Polar Shift (NUMA Files 6)

"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."

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 u