Horror, tragedy, crushing violence and the effluvia of sin and guilt sluice this murky chronicle of race embroilment in New Orleans. Onlooker, accidental mover and victim is white newsman Andrew Comiski, who had been friendly with the deceased black Parks, a likable and discreet racketeer who had escaped the trigger-happy police. On the trail of the grave robbers who had decapitated Parks' corpse, Comiski is propelled into the vortex of drug, track and gun-running operations through which a white motorcycle killer gang, a black militant, Tea, his stable of followers, Tea's wife Carrie, and spooked police elude and stalk one another. In a blur of pain and fear--he is shot at, clubbed, bruised and mashed by just about everyone--Comiski survives a race riot in which Tea is killed. But his attempt to clear Carrie and thwart hoods and brutal police by dumping narcotics ends in his death. Carrie, after uncovering the Parks' ""artifact"" among Tea's possessions, stunned by Tea's note that she doesn't ""exist"" (she had slept with Comiski) groggily buses north. A certain raw impetus but the accelerated, insistent bloodletting drains the real compassion and concern.