When I was a young lad in the 50s and 60s, I read all books of The Hardy Boys series wherein these two clean-cut, drug-free, American teenagers outwit a wide variety of scoundrels. In THE END OF ENEMIES, Frank and Joe Hardy have grown up to become Briggs Tanner and Ian Cahil, two clean-cut, nobly heroic, ex-Special Forces types employed by a private firm that does top secret wet work for the U.S. government. (Plausible deniability for the President, you see.) In any case, Tanner and Cahil now have the opportunity to save the world, or at least the Eastern Mediterranean.
This potboiler is a standard global conspiracy thriller involving leftover WWII munitions, a renegade Japanese industrialist, Arab terrorists, Syrian plotters, seduced damsels, the FBI, the Mossad, traitors, blackmail, the CIA, and a Doomsday plot. It's entertaining in a silly sort of way, much like the Impossible Missions Force movies starring Tom Cruise.
I don't know. Maybe it's because I've read so many similar storylines that I've become jaded. In this case, my peevishness stems principally from the fact that all the characters, whether American, Canadian, British, Japanese, Israeli, Russian, Syrian or Palestinian, all "sound" like customers recruited by Central Casting out of a Seattle corner Starbucks and dressed up in costumes for a day of play acting. (This is a failing of quite a few works of espionage fiction, not just this one.) Moreover, author Grant Blackwood is occasionally incredibly sloppy in the small details. I picked up on a few (and wonder how many more I missed). The page numbers refer to the paperback edition.
1. A woman with a femur broken in five places - imagine the cast - is not going to be seen having "curled herself into a ball".
2. Except for the "scrambled eggs" on the visors of Commanders and above, the billed caps of American naval officers do not carry rank badges.
3. It seems highly improbable that an American fleet attack submarine on WWII patrol is going to have an Ensign, the lowest officer grade, as the Executive Officer, i.e. the second-in-command.
OK, ok, ok - so I'm picky, picky, picky. This book admittedly has more elements that are positive than are negative, but the fact remains that it's no better than an average representative of the genre. Worse than that, the author is so busy tying up loose ends at the conclusion that the last 6 pages are patently ridiculous.
If you want to read a novel that deals with Middle Eastern terrorism and is well crafted, as opposed to being slopped out any old way, then I would recommend John le Carré's THE LITTLE DRUMMER GIRL or Gerald Seymour's A LINE IN THE SAND.