“Not at all. This is Kurt Austin. He's my guest. Remember his face so you'll recognize him the next time you see him.”

Doyle smiled, but the eyes that studied Austin's face were as pitiless as a viper's.

Gant led Austin to a spacious patio where a crowd of red jackets had gathered. The intrepid hunters were drinking from champagne flutes and laughing as they relived the morning's kill. The gathering was exclusively male and high-powered. Austin didn't spend a lot of time in Washington, but he recognized the faces of a number of politicians, government officials and lobbyists. Gant was apparently well plugged in to the Beltway establishment.

Gant ushered him along a gravel path to a polished marble table set off by itself in the corner of an English garden. He ordered a servant to bring them a pitcher of ice water, and invited Austin to take a seat.

Austin sat down, placed his cap on the table and looked around. “I didn't know there were any private foxhunting clubs left in Virginia.”

“There are no hunt clubs, at least not officially. We're simply a bunch of old friends trying to keep alive a dying old English custom.”

“That's commendable. I've always felt sad that the English custom of public drawing and quartering went by the boards as well.”

Gant chuckled. “We're both busy men, so let's not waste time on ancient history. What can I do for you?”

“Cancel your plans for a polar reversal.”

“I'll humor you and pretend that I know what you're talking about, Mr. Austin. Why would I want to cancel this so-called reversal?”

“Because if you don't, you could be putting the entire world in jeopardy.”

“How's that?”

“I don't know why you're interested in creating a shift of the magnetic poles. Maybe you're just getting bored with slaughtering innocent animals. But what you don't know is that a magnetic shift will trigger a geologic movement of the earth's crust. The impact will be catastrophic.”

Gant stared at Austin for a moment. Then he laughed until his eyes brimmed with tears. “That's quite the science fiction plot, Mr. Austin. The end of the world?”

“Or close to it,” Austin said in a voice that left no doubt as to his seriousness. “The ocean disturbances that sunk the Southern Belle and one of your own transmitter ships were minor harbingers of the damage to come. I was hoping you would see reason and halt your plans.”

Gant's jovial expression disappeared, to be replaced by a sardonic smile and a raised eyebrow. Pinioning Austin in a level gaze, he said, “Here's what I see, Mr. Austin. I see someone who has concocted a tall tale for reasons that escape me.”

“Then my warnings haven't made a dent in your plans.” Austin's question came out as a statement.

The servant arrived with a pitcher and two glasses.

“I'm curious, Mr. Austin, what made you think I was involved in some bizarre plot?”