Polar Shift (NUMA Files 6)

"What sort of antidote?" the general asked more out of politeness than interest.

"It's a set of electromagnetic frequencies that we think will counter the polar reversal."

"How do you plan to administer this 'antidote'?" the assistant secretary said, "with a big spoon?"

"I've got a few ideas."

"The only antidote I'd like to use is a torpedo right up their butt," the naval officer said.

Everyone in the room except for Austin roared with laughter.

"Don't mean to be impolite," the assistant secretary said. "Why don't you work your ideas into a report and get it to my secretary."

The meeting was over. As Austin was ushered through the labyrinth of corridors, he remembered his meeting with Gant, and his impression that he was not someone whose duplicity should be underestimated.

Slam dunk, my ass, he thought.

39

The Trouts had booked a beachside hotel room with a balcony that overlooked the harbor and offered an unimpeded view of the distant shipping docks. Since arriving in Rio, they had taken turns sitting on the balcony watching the transmitter ships.

Trout brought Gamay a cold glass of orange juice and pulled up a chair beside her. "Anything happening?"

Gamay raised the binoculars to her eyes and studied a long shipping dock on the other side of the harbor. "The transmitter ships haven't moved an inch since we got here."

Trout borrowed the binoculars and inspected three ships tied up parallel to the dock.

"Did you notice that the liner is gone?"

"It was there yesterday. They must have left before we got up this morning."

Gamay had wondered what a passenger ship was doing in a cargo vessel area. They had

read the name painted on the stern: Polar Adventure. But neither one of them had given the vessel much thought. They had been more interested in the three cargo ships, which were named Polaris I, II and III, after the northern pole star.

"I think we should take a closer look," Paul said.

"My thoughts exactly. I'm about ready to go for a ride."

Minutes later, they were driving along the edge of the harbor. The resort hotels thinned out, and the neighborhood they were passing through became more commercial. Eventually, they came to a concentration of warehouses, shipping company offices and maritime buildings. They passed several containerships, and went by the empty berth formerly occupied by the ocean liner. A guardhouse had been set up near the three vessels they had seen from the hotel.

Standing outside the structure was a beefy guard who carried a side arm and a rifle. He was smoking a cigarette and talking to a longshoreman. Paul kept the car at the same speed so he wouldn't attract attention, but he drove slowly enough for Gamay to give the ships a quick but thorough inspection.

"Any other guards?" Trout said.

"Only the one, that I could see. There may be more on board."

"Maybe not. They wouldn't want to attract attention by having too many security guys hanging around. This could be a golden opportunity to snoop around."

"Yes, but he had a very big gun. How do you propose to get past that?"

Trout gave Gamay a lopsided grin. "I was thinking that a beautiful woman could provide a, uh, diversion."

"Here we go again. Cherchez la femme. The oldest trick in the book. Do you think he'd fall for a ruse like that?"

"You're kidding," Trout said with a chuckle. "We're talking about a hot-blooded Latin male."

"Unfortunately," Gamay said with a sigh, "I think that you're right. Okay, I'll do my Mata Hari impression, but you're buying dinner."