“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.”