Again the hand groped for the knife, and he took a step forward, only to freeze at the sound of a commotion. The blue-sled driver was making his way across the Mall, accompanied by several angry han- dlers. Dirt and blood stained his face. Umealiq whirled to face the newcomers. They exchanged angry words, obviously arguing over the race tactics. With a quick burning glance back at Austin, the red- sled driver pushed his way through the others and made his way back to the trucks.

Therri was down on her knees, tending to Nighthawk. Austin went to her side and saw that the Indian's only injury was a bruise where he'd been struck under the eye. As they helped him to his feet, he spit the words out: “That was the man who killed my cousin.”

“You're sure?” Therri said. Nighthawk nodded dumbly. His dazed eyes fixed on the figure walking across the Mall, and he stumbled forward. Austin saw where he was going and stepped in front of him, barring his path. “He and his pals will kill you.”

I don t care.

“Now is not the time,” Austin said, in a voice that said he wasn't yielding.

Nighthawk saw that his determination wasn't enough to get him past Austin's wide shoulders. He swore in his native language and stalked across the Mall toward the museum.

Therri said, “Thanks for stopping Ben. We should tell the po- lice.”

“Not a bad idea. But it might be a problem.” A group of men was striding onto the Mall from the direction of

the museum. In the lead was the tall figure of Dr. Barker. He hailed Austin like a long-lost buddy.

“Nice to see you again, Austin. I'm on my way out and stopped to say good-bye.”

“Thanks, but I'm not going anywhere.”

“Oh, but you are. Umealiq is waiting for you and your friend. You're about to learn why he is named after the stone-headed lance the Inuit use on seal hunts.”

Barker pointed to where Scarface stood in the middle of the race- course. Then, escorted by two bodyguards, he strode off to where a limo awaited, leaving the rest of his men behind.

Others came running over from where the trucks were parked. Austin did a quick count and estimated that there were about twenty men in all. Not exactly great odds. Their prospects didn't get any bet- ter when a couple of men ran over to the portable lights that had il- luminated the racecourse and snapped them off.

The Mall had become a big and lonely place. The nearest police presence was a traffic cop on Madison Drive stopping cars so the guests could return to the museum. The remaining guests were mak- ing their way back to the reception, and the passersby had resumed their strolls. Austin's sharp eye followed the shadows that were mov- ing across the grass in a classic encircling maneuver.