Malone (Burt Reynolds) has been a "wet" operative for the CIA for many years, serving his country by performing assassinations. He is tired of his job and wants to get out of "the company" (as it is called) and live a normal life. He is looking along the Pacific Northwest for a place to settle down when his much-cherished classic Mustang breaks down outside the town of Comstock. He manages to get to a small gas station and is treated like family by a Vietnam veteran, who is the station's owner, and his daughter. They are suffering from the nefarious activities of a local bigwig (Cliff Robertson) to take over all the land in the city in a hare-brained development scheme. He soon runs afoul of the town sheriff, who is basically an employee of the developer, but eventually wins his respect. Meanwhile, the CIA is none too pleased to hear of Malone's intended retirement and send a succession of hit-men after him to ensure that he divulges none of their dirty secrets. Malone destroys the first two killers at some cost to his own well-being. The next assassin turns out to be a woman who is susceptible to his charms. Meanwhile, he has a thorough-going local scoundrel to put out of business.

Excerpt from MRQElocated HERE

Burt Reynolds as a former CIA agent who runs up against a fanatical group of right-wing survivalists trying to take over a small Oregon community. Some anonymous work from Reynolds, as well as the rest of the cast, but director Harley Cokliss obviously wants it that way. Cokliss, whose Black Moon Rising set some kind of record for action dissociation, puts the same sensibility to work here: faces loom with an odd King Vidor-esque monumentality, and Cokliss never seems so happy as when he's stylishly blowing things up or finding eccentric camera angles to frame the fractured narrative. The mood is effectively paranoid, and there's a hint of Melvillian abstraction (J.-P. rather than Herman) in the brooding, stylized imagery, but the story is pure pulp and the politics never develop beyond elementary cartoon. Still, it's engagingly tense and kinetic, full of kitschy visual portent, and Cliff Robertson, as the mad survivalist chieftain, gets some memorable, beady mileage out of his .22-caliber eyeballs.