When superstar TV journalist Lech Hammond heard rumors that the Martian Soviets had uncovered an alien artifact, he shipped out to Mars to investigate. But the KGB had the discovery under wraps, and with a serial killer on the loose and wild men rampaging near their secret base, they had closed ranks tighter than ever.
In 1990 I published a novel titled Mars, The Red Planet. And in it, I made one of the worst errors of my science fiction career. I assumed that the Soviet Union (as in "Red" geddit?) would survive well into the twenty first century, whereas it collapsed pretty much before the book even hit the stores. All in all, through, it was a cute read, and the Mars Society voted it "Best Noirish Mars Book": ("You want more when your finished with this one.") I wish someone would republished the sucker along with so much of my neglected back catalogue.