Spring comes early to the Gulf of Castellammare. The citrus groves west of Palermo are already in fruit by the end of February, and the Sicilian air is rich with the scents of lemon and orange. From the sea, hillside villages are splashes of pastel jewelry on a brilliant carpet of green and gold.
      The dome of the Church of the Carmine rises above the awnings of local market stalls, where even-handed traders toil and prosper. Yet above it all, the grasping shadow of the Cosa Nostra lengthens.

      Once called Leningrad, this old city has seen more than its share of bullets and betrayal. Expect guards, criminals, and soldiers to be well equipped, experienced, and highly suspicious. Old Communists vie with corrupt Capitalists for control of the wide-open boulevards, where few can hide — least of all foreigners.
      This is difficult terrain, even for a trained assassin. Proceed with caution.

      Mountains cover three-quarters of Japan, with the larger ranges running through the center of the Japanese archipelago like a spine.
      Towering above a beautiful lake and archaic templestudded town emerges the sacred mountain of Kurokiyama — an inaccessible site visited only by the occasional Shinto pilgrim.
      An ancient six-story castle with ceramic tiled hogyo roofing and massive stonewalls looks down from its strategic position high on the neck of the mountain. A local shogun built it here during the Edo period — it is a fitting setting for a 20th century oyabun like Masahiro Hayamoto. From here he controls his yakuza maneuverings and international arms deals.

      Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. A city brimming with prosperity, luxury and incredible opportunity.
      Populated by a teeming chaos of cultures, it attracts the sharks of organized crime from all over the world. It’s a feeding frenzy.
      At the same time, spears of sterile office buildings burst out over the new and ancient populace, reaching for the skies. And everyone is staking a claim for the future.

      In a remote valley, hidden in the Hindu Kush mountain range of Nuristan, lies a secluded citadel. Currently, it’s ruled by a local khan, Abdul Bismillah Malik, known as Al-Khabir (The Big Guy), and his fierce tribe of warmongering mujahedin.
      A minaret doubles as a watchtower — overlooking the steppes, hillsides and nearby river. Anyone openly approaching the citadel can be seen for miles. This, and the solid brick walls surrounding the citadel, seem to signal security, but this stronghold has changed hands many times over the centuries. A professional always finds a way.

      A Sikh uprising in this remote region of Punjab, Northern India, in the mid 1980s was ruthlessly repressed by government troops. Many innocent locals were killed, and ever since, no outsider has dared venture into this territory for fear of reprisals.
      A maze of small shops and bangalas (small houses) suggest some prosperity in this otherwise poverty-stricken province. Sure enough a magnificent, ancient gurdwara (Sikh temple) — complete with marble inlays, glazed tiles, filigree partitions, priceless murals and gold domes — is protected by the high walls of a qila (fort) … and fanatical believers.