Fire Ice

Austin brought the Bowen up and sighted on the Cossack's broad back. He was squeezing the trigger when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. To Austin's amazement, the figure slumped on the ground began to stir. The ru

The Cossacks began shouting. Redbeard pretended that he didn't understand, then turned and went through a great show of being surprised. He waved his arms as if he were nonplussed at his victim rising from the dead – then once more he gave chase. The ru

Zavala had lost his patience. "Game's over," he snarled. Bringing his Heckler and Koch up in the classic prone shooting position, he sighted on the Cossack's chest.

Austin put his hand on the barrel and said, "No." Then he stood up.

When the ru

Redbeard saw Austin at the same time. He reined in his horse, leaned forward on the pommel and stared at the broad-shouldered man with the strange pale hair. Austin could see the hate burning in the red-rimmed eyes. The horse snorted and nervously pawed the ground. Losing interest in the ru

Austin had been standing with his hands behind his back like a child hiding cookies. He brought his left hand out and beckoned. The horseman's puzzled frown turned into a gap-toothed grin. He liked this new game. He edged his mount closer, still wary.

Austin beckoned again with more animation. Emboldened, the horseman came nearer. Austin smiled like Davy Crockett gri

Still smiling, Austin waited until he couldn't miss, then in a smooth fluid motion he brought the Bowen from behind his back. Holding the heavy revolver in both hands, he sighted on the X made by the Cossack's crossed cartridge belts.

"Here's one for Mehmet," he said, squeezing the trigger. The revolver barked once. The heavy bullet smashed into the rider's sternum and splintered his rib cage, sending fragments of bone into his heart. The Cossack was dead even before his hands lost their grip on the reins. The horse continued toward Austin like a runaway cement mixer, its eyes rolling in panic. Austin cursed himself for not getting down to business and firing sooner.

Spooked by the human standing in its way, and with no signal coming from the slack reins, the animal veered off. Its rock-hard haunch swung around, slammed into Austin with the force of a battering ram and knocked him off his feet. He flew through the air, and crashed to the turf with a teeth- rattling shock, landing on his left side. When he stopped rolling, he tried to stand but only made it up onto one knee. He was covered with dust and wet on one side from horse sweat. Zavala was by Austin's side, helping him to his feet.

As Austin's blurred vision cleared, he expected to see the Cossacks bearing down on them.

Instead, the world seemed frozen in time and place. Stu

It was if a power switch had been thrown.

Seeing their friend break for safety, the men in the field bolted after him in a disorganized mob. Austin and Zavala yelled encouragement and pointed to the warehouse. With their leader dead and their prey escaping, the Cossacks yelled as one, poured into the soccer field and advanced at a gallop, sabers held high, toward Austin and Zavala. The two men stood there in awe at the fearful beauty of a Cossack charge.

"Wow!" Zavala shouted over the thunder of hooves. "It's like being in an old Western."

"Let's hope it isn't a remake of Custer's Last Stand," Austin said, with a thin smile.

Austin brought his Bowen up and fired. The lead rider pitched from his saddle. Zavala's H and K stuttered, and another horseman crashed to the ground. The riders advanced without slackening their pace, well aware they held the ad- vantage in numbers and momentum. The guns fired simultaneously and two more men flew from their saddles.

The Cossacks were bold but not suicidal. First one, then another, leaned out of his saddle and hung from his horse's neck so he no longer offered an easy target. As Austin and Zavala adjusted to the new strategy, one horse came to a sudden stop, dropped to the ground and rolled onto its side.

Austin thought the animal had stumbled. Then he saw that the rider was firing at them, using his mount as a protective barricade. Other riders followed suit. Those Cossacks still in their saddles split up, corning in from both sides in a pincer movement. Austin and Zavala hit the ground and dug in. Bullets flew over their heads like angry bees.

"Automatic weapons!" Zavala yelped. "You said these guys carried blunderbusses and pigstickers."

"How would I know they'd stop off at a gun show?"

"What ever happened to background checks?"

Austin's reply was drowned out by the stutter of automatic-arms fire. He and Zavala let off a couple of rounds more for show than effect, then pulled back from the rise and crawled toward the warehouse. The Cossacks peppered the ridge with gunfire. Thinking their prey was dead, they climbed onto their horses and took up the charge where they had left off.

From the shelter of the warehouse, Austin and Zavala aimed through the windows and two more riders toppled from their mounts. Seeing that their foe was still alive, the Cossacks called off the attack and galloped to the center of the field to regroup. Taking advantage of the momentary battle lull, Austin turned from the window and surveyed the men who had taken refuge. Austin couldn't remember when he'd seen a more bedraggled-looking bunch. Their tan jumpsuits were wrinkled and begrimed, and their hollow-eyed faces bristled with whiskers. The first ru

Austin reached under his belt, where he had tucked the cap Zavala found on the Russian submarine. "Maybe you can get this back to its owner," he said, handing the cap over.

"It's the captain's. Where did you get this?" Kreisman said, looking at the cap as if he were seeing it for the first time.

"My partner found it in a Russian sub."

"Who are you guys?" Kreisman said, losing his aplomb.

"I'm Kurt Austin and that's my partner Joe Zavala at the window. We're with the National Underwater and Marine Agency."

The ensign's jaw dropped down to his Adam's apple. With their battle-hardened eyes and smoking guns, the two who had rescued him and his crew looked more like commandos than ocean scientists.

"I didn't know NUMA had its own SWAT team," he said with wonder.