“Positive. I checked through the foundation's filings as a nonprofit. They own the shipyard through a straw company set up in Delaware. I had someone from NUMA follow up with a bogus story about retrofitting a big research vessel for us. The company itself is apparently legit. The management said they had just wrapped up a major retrofit job—they wouldn't go into details—and would be interested in making a bid.”

“So the ships are still there?”

“They left several days ago. I accessed the NUMA satellite archives. Four ships left the boatyard last week.”

“Four?”

“Three transmitter ships and what looks like a passenger liner. They seem to be headed toward South America.”

Barrett had been silent since watching the computer simulation. “Thanks for your hard work, Joe. I'm feeling guilty as hell about all this. I can't stop thinking that this tragedy is my fault.”

“Not at all,” Karla said. “You could never know that your work would be used in a destructive way. It's no different than my grandfather. He was simply interested in pure science.” Karla was shaking her head when a smile appeared on her face. “Topsy-Turvy,” she said.

She laughed at the bewildered expressions around the table.

“It's the title of a bedtime poem my grandfather used to tell me. Not very good poetry, as I recall, but he said it was something that I would always have if I needed it.” She scrunched her brow as she tried to remember the words.

Topsy-turvy,

Turvy-topsy,

The world stands on its head.

The sky's on fire,

The earth's afraid,

The ocean leaves its bed.

Her recitation was greeted by a deep silence, which Karla broke on her own.

“Dear God,” she said. “I've just described auroras, earthquakes and tsunamis.”

“A polar shift, in other words,” Austin said. “Tell us more.”

“I'll try. It's been a long time.” She stared at the ceiling. “Each rhyme starts with the same topsy-turvy couplet, and then the verse itself changes. The next one goes, 'The key is in the door,/We'll turn the knob and hitch the latch,/To still the ocean's roar.' It goes on for several verses, then ends with my favorite one: 'Say good-bye to night. /All's well once more, /As Karla dreams,/For all the world is right.' ”

Barrett whipped a ballpoint pen and notebook out of his pocket and slid them across to Karla. “Could you write down every verse?”

“Yes, but—” Karla seemed flustered. “Do you think all this gibberish means anything?”

“Just curious,” Barrett said.

“We should follow any lead, no matter how seemingly frivolous,” Austin said. He glanced at a wall clock. “I've got to get moving. We'll meet back here in a couple of hours.”

He asked Zavala to talk to the Trouts and have them follow up on the transmitter ships, then turned to Karla. “I can give you that ride Austin offered to the hospital,” he said.