Major Kutuzov was waiting with a smile on his face and Colonel Maxwell at his side. The Colonel, bare-headed and dark-haired, stood erect with his hands tied behind his back and a gag over his mouth. As soon as Windrush led his men forward, a score of Cossack infantry, rough-haired men with dark grey uniforms, took away their muskets and unfastened their cross belts.
"Hey, you!" Logan refused to let go his musket until Jack snapped at him.
"Let it go, Logan. We"re their prisoners now."
Growling, Logan threw his musket hard on the ground and glared at the Cossack who picked it up. "We"ll meet later," he promised.
"Our positions are reversed this time, Lieutenant Windrush." With his uniform not mangled and his face not blackened by powder, Kutuzov looked every inch the debonair Cossack o
