Not a single surprise twist or sudden unmasking sparks this revamped escape-from-behind-the-Iron-Curtain, but it has the quiet, cumulative force and the clean, cinematic through-line that more convoluted spy-thrillers miss out on. The time frame is late Kissinger, with Israelis and American Jews pressuring for relief for Soviet dissidents--like scientist Zorin, separated from his pregnant Jewish wife and under virtual house arrest in Moscow. Nothing official can be done, of course, but perhaps someone in the State Dept. (an ambitious flunky) can secretly arrange with someone who used to be CIA. . . ? No sooner whispered than done, and a time-tested plot is thoroughly rehatched: train an American double for Zorin (a convict with nothing to lose), sneak him into Moscow as a tourist, have him change places with the dissident. All goes according to plan, economically detailed, but then--Watergate panic at the White House, a ban on anything secretive, call off the operation! Too late, of course, and the only way to call it off is to betray anyone and everyone--meaning lots of bodies at the fade-outs in Holland and Moscow. Clark's blast-off premise is no less shaky than the usual springboards for espionage, but once launched, he flies dead straight, without detours for gratuitous sex or excess machinations. Rough-edged and life-size characters, unflavored but unfussy journalist's prose, an unromanticized finale of frayed loose ends in the Le CarrÉ mode--considering most of the alternatives, these should more than compensate for a blueprint of spotless unoriginality.