Polar Shift (15 page)

“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.

J
ORDAN 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 façade 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 attaché 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 megacorporation 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.

Gant chuckled. “You'll be the first on our list.”

“Would you mind if I asked you a question, Mr. Gant?”

“Not at all. Fire away.”

“These agreements and contracts would, under a highly unlikely set of circumstances, position someone to assume control over the major communications systems of the world. Correct me if I'm wrong, but your foundation is at odds with what you see as oppressive world trade, market system and capitalism.”

“That's right. GIN is pro-democracy and nonpartisan. We agree that free trade can be beneficial to developing countries and the promotion of peace. But we're campaigning against the current free-trade model. We're concerned when corporate interests are put above safety standards, and environmental regulations are seen as barriers to free trade. We're against a concentration of power in the hands of a few multinational corporations. We oppose the spread of investments across corporate boundaries, allowing them to evade local laws. We see the World Bank, the WTO and IMF as superseding local government.” He picked up a red-white-and-blue brochure and handed it to Sacker. “You can read all about our Freedom Project campaign in this handsome little pamphlet.”

“I've read it,” Sacker said, “and I don't disagree with some of your positions.” He looked up at posters on the wall showing the WTO as a giant octopus. “Why would a foundation like yours spend a lot of money setting up the kind of thing you're against?”

“Simple. We think the megacorporation you've designed will be a reality in the near future. If you want to fight your enemy, you have to know it. We're primarily a think tank. The blueprint you prepared will give us the chance to probe the weaknesses, as well as the strengths, of a globalized communications network.”

“Very clever. It seems as though GIN is pretty good at the communications business already. I can't turn on the TV news without seeing one of your talking heads pontificating on the subject of the day.”

“Thank you. Our public outreach is pretty impressive, but you're talking about
influence
, not power.”

Sacker glanced at his watch and heaved himself out of his chair. Gant shook hands with the team of attorneys and ushered them to the door. “Thank you again. We'll be in touch.”

When the lawyers had left, Gant went over to his telephone, punched the intercom button and said a few words. The side door to the office opened and Mickey Doyle came in.

“Hello, Mickey,” Gant said. “You heard?”

Doyle nodded. “Sacker's a smart guy. He was getting at something; he just didn't know what it was.”

“I think I deflected him with my explanation, but I'm not sure he believed me completely. No matter. Have you talked to Margrave since the incident with Barrett?”

“This morning. He said he tried to call Spider but couldn't get him. I told him that when I dropped Barrett off at the Portland airport, he said he wanted to get away for a few days to think things over.”

“Good work.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a leather-bound folder. Rather than risk questions over the bullet hole in the old folder, Doyle had replaced it with a new one. “I've read the material from Karla Janos. She definitely knows something.”

“That's what Spider said. What do you want me to do about her?”

“It's already in the works. When you called me from the island with the news about an antidote that might neutralize what we're doing, I decided to move quickly. Our security arm traced the woman to the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. We just missed her, unfortunately. She's gone off on a scientific expedition to Siberia.”

“Siberia! Jeezus! Why not the moon?”

“Don't worry. The people who pay the bills here at the foundation have a long reach. They frequently do business in Russia and were able to put me in touch with a gentleman in Moscow. He notified his people in Siberia, and they tracked Ms. Janos down to a remote island. They'll kidnap and hold her. In the meantime, a team is on its way to interrogate her to see what she knows.”

“Do you think she knows something that can kill the project?”

“It's of no consequence,” Gant said. “We simply want to learn if she's talked to anyone else. Then we'll dispose of her. We may have another problem to deal with. Kurt Austin, the NUMA man that Barrett mentioned. I don't like the idea that he saw the coil mechanism.”

“We'll keep an eye on him.”

“Good. I've run up a CV on Austin. He's got an impressive background. We don't want him causing problems. If we see him as a threat, he'll have to be eliminated quickly. In the meantime, stay close to Margrave, and immediately report anything important. We want him to pursue this project to the end using his own fortunes and energy.”

“It will be a pleasure.”

Gant was a master at hiding his own emotions, but he had a talent for reading the expressions of others. Doyle looked like a bulldog about to be served a slab of steak.

“You don't like him, do you?”

“Tris? Naw. He's always treated me like crap. He thinks I'm his monkey. Tells me to fetch coffee and drinks, and pop a beer as my reward. I'm pretty invisible to a guy like him.”

“That's what makes you so valuable to the Freedom Project. You're better than a fly on the wall. You'll be rewarded far beyond your dreams. If it's any consolation to you now, for all Margrave's brilliance he doesn't have a clue about what's going on under his nose. He has no idea that the security company working for him is a private army for the very ‘Elites,' as he calls them, whom he wishes to humble. He thinks his little project is going to forward the goals of his neo-anarchist friends. He doesn't realize that what he is doing will destroy him and his unwashed fools, and solidify the power of those he would like to defeat.”

“What do you want to do about the old guy in Montana?”

Gant chuckled. “My philosophic ravings must bore you.”

“Not at all. I just need some direction.”

“I wouldn't think that you'd want to tangle with that old grizzly bear again after he mauled two of your men.”

“He was smart. They were dumb.”

“I don't like loose ends, but he is no longer a priority. With the information on the girl, we don't need him anymore. One more thing. Those lawyers who were in my office. I'd like you to dispose of them. Do your best to make it look accidental. An explosion in their office, perhaps.”

Doyle rose from his chair. “I'll get on it right away.”

After Doyle left, Gant went to his window and looked out at Massachusetts Avenue. The fools in this city thought that they were living in the most powerful country in the world. They never understood that military power was limited. The organization of Elites that he was part of knew that political ends were not achieved by guns alone but by close surveillance and total control of all communication.

Goals that would soon be realized.