Scimitar

A razor-sharp beginning soon loses its edge in a thriller that will remind many (too many) readers of Frederick Forsyth's The Day of the Jackal. That crackling yarn concerned a plot to assassinate De Gaulle; Abbott's killer is after George Bush. And while Forsyth's lightning-fast plot rapidly convinced readers to suspend disbelief, first novelist Abbott digresses with plodding secondary characters, often fatuous dialogue and--regarding a deadly chemical concoction--overly complex jargon. When tattoos of green scimitars show up on murder victims in New York City, the trail leads to Sonny Hemkar, a Middle Eastern assassin cum Don Juan, who is bent on nationalistic revenge. Genuine suspense, unfortunately, is in short supply here; generic verbiage abounds (the killer fired ``into what was left of her head''); and attempts at wry humor generally fall flat. Abbott's laudable endeavors to humanize his characters merely trivialize them instead (the heroine is particularly slow-witted) and slow down the action. While fans of this genre may discover a modicum of excitement here, they will hope for more exciting future fare from Abbott. (Aug.)