Suddenly, pieces of Dacron began flying past his face. The horsemen were carrying more than swords. The wing over Austin's head looked as if a tiger was sharpening its claws in the fabric-someone on the beach was shooting at him. The thin fiberglass cockpit was no protection against bullets. Even worse, Austin was practically sitting on the Gooney's gas tank. The shots were high, but one lucky round in the propeller would drop him like a wounded duck. He pushed forward on the stick, and the plane dove. Even wearing earphones, he heard the sharp thwack of a bullet striking one of the hollow aluminum struts that connected the cockpit to the wings. He felt a sharp sting on his right temple. A splinter of flying metal had hit him, and blood was trickling down his face. He was wearing a neckerchief, and he pulled it up around his fore- head to catch the blood.

The same volley that had also hit the strut had shattered a fiberglass wing float. Austin jammed the stick as far forward as it would go, and the ultralight dropped like a run-away elevator and tilted dangerously, the plane thrown off- balance by the loss of the float. Austin had to compensate by leaning his weight to one side. He flew out to sea until he was out of range, then put the plane into a turn that took him parallel to the shore.

The swimmers had hit the sand on their bellies when the gunfire broke out. Now they were up again and running along the water's edge. He picked out a slim, dark-skinned woman and two men, one short and the other tall. As they ran, they glanced over their shoulders, trying to keep an eye on the Gooney, only to see the mounted men crest the dune with swords raised. Spurred on by the new threat, the trio dug their feet in, but it was impossible to run faster in the soft sand. The mounted men would make short work of die defenseless runners caught between them and the deep blue sea. The open expanse of beach offered no shelter. It was a perfect killing field.

The horsemen spurred their mounts and galloped along the dune to outflank their prey. Austin reached into an emergency chest behind his seat and pulled out the Orion 25- millimeter signal kit for offshore boats. He fit one of the 10,000-candIepower Red Meteors into the pistol launcher. Then he cranked up the throttle to full speed. Wobbling dangerously because of the damage, the Gooney hurtled toward the beach at sixty-five miles per hour.