Showing posts with label Cage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cage. Show all posts

Monday, August 29, 2022

Cage #4: The Silver Puma


Cage #4: The Silver Puma, by Alan Riefe
No month stated, 1975  Popular Library

I was under the impression I had the third volume of Cage, but I’ve belatedly discovered I don’t; this is why it’s been five years since I reviewed the series. I kept thinking I’d come across the third volume in one of my book boxes, but I’ve finally concluded that I never even had it. Well anyway, we’ll just pass over that one and continue with the series with this fourth volume. There isn’t much continuity in Cage, anyway. 

The main thing to note about The Silver Puma is that with this volume Alan Riefe has recast Cage into essentially a light comedy, with only occasional violence. Whereas the first volume had a pulpy concept, this one’s just goofy, and also has no bearing on the series setup. Namely, that Huntington “Hunt” Cage, a New York-based private eye, secretly has a twin brother (Hadley Cage) who sometimes steps in for Hunt on the job. The Silver Puma doesn’t even use the P.I. setup and instead has Hunt hired to pose as the president of a fictional South American country, only to learn he’s walked into a convoluted conspiracy. 

But really this has nothing to do with private investigation; Hunt is hired for reasons that escape him, and his being a P.I. is only seen as a bonus, because it means he can think quickly and make decisions or some other crap. What seems most obvious is that Riefe has grown bored with the series concept, or maybe didn’t know what to write for this fourth volume, and thus came up with a sub-Adventurers setup that features a helluva lot of South American travelogue and a storyline that would be more at home in Mission: Impossible, complete with Hunt Cage disguised as old President Rocafuerte, the benevolent dictator of San Felipe…better known to his people as “The Silver Puma.” 

Riefe is really up to some page-filling trickery because the first few chapters just feature Hunt walking around New York and mulling over the case that’s been offered him, because he suspects something’s up with it. But basically De Ruiz, a “theatrical” and “phoney” official from the San Felipe consulate in New York, calls Hunt in and tells him the secret info that the Silver Puma has just died, here in Manhattan; the Puma was here for special throat treatment or something. The convoluted job would have Cage posing as Rocafuerte, with a bandage over his throat to disguise the fact that he cannot speak Spanish, and going down to San Felipe for a few months until a new leader can be chosen. 

In other words Cage’s job is to fool the locals, but it’s all so ridiculous. Like for example, how in the world was Huntington Cage, a private eye who grew up in Canada, even chosen for this job? It’s explained away that he vaguely resembles Rocafuerte, but this comes off like total bullshit. It’s pretty clear that Riefe had plumb run out of ideas for the series and has shoehorned this caper into the storyline. But we do get a lot of Hunt walking around Manhattan and trying to decide if he should take the case. There’s even a part where he gets his hair cut; at this point the “action” is as prevalent in Cage as in the contemporary P.I. series Hardy

We still get that pulpy concept that the Cage brothers can contact each other on a secret radio watch; we get more detail on it this time, including that the idea for the switch concept was…Hadley’s. This part of the setup has always puzzled me, as Hadley Cage is a New Jersey-based artist, one who hangs out with rich clientele…yet he’s also Hunt’s gun supplier and eagerly takes part in Hunt’s assignments. We also get the bizarre note that Lee has been accused by Hunt of “enjoying” killing, given how easily he does it. Hadley also takes part in most of the action in The Silver Puma, but the action is rendered in outline-esque blandness: 


And really the action comes off like something Riefe has included due to publisher mandate, as “light comedy” aptly describes The Silver Puma. It’s almost Three Stooges-esque at times…for example, Hunt takes the job and at much page-expense gets the Silver Puma’s coffin flown via Pan Am to San Felipe, and then he travels down there, disguised as Rocafuerte…only to discover, of course, that the whole thing was a scheme and he’s going to be used as a patsy to take a bullet for the Silver Puma. Meanwhile Hadley Cage, unbeknownst to Hunt, has also come down to San Felipe…and Hadley manages to get his hands on the real Rocafuerte, who is of course alive and part of the conspiracy Hunt’s been caught in. 

It gets even goofier when Hadley swaps the real Rocafuerte for Hunt, who we’ll remember is disguised as Rocafuerte…and then later on Hadley himself is captured, but everyone thinks he’s Hunt. I mean it’s just plain stupid, like a lame comedy of errors, and it just keeps going and going. To make it worse there’s zero in the way of sex, and the violence is minimal. Like when Hadley is captured, instead of a big action scene where he breaks out, he’s put on a kangaroo trial…one that goes on for an incredible twenty pages of exposition and dialog. The lameness of it all compounded by the fact that the prosecutors think Hadley is Hunt! 

There are times when you read a book and you know without question that the author is desperately trying to meet his word count, and The Silver Puma is one of those times. There isn’t even an action finale, where the Cage brothers mete out bloody revenge to the San Felipe scum who set them up. They basically just high-tail it out of there when they can and get back to New York, so Riefe can end the book on a dumb joke. 

But then, “dumb” also apty describes The Silver Puma. I’m not crying over that third volume that I thought I had. In fact it’s a shock Cage went on for two more volumes. Now those two I’m sure I have, so I guess I’ll get around to them someday.

Monday, October 2, 2017

Cage #2: The Conspirators


Cage #2: The Conspirators, by Alan Riefe
No month stated, 1975  Popular Library

The “twin supersleuths” return in the second volume of Cage, which again sees Huntington “Hunt” Cage acting as the main protagonist, with his brother Hadley (aka “Lee”) serving a small supporting role. Alan Reife denies us the pulpy fun of the first volume and turns in a second installment that’s more of your typical murder mystery, with a bit of prison fiction tossed in for good measure.

We meet up again with Hunt Cage as he’s in high spirits, having just broken a big case involving the mob. He expects some commendations from Lt. Gamarr of the NYPD, but instead the man’s in a rage – there’s an article about Hunt breaking the case in the morning’s paper, and in the interview Hunt has some bad things to say about the precinct. However this is “fake news,” as Hunt never said any such thing to the reporter. But Gamarr engages Hunt in such a megawatt argument that it ends with Hunt’s P.I. license being suspended.

Some cops come around to take Hunt’s .38 later, which really ratchets up his anger – only to learn that the lieutenant has been killed, the murder weapon a .38, just like Hunt Cage’s. And sure enough, the cops display how Hunt’s gun has recently been fired, even though he swears up and down it’s been over a week since he’s fired it. In other words, someone broke into his apartment, stole his .38, killed Lt. Gamarr, and put the gun back in Hunt’s drawer, all within the past few hours. Hunt even shows the clear signs of a break-in on the windowsill, but the cops will have none of it.

Hunt’s booked and put in prison and stews over how he’s been set up. There’s a lot of dialog throughout as various one-off characters come to meet him. Riefe pulls a nice fast one on us when one of the visitors turns out to be Lee Cage in disguise, and the two brothers swap clothing and disguises when they’re alone. Lee, going above and beyond any sibling responsibilities, will pose as Hunt in prison, so Hunt will be free to exonerate himself – he spent the few hours in which Lt. Gamarr was murdered with a British gal named Jenny, and he’s desperate to find her so she can serve as his witness and clear his name.

Jenny is a singer, an old acquaintance of Hunt’s, and the two spent those hours drinking and singing – there’s no sex in the book, despite Riefe constantly reminding us how “the twin supersleuths” are a pair of ladykillers. But clearly Jenny was threatened and has left town. Hunt chases after her to London, leading into lots of page-filling stuff as he chases various leads; Jenny has gone to ground. Eventually Hunt finds her, hiding out with her fiance. We get more page-filling antics as, after she’s written a letter exonerating Hunt, Jenny sings for the delight of the two men, Riefe doling out the lyrics of her song.

Meanwhile Lee deals with the harsh life of prison, in particular a sado-cop named Mizanski, who delights in torturing prisoners. Indeed Riefe seems to be at pains to have her twin protagonists endure hell this time around. For his part Hunt is bashed in the kidneys and gets his hand stomped on, the fingers empurpling and swelling. But there’s a lot of mundane stuff, like padding sequences of the brothers sitting around and wondering what’s happening to the other. “Padding” in fact is the operative word when it comes to The Conspirators; my guess is Riefe hammered the book out quickly.

The only real bit of action comes late in the game, while Hunt’s in London. He’s jumped by two thugs and ends up killing them both, using the .44 supplied by his brother – as we’ll recall, Lee is Hunt’s arms supplier, despite the fact that Lee is an artist (and this time is working on the cover for an action series novel). Hunt hassles back to New York just in time to find out there was a riot in the prison, all of it happening off-page. First Hunt tracks down the man who actually killed Lt. Gamarr – turns out Hunt’s been right all along, and the entire frame was a plot courtesy the mobsters he brought to justice in a previous case – and then he sneaks back into the prison to switch places with Lee. 

There’s no big action finale; the spine is labelled “Mystery,” which really is all the Cage series is, despite being packaged like a men’s adventure series. Rather, Hunt uses Jenny’s letter and the confession of a sort of mob broker to both clear his name and to bring the plotting mobster to justice, but all of that happens off page. Riefe spends more time showing how there’s no hard feelings between Hunt and the cop who arrested him in his apartment.

Not overly exciting, and with zero exploitative content, The Conspirators is a passable time-killer, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as the previous volume.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Cage #1: The Lady Killers


Cage #1: The Lady Killers, by Alan Riefe
No month stated, 1975  Popular Library

Brought to you by the same imprint that published Hardy, Cage ran for six volumes and was more of a men’s adventure deal than the aforementioned bore of a private eye series. Alan Riefe, a real person and not a house name, turned out the action-packed tale of “twin supersleuths” Huntington and Hadley Cage, as represented by the studly ‘70s dudes on the photo cover with their groovy ‘70s chicks.

The Lady Killers is a good opening to the series, as it features my favorite pulpy concept: good-looking female villains. As part of his P.I. work, Manhattan-based Huntington Cage comes across the Chain of Silk, an five-woman hit squad that works for the mob. However there’s no part where Cage or his brother get busy with any of the sexy ladies, and indeed Riefe seldom even describes the women. He instead plays more with the Chain of Silk being like a “women’s lib” movement in the mob. As a minor character complains, “Women are getting into everything these days.”

“Hunt” Cage, who I suppose is the main protagonist of the series, doesn’t fare very well in this first volume. Within a few pages he’s gunned down on the street, shot by a hitman posing as a motorcycle cop. The hit was ordered by Angie Visconti, obese Mafia cretin. But Hunt survives and is in the hospital; Visconti sends the same hitman to kill him there. But Hunt has a mysterious savior, an unseen figure summoned by a special transistor switch on Hunt’s wristwatch; the savior blows away the hitman and fades into the shadows. Six weeks pass and Hunt has sufficiently recovered…and meanwhile, Angie Visconti himself has been blown away, by that same mysterious figure. 

Meanwhile, we already know who the mystery figure is – of course, it’s Hunt’s twin brother, Hadley “Lee” Cage. An artist based out of New Jersey, Lee helps Hunt in his investigations for reasons that are never disclosed. Honestly, there’s no reason why Lee, a successful artist and ladies man, would keep meeting Hunt on the waters beneath the George Washington Bridge (the two brothers never venture to each other’s stomping grounds, so that no one will ever figure out that either of them has a twin brother) and agreeing to fill in for him on certain jobs. But Lee’s even Hunt’s gun supplier, hooking him up this time with a .357 magnum he insists Hunt try out.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, as that’s the novelty factor of this series: the world doesn’t know that there are actually two Cages, identical twins. Actually this gives the series a bit of a ’30s pulp vibe; the idea of Hunt Cage having a special gizmo watch which will alert his twin brother is so weird that you could see it being a big hit with Depression-era readers. But Riefe wisely sleazes it up a bit, mandatory for ‘70s pulp, in particular with digressions on “the art of making love on a waterbed,” as Hunt reconnects with his redheaded girlfriend, Rosemary O’Boyle, a beat cop. Riefe doesn’t go for full-bore sleaze but we do get a lot of info on how to properly screw on a waterbed.

Meanwhile the brothers try to figure out who is apparently continuing Angie Visconti’s assassination work. Lee cases the man’s family in Jersey while Hunt tracks down Visconti’s sole Manhattan-based family member: a twenty-something daughter named Marie, a gorgeous blonde with big breastesses who is so perky and upbeat when she meets Hunt Cage that he figures there’s no way possible this chick could be a hitwoman. Plus she’s a schoolteacher and has no knowledge of her dad’s wrongdoings. So who’ll be surprised when Hunt and Rosemary come back to Hunt’s apartment one night and there’s Marie Visconti, in a skintight black jumpsuit, leaping out of his apartment window and running acrobatically across the rooftops?

She’s left behind a vial of nitro glycerine, intended to blow up an unsuspecting Hunt when he opened his medicine cabinet. After checking the rest of the place, instead of calling the bomb squad for a thorough search, Hunt and Rosemary head on over to the waterbed for more of that good stuff. Who’ll be surprised when the next morning the living room explodes – turns out there was another bomb, hidden in the television set – and Rosemary is killed in the blast? Hunt’s so consumed with vengeance that he’s not thinking properly, so Lee bashes him on the head and takes him back to his place in Jersey so Lee can pose as Hunt in Manhattan and draw out Marie Visconti.

Lee Cage turns out to be the better protagonist; within moments of posing as his brother he already draws out one of the members of the Chain of Silk and blows her away as she’s planting explosives on Hunt’s boat. Despite the women’s lib angle of the Chain of Silk, these girls are all bunglers, constantly goofing up. I’d like to think this is “subtle” commentary on Riefe’s part, but again, he really doesn’t exploit the fact that these particular assassins are all women. It’s such a head-scratcher of a miss that you really don’t know what to think. But anyway, they’re now down one more thanks again to Lee, and soon thereafter he takes out yet another in a firefight.

Meanwhile, Hunt, the “star” of the book, spends his time running away from Lee’s hot-to-trot girlfriend, Mina(!). Seriously, Hunt’s in the dumps due to his girlfriend’s death, but long portions are given over to Hunt trying to throw off the busty gal, who’s burnin’ for some good lovin’. And Lee continues to act more like the protagonist of an action series, tracking Marie and another of her assassins up to Vermont, where he eventually deduces that they are planning to assassinate a crusading old journalist named Atherton.

Hunt finally gets in on the action in a long sequence in the Hotel Gatewood, in Harlem, a posh all-black luxury palace in which a bigwig loan shark named Breadman resides. Hunt has learned Breadman too is on the hit list, though the man disbelieves Hunt’s story. But when one of Breadman’s goons tries to kill Breadman, everyone realizes that Hunt was on the level; Marie Visconti, back from Vermont, is in a hotel across the way, holding the goon’s family hostage. The goon is to kill Breadman, or the family gets it.

Devising an elaborate scheme, Hunt swindles the lady with a fake corpse, so that when she pops out of her hotel window with a rifle he shoots her, hanging from an old stone gargoyle on the Hotel Gatewood’s edifice. Yes, Marie is summarily killed off, with little buildup or payoff – Hunt just shoots her, and that’s that. More focus is given to the stuff up in Vermont, where Lee poses as Atherton in a parade, dodging yet another unsuccessful Chain of Silk assassination attempt. Shortly thereafter the brothers switch places, Lee back to Jersey to boff Mina, and Hunt engaging the final two Chain of Silk gals and two Mafia hitmen in a protracted action scene in the forest.

Hunt doesn’t even kill the Chain of Silk girls, just capturing them after blowing away the rifle-toting men in their party. He calls the law and that’s that; there’s no resolution to the Chain of Silk or explanation of how or when Marie Visconti put them together, even why they were still operating after Marie’s death. It’s all very anticlimactic, but that’s unfortunately par for the course for many of these cheapjack ‘70s action series. Otherwise Riefe’s writing isn’t bad, with a bit more word-spinning than typical of the genre and a good touch with the dialog exchanges. Actually the writing is for the most part so good that it actually makes you expect more from the plot, which is why I’m coming off a little too hard on it.

At 172 pages of fairly big print, The Lady Killers moves pretty fast. Riefe has a firm handle on the requirements for ‘70s men’s adventure fiction, from the action to the sleaze to the generally lurid feeling, and I wonder if the series would’ve lasted longer if it had found a home at a more appropriate imprint, particularly Pinnacle Books.