He looked at her as she sniffed back tears. Then he watched as she fired a burst at the windshield, leaned back against the seat, and kicked out the shattered expanse of glass with a yell.

"Amazing," he said under his breath. "Gauge your fire!" he cautioned as he leaned into the car. "Conserve ammo!"

He kept an eye on the front line of neo-Nazis as he picked up the six sparkling water bottles and put them. in the leather pouch of his chair. As Karin Doring neared, the line grew bolder and one of the men rose.

"Bastard!" Jody screamed and shot at him.

The shot went wide, but the German dropped.

Herbert shook his head. I've bred myself a little killer here, he thought as he twisted the bottle caps from two of them and spilled the contents onto the ground. When they were empty, he rolled back a few feet and used his Urban Skinner to cut a section of gray tubing from the left wheel of his chair. Even Karin Doring wouldn't be able to walk through a wall of fire.

Bullets scudded across the hood of the car and ricocheted off. Jody threw herself to the far left. Obviously realizing she'd trapped herself against the door, she dropped to her right side. A moment later bullets ripped through the car and buried themselves in the backseat.

"Jody," Herbert yelled, "push in the cigarette lighter!"

She did, then ducked back down. Herbert knew she wasn't going to be getting up again.

Karin was about three hundred yards away. Apparently sensing that they were safe, the other Germans began moving forward.

By this time, Herbert had opened the gas tank and was siphoning fuel into the bottles. Bullets began striking the car with greater frequency. Flashes rose from different parts of the crowd. In about half a minute, he and Jody were going to be Mr. and Ms. Frankenstein in the hands of angry villagers.

He heard the click of the cigarette lighter. Jody wasn't going to be able to help him. Rolling forward quickly, seeing far too much firelight through the perforated front door, Herbert reached through the front passenger's side and pulled up some of the stuffing from the bullet-ridden seat. He set one of the bottles on the floor and jammed the stuffing into the other. Then he snatched the cigarette lighter from the dashboard, touched it to the padding, watched as nothing happened.

And realized with horror that the damn stuff was flame resistant.

With an oath, he pushed the padding in partway. Then he dropped the lighter into the bottle and threw it with a high, arcing stiff arm. He prayed the wadding would fall.

It did. The Molotov cocktail exploded in mid-flight, showering the front of the mob with flaming droplets and shards of glass. Screams rose from where the burning splashes struck flesh or eyes.