Emboldened at the lack of a challenge, Grisha stepped into the open, followed by the other thugs. They stood at the edge of the square, spellbound at the sight of the animals they had glimpsed only at a distance.
The herd had reached critical mass. Austin set off the chain reaction. He fired his gun in the air. Zavala began firing too. Schroeder and Karla yelled and clapped their hands. The herd was transformed in an instant from an uneasy group of placid animals to a full-blown stampede. Trumpeting in fear, the moving mass of heavy bodies and sharp tusks flowed toward the only avenue of escape, the narrow street that would lead them to safety outside the cave.
Unfortunately for Grisha, he and his men stood between the rampaging herd of mammoths and their goal of freedom.
The Russians raised their guns to fire at the crazed animals, but the herd was almost on top of them. They turned and ran. They got only a few steps before they were knocked to the ground and trampled underfoot by tons of mammoth flesh. Grisha had sprinted past the others, his eyes frantically darting from side to side as he looked for an escape route, but he slipped and fell under the furred onslaught.
Austin and the others took no chances that the herd would turn back. They continued to make as much racket as they could.
It was all over in a few seconds.
The plaza was empty. The rumble of the stampeding herd echoed in the distance. Austin and Zavala cautiously advanced along the street. Zavala looked down at the bloodied mounds of clothing that once had been men. They found a flashlight that had been undamaged by the stampede. Austin yelled at Schroeder and Karla that it was safe to come ahead.
“They don't look human,” Karla said as they made their way around the mangled bodies.
Austin remembered the dead scientists lying in the ravine. “Who's to say they ever were.”
Schroeder let forth with a deep laugh.
“I learned long ago that in the right hands anything can be used as a weapon,” he said. “But there was nothing in the textbook about little furry elephants.”
Austin wondered what book Schroeder was referring to and what school he had gone to. He put his thoughts aside. They weren't out of trouble yet. They made their way through the ruined city and the rubble. The sunlight slanting in through the gap in the rocks gave them renewed energy. They went to retrieve the paraglider, and discovered that Grisha and his men had smashed the power unit and slashed the canopy.
Using sections of aluminum tubing and pieces of the canopy, they fashioned a rough splint for Schroeder. They climbed the low bluff at the bottom of the slope and ascended the road to the rim of the caldera. The switchbacks cut the steepness of the climb but made it much longer. They stopped frequently for Schroeder's sake, but he only allowed the rest stops to last a few minutes before urging the party to push on.
Hours later, they stood on the rim and looked down on the other side of the volcano. Mist obscured most of the island. After a last, wondering glance back into the caldera, they started down the outside of the volcano. The descent was as difficult as the climb. The road was a glorified mountain trail, the uneven surface covered with rocks and boulders that would have made walking hard even under ideal circumstances.
About two-thirds of the way down the outside of the mountain, they discovered they were not alone. Antlike figures were making their way up the trail. Austin's party kept on moving. They had been seen, so there was no use hiding, but they kept their weapons ready. Austin counted six people in the unknown group. As the newcomers neared, the man leading the procession waved his arm. A few moments later, Austin was close enough to see Petrov's grinning face.
The Russian was accompanied by members of his special ops team, including Veronika and her husband. Petrov sprinted the last few steps up the path.
He was grinning. “Good afternoon, Austin,” he puffed. "You and Joe have added mountain climbing to your many accomplishments.
You never cease to amaze me.“ He turned to Karla. ”And this must be Mademoiselle Janos. Very pleased to meet you. I don't know this gentleman," he said to Schroeder.
“I'm just an old man who should be home in his rocking chair,” Schroeder said with a weary grin.
“How did you find us?” Austin said.
“We talked to the captain of the icebreaker. He said you were striking off to explore the volcano in some sort of aircraft.”
“We had a paraglider.”
“I remember now. The two large bags you brought with you.”
Austin nodded. “You missed all the fun.”
“On the contrary,” Petrov said in a cheerful tone. “We have had a great deal of fun. We encountered a group of armed men coming in on a boat. They gave us a warm welcome, but our thank-you was even warmer. The survivor said they had been sent in to help some men who were already here.” He looked over Austin's shoulder as if he expected to see someone following him.
“Those men are no longer with us,” Schroeder said.
“Yes,” Austin said. “They were trampled by a herd of woolly mammoths.”
“Dwarf mammoths,” Zavala corrected.
Petrov shook his head. “I studied American culture for years, but I'll never understand your strange humor.”
“That's all right,” Austin said. “Even we don't understand it. Do you think you can give us a hand the rest of the way down the mountain?”
“Of course,” Petrov said with a grin. He reached into his backpack and produced a bottle of vodka. “But first we will have our drink together.”
NUMA 6 - Polar Shift
32
AUSTIN WAS HAVING a weird dream in which a procession of pygmy mammoths paraded along the streets of a crystal city to the tune of “St. Louis Blues.” His eyes snapped open. The mammoths and the city had vanished, but the blues were still playing. The music came from his phone.
Vowing to stay away from crazy Russians who drank vodka like water, he dug the phone out of his pack and managed a fuzzy, “Austin.”
Trout's voice said, “We've been trying to get you and Joe for days. Have you been down in a mine?”
“More like a cave,” Austin said. “We found Karla Janos, and were on a Russian icebreaker headed for the Siberian mainland.”
“Glad to hear she's okay. She may be our only hope.”
Austin was struck by the seriousness in Trout's voice. He sat up on the edge of the bunk.
“Our only hope for what, Paul?”
“Gamay and I found a copy of the Kovacs Theorems in Los Alamos. I did a computer simulation based on the Kovacs stuff and existing material on polar reversal. The situation doesn't look good.”
“I'm listening.” Austin was fully awake now.
Trout paused. “The simulation showed that the magnetic polar reversal is not as elastic as some people think. A shock that's strong enough to cause a magnetic polar reversal will trigger a geologic shift of the earth's crust.”
“Are you saying that a polar shift, once begun, is irreversible?”
“That's the way it looks.”
“Is there any margin for error in the simulation?”
“It's so slim as to be negligible.”
Austin felt as if a wall had fallen on him. “We're talking about a catastrophe.”
“Worse,” Trout said. “This is a doomsday scenario. The worldwide destruction if this thing is unleashed is beyond anything that can be imagined or previously experienced.”
“How long do we have?”
“The reaction would be immediate. The timing depends on when the people who've been causing the whirlpools and giant waves decide to pull the switch.”
“I may be able to offer a ray of hope.” He told Trout about his encounter with Barrett, and the possibility of an antidote for a polar shift.
“Encouraging. When will you get back to Washington?”
“We'll make landfall tomorrow. We've got a plane waiting. I'll call when we're in the air to give you an ETA.”
“I'll be standing by.”
A
fter hanging up, Austin sat in his darkened stateroom listening to the grumble of the ship's engines and cursing the slowness of ocean travel. He had been unaware of the urgency of the situation when Captain Ivanov invited him to sail on the icebreaker. Austin could have gone back with Petrov, but he politely refused the offer, saying it was important for him to talk to Karla Janos. Petrov had given him a knowing smile, and told Austin to call on him anytime.
Since coming aboard Austin had spent very little time with Karla. After she and Maria had a tearful reunion, and Uncle Karl got patched up, everyone retired to their respected staterooms to catch up on badly needed sleep.
Austin got dressed and went out on the deck, which was bathed in the subdued arctic light. The Kotelny was plowing through the ocean at a steady clip. The cold air hit his lungs like the blast from an open refrigerator. Fully awake now, he made his way to the mess hall and poured himself a mug of coffee. The place was deserted except for a couple of crewmen who were coming onto a shift. He found a corner table, slipped the phone from his pocket and called the number Barrett had given him. After a few seconds, a woman answered and said hello.
“I'd like to speak to Barrett,” Austin said.
“This is Barrett. I programmed a woman's voice to take the place of mine.”
“Aren't you taking this electronic cloak-and-dagger stuff a bit too far?”
“Hell, Kurt, you're not the one who got shot,” Barrett said. “You don't know the kind of people you're dealing with.”
“That's why I called. Do you think Gant and Margrave are open to reason?”
“Gant is about as reasonable as a rattlesnake. Tris could be reached, maybe, but he's so damned convinced of his righteous cause he doesn't care who he hurts. Why do you ask?”
Austin conveyed the gist of his conversation with Trout.
When Barrett's voice came back on, it had assumed its masculine mode. “I was afraid of something like this. Ohmigod. I'm responsible for the end of the world. I'm going to kill myself.”
“If the world ends you won't have to,” Austin said.
Barrett calmed down. “That's the most twisted logic I've ever heard.”
“Thanks. Back to my original question. Do you think Gant or Margrave would react with the same alarm if I laid out the facts for them?”
“The difference is that I believe you. They'll think you're trying to throw a monkey wrench in their plans.”
“It might be worth taking the chance. How do I get to them?”
“Gant's foundation has an office in Washington.”
“I was thinking of something more casual.”
“Let me think. I saw something in the paper. Gant is having some sort of private, charitable horsey thing on his estate. Maybe you can get into that. I may be able to help.”
“That's a start. What about Margrave?”
“He rarely comes off of his island in Maine. He's developed a citadel mentality. He's got security people guarding the place, but I might have some ideas on how to get to him.”
“It's worth a try. I'm going to do all I can to try to stop this before it gets to the trigger point. Are you still on the move?”
“Still living out of my sleeping bag. Call me when you get home.”
Austin hung up, finished his coffee and was about to return to his cabin when Karla came into the mess hall. She seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her. He beckoned her to his table.
She sat down and said, “I couldn't sleep.”
“I can understand that. You've been through a lot in the last few days.”
“Uncle Karl said that the men who murdered the expedition were after me. Something about a secret I supposedly know. I don't know what's going on, but I feel responsible for much of what has happened.”
“It's not your fault. They think the secret was passed down from your grandfather, an electrical engineer named Lazlo Kovacs.”
“You're mistaken. My grandfather's name was Janos, like mine.”
Austin shook his head. “That was the name Kovacs assumed after he escaped from Germany at the end of World War Two.”
“I don't understand.”
“Your grandfather was being forced to work for the Nazis on electromagnetic weapons. He escaped from a secret lab shortly before the Russians overran East Prussia. He was apparently helped by a young member of the German resistance. The German's name was Karl.”
“Uncle Karl! I always wondered what his connection was to my grandfather. They seemed so different yet so bound together.”
“Now you know.”
“This is insane! My grandfather never gave me any secret formula for a death ray or whatever it is they're looking for.”
“You may know more than you know. Your paper on the extinction of the woolly mammoth hinted at deeper knowledge of his work.”
“After the discovery of those creatures on the island, my paper is a joke. I can't wait to get back there to do some research.”
“Petrov has vowed to work through academic rather than governmental circles to protect your furry friends. He's had some political trouble, and he thinks this will help his cause.”
“I'm glad to hear that. But getting back to my grandfather, I went to him when I was in college with my theory of a cataclysmic extinction because he was the only scientist I knew. There was skepticism about a polar shift being possible. He said that it could happen, and had happened. That it could be caused by natural phenomena, or man-made, in the future, when the technology became available. He showed me some equations having to do with electromagnetism that he said proved his point. That's all. Later, when I was working on my thesis after his death, I incorporated his work into the paper.”
“That's all he said on the subject?”
“Yes. We never really talked much about science. When my parents died, he became a father and mother to me. I remember him making up bedtime poems to get me to sleep.” She sipped her coffee. “How did you and Joe happen to come to our rescue?”
“I heard from a reliable source that your life might be in danger because of your family connection.”
“You rushed all the way from the other side of the world for that?”
“If I had known Uncle Karl had the situation pretty much in hand, I wouldn't have worried as much.”
“Uncle Karl saved my life, but I'm afraid we were both on our last legs when you and Joe dropped down out of the sky. I'm puzzled. I thought NUMA studies the oceans.”
“That's exactly why I'm here. There have been some strange disturbances in the sea that could have something to do with something your grandfather published. It was a set of equations called the Kovacs Theorems.”
“I don't understand.”
“You said Lazlo Kovacs theorized that electromagnetic transmissions could be used to trigger a polar shift. In the future.”
“Yes, that's right.”
“Well, the future is now.”
“Who would want to do something like that? And why?”
Austin spread his hands. “I'm not sure. When we get back to Washington, I have someone Id like you to talk to. Maybe you can sort things out.”
“I was hoping to stop in Fairbanks first.”
“I'm afraid there isn't time for that. There may be a great deal at stake here.”
“I understand. Even if I'm not responsible for what is going on, my family has had a hand in it, according to what you've told me. I'll do everything I can to set things right.”
“I knew you'd say that. We'll make landfall tomorrow. A NUMA plane will take us back to Washington. My colleagues Gamay and Paul Trout have a town house in Georgetown, and I'm sure they'd be very happy to put you up. NUMA will foot the bill for any clothes you need.”
Karla did an unexpected thing. She leaned across the table and kissed Austin lightly on the lips. “Thank you for all you've done for me and for Uncle Karl. I don't know how I can repay you.”
Austin would normally have responded to an opening from a beautiful and in
telligent woman like Karla with an invitation to dinner. But the move so surprised him that the best he could manage was a polite “You're welcome” and a suggestion that they get some sleep.
Karla told him that she wanted to stay up a few minutes longer, and that she'd see him in the morning. They shook hands and said good-night. As he left the mess hall, Austin looked back. Karla was resting her chin on her hands, apparently deep in thought. For all his philosophical reading, Austin was at a loss when it came to the working of fate. The gods must be laughing themselves to tears at their latest practical joke. They had locked the secret that could save the world in the finely sculpted head of a lovely young woman.
NUMA 6 - Polar Shift
33
GANT CONSIDERED the final moments of the foxhunt as the most sublime. The riotous red jackets, the horn blowing, the raucous tallyhos and the thundering hooves were merely a prelude to the moment of the truth that came when the baying hounds caught the terrified animal and tore it to bloody shreds.
The prey had been unusually resourceful. The wily animal splashed up a stream, ran along the top of a fallen tree and doubled back in an attempt to throw off its pursuers. But, in the end, the pack cornered the doomed animal against a thick privet hedge Gant had had planted to funnel hunted foxes to a dead end against a stone wall. Even then, the fox had attempted to defend itself before being ripped to pieces.
Gant had sent the other hunters back to his house to celebrate the satisfying conclusion. He dismounted near the hedge, and relived the fox's final moments. The hunt was a savage practice, but he considered it a metaphor for what life was all about. The life-and-death struggle between the strong and the weak.
A horse whinnied. Gant looked up at a low hill and he scowled. A horseman was silhouetted against the blue sky. No one was supposed to be riding in his fields and meadows except the foxhunters. He remounted, dug his heels in and galloped up the hill.
The man watched Gant's approach from the saddle of a chestnut-colored Arabian. Unlike the red-jacketed foxhunters, he was dressed simply in faded jeans and turquoise polo shirt. A black baseball cap with a Harley-Davidson emblem on the crown covered his platinum-silver hair.