“Thanks. I'm Kurt Austin from the National Underwater and Marine Agency,” said the husky man, who looked as if he could walk through a wall. “And this is my partner, Joe Zavala.” He shook hands Wth the captain, then Becker, almost bringing tears to the Dane's eyes Wth a crushing handshake. Zavala pulverized those bones Austin had missed.

You made good time," the captain said.

“We're a few minutes behind schedule,” Austin said. “The logis- tics were somewhat complicated.”

“That's all right. Thank God you came!” Becker said, rubbing his hand. He glanced toward the helicopter. “Where's the rescue team?”

Austin and Zavala exchanged an amused glance. “You're looking at it,” Austin said.

Becker's astonishment gave way to barely restrained fury. He whirled around to face the captain. “How in God's name are these two... gentlemen going to rescue Captain Petersen and his men?”

Captain Larsen was wondering the same thing, but was more re- served. “I suggest you ask them,” he replied, with obvious embar- rassment at Becker's outburst.

“Well?” Becker said, glaring first at Austin, then at Zavala. Becker could not have known that the two men who had stepped off the helicopter equaled a shipload of rescuers. Born in Seattle, Austin had been raised in and around the sea, which was not sur- prising, since his father was the owner of a marine salvage company. While studying for his master's degree in systems management at the University of Washington, he'd attended a highly rated Seattle dive school, where he'd attained proficiency in a number of specialized areas. He'd put his expertise to work on North Sea oil rigs, had worked for his father awhile, then had been hired by the CIA to conduct underwater intelligence. When the Cold War ended, he'd been recruited by Sandecker to head the Special Assignments Team.

Zavala was the son of Mexican parents who had waded across the Rio Grande, settling in Santa Fe. His oil-stained mechanical genius was the stuff of legend around the halls ofNUMA, and he could re- pair, modify or restore any kind of engine ever devised. He had spent thousands of hours as a pilot in helicopters and small jet and turbo- prop craft. His assignment to Austin's team had proved a fortunate pairing. Many of their assignments would never become public knowledge, but their wisecracking camaraderie in the face ofdan- aer masked a steely determination and a competence few could rival.

Austin calmly regarded Becker with piercing blue-green eyes the color of coral under water. He was not unsympathetic to Becker's plight and deflected the Dane's fury with a broad smile. “Sorry for being flip. I should have explained immediately that the rescue ve- hicle is on its way.”

“Should be here in about an hour,” Zavala added.

“There's a lot we can do in the meantime,” Austin said. He turned to the captain. “I need help unloading a piece of equipment from the chopper. Can you spare a few men with strong backs?”