He was sitting in his study with three other foxhunters dressed in regulation red. One of them, a thickset man with a face like a bull, said, “Who's Clarke?”

Gant's oily smile veiled his contempt. “He is the British science fiction writer who first suggested back in 1945 putting three manned satellites in twenty-four-hour orbits over major landmasses to broadcast television signals. His vision is what brings us here today.”

“I'll drink to that,” said the thickset man in an English accent.

He raised his glass, and Gant and two other men in the study followed suit. One man was as gaunt as the bull-faced man was thick. The fourth man in the room was in his eighties. He had tried to stave off the inevitable advance of age and his decadent lifestyle through plastic surgery, chemicals and transplants. The effect was a hideous face that was more like the corpse of a young man.

Even Gant would admit that none of his partners would have won a competition on character, but they were incredibly shrewd and ruthless men who had become wealthy beyond belief with their multinational companies. And they would suit his needs. For now.

“I asked you to join me so I can bring you up to date on our project,” Gant said. “Things are going well.”

“Hear! Hear!” said the other three men in chorus.

“As you know, the satellite business has grown incredibly fast in the last thirty years. There are dozens of satellites operated by many companies, used for television, communications, military, weather and telephone, with more service on the horizon. These satellites generate billions of dollars.” He paused. “Soon, all this will be ours.”

“Are you sure there can be no foul-up?” said the old man.

“None at all. The polar shift will be a temporary disruption, but the satellite networks will all be exposed to an electronic mauling.”

“Except for ours,” the gaunt man said.

Gant nodded. “Our lead-shielded satellites will be the only ones still operating. Our consortium will be in a position to dominate world communications, a position that we will solidify when we absorb existing networks and launch more of our own satellites.”

“Thus generating billions more,” the old man said.

“Yes,” Gant said. “And the delicious irony is that we will use the anarchist forces to accomplish our goal. They're the ones who will readily take credit for causing the shift. And when the wrath of the world is unleashed against them, Margrave and his people will be destroyed.”

“All well and good,” the old man said. “But remember, our main goal is the money.”