"Maybe you are a simple engineer. If you were part of an elite class that had conceived a plot against the world, would you advertise it?"
"I see your point. No, I would lead people to believe that I opposed the elite."
Petrov clapped his hands. "You don't know how pleased I am to learn that the latest plot against the world is being hatched by Americans rather than a mad Russian nationalist with czarist pretensions."
"I'm glad to know that this is making you warm and bubbly, but we should get down to business."
"I'm completely at your service. You obviously have a plan or you wouldn't be here."
"Since we're not sure of who, and don't know why, we're stuck with what. Polar reversal. We have to stop it."
"I agree. Tell me more about this so-called antidote you mentioned."
"Joe's the technical guy on our team. He can explain it better than can.
"I'll do my best," Zavala said. "From what I understand, the idea is to cause a polar shift using electromagnetic transmissions beamed into the earth's mantle, creating sympathetic vibrations in the inner core. You can compare these transmissions to sound waves. If you're in a hotel and you want to mask loud voices from the next room, you could turn on a fan and the vibrations would neutralize the racket. If you wanted to mask a higher tone, like a hair dryer, you would need a different set of frequencies. It's called white noise, or white sound. You might hear it as a hiss or something like rustling leaves. This antidote is comparable. But it wouldn't work unless you had the exact frequencies."
"And you think this woman, Karla Janos, knows about these frequencies?"
"She may not know it, but the evidence seems to point that way," Austin said. "Aside from the global implications, there is an innocent young woman here who could lose her life."
Petrov's somber expression remained the same, but his eyes crinkled in amusement. "That is one of the many reasons I like you, Austin. You are the embodiment of gallantry. A knight in shining armor."
"Thanks for the compliment, but we don't have much time, Petrov."
"I agree. Do you have any questions?"
"Yeah," Zavala said. "Does Veronika have a phone number?"
"You can ask her yourself," Petrov said.
He downed the shot of vodka, screwed the cap back on the bottle and tucked it under his arm, then led the way from the room and through the exit. A car and driver were waiting for them.
"We had some special luggage," Austin said. He pointed to two oversize bags. "Please give them special attention."
"Everything has been transferred."
They got in the car, which drove them to the water side of the airport and onto a wide, sagging dock. A boat about sixty feet long was tied up at the end of the dock. Several men were waiting at the gangway.
Austin got out of the car and asked about the words painted in Cyrillic on the white hull.
"Arctic Tours. It's a real tourist company that takes wealthy Americans into godforsaken places for obscene sums of money. I have chartered the boat for a few days. If anyone asks, we are taking some Boy Scouts on a nature tour."
As Petrov escorted the two men up the gangway, Austin was glad to see that their luggage had appeared magically on the deck. They were traveling light, with one duffel bag apiece, and the two bags that Austin asked be given special attention.
Petrov led them into the main cabin. Austin had only to take a quick glance around to see that this was no tourist boat. Most of the built-in furniture had been removed, leaving a stationary table in the center and padded benches along the perimeter. Dimitri and Veronika sat on the bench with four men in camouflage uniforms. They were busy cleaning an impressive array of automatic weapons.
"I see your Boy Scouts are preparing for their merit badges in marksmanship. What do you think, Joe?"
"I'm more interested in the Girl Scout," Zavala said. He went over and struck up a conversation with the young Russian woman.
Austin gave Petrov a questioning look.
"I know you said that a quiet approach was necessary," Petrov said. "I am in complete agreement. These people are only here in reserve. Look, there are only six of them. Not a whole army."
"They're packing more firepower than both sides at the battle of Gettysburg," Austin observed.
"We may need it," Petrov said. "Come to my cabin and I'll bring you up to date on the situation."
Petrov led the way to a compact stateroom and picked up a large envelope on the bunk. He extracted a number of photographs from the envelope and handed them to Austin, who held them close to the light streaming in through the porthole. The photos showed various views of a long, grayish island with a doughnut-shaped mountain in the center of the landmass.
"Ivory Island?" he said.
"The views were taken by satellite over the last several days." Petrov produced a small magnifying glass from his pocket. He pointed to an indentation in the south side of the island. "This is the natural, deepwater harbor that the icebreaker, which supplies and transports the expedition, uses in coming and going. The ship dropped Karla Janos off here two days ago to join an expedition already in progress."
"What's the nature of this expedition?"
"Science fiction. Some crazy Russians and Japanese hope to find DNA from a woolly mammoth that can be cloned into a live creature. Look, here on the other side of the island, where the permafrost had been eroded, there are natural inlets."
Austin saw an elongated shape lying in a cove. "A boat?"
"Whoever owns it didn't want to be seen or they would have come into the main harbor. I think the assassins have arrived."
"How soon can we get there?"
"Ten hours. The boat will do forty knots, but the distances here are vast, and we may be slowed by ice."
"We don't have that long."
"I agree. That's why I have made contingency plans." He glanced at his watch. "In forty-five minutes, a seaplane will arrive here from the mainland. After it refuels, it will take you and Zavala to a rendezvous with the icebreaker Kotelny, which is between Wrangel Island and the polar ice. A trip of about three hours by air. The icebreaker will transport you to Ivory Island."
"What about you and your friends?"
"We will leave as soon as you do, and, with any luck, we'll arrive sometime tomorrow."
Austin reached out and gripped Petrov's hand. "I can't thank you enough, Ivan."
"I should be the one thanking you. Yesterday, I was rotting in my Moscow office. Today, I am rushing to save a damsel in distress."
"I may have a problem prying Zavala away," Austin said.
His fears were unfounded, as it turned out. When he returned to the main cabin, Zavala was chatting with one of Petrov's men about his weapon. Veronika and Dimitri were sitting off by themselves engaged in animated conversation.
"Sorry to take you away from your budding romance," Austin said.
"Don't be. Petrov failed to tell me that Veronika and Dimitri are married. To each other. Where are we going?"
Austin explained Petrov's plans, and they went out on the dock to wait. The seaplane was fifteen minutes early. It taxied up to the fuel pump at the end of the pier. Austin supervised the handling of his luggage while the plane was being refueled, then he and Zavala boarded the plane. Within minutes, it skimmed across the bay, lifted its nose and climbed at a sharp angle over the jagged peaks of the gray mountains that flanked the bay, then headed north into the unknown.
25
Karla's eyelids fluttered open. She saw only blackness, but senses that had been temporarily put on hold stirred to life. She had a coppery taste of old blood in her mouth. Her back felt as if it were resting on a bed of nails. Then she heard a rustling noise close by. She remembered the yellow-toothed attacker. Still only half conscious, she put her arms up and flailed away in the dark, defending herself against an unseen assailant.