Polar Shift by Clive Cussler Read Free Book Online

flotation vest must have been donned improperly, because his head was slipping below the surface. Austin climbed up on the gunwale and launched his body into the air. He hit the water in a shallow racing dive and stroked his way to the boy. He reached him just before he went under.
    Austin treaded water, holding the youngster’s head above the surface. He only had to wait a few moments. The White Lightning had launched its inflatable life rafts, and racers were being plucked from the water. Austin handed the boy up to his rescuers and pivoted in the water. The bald man and his boat had disappeared.

    K URT AUSTIN Senior was an older mirror image of his son.
    His broad shoulders had a slight sag, but they still looked fully capable of battering their way through a wall. His thick, platinum-silver hair was worn shorter than that of his son, who tended to be away from barbers for long periods of time.
    Although he was in his mid-seventies, a strict regimen of exercise and diet had kept him trim and fit. He could still put in a workday that would have exhausted men half his age. His face was tanned from sun and sea, and his bronze skin was laced with a fine network of wrinkles. His coral, blue-green eyes could blaze with lionlike ferocity, but, like those of his son, they usually looked out at the world with gentle amusement.
    The two Austins were seated in plush chairs in the White Lightning ’s luxurious main cabin, nursing oversize shots of Jack Daniel’s. Kurt had borrowed a tailored sweat suit from his father. The waters of Puget Sound had been like a bathtub filled with ice cubes, and the liquor trickling down Kurt’s throat was replacing the chill in his outer extremities with pleasing warmth.
    The cabin was furnished in leather and brass and decorated with polo and horse racing prints. Kurt felt as if he were in one of those exclusive English men’s clubs where a member could die in his over-stuffed chair and not be discovered for days. His hard-driving father was not exactly the English gentleman type, and Kurt guessed that the atmosphere was designed to smooth the rough edges brought on by his hardscrabble fight to get to the top in a competitive business.
    The old man replenished their glasses and offered Kurt a Cuban Cohiba Lanceros cigar, which he politely refused. Austin lit up, and puffed out a purple cloud that enveloped his head.
    â€œWhat the hell went on out there today?”
    Kurt’s mind was still a blur. He reconsidered the cigar offer, and as he went through the manly ritual of lighting up he ordered his thoughts. He took another sip from his glass, and laid out the story.
    â€œCrazy!” Austin said, summing up his reaction. “Hell, those whales never hurt anyone. You know that. You’ve sailed the sound since you were a kid. You ever hear of anything like that happening?”
    â€œNope,” Kurt said. “Orcas seem to like being around humans, which has always puzzled me.”
    Austin replied with a loud guffaw. “That’s no mystery. They’re smart, and they know that we’re badass predators just like them.”
    â€œThe only difference is that they kill mainly for food.”
    â€œGood point,” Austin said. He went to pour another shot, which Kurt waved off. He knew better than to try keeping up with his father.
    â€œYou know everyone in Seattle. Ever come across a bald guy with a spider tattoo on his head? Probably in his thirties. Dresses like a Hell’s Angel, in black leather.”
    â€œThe only one who meets that description is Spiderman Barrett.”
    â€œDidn’t know you were into the comics, Pop.”
    Austin’s face crinkled in laughter. “Barrett’s a whiz kid computer geek who made it big out here. Sort of a minor-league Bill Gates. Only worth three billion bucks, maybe. He’s got a big house overlooking the sound.”
    â€œI feel for him. Do you know him personally?”
    â€œOnly by