Razov had been a successful gangster and was a creature of the city. Once out of his element he was practically helpless. Razov thought back to his first meeting with Boris. He had been wandering, lost and half starved, through the bleak countryside when he came upon a stream of peasants. There were dozens of them, frail and sick, some unable to walk, carried by others. When he asked where they were going, they replied that they were going to the monastery to be cured by the “mad one.” Having nothing else to do, he followed. He saw the crippled throwaway their crutches and walk and blind people claim they could see. When he went up to Boris, the monk had gazed at him as if they had known each other forever and said, “I have been expecting you, my son.”

Under the gaze of those remarkable eyes, Razov had poured out his story. His shock at his father's dying words. His retreat from civilization and his wanderings in the wild country around the Black Sea. Boris told him to stay after the others had left, and they talked through the night. When Razov asked where the other monks were, Boris only said, “They were unworthy." Razov suspected the horrible truth, but it made no difference. When he returned to civilization, the bizarre figure of the bearded monk was at his side, and he had been at his side ever since.

Eventually, other mobsters had moved into Razov's territory. At Boris's suggestion, he'd sent out word that he was abandoning his turf, and he made sure his sordid past would not come back to haunt him. First, he changed his name, then, after several assassinations, some arson fires and bombings, he had wiped out most connections to his criminal days. Using the millions stashed in Swiss bank accounts and the strong-arm methods that had served him well as a criminal, he'd bought into mines that were slipping from communist control. Soon he expanded his mining interests into the sea.

Observers noted a mysterious and profound bond between the two men. Razov consulted Boris on all crucial decisions and he rewarded Boris handsomely. The monk himself was a study in multiple personality. His stateroom on the yacht was furnished with only a cot, where he spent many hours in meditation, and he would go for long periods without washing. Sometimes, however, when the yacht was in port, he disappeared. Razov had Boris followed and learned that the monk had been spending his time in the seediest brothels. Boris seemed to be struggling with his two sides, the ascetic monk and the murderous voluptuary.

For all his madness, though, the monk was a valuable advisor, his insanity tempered by a rational intelligence. In this case, Boris was right about NUMA. It might prove a menace waiting in the wings.

NUMA 3 - Fire Ice

-8- BLACK SEA