Petrov thought briefly, then nodded. “I consider you a dangerous man, Mr. Austin. Please don't try anything foolish.”

Petrov gave a sharp order in Russian. Someone came up from behind. Austin felt a cold blade against his wrists and the tape was severed in a single swipe.

“Now for your story, Mr. Austin.”

Austin massaged the circulation back into his arms. “I was on the NUMA survey ship Argo, conducting a study of wave action in the Black Sea. Three American television people were supposed to rendezvous with our ship, but they had heard about the old sub base before they sailed from Istanbul, and decided to check it out without notifying us of their change in plans. They were overdue and I went looking for them. Some men on shore murdered a Turkish fisherman who was bringing the TV people to shore, and attempted to kill them, too.”

“Tell me about these killers.”

“There were about a dozen of them, on horseback, and wearing Cossack uniforms. They even carried swords and old rifles - really old.”

“Then what happened?”

Austin laid out a detailed narrative of the fight. Petrov listened impassively, although from his experience with Austin's resourcefulness, he was not surprised at the way the battle had ended.

“An ultralight,” Petrov said, with a chuckle. “An ingenious tactic using your flare gun.”

Austin shrugged. “I was lucky. They were using antique weapons. Otherwise my story would not have a happy Hollywood ending.”

“You couldn't have known from the air that they were using old rifles. I assume you must have landed.”

“In a manner of speaking. Old or not, those rifles made a sieve out of my plane's wings. I crash-landed on the beach.”

“What did you see besides the weapons? Every detail, please.”

“We found the body of one of the attackers behind the sand dune.”

“He was dressed like the others?”

“That's right. Fur hat, baggy pants. I found this on one of them.” He reached into his pocket and dug out the emblem he had taken from the dead Cossack's hat.

Petrov studied the pin without expression and passed it to one of his men. “Go on,” he said.

“After I confirmed that the TV people were okay, I called my ship in. They picked us up, and we left as soon as we were able.”

“We found no evidence of a body or weapons,” Petrov said. “I don't know what happened to the body. Maybe his friends came back after we left, and tidied up. We took the weapons with us.”

“That's larceny, Mr. Austin.”

“I prefer to call it spoils of war.”

Petrov dismissed Austin's reply with a wave of his hand. “No matter. What of this television crew? Did they film any of this?”

“They were too busy running for their lives. They filmed the body, but without an explanation I doubt if they can do much with it.”

“I hope for their sake that you are right.”