Trout sensed that Gamay had a plan, and went along with it.
“If he cared about mankind, why did he work for the Nazis?” Trout said.
“He had to work for the Nazis. They threatened to kill his family.”
“I understand that's exactly what happened,” Gamay said. “It's all such a shame, don't you think? The man's wife and children died for this.” She slapped her knee with the brochure. “An empty theory about deadly extra-low-frequency electromagnetic waves.”
Frobisher's pale cheeks turned the color of boiled lobster. After a moment, the frown on his face dissolved into his big-toothed smile.
“That was a skillful job of baiting me.” He looked from face to face. “Now, please tell me who you really are.”
Gamay glanced at Paul, who nodded his head.
“We're with NUMA's Special Assignments Team,” she said. “Would you like to see some ID?”
“I believe you. What are a couple of people from the world's largest ocean studies organization doing in Los Alamos, far from the Atlantic and the Pacific?”
“We think that the key that will unlock the mystery of some unusual ocean disturbances can be found here in New Mexico.”
He furrowed his brow. “What sort of disturbances?”
“Whirlpools and giant waves big enough to sink ships.”
“Please excuse me, but I still don't know what you're talking about.”
“One of the NUMA scientists we talked to suggested that the disturbances could have been caused by disruptions in the earth's electromagnetic flow. He brought up the Kovacs Theorems.”
“Go on,” Frobisher said.
Taking turns, they told him about the ocean disturbances, and the speculation that they were man-made.
“Dear God,” Frobisher said, his voice hoarse. “It's happening.”
“What's happening?” Trout said.
“NUMA or not, you've blundered into something much larger than anything you could imagine.”
“We do that a lot,” Trout said. “It's part of the NUMA job description.”
Frobisher stared at Trout and Gamay. Their calm expressions brought him back to earth, and he got a grip on himself. He went into the kitchen and returned with three cold bottles of beer, which he offered around.
“We've told you who we are,” Gamay said with her beguiling smile. “Now perhaps you'd tell us who you are.”
“Fair enough.” He gulped down half his beer. “Let me start with a little history. Most everyone knows about the letter Einstein wrote President Roosevelt.”
Trout nodded. “Einstein said that with a controlled chain reaction a reality, an atomic bomb was possible. He suggested that the United State develop such a weapon before the Germans did.”
“That's right,” Frobisher said. “The president appointed a committee to look into it, and the result was the work here at Los Alamos. Few people know that near the end of the war, Einstein wrote a second letter that has never been published. In it, he warned of the dangers of electromagnetic war, based on the theorems. But unlike Kovacs, who was considered by some to be a bit of a quack, Einstein's opinion had weight. Truman was president by then. He appointed a committee to look into Einstein's suggestion, and out of that came a research effort similar to the Manhattan Project.”
“We've heard that the Russians were pursuing the same line of research,” Gamay said.
“That's right. By the mid-sixties, we were neck and neck with the Russians.”
“How far did the research go?”
“Far. They concentrated on the land rather than the sky, and created some earthquakes. After the big Alaskan quake, this country retaliated. We caused some nifty floods and droughts in Russia. That was all small potatoes.”
“Floods and quakes hardly seem minor occurrences,” Gamay said.
“That was only the warm-up. Scientists from both countries discovered about the same time that the combined force from their experiments could cause major changes in the earth's electromagnetic field. A top secret meeting between the two countries was held on a remote island in the Bering Sea. Scientists and government officials attended. Both countries were presented with evidence showing the serious consequences of further experimentation using the Kovacs Theorems.”
“How do you know all this if it was so secret?” Gamay said.
“Simple. I was one of the participants. We agreed to end research and get back to lesser evils, such as nuclear warfare.”
“It's hard to believe there is something worse than a nuclear holocaust,” Gamay said, raising an eyebrow.
“Believe it.” Frobisher leaned forward in his chair and lowered his voice from habit, as if he thought that the room was bugged. “Keeping the secret was considered of such consequence that a security apparatus was set up in each country. Anyone who became too inquisitive or knowledgeable about Kovacs and his work was discouraged or, if necessary, eliminated.”
“Then the Kovacs Society wasn't formed as a cover for a poker game?” Trout said.
Frobisher smiled. “That story usually turns most people off. No, the Kovacs Society was formed here as part of the setup. The reasoning was that it would be a first stop for someone interested in his work. If you had wandered in here a few years ago asking questions that crossed a certain threshold, I would have made a telephone call and you would have disappeared. You're lucky the unit was disbanded a few years ago.”
“What happened?” Trout said.
“Budget cuts,” Frobisher said with a smirk. “Loss of institutional memory. The few people who were acquainted with the agreement died, taking the secret to the grave. No one was around to support the budget item, so it was cut. As time went on, Kovacs and his work faded into the woodwork. Like Nikola Tesla, Kovacs has become a cult figure of the conspiracy nuts, only lesser known. Most of the people who stop by here are crazies, like one guy who had a spider tattooed on his scalp. The more serious-minded are put off by my Froby act.”
“It's a very good act,” Gamay said.
“Thanks. I was beginning to believe it myself. I've been a one-man gatekeeper, fending people off when they get too nosy.”
“You talked about worldwide consequences from the electromagnetic manipulation,” Trout said.
Frobisher nodded. “What scared everyone was the possibility that the electromagnetic manipulation would cause a shift of the earth's poles.”
“Is that possible?” Gamay said.
“Oh yes. Let me explain. The earth's electromagnetic field is created by the spinning of the outer crust around the solid part of the inner core. Scientists at Leipzig University developed a model that showed the earth as a gigantic dynamo. The heavy metals and liquid magma of the inner-core electromagnet are the clutch. The lighter metals at the crust are the windings. The planet's poles are determined by the electromagnetic charge. The magnetic poles are the result of vortices deep in the molten core. The magnetic poles tend to wander. Navigators take this phenomenon into account all the time. If one pole declines in strength, you might see an actual reversal of the magnetic north and south poles.”
“What would be the effect of a magnetic pole shift?” Gamay said.
“Disruptive, but short of catastrophic. Power grids would be knocked out. Satellites rendered useless. Compasses confused. Atmospheric holes might be punched in the ozone, causing long-term health problems from solar radiation bursts. You'd see the aurora borealis farther south. Migrating birds and animals would be disoriented.”
“You're right about a polar shift being disruptive,” Gamay said.
“Yes, but it would be nothing compared to the effects of a geological polar shift.”
As a deep-ocean geologist, Trout knew exactly what Frobisher was talking about. “You're talking about actual movement of the crust over the inner core rather than a change in the earth's electromagnetic field.”
"Precisely. The solid part of the earth moves over the liquid part.
There's evidence that it has happened
before, caused by a natural event like a passing comet."
“I'm a deep-ocean geologist,” Trout said. “A comet is one thing. I find it hard to envision that man-made machinations could cause major physical changes.”
“This is why the work of Kovacs was so important.”
“In what way?”
Frobisher rose and paced back and forth a couple of times in the small room to gather his thoughts, then stopped and made a rotating motion with his forefinger.
“This is different. Electromagnetism runs the whole universe. The earth is charged up like a huge electromagnet. Changes in the field can cause a shift in polarity, as we discussed a few minutes ago. But there's another effect, which Kovacs homed in on in his research. Matter oscillates between the stages of matter and energy.”
Trout nodded in understanding. “What you're saying is that by changing the electromagnetic field of the planet, it is possible to change the location of matter on the earth's surface.”
“That might explain the ocean disturbances,” Gamay added.
Frobisher snapped his fingers and smiled in triumph. “Give that man and woman each a cigar.”
“What would happen with a land shift?” Gamay said.
Frobisher's smile vanished. “The forces of inertia would react to the shift of matter. The waters in the world's oceans and lakes would be jerked in a different direction, pounding the coastline, causing massive floods. All electrical devices would fail. We'd have hurricanes and tornadoes of unheard-of force. The earth's crust would break open, causing huge earthquakes and volcanic eruptions and massive lava flows. Climate changes would be drastic and long-lived. Radiation sickness from solar rays penetrating the earth's magnetic field would kill millions.”
“You're talking a catastrophe of major proportions,” Gamay said.
“No,” Frobisher said, his voice almost a whisper. “I'm talking about nothing less than the end of all living matter. The end of the world.”
ON THE drive back to Albuquerque to catch their flight home, it was Trout's turn to be silent.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Gamay said. “Adjusted for inflation, of course.”
Trout came out of his trance. “I was just thinking about Roswell, New Mexico, where the UFO supposedly crashed.”
“Maybe we can go there another time. My head is still spinning with conspiracy theories after listening to our friend Froby.”
“What was your take on him?”
“He was either entertainingly eccentric or frighteningly sane.”
“That was my opinion as well, which was what got me thinking about Roswell. Some of the UFO enthusiasts say that after the incident, the president appointed a high-ranking board of scientists and government officials to look into the matter and cover it up. The group was called MJ12.”
“Sounds familiar. Are you thinking that the parallels with what we heard might be too close?”
“Maybe, but there's one way to confirm what he said one way or the other.”
“How is that?”
A plain-bound pamphlet was lying on the car's console between the two seats. Frobisher had given it to them, explaining that Kovacs had printed this single copy of the mathematical underpinnings of his controversial theorems. The booklet contained page after yellowed page of equations. Trout picked the publication up off the console and said, “Lazlo Kovacs couldn't test his theorems. But we can.”
NUMA 6 - Polar Shift
20
AUSTIN STOOD ON HIS deck and gazed out at the sparkling ribbon that flowed behind his house. The morning mists had burned away. The Potomac gave off a fragrance of sunbaked mud and wildflowers. Sometimes he imagined that the river had its own Lorelei, a sultry-eyed, Southern version of the Germanic siren whose singing lured Rhine rivermen to their death.
Heeding her irresistible call, he hauled his twenty-one-foot-long Maas racing scull from under the boathouse and eased it down the ramp to the water's edge. He slipped into the open cockpit, tucked his feet under the clogs bolted to the footrests, pushed his sliding seat back and forth a few times to limber up his abdominal muscles and adjusted the outrigger oarlocks for maximum efficiency.
Then he pushed off into the river, dipped his Concept 2 composite oars into the water, leaned forward and pulled the handles back, using the weight of his body. The nine-foot oars sent the needle-sharp scull flying through the water. He increased his rowing rate until the dial of the StrokeCoach told him he was doing his usual cruising speed of twenty-eight strokes per minute.
Rowing was a daily ritual and his main form of exercise. It emphasized technique over power, and the melding of mind and body necessary to send the light craft skimming over the water was a way to exclude the chatter of the outside world and to bring his concentration into sharp focus.
As he glided past stately old mansions, he tried to make sense out of the events that whirled around in his head like the whirlpool currents that had nearly drawn the Trouts to their deaths. One fact seemed indisputable. Someone had found a way to stir up the oceans. But to what end? What profit was there in producing killer waves and huge maelstroms capable of gulping down whole ships? And who was capable of wielding such immense and godlike power?
Austin saw movement out of the corner of his eye, cutting his meditation short. Another scull was pulling alongside his. Austin shipped his oars and coasted to a stop. The other rower did the same. They stared at each other. His newfound companion didn't fit the mold of the clean-cut, athletic types he often encountered on his morning rows. To begin with, long Rastafarian dreadlocks hung down from under the tan baseball cap. He wore sunglasses with blue lenses.
“Good morning,” Austin said.
The man removed his cap with the attached dreadlocks and took his sunglasses off. “Damn, this thing is hot!” he said. He grinned at Austin. “Been to any good kayak races lately?”
The sun gleamed off the bizarre tattoo on the sweaty scalp.
Austin leaned on his oars. “Hello, Spider,” he said.
“You know who I am?”
Austin nodded. “The Bob Marley disguise had me fooled for a second.”
Barrett shrugged. “It was the best I could do on short notice. A guy was selling them at a souvenir booth near the boat rental place. It was either this or Elvis.”
“Good choice. I can't see you singing 'Hound Dog,' ” Austin said. “Why the need to go incognito?”
Barrett pointed to a bandage that was wrapped around his head. “Someone is trying to kill me.”
“Why?”
“Long story, Kurt.”
Austin decided to take a stab in the dark. “Does this have anything to do with extra-low-level electromagnetic transmissions?”
It was obvious from the look of astonishment on Barrett's face that the comment had struck home. “How'd you know about that?”
“That's about all I do know.”
Barrett squinted at the sparkle on the river. “Pretty.”
“I think so, but you didn't come here for the scenery.”
“You're right. I came by because I need a friend.”
Austin swept his arm around. “You're in friendly waters here. If it hadn't been for you and your boat, I would have been killer whale bait. Come back to my house and let's talk about it.”
“That's not a good idea,” Barrett said with a furtive glance over his shoulder. He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a black box about the size of a pack of cigarettes. “This will tell us if there's any electronic surveillance in the area. Okay, it's clear right now, but I'd rather not take any chances. Mind if we row? I'm enjoying myself.”
“There's a place we can pull off not far from here,” Austin said. “Follow me.”
They rowed another eighth of a mile and pulled the sculls up onto a low bank. A kind soul had placed a picnic bench in the shade of the trees for the benefit of passing boaters. Austin shared his water bottle with Barrett.
“Thanks,” he said after gulping down a couple of swallo
ws. “I'm way out of shape.”
“Not from what I saw. I was flying right along when you caught up with me.”
“I was on the rowing team at MIT. Rowed practically every good day on the Charles River. It's been a long time,” he said, smiling at the memory.
“What was your major at MIT?”
“Quantum physics, specializing in computer logic.”
“You wouldn't know it from the biker look.”
Barrett laughed. “That's for show. I was always a computer geek. I grew up in California, where my parents were both university professors. I went to Caltech to study computer sciences, then on to MIT for my grad work. That's where I met Tris Margrave. We put our heads together and came up with the Bargrave software system. Made a zillion bucks on it. We were doing fine, enjoying ourselves, before Tris got involved with Lucifer.”
“Lucifer?As in the Devil?”
“Lucifer was an anarchist newspaper published in Kansas back in the eighteen hundreds. It's what they used to call 'matches' years ago. It's also the name of a small group of neo-anarchists Tris has been involved with. They want to topple what they call the 'Elites,' the unelected people who control most of the world's wealth and power.”
“Where do you fit in?”
“I'm part of Lucifer. That is, I was.”
Austin eyed Barrett's head tattoo. “You don't strike me as a conventional person, Spider, but don't you and your partner control a considerable amount of the world's wealth?”
“Absolutely. That's why we're the ones to carry on the fight. Tris says men of wealth and education—those that had the most to lose—started the American Revolution. Guys like Hancock, Washington and Jefferson were well-off.”
“What's Margrave's role in Lucifer?”
“Tris refers to himself as Lucifer's driving force. Anarchists don't like the idea of following a leader. It's a loosely organized group of a hundred or so like-minded people affiliated with some of the more active neo-anarchist groups. A couple of dozen of the more violence-prone guys call themselves 'Lucifer's Legion.' I was more involved in the technical than the political side of the project.”