Austin had his doubts. Tiny and his men could defend the narrow deck for a while, but like the Spartans holding the pass at Thermopylae, they too would eventually be outmaneuvered. Tiny jerked his thumb over his shoulder. The gesture needed no translation. Get moving. They let off a few more rounds, then inched backward on their elbows and knees until they were under a lifeboat davit.

With Razov's men still shooting at their last position, they got to their feet and dashed heads-down toward a salon door. It was unlocked. They stepped inside, weapons cocked. The crystal chandeliers were dark, and the only illumination came from a series of wall sconces. In their yellow glow, Austin could see the outlines of tables, chairs and settees. They crossed the dance floor to the opposite side.

Austin paused. Petrov's men might be in the vicinity, and it could be a lethal mistake to surprise them. He called Petrov on the radio and gave him their position.

“Sounds as if you stepped into a hornets' nest,” Petrov said.

"Couldn't be helped. Don't know how long Tiny can hold them off.”

“You might be surprised,” Petrov said without concern.

“Come through the door onto the deck. We'll be watching for you.”

Austin clicked off, opened the door and stepped out. There was no sign of Petrov or his men. Then dark shapes detached themselves from the shadows where the commandos crouched. Petrov came toward them. “You were wise not to stick your heads outside. My men are a little edgy. I've sent a few around to the other side. We should hear from them in a - ”

He was interrupted by the thud of exploding grenades. The gunfire became more sporadic. “Evidently, my men have thinned out the ranks of the opposition,” he said. “I suggest you proceed to your objective. Do you need any help?”

“I'll call you if we do,” Austin said, moving toward a ladder that went up the side of the bulkhead on the bridge superstructure.

“Good luck!” Petrov called out. Austin and Zavala were halfway up the bridge when the chilling reports started coming in from the Omega teams. He stopped to tell Zavala the bad news coming in through his earpiece.

“The bombs have dropped,” he told Zavala. “All of them.”

Zavala had taken the lead and was hanging on to a ladder to the next deck. He turned at Austin's words and let out a long string of curses in Spanish. “What now?”