“One or two,” Razov said, with a shrug. “Apparently, there was a warning.”

The monk's strange eyes blazed with a killing anger. “An informer?”

“No, it was completely unanticipated. A fisherman warned the townspeople, and the harbor was evacuated.”

“A pity,” Boris said, with genuine sadness in his voice. “We must be sure next time that there is no warning.”

Razov nodded in agreement and pointed to a large computer-generated monitor on one wall. The screen displayed a map of the world. It sparkled with lights that showed the positions of the far-flung Ataman fleet. Using a remote control, he zoomed in on the map to bring up a line of lights assembling off the East Coast of the United States.

“Our assets are moving into position.” His eyes grew colder. “I can assure you that when we have accomplished our work, there will be many dead to count, and much more.”

Boris smiled. “Then the North American project is on schedule?”

Razov refilled their glasses. He seemed troubled. “Yes and no. There are some matters of vital importance that I want to discuss with you. They have a bearing on our plans. We must deal with an unexpected problem. There have been intruders at our Black Sea operation.”

“Moscow has heard of our activities?”

“The fools in Moscow are still unaware of our plan,” Razov replied with unveiled contempt. “No, it was not the central government. An American television crew landed near the old submarine pen.”

“Americans?” He lifted his arms toward the sky. “A gift from heaven,” he said, eyes glittering. “I hope their necks felt the sharp edges of the Guardians' blades.”

“To the contrary. There was a fight and the Guardians were driven off. Some of your men died in the struggle.”

“How could that be, Mikhail? The Guardians are trained to kill without mercy.”

“True, they are superb horsemen, Cossack warriors in the finest sense. Their weapons are traditional but effective.”

“Then how could an unarmed television crew resist?”

“They were not alone,” Razov said, scowling. “Apparently, they had help from an aircraft.”

“Military?”

Razov shook his head. “My sources tell me the aircraft was launched from a ship called the Argo. The vessel is supposedly in the Black Sea to conduct a scientific survey for NUMA.”

“What is this NUMA ?”

“I've forgotten that you were isolated from the outside world for many years. The National Underwater and Marine Agency is the largest oceanic science organization in the world. They have thousands of scientists and engineers spread across the globe. The pilot of the aircraft, the man who killed the Guardians, was one of those scientists.”

Boris stood and paced the cabin. 'This report concerns me. How could scientists or engineers defeat armed warriors?"