Gant noticed Austin watching his horse being led away. 'They'll take good care of your mount. Nice-looking animal, by the way.'
'Thanks. I borrowed her for a few hours to take a ride over here.'
'I was wondering about that,' Gant said. 'How did you get past my security fence? I've got cameras and alarms all over the place.'
'Just lucky, I guess,' Austin said with a straight face.
Gant suspected that Austin made his own luck, but he didn't press the matter. He'd take it up with Doyle. His security chief was making his way toward them. He glanced at Austin, the only person not dressed for the foxhunt. 'Is there a problem, Mr. Gant?'
'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
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?'
'I heard it from the Spider's mouth.'
'Pardon?'
'Spider Barrett, the man who developed the polar shift mechanism.'
'This Barrett person has been telling you tales as strange as his name.'
'I don't think so. He and his partner, Margrave, are geniuses who have the money and talent to prove it. I'm not sure where you fit in.'
'You can be sure of one thing, Austin. You made a mistake coming here.'
'I was thinking the same thing.' Austin picked up his cap and put it on his lap. 'You're obviously not interested in anything I have to say. I'll be on my way. Thanks for the water.'
He stood and plunked the cap on his head. Gant rose and said, 'I'll have someone get your horse.'
Oiled by large amounts of alcohol, the boisterous conversation on the patio was becoming even louder. Gant signaled a groom and told him to bring the Arabian to Austin, who pulled himself up on the saddle. Doyle saw him preparing to leave and came over. He held on to the reins as if he were helping.
'I can find my own way out, Mr. Gant. Thanks for your hospitality.'
'You'll have to come back when you can spend more time.'
'I'll do that.'
He nudged the horse with his knees, and it shouldered Doyle out of the way. Doyle was a city boy, and the only horses he had been close to before coming to work for Gant were the ones ridden by Boston's mounted police. He released the reins and stepped back so he wouldn't be stepped on. Austin caught the fear in Doyle's face and he smiled. He flipped the reins and galloped away from the house.
Doyle watched Austin ride away. His features were as hard as granite. 'Do you want me to take care of him?'
'Not here. Not now. Have someone follow him. I'd like to find out how he got onto the property.'
'I'll do that.'
'When you're through I have another job for you. Meet me in the garden in fifteen minutes.'
While Gant went off to hobnob with his guests, Doyle slipped a hand radio out of his pocket and barked an order to two guards who were sitting in a jeep off the main access road to the house. The driver had just finished acknowledging the order when an Arabian mare galloped by with the rider low in the saddle. The driver started the jeep's engine, jammed the stick shift into first and punched the accelerator.
The jeep was going nearly sixty miles an hour when it flew by the copse of elm trees where Austin was hiding. He watched it speed by, consulted a handheld GPS unit and set off across the meadows and fields until he came to woods bordering the property. A horse and rider emerged from the trees and rode up to meet Austin.
'Nice day for a ride in the country, old chap,' Zavala said with a lame attempt at an upper-crust English accent.
'Tallyho, bangers and mashed and the rest of it,' Austin said.
Taking their time, they brought their horses to a trot and came out on the other side of the woods where the trees had been cleared for a road allowed by the security patrol. There was no fence, only a number of no trespassing signs facing outward, each with its own motion-activated cameras.
Zavala took a small black box from his pocket and pushed a button. When a light glowed green, they rode between two of the signs across open land, then onto a public road. A big pickup truck with a horse trailer attached was pulled off the side of the road.
Spider Barrett got out of the truck's cab as the two men rode up. After the horses were led into the trailer and the door locked, Zavala handed the black box to Barrett. 'Worked like a charm,' he said.
'It's a pretty simple concept,' Barrett said. 'This gadget doesn't interrupt the transmission, which they'd pick up immediately. It just delays it for a couple of hours. They'll eventually get a speeded-up picture of you two guys, but it will be too late, and they won't be able to make much sense out of it. Let me show you something even more exciting.'
He opened the truck door and removed a small television screen from the cab. It was plugged into the cigarette lighter outlet. He switched the set on and Gant's image appeared on the small screen, saying, 'This is private property,' followed by Austin's laconic 'Do tell.'
'Did anyone ever tell you that you were a wiseass?' Zavala said.
'Constantly.'
Barrett fast-forwarded to a picture of Doyle. 'This is the sonofabitch who tried to kill me,' he said.
Austin removed the baseball hat and examined the tiny camera lens hiding in the Harley-Davidson logo on the
