Fire Ice (NUMA Files 3)

"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."

"Let me ask you a question if I may, Ivan."

"I'm the one asking the questions."

"I'm aware of that, but it's the least you can do in return for the beautiful flowers I sent you."

"I've already repaid your kind gesture with one of my own. I didn't kill you. But go ahead. I'll allow one question."

"What the hell is this all about?"

A slight smile tweaked the ends of Petrov's lips, and he picked up the cigarette pack in front of him. Extracting a cigarette with great care, he put it between his lips, lit the end and blew the smoke from his nostrils. The strong tobacco smell filled the office and drove out the musty odor.

"What do you know about the current political situation in Russia?"

"What I read in the papers. It's no secret that your country has big problems. Your economy is shaky, organized crime and corruption are worse than Chicago under Capone, your military is underpaid and unhappy, your health care system is a mess and you've got independence movements and civil wars nibbling around your borders. But you've got an educated and energetic workforce and abundant natural resources. If you don't keep shooting yourself in the foot, you may come out okay, but it will take time."

"A reasonably accurate summary of a complicated scenario. Ordinarily I would say you are right, that we would muddle through. Our people are used to adversity. Thrive on it, in fact. But there are forces at work that are much more powerful than anything we have talked about."

"What sort of forces?"

"The worst kind. Human passions, whipped into a fiery nationalism by the winds of cynicism, dismay and hopelessness."

"You've had nationalist movements before."

"True, but we've managed to marginalize them, blackmail the proponents or demonize them as eccentric cranks before they could build up their cause and bring others into it. This is different. The new movement has sprung whole from the steppes of south Russia along the Black Sea where the neo-Cossacks live."

"Cossacks? Like the crew I met the other day?"

"That's right. The Cossacks were originally outlaws and fugitives, nomads who drifted into south Russia and the Ukraine, where they formed a loose federation. They were known for their horsemanship, a skill that helped Peter the Great defeat the Ottoman Turks. In time they evolved into a military class. Cossacks served as an elite cavalry for the tsars, who used them to terrorize revolutionaries, strikers and minority groups."

"Then came the Bolshevik revolution, the tsar fell and the Cossacks ended up driving cabs in Paris," Austin observed.

"Not all were so lucky. Some joined the Bolsheviks, others became staunch defenders of the last of Imperial Russia, even after the tsar and his family were assassinated. Stalin tried to neutralize or eliminate them, but he was only partially successful. To this day, the Cossacks are a warrior caste who believe that they embody the glories of a pure Mother Russia. There is a word for it. Kazachestvo. Cossackism. The idea that they are the ones chosen by a Higher Power to dominate inferior races."

Austin was getting restless. "The Cossacks aren't the first to think they were chosen to set the rest of the world straight. History is full of groups that have come and gone, leaving a high body count behind them."

"True. The difference is that those groups are chapters in a history book, while the Cossacks and their blind faith are very much alive." He leaned forward onto the desk and leveled his gaze at Austin. "Russia has become a violent place, and violence is the life's blood of the Cossack. There has been a great revival of Kazachestvo. Neo-Cossacks have taken over parts of Russian territory around the Black Sea. They ignore the Moscow government, knowing that it is weak and toothless. They have formed private armies and hired out as mercenaries. Their audacity has captured the loyalty of many Russians who tired quickly of capitalism and freedom. Many in parliament and the streets yearn for a reactionary nationalism that would restore the glories of Russia. There are pure Cossack units in the Russian army with their own costumes and ranks. They have declared a New Russia around the Black Sea and are expanding into other areas, se

ven million strong. That pin you found is the emblem of their movement. It shows the sun in a new dawn for Russia."

"They're still a minority, Ivan. How much damage can I they do?"

"The Bolsheviks were only a minority but they knew what was in the Russian heart, that the soldiers were tired of I war and the peasants wanted land."

"The Bolsheviks had Lenin."