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 runner, who had felt the direct wrath of the Cossack leader, came over to speak with Austin. His uniform was torn at the knees and elbows and covered with dust. Yet he kept his chin as high as if he were wearing newly pressed dress whites on parade. The young man gave Austin a crisp salute. “Ensign Steven Kreisman of the U.S. Navy submarine NR-1.”

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.

“We don't. Are you okay?”

“I feel as if I've been run over by a bulldozer, but other than that I'm fine,” he said, rubbing his neck where the saber had whacked him. “I won't be wearing a tie for a while. This may sound like a dumb question, Mr. Austin, but what are you and your friend doing here?”

“Your turn first. Last I heard, your sub was diving for relics on the bottom of the Aegean.”

The young man's shoulders sagged slightly. “It's a long story,” he said, with weariness.

“We don't have much time. See if you can tell me what happened in thirty seconds.”

Kreisman chuckled at Austin's audacity. “I'll do my best.”

He took a deep breath and delivered a condensed version of events.