Clive Cussler - Polar Shift

"I was thinking that they'd been sucked in by my fisherman's outfit."

Gamay eyed the miniature Budweiser can on the brim of Trout's rumpled hat and dropped her gaze to study the girly print on the cheap Hawaiian shirt that hung out over the red Bermuda shorts. "How could anyone not be taken in by such a clever disguise?"

"I detect an unseemly note of sarcasm, which I will ignore like the gentleman I am," Trout said. "The true test is about to begin."

He stowed the fishing rod in a socket with several others and made a great show of trying to start the outboard engine. The fact that he had disconnected an ignition wire may have had something to do with his failure to get the engine going. Act 1. Then he and Gamay stood out on the deck and waved their arms in a convincing show of a heated argument. Act 2. Finally, they dug out a couple of oars, placed them in the boat's oarlocks, and began to row toward the island. Act 3.

The powerboat was not designed to be rowed, and they made slow headway, but eventually they came within a hundred feet of a long dock where a big powerboat and a bigger sailboat were tied up. The dock was festooned with no trespassing signs. Enforcing their message was a security guard dressed in camouflage, who casually made his way to the end of the dock.

He flicked the cigarette he was smoking into the water and waved them away. When the boat kept coming, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Private property. You can't land here."

Trout stood in the boat's stern and yelled back, "We're out of gas."

"We can't help you. Private property." He pointed to a no trespassing sign.

Gamay said, "Let me try, Mr. Budweiser man."

"He's probably a Miller drinker," Trout said. He stood aside to make room for Gamay. "Please don't use the hapless husband routine. I'm getting an inferiority complex."

"Okay, I'll use the hapless wife instead." Gamay spread her arms as if imploring the guard. "We don't know what to do. Our radio won't work." She pointed to the gas pump on the dock. "We'll pay for fuel."

The guard ran his eyes up and down Gamay's lithe body, then grinned and waved the Trouts up to the dock.

They rowed erratically up to the dock until they were close enough to see that the guard had a pistol holster attached to his belt on one side and a radio clipped to the other. Trout passed an empty fuel tank up to the unsmiling guard, who took it over to the pump and filled it while they remained in the boat. When he brought it back, Gamay thanked him and asked what she owed. The guard gave her a knowing grin and said, "Nothing."

She gave the guard a thick envelope. "Then please give this to Mr. Margrave in exchange for our fuel."

The guard looked at the envelope and said, "Wait here." He walked out of earshot and spoke into his hand radio. Then he came back and said, "Come with me."

He led them past a steep flight of wooden stairs to the foot of the bluff. He produced a small remote control from a pocket, clicked it once and a section of wall swung open to reveal an elevator. He told them to get in and followed them into the elevator. Keeping one hand on his holster, he watched them during the trip of several seconds. The elevator door opened in a circular room. One look around told the Trouts that they were inside the lighthouse.

The guard opened a door and they stepped into the open. They were at the top of the cliff. There was a magnificent view of the sun-sparkled waters of Penobscot Bay. Three folding chairs had been set up, facing each other. A man was sitting in one chair, his back to the newcomers, peering into a spotting scope. He turned and smiled at the Trouts.

He had a slender saturnine face and strangely shaped green eyes that regarded the Trouts with amusement. He motioned to the empty chairs. "Hello, Gamay. Hello, Paul. I've been waiting for you." He chuckled at their expressions.

"I don't believe we've met before," Trout said, settling into one chair while Gamay sat in the other.

"We haven't. We've been listening to you as well as watching all morning. Our electronic ears are far more sensitive than the listening devices you can buy from online spy store catalogs, but the principle is the same. We heard every word you said. I understand you brought me a gift."

The guard handed Margrave the envelope. He undid the clasp and slipped out a computer disk. His smile disappeared when he read the label: "The Dangers of Polar Shift."

"What's this all about?" Margrave said. His tone had lost its phony warmth.

Trout said. "The disk will tell you everything you want to know, and some things that you don't."

Margrave waved the guard away.

"You really should play the disk," Gamay said. "It will explain the entire situation."

"Why should I be interested in polar shift?" Margrave said.

"Simple," she said with a sweet smile. "You intend to cause the reversal of the earth's magnetic poles using extra-low electromagnetic transmissions, a process based upon the work of Lazlo Kovacs."

Margrave cradled his sharp chin in his hand, pondering Gamay's words. "Even if I had the power to make the poles shift, there is no law against it that I know of."

"But there are plenty of laws against being the agent of mass death and destruction," Trout said, "although you wouldn't have to worry about prosecution because you'd be dead like the rest of us."

"I stopped playing riddles when I was a kid. What are you saying?"

"That creating a magnetic shift will trigger an irreversible movement of the earth's crust with catastrophic results."

"If that's the case, what would I or anyone have to gain from starting this process?"

"It's possible you're not in your right mind. More likely, you're just plain dumb."

Margrave's pale cheeks flushed with anger. "I've been called a lot of things, but never dumb."

"We know why you're doing this. You're trying to stop economic globalization, but you've chosen a dangerous way to do it, and you'd be wise to stop."

Margrave rose unexpectedly from his chair. He brought his arm back, then snapped it forward. The computer disk flew from his hand in a soaring arc that ended in the water hundreds of feet below the cliff. He waved the guard over and turned to the Trouts.

"You'll be escorted back to your boat. Move away from this island or I'll sink your boat and you can swim back to the mainland." He smiled. "I won't charge you for the gas."

Moments later the Trouts were descending in the elevator. The guard marched them out to their boat, shoved them off and stood on the pier with his hand on his holster.

From the top of the cliff, Margrave watched the Trouts motor away from the island, then he undid the cell phone clipped to his belt and activated the voice dialing with a single word: "Gant."

Jordan Gant answered immediately.

"I just got a visit from some NUMA people," Margrave said. "They know a lot about the project."

"What a coincidence," Gant said. "I was paid a visit by Kurt Austin, also of NUMA. He seemed well versed in our plans as well."

The people who came here said that what we're doing could trigger worldwide destruction."

Gant laughed. "You've been on that island for too long. When you spend some time in a snake pit like Washington, you learn that the truth is exactly what you want it to be. They're bluffing."

"What should we do?"

"Speed up the deadline. At the same time, we'll slow them down with a diversion. The removal of Kurt Austin from the picture will derail NUMA and give us the time we need to make sure the project is completed."

"Has anyone heard about Karla Janos? I don't like the idea that she might show up out of nowhere."

"I've taken care of that. My friends in Moscow assured me that if I spread a little more money around Janos would never leave that island in Siberia alive."