An enticing, erotic, eerie blend of espionage, The Great War, tuberculosis, disaster and redemption, and Dracula

During World War I, British author William Somerset Maugham is in the advanced stage of tuberculosis, coughing blood into his handkerchief. He is a polyglot - although he has a bad stammer - and a physician, a tremendously successful writer, a competent secret agent for Britain, a failure in the marital department, and a homosexual at a time when even a rumor of impropriety could cost a man his career and his liberty. The solitary life style of a writer suits him: it is a splendid cover for his espionage assignments, and it sets him apart as an observer even as it opens doors into many levels of society. He gets sent to Romania at an extremely dangerous time, just as Germany is annexing the country, very much against Romania's wishes.

A low-level agent is pleading to be extracted, and while Maugham's supervisor deems the agent to be of no concern, he does want Maugham to cultivate the acquaintance of a mysterious noble, who demonstrably is able to cross borders and smuggle supplies. This man would make a valuable asset. Maugham, dying and lonely, thinks that rescuing the agent might actually matter, but first things first. He must ingratiate himself with someone who can effect an introduction to the elusive Walter Rosu.

The two men find they have more than a few interests in common, and Maugham is quick to realize that the mysterious nobleman is intent on seducing him. Both men have secrets, dangerous ones, and there is a tortuous process of quid pro quo as they probe to what extent they will confide in each other. And then Rosu disappears.

Resolutely, Maugham sets out to rescue the imperiled agent himself. It means crossing a border closed and guarded by Germans who would not hesitate to shoot a spy, and with his health deteriorating it a double race against time.

The conclusion is at once satisfying and delicately ambiguous.  - Chris R. Wozney

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