"Maybe I can get him rattled enough to make a mistake."
"I've heard it's not safe to play with rattlesnakes, but do what you wish. I think I'll wander around and enjoy the food and drink as long as I'm here."
"You came alone?"
Petrov plucked a shot of vodka from the tray of a passing waiter. He slugged it down and smiled. "I won't be far away if you need me."
The party was going full-blast. Guests wandered about the deck with food and drinks. The Cossack band had switched from Russian folk tunes and was belting out a rock number. Petrov mingled with the crowd and disappeared like a leaf being swept away in a stream. Austin saw a knot of people, with Razov holding court at its center. He moved closer, wondering how he was going to get past the body- guards flanking Razov. The pair of long-legged canines took the matter out of his hands. Razov's dogs jerked away from him and galloped toward Austin in a dead heat. As before, they jumped up, put their paws on his chest and licked his face. He managed to dislodge them with strategically placed hip blocks.
He grabbed the leashes and held them short to keep the rambunctious hounds under control. A moment later, the dogs' trainer came running up, this time with panic in his eyes. Austin was about to pass the leashes over when he saw Razov and his two bodyguards coming up behind the trainer.
"I see you've met Sasha and Gorky," Razov said, with a genial smile. He took the leashes from Austin and said some1hing in Russian. The dogs obeyed instantly and sat by his side. Their haunches quivered as they fought their instincts.
"I shared some prime rib and sausage with them a while ago," Austin said. "Hope you don't mind."
"I'm surprised they ate it," Razov said. "They dine on fare much better than most people's. My name is Razov." He extended his hand and glanced at the name on the press pass hanging around Austin's neck. "I'm the host of this little celebration."
"Yes, I know. I heard you speak. Very impressive." He squeezed the hand until the bones crunched and he saw Razov wince with pain. "My name is Kurt Austin."
Razov's face showed no emotion. "The famous Mr. Austin. You look nothing like I expected."
"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 grinned and looked Razov straight in the eye. The Russian stared at Austin with a look of pure hate. Austin turned and walked quickly toward the stern of the boat, merging with the crowd with the dogs at his heel. He realized that he had to lose the hounds. They were too conspicuous and would call attention to him.
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 scanning the crowd. Austin had assumed, wrongly, that Razov wouldn't risk an incident with all the people around. But Razov had spilled more than he'd intended and was willing to take the risk. Pushing his way back through the crowd, Austin was trying to gain a few minutes while he figured out an alternative escape route, when someone grabbed his arm.
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 grinned and waved when he saw Petrov.