In answer, Austin jerked his arm up to shoulder level and pointed his gun at Zavala, who froze in place. The Bowen barked. The slug passed within inches of Zavala's head and the breeze created by its passing ruffled his hair. A heavy object plunged from above and crashed to the deck with a thud. Zavala blinked the light spots out of his eyes and stared at the Cossack spread-eagled on the deck. A saber lay a few feet from the man's outstretched hand.

“Sorry, Joe,” Austin said. “That guy was about to cut you down to size.”

Zavala ran his fingers through his hair on the side the bullet had passed. “That's okay. I always wanted to part my hair on this side.”

“There's nothing we can do about the bombs,” Austin said somberly. “But we can deal with the murdering scum who launched them.”

Austin took the lead, and they climbed higher until they were under the wings that extended out from either side of the wheelhouse. They split up, with each man taking a wing. Austin sprinted up the stairs. With his back to the bulkhead, he edged up to the open door and peered around the corner.

The spacious wheelhouse was lit by red night-lights that washed the interior in their crimson glow.

The wheelhouse seemed deserted, except for the solitary figure of a man who stood in front of a large computer monitor, his back to Austin, apparently staring at the screen. Austin whispered into his radio, instructing Zavala to keep watch while he investigated. Then he stepped inside.

Razov's wolfhounds must have smelled him. They rushed out of nowhere in a flurry of clicking claws and wagging tails and pounced on Austin. He pushed them down with his free hand, but the dogs had spoiled all hopes of a silent entry. Razov turned and frowned at the dogs' attention to Austin. He gave a sharp command that brought the dogs whimpering back to his side with their heads low and tails between their legs. His thin lips widened in an evil smile.

“I've been expecting you, Mr. Austin. My men told me that you and your friends were aboard. It's good to see you again. Pity that you had to depart so abruptly on your last visit.”

“You might change your mind when we blow your operation out of the water.”

“It's a little late for that,” Razov said. He pointed toward die monitor. The screen was subdivided into three vertical segments. On each section, a blip was rapidly descending toward a wavy line at the bottom.

“I know you've launched the bombs.”

“Then you know there's nothing you can do. When the missiles hit bottom, the thrusters will drive them into the seafloor, where they will explode, releasing the methane hydrate, collapsing the shelf and triggering tsunamis that will destroy three of your major coastal cities."

'“To say nothing of launching your mad scheme to trigger global warming.”