“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.

NUMA 6 - Polar Shift

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.

“No!” she called out in fear and defiance.

Her thrashing arms struck soft flesh. A big hand with fingers like steel clamped down over her mouth. A light flashed on. Its beam illuminated a disembodied face floating in the darkness.

She stopped fighting. The long-jawed face had aged dramatically since the last time she had seen it. There were more wrinkles, and a general droopiness to skin that was once as taut as a drumhead. The watchful eyes were framed by crow's-feet, pouches and white brows, but the irises were the same piercing blue she remembered. He removed his hand from her mouth.

She smiled. “Uncle Karl.”

The ends of the thin lips curved up slightly. “Technically speaking, I am your godfather. But, yes, it is me. Your uncle Karl. How do you feel?”

“I'll be all right.” She forced herself to sit up, even though the effort made her dizzy. As she ran her tongue across her swollen lips, the memory of the attack came flooding back.

“There were four other scientists. They took them away, and then I heard shots.”