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"It's an India class," he said. "It was designed to carry submersibles for use by special-operations forces."

"Any idea how it got here?"

"There's a booming market in the world for Soviet armaments."

"This isn't exactly a box of AK-47s."

"My country has always done things on a grand scale. For the right price, you could probably buy a battleship. As you know, the Soviet Union launched dozens of huge subs during the Cold War. Many have been mothballed or other- wise decommissioned. But given the sad state of our armed forces, anything is possible. This could be an important lead. I can't imagine anyone making a purchase this big without somebody knowing about it. I'll run a discreet check. Tell me about these men from your NR-1 submarine. What did they have to say?"

"I talked to one of them. The sub was hijacked by someone posing as a scientist, transported on the back of that submarine and made to work salvaging cargo from an old freighter. The fact that they're still holding the captain and pilot indicates that they have more work planned for the NR-l." Austin rapped the stone floor with his heel. "Maybe you can look into the ownership of this place."

"I already have. The property is still owned by the Russian government. About two years ago, it was leased to a private corporation. They said they wanted to establish a fish-processing plant here."

"From what I've seen, the leaseholder was more interested in what was under the ground than on top of it. Any leads on the corporation?"

"Yes. We got a break there. It was a straw for Ataman."

Austin nodded. "Why does that not surprise me? I should get back above. Joe will wonder what happened to us."

They followed the network of corridors and stairs that took them back to the surface. It was a relief to break out into the sunshine and fresh air. To Austin's surprise, the

soccer field was clear of carnage.

Petrov sensed the question on Austin's lips. "Before we went below, I ordered my men to drag the dead into the woods and bury them."

"That was considerate of you."

"There was nothing considerate about it. I wanted nothing left that could be seen from the air." They walked across the field toward the downed helicopter. "I've taken care of the dead," he said, glancing toward the helicopter. "I will leave it up to you to deal with the living."

IT WAS A wonder that the chopper had been able to land as softly as it had. The Cossacks had shot high, and the upper cockpit and engine housing were riddled with bullet holes. Kaela sat on the ground nearby with her legs crossed, writing in a shorthand notebook. Austin put on his most winning smile. Kaela felt his shadow and looked up.

"Small world," he said, with his best show of tooth enamel.

Kaela skewered Austin with a hard stare. Undaunted, Austin plunked onto the ground beside her. "Nice of you to go to all this trouble just so we'd have the opportunity to reschedule our dinner date."

"You're the one who didn't show up back there in Istanbul."

"True. Which is why I'm glad I have the chance to apologize and see if can make it up to you over cocktails."

She raised an eyebrow. "Apologize for standing me up or for stealing Captain Kemal?"

Kaela was no pushover for the Austin charm offensive. This was going to be more complicated than he thought.

"Okay. Let's deal with this in tiny steps. First, I apologize for missing the dinner date. I was unexpectedly tied up and couldn't make it. As for Captain Kemal, you'll have to admit you made a mistake by not holding him with some sort of retainer while you went off to Paris."

"Please spare me the lecture. I never thought you would steal him after you warned me to stay away from this place because it was too dangerous and an infringement of Russian territory."

"You'll have to admit I was right about the danger," he said, glancing at the wreckage of the helicopter.

Kaela took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I'll grant you the obvious. But I'll bet nobody gave you or your NUMA friend an invitation to drop by for tea."

"That's correct, but it doesn't make it right."

"You sound like my mother," she said with mock disgust. "Your apology for missing dinner is accepted. Luckily, my producers bankrolled enough money to lease a helicopter, so I wouldn't have hired Captain Kemal anyhow. You still owe me, though."

Austin noticed the twinkle in the amber eyes and realized she had been setting him up, using his guilt as leverage.

"You're playing me like a fish, aren't you?"


Tags: Clive Cussler NUMA Files Thriller