Polar Shift (NUMA Files 6)

Trout stared at the words. Was it his imagination, or did Max seem alarmed? He typed a question:

WHY NOT?

IT WILL RESULT IN THE COMPLETE DESTRUCTION OF THE EARTH.

Trout's Adam's apple bobbed. He typed one word:

HOW?

WATCH.

The globe reappeared on the screen, and the gold patches on the oceans began to move. The red patch in the South Atlantic linked up with other patches of the same color until the entire ocean area below South America and South Africa blazed in red. Then the continents began to change their positions. North and South America did a 180-degree shift, so that they were lying on their sides. The points that had once marked the equator became the north and south poles. Violent surface phenomena spread over the globe like a virulent disease.

Trout typed another question, and held his breath:

IS THERE A WAY TO NEUTRALIZE THIS?

YES. DON'T LET IT BEGIN. IT CAN'T BE REVERSED.

IS THERE ANY WAY TO STOP THE REVERSAL?

I DON'T HAVE SUFFICIENT DATA TO ANSWER THAT QUESTION.

Trout knew he had gone as far as he could. He turned to the others. Adler and Hibbet had the look of men who had just been given tickets for a boat ride on the river Charon.

Gamay was equally stunned, but she had a calm expression on her face and determin

ation in her eyes. "There's something here that doesn't make sense. Why would anyone do something that could mean the end of the world and of themselves?"

Trout scratched his head. "Maybe it's the old adage of playing with fire. It could be that they don't know the danger of what they're doing."

Gamay shook her head. "The capacity of our species for bone-headed actions never seems to amaze me."

"Cheer up," Trout said. "Pardon the gallows humor, but if this goes through there won't be any species."

29

Most of the Americans Captain Ivanov had encountered were tourists on adventure excursions around the New Siberian Sea. They tended to be affluent and middle-aged, armed with cameras and spotting scopes, and intrepid in their pursuit of one rare bird or another. But the two men who had descended from the sky and boarded his ship as if they owned it were cut from a different mold.

The seaplane carrying Austin and Zavala had caught up with the Russian icebreaker Kotelny northwest of Wrangel Island and touched down a few hundred feet from the vessel. Captain Ivanov ordered a boat lowered to fetch the plane's passengers. He was waiting on deck, curious about these Americans who had the political clout to commandeer his ship as their personal ferry.

The first to climb up the boarding ladder was a broad-shouldered man with pale hair and light blue eyes set in a rugged bronzed face. He was followed on deck by a slimmer, dark-complexioned man who moved with the relaxed athleticism that was a holdover from his college boxing days. They waved at the seaplane as it taxied for a takeoff.

The captain stepped forward to introduce himself. Despite his irritation, he strictly adhered to the customs of the sea. Their handshakes were firm, and behind the friendly smiles the captain detected a cool self-assurance that told him these were no bird-watchers.

The blue-eyed man said, "Thank you for having us aboard, Captain Ivanov. My name is Kurt Austin, and this is my friend and associate Joe Zavala. We're with NUMA, the National Underwater and Marine Agency."

The captain's stolid features softened. He had run into NUMA scientists a few times during his many years at sea and had been impressed with the agency's ships and the professionalism of its people.

"I'm honored to have you as my guests," he said.

The captain ordered his first mate to get the ship under way. He invited his guests to his cabin and pulled a bottle of vodka from a cabinet.

"How long before we make landfall?" Austin said.

"We'll be off Ivory Island in about two hours," the captain said.

"Then we'll pass on the vodka for now. Can we get to the island any sooner?"