Fire Ice

"Neither do you. You're much smaller than I thought you'd be."

"This is only a temporary diversion. I'm still with NUMA. We've been doing some treasure hunting in the Black Sea."

"I hope it was worth your while."

"Someone beat me to a treasure aboard a ship called the Odessa Star."

"That's too bad, but treasure-hunting is very competitive."

"What I can't figure out is why someone who already possesses huge wealth would go through so much trouble to recover a few shiny baubles."

"We Russians have always been fascinated by baubles, as you call them. We believe that beyond their intrinsic value, they impart a power to the possessor."

"Treasure didn't do the tsar and his family much good."

"The royal family was betrayed by traitors in its midst."

"I assume you intend to return the treasure to the Russian people."

"You know nothing about my people," Razov said. "They don't care for jewels. What they need is the firm hand of a leader who can restore their national pride and fend off those countries who are circling like vultures."

"That's assuming your secret Operation Troika is a success."

"There's nothing secret about Troika," he said, with undisguised scorn. "It's shorthand for my plan to open trade centers in Boston, Charleston and Miami. Look around, Mr. Austin. There is nothing sinister about my business."

"What about the massacre aboard the NUMA ship? Would you consider that sinister?"

"I read about it in the press. A tragedy, certainly, but I had nothing to do with that unfortunate incident."

"I don't blame you for not taking credit for it. It was a botched attack. You screwed up, Razov. Your mad dog got the wrong ship. I wasn't on the Sea Hunter, and your men murdered the Sea Hunter's crew for nothing. Of course, you know all that by now."

Austin saw a flash of anger in Razov's eyes. "Really, Mr. Austin, you disappoint me. You sneak aboard my ship in that ridiculous disguise, drink my vodka and eat my food, then repay my hospitality by calling me a killer."

"I had another reason to come aboard. I wanted to look into the face of the murdering scum I plan to destroy."

The mask of the affable politician melted away, to be replaced by the street thug. "You destroy me? You're a mere flea."

"Maybe, but there are many more fleas where I come from. And we all bite."

"It will take more than NUMA and your government to stop me," Razov said. "When I'm through bringing Russia back to its former glory, the U.S. will be like a puking, mewling child, a world beggar, its resources depleted, its leadership weak and confused – " Razov saw that he had gone too far and stopped suddenly. "You're no longer welcome aboard my yacht, Mr. Austin. My security men will escort you to the launch."

"I can find my way. 'Til we meet the next time, Mr. Razov." He started to walk away.

Razov's lips parted in a feral grin. "There isn't going to be a next time."

Razov made a subtle gesture, and his guards started to follow. Austin let out a low whistle. The wolfhounds perked up their ears and, with tails wagging, broke away from Razov, trailing their useless leashes. Austin gri

He stopped and patted the dogs on their heads, then handed their leashes to a startled young woman wearing a maroon blazer. He whipped his wig and sunglasses off and tucked them in the woman's pocket.

"Would you return these to Mr. Razov, please? With my compliments."

Walking quickly, he made his way past the salon entrance and slipped through the crowd, almost bowling Kaela over.

"What's the big hurry?" she said.

"Get off the yacht as soon as you can," he said.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't know. See you at the Ritz Bar in about an hour." Austin pecked Kaela's cheek and headed toward the stairs that would take him to the launch deck. He hoped to catch a ride on a launch, but abandoned that course. Two guards flanked the stairway, their eyes sca

Austin whirled and tensed his body into a combat stance. Petrov released his grip. The Russian was smiling, but his eyes were deadly serious.

"I think you'd better not go that way," he said. Austin followed Petrov's gaze. A guard was working his way through the crowd. He looked straight at Austin and spoke to a microphone in the lapel of his suit. Austin let Petrov guide him into one door of the salon, around the dance floor, then through the other door and out onto the deck. They headed toward a stairway, but this too had a tall guard stationed at it. The man had a hand cupped next to his ear, listening to his radio.

Wearing a broad smile, Petrov went up to him and said something in Russian. The guard responded with a suspicious glare and reached for the gun inside his jacket. Petrov drove his fist into the man's midsection. The guard doubled over, gasping for breath, and when he came up for air, Austin was waiting with a right cross. The big man tumbled like a big tree felled by a lumberjack.

Stepping over the fallen guard, they raced down the stairs to the deck below. Austin saw a door like the one used on the other side of the ship for the guest shuttles. Petrov worked the latch and pushed the door open. Austin wondered if they were going to have to swim for it when a shaft of light fell on a powerboat. The motor was idling, and the man at the wheel gri

"I took the liberty of arranging alternative transportation," Petrov said.

"I thought you came alone."

"Never trust a former KGB man."

Austin scolded himself. Unlike Petrov, he had underestimated the determination of his foe. He had been so eager to confront Razov that he had neglected his own escape plans. He vowed to praise Ivan later for his meticulous attention to detail. He stepped from the ship onto the deck of the powerboat, Petrov followed and Petrov's man ratcheted up the throttle several notches. The boat surged forward, almost pitching Austin and Petrov into the water, as the snarling outboard motor pushed it up on plane.

Austin looked back at the brightly lit ship and chuckled as he imagined the reaction of Razov and his thugs to their escape. His triumph lasted only a second, however. Silent gunfire raked the boat, coming not from the ship but from the harbor itself. Though there was no sound, the muzzle flashes were clearly visible in the darkness, and the hail of bullets stitched their way across the body of the helmsman. He let out a soggy yell before he crumpled over the wheel, and the boat careened off at a wild angle.

Petrov pulled the man away from the wheel and Austin grabbed the helm. Spotlight beams converged on the powerboat. Razov was no fool. He'd stationed a picket line of his gunmen in boats around the yacht.

Another volley raked the boat. There was only one way past the guard boats, and that was through them, Austin concluded. He steered toward a gap between spotlights, and the boat shot between the picket line. Razov's guards held their fire for fear of hitting each other in the cross fire, but once Austin was in the open harbor, they let fly with everything they had.