Clive Cussler - Polar Shift

"Dr. Sato, my name is Karla Janos. I'm pleased to meet you," she said to the older of the two men. "I've heard so much about the Gifu Science and Technology Center and Kinki University." She turned to the younger man. "And you must be Dr. Ito, the veterinarian, with Kagoshima University in southern Japan."

The men's mouths widened in toothy smiles, and their heads bobbed, almost in unison, in polite bows.

"We hope you had a good trip," Dr. Sato said. "We're very pleased you could join our expedition."

"Thank you for allowing me to be here. I know you must be busy with your own work."

Karla chatted with the two men about mutual scientific acquaintances, and then Maria came over and took her by the arm.

"Let me show you where you'll be staying." She led the way to one of the smaller buildings, and they stepped inside the dim and musty interior. "This was built by some of the old fur traders, and the camp was expanded by ivory hunters. It's more comfortable than it looks," Maria said. "The big tents are used as our kitchen and dining room. The little tent set off by itself away from the camp is a unisex bathroom. It gets breezy out there, so you'll learn to be quick. There's no shower. You'll have to be happy with sponge baths. We've got an electric generator, but we use it sparingly because of the limited amount of fuel."

"I'm sure I'll be quite happy," Karla said, although she wondered for an instant if any of the fur trader murders had taken place in the building. She unrolled a foam pad and bedding on the floor.

"I must compliment you. You had our Japanese friends eating out of your hand when you brought up their affiliations."

"It was easy. Once I had their names, I looked them up on the Internet. I saw their pictures and read about their background. I think my charm was lost on Sergei, though."

Maria let out a whooping laugh. "My husband is a good man at heart or I would have gotten rid of him a long time ago. But he can be a toad sometimes, especially when it comes to women, and his ego is like a big balloon."

"I read about the both of you as well. He doesn't have half the scientific credentials you have."

"Yes, but he's got the political connections, and that's what counts. He will respect you for standing up to him, but if you don't mind flattering the old man he'll be eating out of your hand too. He's really quite insecure, and I do it all the time."

"Thanks for the advice. I'll butter him up. What's our schedule?"

"Everything's up in the air right now."

"I don't understand." She saw a glint of amusement in Maria's eye. "Is there something you haven't told me?"

"Yes. The good news is that we have found something quite wonderful. The bad news is that the others are deciding whether to let you in on the discovery now or whether they should wait until they know you better."

Karla's curiosity was piqued by the tantalizing hint, but she said, "Whatever you decide is fine with me. I've got my own work to keep me busy."

Maria nodded, and led the way back to where the other scientists were gathered outside the large building.

Addressing Karla in a stern voice, Arbatov said, "You have arrived on the island at a very awkward, or fortunate, time, depending on you."

"I don't understand."

"We have taken a vote," Arbatov said in a stern voice. "We have decided to bring you into our confidence. But first you must swear not to divulge what you have seen to anyone, now or later, without the express consent of the members of this expedition."

"I appreciate that," Karla said. "But I don't understand." Karla glanced at Maria for help.

Arbatov gestured toward the shed, whose thick wooden door was flanked by the Japanese men. They looked like sculptures on an Asian temple. At the signal from the Russian, Sato opened the door and swept his arm in the air, inviting her to step inside.

Everyone was smiling. For a moment, Karla wondered if she had blundered into a den of lunatics who'd been driven mad by the arctic isolation. But she tentatively stepped forward and entered the big shed. The atmosphere was far less musty than her sleeping quarters, and she detected an animal, barnlike odor. Its source was a tangle of brownish red fur that lay on the table illuminated by the generator-powered floodlights. She took another step closer and began to make out details.

The creature looked as if it were sleeping. She half expected the eyes to pop open or the tail or short trunk to twitch.

Lying in front of her, as lifelike as it must have looked twenty thousand years ago, was the most perfectly preserved baby mammoth she had ever seen.

JORDAN GANT was like a Chimera, the mythical Greek monster of antiquity that was an assemblage of different, incongruous parts.

He was as disciplined as a fasting monk, and he projected an ascetic air, but the black, tailored suit and matching turtleneck that emphasized his pale skin and silver hair cost more than many people make in a week. His Washington office on Massachusetts Avenue was spartan compared to the luxurious lairs of the other high-powered foundations in the neighborhood, yet he owned a palatial Virginia farmhouse, a stable of horses and a garage full of fast cars. He had made a fortune off multinational investments, but he was the director of an organization whose stated goal was to hobble corporations like those that had made him rich.

His ears were small and close to his head, giving him the streamlined look of a hood ornament. His facial features were smooth, as if they had been formed before any character-good or bad-was etched on them. His expressions were no more substantive than images projected on a screen. In its relaxed, natural state, his face lacked emotion of any kind. He had mastered the politician's smile to perfection, and he could turn it on as if he had a built-in electrical switch. He could feign sincere interest in the dullest of conversations, and project sympathy or joy, donning a mask like an actor from antiquity. At times, he seemed more an illusion than a man.

Gant was wearing his most congenial facade as he sat in his office talking to Irving Sacker, a middle-aged man with jowls and thinning black hair. With their manicured fingernails, respectable haircuts and conservative suits, Sacker and the other three attorneys from his influential Washington law firm looked as if Georgetown Law School had punched them out of legal dough with a cookie cutter. Although they differed in facial features and physiques, they all had the sharp-eyed expressions of hunting raptors ready to swoop down on a legal technicality.

"I see that you've brought along the casework and disks as I requested," Gant said.

Sacker handed him an attache case. "Normally, we would keep a backup of our files at the office, but since you've paid so generously for privacy we have cleaned all the data from our computers and files. It's all here. It's as if we never handled your case."

"On behalf of the Global Interests Network, I'd like to thank you for all your hard work. Thank you for keeping this entire project a secret."

"We were simply doing our job," Sacker said. "It was an interesting challenge. What we've created on paper for you is a mega-corporation that would control every possible means of electronic communication on the planet. Cell phone networks. Satellites. Telecommunications. The whole enchilada."

"You'll have to admit that this is the way that things have been heading, with all the buyouts and mergers in the industry."

"Those arrangements are like lemonade stands compared to the entity we've set up for you."

"Then you've done exactly what you've been asked to do."

"In that case, I hope you'll retain us for any antitrust suits that arise," Sacker said with a grin.