From Paris to Budapest into the deserted and frozen forests of a newly independent Ukraine and slowly creeping unrecognized through the warm Bosphorus waters—death merchants moving unspeakable weapons of a new international terrorism ever closer to their victims. Ahead, at almost every turn of the deadly journey, these Moscow masters know every step, ready to upset the strategic balance of power, and push Turkey into civil war. Their détente remains unchanged; it’s the familiar path of bloodshed, and espionage, the disciples of madness.
In Bosphorus, Bruce Colbert leads us nonchalantly through the nighttime Paris Streets; an evening at the Comedie Francaise; and afterward to the Grand Hotel for a Napoleon brandy. He waltzes through the tortured mind of an Hungarian-born Stasi agent trigger-pulling for his master of the moment—the Americans. In this dangerous climate of terrorism, every decision has a consequence, some easily forgotten, some not.
No one stays innocent.
Upon the Lion and the Serpent employs no gentle words to tell the story of the Grunsteins, some of whom live in war-torn geographies, many who face hatred and hardships, and all pull “their hearts out of their bodies and hold them suspended,” while praying for better days.