When I think of Clive Cussler‘s earliest years, I think of the simplicity of The Mediterranean Caper. When I think of the time when Cussler first hit it big, I think of Raise the Titanic. But when I think of a classic, mid-career Cussler novel, I think of Inca Gold.

This novel appears to have it all: a missing treasure situated where it ought not be; an aquatic phenomenon that staggers the imagination; a family-run crime syndicate bent on global domination of some sort; and a unique assassin whose lust for murder becomes his own undoing. I really enjoyed this novel, because it scratched every itch for the adventure-enthusiast in me.

This novel begins in the depths of a murky sinkhole in Mexico where an accident has required the saving help of NUMA-duo Dirk Pitt and Al Giordino. After coming to the rescue of a diving team of archaeologists, Dirk Pitt finds himself stranded and left for dead by a band of antique-stealing thugs and therefore fit with a darkening shade of vengeance in his opaline-green eyes. Dirk’s search for the culprits leads him into a hidden world of antiquities-smuggling and murder that sets his Good-Samaritan heart racing and leads him on yet another extravagant adventure of dangerous treasure- and bad-guy-hunting.

Clive Cussler makes his own cameo in this book once more, this time as the owner of a run-down desert tavern, and Dirk Pitt inches ever away from bedding strangers and into a legitimate relationship with the woman who will prove to be his soulmate. As part of a series, this novel moves the Dirk Pitt Adventures along rather slowly yet also noticeably. I would consider it a signpost of the 1990s Dirk Pitt Books.

One thing that got me as I re-read this book, however, is the missed opportunity of using this Customs Service Agent as a spy for the villains. His close proximity to this crime syndicate made him a virtual shoe-in for the perfect turncoat that would have transitioned this book from a mere adventure novel into a real murder-mystery. Had Cussler’s college-football-coach-like agent turned out to be on the payroll of the bad guys, I would have jollied in the fallout. But Cussler isn’t known for testing his readers’ intelligence. Instead, he paints pictures with his plots and then explains them explicitly. While this might be the sign of an amateur author, I say “Whatever. I enjoy the adventures, so leave the literary critiques out of it.”

©2017 E.T.

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