"Karla's grandfather was Lazlo Kovacs," Austin said. "He encoded his work before he passed it down. Thanks to Spider, we've figured it out. Now that we've done all the hard work, can you build us an antenna?"
"Yes," Hibbet said. "At least, I think I can."
"That's good enough for us. Tell us what you need. You've got all the resources of the U.S. government behind you."
Hibbet laughed and shook his head. "That's a lot better than dealing with the NUMA bean counters. You don't know the trouble I've had trying to buy experimental equipment." He paused in thought. "Even if I can whip something together, we'll still need a platform to carry it to where it would do the most good."
"How big would this contraption be?" Austin said.
"Big," Hibbet said. "Then you'd need the generators to power the antenna. And a way to transport something that weighs tons."
"That's the bad news," Austin said.
"What's the good news?" asked Hibbet.
Austin grinned. "Necessity is the mother of invention."
The phone rang just then and Austin picked it up. Pitt must have pulled some major strings. The Pentagon was sending a car over to pick him up.
The earth seemed to be on fire in a hundred different places. Volcanoes erupted like a virulent disease, spewing forth huge, glowing lava fields whose smoke cast a thick pall over the planet. Wind storms of unimaginable power whipped the massive cloud into twisting vortexes that ranged across continents. Tsunamis slammed into the North American coastline on the east and the west and created a narrow continent squeezed by two angry oceans.
Then the image of the ravaged planet disappeared. The large screen in the Pentagon screening room went blank. Lights that had been dimmed for the presentation went back on, to reveal Austin and the stunned faces of a dozen or so military brass and political people who were sitting around a long conference table.
"The computer simulation you just saw was prepared by Dr. Paul Trout, a computer graphics expert at NUMA," Austin said. "It presents a reasonably accurate picture of the consequences of a geologic polar shift."
A four-star general sitting across from Austin said, "I would be the first to admit that was a frightening picture, if it's true. But as you say, it's a computer simulation, and could just as well be based on imagination as fact."
"I wish it were imagination, General. We didn't have time to prepare a written summary, so you'll have to bear with me while I lay out the main points of what we're dealing with here. The first link in the chain of events that led to this meeting was forged more than sixty years ago with the work of a brilliant electrical engineer named Lazlo Kovacs."
For more than an hour, Austin laid out the timeline, touching on Tesla, Kovacs's escape from East Prussia and the electromagnetic warfare experiments conducted by the U.S. and the Soviets. He described his meeting with Barrett, the man who had translated the theorems into reality, the ship-sinking ocean disturbances and the plans to initiate a polar shift. Austin was aware of the fantastic nature of his story, so he left out a few details. Had he not seen them with his eyes he would never have believed in the existence of dwarf mammoths in a crystal city locked in an ancient volcano.
Even without the more unbelievable details, he faced a wall of skepticism. Austin made his case with the skill of a powerhouse attorney talking to a jury, but he knew he would be peppered with questions. An assistant secretary representing the Department of Defense cut Austin short when he was describing Jordan Gant's involvement with Margrave.
"You'll have to excuse me if I find it hard to believe that the head of a nonprofit organization and the billionaire owner of a respected software company are in cahoots to cause this so-called polar shift over some vague neo-anarchist cause."
"You can argue about specifics," Austin said, "but this is far from a vague cause. Lucifer used the bright lights of Broadway to send its message to the world and shut down New York City as a warning. I think 9/11 proved that you ignore seemingly lunatic warnings at your peril."
"Where are these so-called transmitter ships?" asked a naval officer.
"Rio de Janeiro," Austin replied.
"You said there were four ships earlier but one sank?"
"That's right. We assumed that a replacement ship would be built, but we found no sign of it, so we're assuming they're going ahead with the trio."
"This should be a slam dunk," the assistant secretary said. "I suggest we send the closest submarine to keep track of these ships, and if they engage in suspicious behavior we sink them."
"What about diplomatic considerations?" the four-star general asked. "Shoot first and ask questions later on the high seas?"
"It would be no different than shooting down a civilian airliner targeting the White House or Congress," the secretary said. "Can we do it?" he asked the naval officer.
"The navy likes a challenge," he said.
"Then that's the plan. I'll run it by the secretary of defense and we can get the ball rolling. He'll brief the president when he gets back tomorrow." He turned to Austin. "Thanks for bringing this to our attention."
"I'm not through," Austin said. "There's reason to believe we have something that will neutralize the polar shift. We may have found an antidote."
Every eye in the room stared at him.