The Yellowstone Brief

by Larry LaVoie

  From the helicopter’s Plexiglas bubble, 200 feet above the tunnel, he was surprised at how quickly things had progressed. On the south slope of the mountain, resting on a high plateau, was an assembly of heavy equipment and two buildings on wheels that looked like a prefabricated office complex. Soldiers scurried about, going in and out of the giant cavern leading into the mountainside.

  In a cloud of flying pebbles and dust, he set down a good distance from the heavy equipment. Nearby was a black helicopter with no identification marks. He assumed it was Colonel Frost’s personal craft and didn’t give it another thought. Aside from the helicopter there were over twenty other pieces of equipment scattered about the plateau. Several open tents appeared to be the housing and field quarters for the many solders on the site. “Looks like that’s where the action is,” he said to no one, as he stepped out of his tiny craft. He jogged across the rough terrain toward the massive scar in the side of the mountain. He stopped to look back at the valley, far below, where the lava would flow, if the operation was a success. Today was an unusually clear day and he could see for miles. Already, in preparation, an area for 20 miles down the slope had been evacuated of people and farm animals. The Mexican government had set up a barricade and warning signs blocking the single road entering the valley and had designated the area as a red zone. From his vantage point on the high plateau, David saw nothing in the predicted path of the lava flow, other than a single patch of green where a ranch and the occupants had been relocated. Sagebrush and an occasional scrubby-looking tree that managed to find enough water to get a foothold in the hostile environment were also in the expected path, but not a concern.

  He took a deep breath of the mountain air and caught a faint scent of rotten eggs. Hydrogen sulfide gas venting from the tunnel already? he wondered. The presence of hydrogen sulfide was a sign the volcano was very close to erupting. He proceeded to within a hundred feet of the tunnel and was stopped by an armed guard with an automatic weapon. David had been so taken by the enormity of the project that he had forgotten about the cadre of Mexican troops he’d seen from the air. For all practical purposes it was a military encampment.

  David held up his hands in a defensive position when a soldier pointed his weapon in his direction. “I’m with the USGS,” David offered as explanation, when the soldier approached. “I’m here to see Colonel Frost.”

  Without saying a word, the soldier motioned with his rifle toward one of the trailers. David proceeded in the direction of the building, the soldier following from about 15 feet behind, talking in Spanish on his hand-held radio.

  Colonel Frost appeared at the door as they approached. “I see you’ve taken me up on my offer. You could have called and given me some warning.” He held the door open for David.

  “What’s with all the security? This looks like you’re preparing for war.”

  “You never know,” Frost said. “We’ve had some threats from an environmental group that they are going to shut down the operation. Damned if I know how they found out about it.”

  “It would be difficult to get an environmental group to this location,” David said. “I wouldn’t think they could be much of a threat.”

  “The Boy Scouts have a motto, Be Prepared.” The colonel winked at David.

  David looked around the room. There were several divided cubicles with men in fatigues sitting at computers.

  “This is my headquarters,” Frost said. “The other building is where the geeks hang out.”

  “Geeks?”

  “You know, the civilian engineers and scientists who make certain the tunneling operation is running properly.”

  “I’d like to see what they’re doing, too,” David said.

  “Their building is off limits. Follow me, I’ll show you the tunnel.” Walking down three stairs from the trailer and standing on rocky ground, he waved away the soldier who had escorted David to the building. “Vamoose.” He turned to David. “I wish I’d paid a little better attention when I took Spanish in college.”

  David laughed. “A lot of Mexican soldiers around, it must be a challenge to direct them.”

  Frost shook his head. “Other than a handful of men supporting the equipment, I’m the only American on site. These men are under the command of Capitan Rodriguez, based in Mexico City. Thank God Rodriquez speaks English.”

  “I would have thought there would be a lot more people to support such a large machine,” David said, looking around the site.

  “Surprisingly few. With computers and robots it takes only a few engineers and a physicist.”

  “Physicist?”

  “Nuclear scientist. He has to monitor the power supply.”

  “You mean there aren’t any men driving the thing?”

  Colonel Frost laughed. “Where have you been, son? The drivers are in the air conditioned trailer watching their computers. If they do their job right, they don’t need to see daylight until the job’s done.” He gestured toward the tunnel. “This way; I’ll show you what you came to see.”

  “How’s the drilling going?” David asked, as they approached the massive hole in the granite cliff.

  “See for yourself.” Frost reached into a bin and pulled out a headset and handed it to David. “You’re going to need this.” He grabbed another headset and slipped it over his short-cropped black head of hair. “We’ll take that cart over there.” He climbed into the driver seat of an electric golf cart.

  Immediately upon entering the tunnel David could smell the sulfur fumes again. “You have gas masks for the men?” he asked.

  “Under the seat.”

  David handed a full face mask to the colonel, removed his own headset, and put on a mask. He then replaced the headset mostly for ear protection, as he didn’t see how the mouthpiece would be of much use.

  Frost stopped the cart long enough for him to place the mask over his face. He replaced the headset and adjusted the mouthpiece. “Get ready for the ride of your life,” he said, starting the cart in motion again.

  David was surprised he could hear the colonel’s gravelly voice perfectly. They started to descend into the blackest darkness he’d ever seen. The darkness seemed to devour the single headlight from the cart. As near as he could tell, the dark-walled tunnel angled down about 10º from level. It seemed to engulf them in an eerie glow as they traveled deeper into the mountain. He felt disoriented from the lack of any objects to judge distance or size.

  “I hope you’re not claustrophobic,” the colonel’s voice came through David’s headphones.

  “How far are we going?” David asked, looking back, not seeing the opening they had come through. He couldn’t even see the colonel, who he knew was not more than a few inched from him.

  “As far as it goes,” Frost said. “Latest report was 14.3 kilometers.”

  “You did that in a week?” David asked incredulously.

  “Three days, actually.” The colonel turned toward David. “It took four days to set up.”

  “Must be some machine,” David said.

  “This is as far as we go,” Frost said, stopping the cart and turning off the headlight. They were surrounded by complete blackness.

  David felt the sweat running down the front of his T-shirt. He put his hand to his chest and it was wet. He realized the tunnel was much hotter than the air outside. He put his hand 2 inches in front of his mask and couldn’t see anything. There was no feeling of direction; no up or down; no right or left. “How far are we from the boring machine?” David asked.

  “About a kilometer. Lift your earpiece and you can hear it.”

  David pulled his ear protection away and immediately replaced it. The noise was deafening. Then he realized he could feel the vibration of the churning teeth. The shock waves rippled through his body like the boom box of a rapper. He was familiar with the sound-canceling technology of the headset he was wearing, but this was the first time he had experienced the effectiveness of the technology. Other than the physical vibration, he c
ould hear almost no noise when the headphones were in place.

  “Can you turn the lights back on?” David asked, nervously. “How safe is it in here with no superstructure to prevent a cave in?”

  “It’s safe,” Frost said. He turned on the headlight and turned the cart to face a wall. “You can get out if you want.”

  David stood beside a towering wall of glass. The walls were smooth with ripples looking like a perfect replication of a lava tube. The only way they could have been formed was from melting the rock the machine was excavating.

  “Incredible,” David said.

  “Take a minute, but we’ve nearly used up our allotted time. We need to get back.”

  “Allotted time?”

  It’s 122˚ in here. We’re only allowed 15 minutes max or headquarters will send in a rescue team.”

  David turned again to the wall. In the muted reflection of the headlight, he was staring at a fuzzy, distorted image of himself in the glassy surface. He put his hand on the wall and removed it quickly. It felt uncomfortably hot to the touch. It is glass, he thought. The machine not only was boring through the mountain at incredible speed, it was casting its own walls for support as it moved along. There was only one explanation, it was an NPTM. He placed his hand close to the wall again and felt the heat. It’s not an urban legend. I’m up close and personal with an atomic boring machine.

  “We need to go.” Frost’s words startled David out of his muse. He got back in the golf cart.

  “A Subterrene,” David said. “An atomic tunneling machine patented by Los Alamos National Laboratories in the Seventies. Never thought I’d see one.”

  “You haven’t, and whatever you think you’ve seen, this is all classified.”

  They drove back to the tunnel entrance in silence. David’s heart was pounding with excitement. He had thought the possibility of controlling a volcanic eruption a dream of mad scientists until now. Looking at the massive lava tube created by the Subterrene, he could envision lava moving through it, flowing like a river down the side of the mountain into the valley below. He knew the alternative was a massive explosion that could flatten an area for 20 miles in all directions and possibly bury the city of Santa Rosalia under a deadly blanket of ash. For the first time as a volcanologist, he had hope that he could do more than evacuate the area surrounding a volcano. For the first time in history they may be able to render a volcano harmless or at least control it, limiting the threat. Now, if only the mountain will cooperate.

  Outside the tunnel entrance, they pulled off their gas masks. Yelling and shouting near the headquarters building drew their attention. Soldiers were standing in a circle with their weapons pointed toward the center.

  “You stay here,” Frost said. “I’m going to see what’s going on.”

  David watched Frost jog toward the trailer with his weapon drawn. From his vantage point he could see half-a-dozen soldiers surrounding two men who were on their knees with their hands on their heads. A third man was kneeling on the ground with his hand over his head holding what appeared to be a cell phone. The soldiers were giving him a wide berth. On further scrutiny, David could see the man on his knees was wearing a vest that appeared to be loaded with explosives.

  A soldier intercepted the colonel and directed him away from the activity. David started to move in their direction.

  “Stay back,” Frost yelled.

  David stopped short. What the hell is going on? It’s dangerous enough on this mountain without a bunch of nut jobs trying to blow themselves up. He could see Colonel Frost was conversing with a soldier. Must be Captain Rodriguez, he thought. After a moment the colonel jogged back over to David.

  “You’ve got to get back to town, things could get dicey around here.”

  “What’s going on?” David asked. “Does that man have explosives wrapped around him?”

  “Some radical group that call themselves Green Keepers. I guess there aren’t enough golf courses to keep them employed.”

  “Maybe they want their golf cart back,” David quipped, referring to the cart they’d used to explore the tunnel.

  “Get the hell out of here and give me an update on the status. I’m going to need all 14 days to pull this mission off.”

  David headed back to his helicopter on a dead run. He heard three gunshots and turned around, but was too far away to make out what happened. In another minute the three blade rotor was again whipping up the gravel on the makeshift landing pad. He lifted off and made a bee-line to Santa Rosalia.

  On the way back to the city, David’s mind was racing. He had witnessed an incredible event that until that day, he had thought impossible. He had also seen that there were some who would go to incredible lengths to stop the technology from being used. He wondered about the gunshots. Had they killed the intruders? Something else was bothering him. He had left in such a hurry, he couldn’t remember if the black helicopter was there when he left. If it wasn’t, who had used it?”

  Back in his hotel, David directed the radio controlled drone over the mountain from his laptop computer. The tiny single-prop airplane had a range of only 10 miles from its docking station, but through its satellite link could be controlled from anywhere in the Western Hemisphere. The drone communicated through GPS satellites in orbit 22,000 miles out in space and could be directed to GPS coordinates within a few feet accuracy. The drone, a flying solar platform less than 3 feet in diameter, used the sun to recharge its lithium ion batteries, and could provide up to thirty minutes of up-close information about the volcano each day. On its daily flight from its homing platform near the summit of the volcano, it provided David with spectrographic gas analysis and thermal images of the mountain. The information was fed to David’s computer. It was considered a safer alternative to the old method of gathering gas samples from a venting volcano. Of course, Santa Rosalia was not a safe distance if the mountain exploded catastrophically, as he knew volcanoes were prone to do. Instead of gathering a gas sample he flew the drone over the construction site. Why would suicide bombers be at the site, and how did they get there?

  He watched his computer screen intently. He could see what the drone transmitted from its tiny camera mounted slightly forward and under the belly of the craft.

  He thought back to his first assignment as a volcanologist. It was he who risked his life, flying around an active volcano gathering gas samples and observing the mountain’s unpredictable behavior. Now the drone was at risk, and he was safely miles away analyzing the data. At over a $100,000 a copy, the drone was a bargain compared to fixed wing aircraft, a pilot, and a scientist all in jeopardy, performing the basic, but necessary task. But, at this moment, he was more interested in the activity at the tunnel site, than the volcano. Strangely, everything seemed business as usual. He circled the grounds once. Interestingly, the black helicopter was parked on the grounds. I must have been in too big of a hurry to have noticed as I was leaving, he thought. He turned the drone away and went on to do his daily monitoring of the volcano.

  August 12th

  The mountain had gone quiet. Not an earthquake in more than a day and the gas samples were low in both carbon dioxide and hydrogen sulfide, an indication that the system may be plugged. This wasn’t unusual. Volcanic systems would periodically vent and plug. It was only if things stopped for a long time that one had to worry about catastrophic relief. Usually ground movement in the absence of venting was a sure danger sign that sooner or later the system would blow. The seismographs were still recording the vibrations from the tunneling equipment, evident in real time, as quivering lines on his computer screen. There was no sign of magma movement. Either the mountain had gone back to sleep or pressure was building up. He remembered from his case studies in school, when that happened at Mt. St. Helens in 1980, it resulted in a catastrophic explosion, catching the scientists monitoring the mountain by surprise. The same thing happened in the later eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in the Philippine Islands. His experience told him things could go wrong,
really quickly, and he’d better tell Colonel Frost to abort the tunneling operation immediately. David picked up his cell. Colonel Frost needed to know he had bigger problems than a few radical environmental nuts threatening to blow themselves up, if he didn’t halt the operation. The mountain might take care of everything by itself.

  Chapter 8

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Heather Martin stopped short of placing her fist in the throat of Special Agent Walton. She had been preparing for her field assignment, training in the gym every day for a week.

  Agent Green had removed his filthy-rag, homeless look and was dressed in a sweatsuit with FBI in big letters across the front of his sweatshirt. Green watched from the sidelines. “You’re a pussy, Walt, letting a girl take you down.”

  Walton rose from the mat and gave Heather a friendly smile. “I think you’re ready. Meet us at headquarters tomorrow morning. You’re going to finally meet Joshua Stone.”

  A week of hand-to-hand combat training with Walton and Green had allowed Heather to bone up on her martial art skills, move into another apartment under an assumed cover name, and put her affairs in order for going undercover. In her time at the FBI, she had been encouraged to keep fit, but this was the most intensive training she’d seen since the academy. Her sore muscles were feeling better and she was tired, but the adrenalin rush returned when she thought about her new assignment.