26
The chestnut stallion galloped across the verdant Virginia countryside as if it were racing neck and neck in the Kentucky Derby. Jordan Gant crouched in the saddle like an overgrown jockey and whipped his crop repeatedly on his mount's haunches. The horse had been running a punishing pace. Its eyes rolled, its sleek coat was shiny with sweat and its tongue hung from its mouth. Still, Gant showed no mercy. It was not so much cruelty, which would have assumed emotion on his part, but rather the disregard he held for anything that came under his control.
Gant crossed meadows and pastures, and rode along the edge of a driveway bordered by poplar trees until he came to a sprawling country house. He headed to a stable area near the house, and allowed the exhausted animal to come to a trot, then a walk and finally to a halt. Gant slid easily out of the saddle, took a towel from a waiting groom and carelessly tossed him the reins. The horse was limping as it was led away.
Gant strode up a stone walkway toward the front door. He was dressed for polo in a black short-sleeved shirt and jodhpurs. Gant had a muscular, athletic physique, and he would have worn his clothes well even if they weren't custom-tailored. He whipped his knee-high boots of cordovan leather with his crop as he walked, as if his arm had a mind of its own. The massive wooden front door opened at Gant's approach, and he stepped into an enormous foyer with a fountain bubbling in the center. Gant handed his gloves and towel to the cadaverous butler who had opened the door.
The butler said, "Your guest has arrived, sir. He's waiting in the library."
"A Bombay Sapphire martini, straight up, and the usual for me."
The butler bowed and disappeared down a long hallway. Gant went through a door off the foyer into a spacious chamber lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with the priceless volumes that he collected. Margrave stood near a set of French doors that overlooked manicured lawns that were as green as the top of a billiard table. He was perusing an antique book bound in red Moroccan leather.
"That's a rare edition of the Divine Comedy published in 1507," Gant said. "There are only three known copies. I own them all."
"You've got quite the extensive collection of Dante."
"Actually, it's the best in the world," Gant said without pretense.
Margrave smiled and slipped the book back onto the shelf. "I would expect no less. Did you have a good ride?"
Gant tossed the whip onto a side table. "I always have a good ride. The horse does all the work. The animal that I rode today is new to my stables. It's a stallion that needed to be shown who the boss is. I always take a new horse out for a test-drive. Those that survive are treated like royalty. Those that don't end up in a glue factory."
"Survival of the fittest?"
"I'm a great believer in Darwin."
The butler arrived carrying a tray with two drinks. Gant handed one glass to Margrave, and took the sixteen-year-old, double-matured scotch whisky on the rocks for himself. Margrave sipped his drink. "Perfect martini," he said. "You know exactly what I drink. I'm impressed."
"You forget that I'm in a business where deals are often lubricated with alcohol," Gant said. "Nothing makes a favorable impression like remembering someone's particular poison." He settled into a comfortable chair, and gestured for Margrave to take a seat. "What's the latest on our project?"
"On schedule. But I'm worried about Spider. I haven't heard from him since he left the island a few days ago."
"Barrett is a big boy," Gant said. "He can take care of himself."
"I don't care about his health; it's his mouth I'm concerned about. He's had an acute attack of conscience. I don't want to see him on 60 Minutes telling Mike Wallace about our project."
"You said he agreed to stay with the project until you made contact with Karla Janos."
"That's right. He wanted a fail-safe option that could shut the project down in a hurry."
"Then you have nothing to worry about. Barrett is probably off sulking somewhere. The main question is whether the project can proceed without him."
"That's not a problem. Spider has already laid the groundwork that made him indispensable. We don't need him anymore. All is proceeding according to plan. I worked up this presentation for you."
Margrave opened a carrying case and pulled out a portable DVD player, which he set up on a mahogany desk. He pressed the on button and the schematic profile of a ship appeared on the screen.
"This is one of the transmitter ships as originally designed. Here are the power plants in the hold leading to the electromagnetic low-frequency antenna, which can be lowered into the sea." He forwarded the picture. "This is the new ship that will do the work of our four experimental vessels."
"A small ocean liner. Ingenious. How soon will it be on-site?"
"The old transmitter vessels have left the Mississippi shipyard and are on their way to the debarkation point in Rio. They can still be useful as decoys for insurance. The name of the liner is the Polar Adventure. She'll be in Rio as well, but no one will suspect she is carrying the payload."
"You've made a final choice of a target site, then."
Margrave pressed a key on the player. A map of the Southern Hemisphere appeared on the screen. The map showed a reddish patch shaped like a flattened sphere that covered a good portion of the ocean between the coast of Brazil and South Africa.
"The South Atlantic Anomaly."
Margrave nodded. "As you know, the anomaly is a region where the earth's geomagnetic field flows the wrong way. Some scientists describe it as a 'pothole,' or a dip, in the field. There are sections where the field is completely reversed and weakened. Magsat discovered a North Polar region and a spot below South Africa where the magnetism has been growing extremely weak. Exploiting the weakness in the south ocean magnetic field will cause a similar reaction in the north pole region."
Gant chuckled. "That's the beauty of this whole scheme. We're not precipitating the event as much as we're hastening its arrival."
"True. The north and south magnetic poles have reversed themselves in the past without help, and the earth's electromagnetic field started collapsing on its own about a hundred and fifty years ago. Some experts say a shift is overdue. The earth's magnetism is already affected by the vortices in the molten layer under its crust. Stir up some additional turbulence and only a nudge will be needed to cause a shift. As you say, we're just helping the process along."
"Fascinating," Gant said. "I take it that there has been no change in our original expectations of the impact of this little flip."
"The computer models still hold. The main magnetic fields will weaken, and then almost vanish. For three days or so, there will virtually be no magnetic poles. Then they will return with opposite polarity. Compass needles that normally point north will point south. The electromagnetic battering will knock out power grids and satellites, confuse birds and mammals, send polar auroras flashing around the equator and widen ozone holes. That will be the period of optimum danger. The collapse of the field will temporarily eliminate the earth's defense against solar storms. In the longer term, there will be an increase in the number of people who develop skin cancer."
"Unfortunate collateral damage," Gant said without sympathy. "There's an extensive shelter under this house. You've taken similar precautions, I understand."
"The ship is shielded for radiation to protect us on the return trip. I've got a comfortable shelter under the lighthouse. I could live there in great comfort for a hundred years, although the period of danger should lessen after the initial bursts."
"Will the other members of Lucifer be keeping you company on the island?"
"Only a select few. Anarchists are good at creating chaos, but they don't have a clue about what to do once they're done smashing windows. The others will have served their purpose by then and are on their own."