller/etc., then the hero would do such and such, but in the real world things are different, so the hard way to do it is ... , and that's exactly what XYZ did ... ".
So I don't dispute that this book is the real thing, and that real events just don't develop as in a page-turner but consist mostly of drudgery, of sifting through interminable lists, etc., but if I want to know about the real thing, then I read about the real thing, and not fictive characters involved in fictive ops.
I don't doubt for a moment that the tome is entertainig to intelligence buffs, but I'm not one of them (I mean, up to a point I like to read about codes, spies' bios, Intelligence Agencies' stories and so forth, but from books referring to the actual thing). Moreover, this particular story isn't totally realistic either, but has its own unbelievably efficient and tough Mossad agent, which is scarcely credible precisely because in real life agents are stupid like you and me (alright, only me).
And to top everything off nicely, the really important event that constitutes the book's denouement comes as a surprise, an afterthought, since the story's backbone is about another thing entirely for maybe nine-tenths of its length.
To conclude, this is the last thing I'll read from this author, at least as fiction (it suddendly occurrs to me as I'm writing the review that this type of narrative is really a branch of the historical novel genre; but if you've read, say, "Sunne in Splendour" or "The Golden Warrior", you'll understand the difference between a masterpiece and a run-of-the-mill product).