by Larry LaVoie
He looked across the deserted lot. Among the things scattered on the ground were numerous metal canisters. They looked military to him, but he couldn’t be certain. He descended the stairs and ran to stow the computers in the helicopter. He picked up a canister and looked at it. It smelled of a chemical that burned his nose. Better not take this with me. After securing the computers in a pouch behind the passenger seat, he ran to the tunnel opening only a few hundred feet to his left. As he approached the tunnel, the smell of hydrogen sulfide gas was overwhelming, but even that was not as strong as the sickening smell of more rotting flesh. He hurried toward the golf cart parked at the entrance, the same spot where it had been on his previous visit. He squinted his eyes, held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose, to protect him from the stench until he reached the cart. He grabbed a mask from the compartment under the seat of the golf cart, placed it over his face, and let out a long breath. Able to breathe again in the hostile environment, he looked around the opening to see if he could see anything that would give him a clue as to what had happened. His first thought was the gas from the volcano had overtaken the workers. He recalled a village in Africa that had been wiped out by a blanket of gas that rose, in the middle of the night, from the bottom of a volcanic lake. It had killed hundreds of the villagers in low-lying areas, and even more livestock. Was it possible the hydrogen sulfide fumes had overtaken the camp? Probably not this high on the mountain. There weren’t any low areas for the gas to collect. The smell of death was overwhelming in the tunnel and he adjusted his mask to make sure it was sealed. Other bodies have to be in here, he thought. How could the personnel in the trailer been overcome by gas and the rest of the camp evacuated to certain death in the tunnel? He placed a hand on the tunnel wall to see if he could feel movement. The seismograph had indicated the tunneling machine had stopped operating. If the machine was still operating there would be some vibration, but he felt nothing. He listened, and there was no sound. His gut told him to get the hell out of there, but there were too many unanswered questions. He got behind the wheel of the golf cart and proceeded to drive it into the darkness of the tunnel. As before, the headlight cast a dim yellow beam that was swallowed up by the darkness. An obscure lump ahead of him came into view. He stopped to avoid hitting it. He got out and examined the body of Colonel Parker Frost lying face down on the rough tunnel floor. He shook his head, holding back tears. He rolled him over and examined him in the dim light. The colonel’s eyes were open, as was his mouth. His hand at his throat, as if gasping for breath. What the hell happened? He asked himself again. Why would he be in here without a gas mask for protection? As his eyes adjusted to the muted glow, he could see more bodies. Why are they in here without masks? He asked himself again. It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense. There was no reason to go further. The tunneling had stopped short of its target and all the personnel were dead. From the bloating and decomposition, he guessed they had been dead at least 48 hours, but in the hot environment that was pure speculation. He turned the cart around and aimed for the entrance which was visible as a bright white orb in the distance. He made it only a few feet before the headlight went dark and the cart stopped. Out of power, he thought. As he got out of the cart, he felt the ground start to tremble. It turned into a violent rumble that threw him to the tunnel floor. He got up, wiped his hands on his pant legs, and started to run. Another rumble. He was running like a track star for the daylight that seemed to be moving away from him. The ground shook again, tossing him into the air. He fell hard on the crushed rock floor. The rock shards cut into the flesh of his hands as he broke his fall. Coming up here was a stupid idea, he thought, picking himself up and darting toward the light again. Once more the ground shook, but he managed to stay on his feet. He was near the opening and could see his helicopter bouncing off the ground. It started to list to one side as if the ground was dropping out from under it. I’ve got to make it to the helicopter! As the ground continued to shake, he bobbed and weaved like an afterhour-drunk, trying to make his way home. Another earthquake slammed him to the ground so hard he lost his breath from the impact. As he started to get up, he noticed a small rectangular object next to his hand. He grabbed the cell phone and stuffed it in his pocket as he ran, all out, for the helicopter. He climbed in and fired up the Lycoming engine. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion. “Come on, start turning,” he yelled as he pushed the throttles to full speed. Without waiting for it to warm up, he held the throttle wide open and felt the pressure on his butt as it rapidly lifted. As he gained altitude and banked the craft, he saw the Headquarters’ trailer flip on its side. The noise from the screaming engine was not enough to drown out the explosion that immediately followed. Suddenly, the plateau where the tunneling operation had been located was disappearing in a rising wall of gray dust. The helicopter shook violently and it was all he could do to keep it from nosediving into the cloud of ash and debris that was hurling toward him. He banked hard, narrowly escaping a wall of flying debris. Ahead of him was bright blue sky; below and behind a black growing cloud of volcanic ash, moving at incredible speed toward the valley below. Then everything turned black. My God its happening, he thought, as he tried to rise above the dark hurricane. He turned the craft east, and as quickly as he’d been engulfed by the billowing cataclysm, he was looking at clear air again. The volcano had erupted sideways. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. Maybe not exactly as planned, but the blast is not going to wipe out the power station or Santa Rosalia. Thinking he was clear of danger, he swung the craft around and watched as a giant black tornado swept through the valley below. It was swirling sideways at the speed of a bullet train. Anything in its path was toast in seconds. The helicopter shuddered and coughed. The engines must have aspirated some ash, he thought. He swung the craft around and nosed down east, toward Santa Rosalia, but in spite of the full throttle, he was losing altitude rapidly. The engine was protesting vigorously.
Chapter 10
August 12th, Washington, D.C.
Heather Martin parked her butt in a lightly padded chair in the corner of the computer room of Green Keepers Headquarters. She had dressed down for the first day of work with the organization. Through coffee and three days of interviewing with Joshua Stone, she knew little more than when she’d first met him, but today was officially the first day on the job, and she hoped to gain access to the books or at least find out where the information was stored. She noted the activity in the room; mostly young, college-age 20-somethings, naive kids without a clue. What am I thinking? I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing here, either.
An elderly woman, eyeing her suspiciously, got up from her desk and approached her. “Hey, sweetie, are you waiting for Josh or Andy?”
Heather observed the woman. She had frayed gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and a red bandana tied around her head. Her face was weathered and wrinkled, suggesting she was older than her biological age. A flower child from the Sixties came to mind. “Josh. He said he’d meet me here at nine.”
The woman checked the clock on the wall at the other end of the room. “He said nine? He’s usually not that early. More like ten or ten thirty, I suspect.”
“I’m Heather,” Heather said, stretching out her hand. “Josh has hired me to help with the fundraising and accounting.”
The woman tilted her head and gave Heather the once over. “Stand up, sweetie. Let me have a look at you.”
Heather stood, not sure of what to think of the elderly woman.
“Turn around.”
“I’m not here for a fashion contest,” Heather protested.
“Shut up and do as I say.”
Heather turned around. “There. Are you satisfied?”
“Let me see your hands.”
Heather held out her hands.
“The other side.”
Heather flipped her hands, palms up.
“You ain’t worked an honest day in you life, have you, sweetie?”
“I�
��ll have you know, I’ve been working since the day I got out of college.”
“Whatever. This isn’t a place for a prima donna.”
“Why don’t you let Josh decide for himself? He’s the one who hired me.”
“Those are new jeans. Your hair was done in a beauty parlor and you look like you slept under covers last night. Who are you trying to kid?”
“Who appointed you chief interrogator?” Heather’s face was red. She was about to cold cock the old lady, when she heard a voice call out.
“Heather, sorry I’m late.” Josh came through the door taking long strides down the aisle toward them. “I see you’ve met Mother.”
“Your mother? I was about to give her a black eye.”
Josh laughed. “Thelma isn’t really my mom, but she’s the closest thing I have. She likes to watch over me.” He turned to Thelma. “Don’t you, Mom?”
“I’m sorry, Josh,” Heather said. “She was giving me the third degree. Are you sure she isn’t a cop.”
“Watch you mouth, sweetie,” Thelma said. “We don’t take kindly to a newbie who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”
“That’s enough, Mom. Heather comes to us out of high finance. Does the name Marty Bancroft mean anything to you; or Senator Edmonds, for that matter?”
“I could give a rip if she knows the queen of England; she ain’t one of us.”
“Get back to your desk, Thelma. I’ll take it from here.” Josh gave Thelma a stern look.
Thelma glared at Josh. “Watch out for her.” She went back to her desk.
“I’m sorry,” Josh apologized. “She thinks she knows what’s best for the organization. Sometimes she gets a little out of hand.”
“Why don’t you get rid of her?”
“Get rid of her! Thelma’s our chief recruiter. Cut her some slack. She’ll come around.”
Heather nodded. She had her first piece of important information. Thelma was someone she needed on her side. “Where do you want me to work?”
“In here, for now.” Josh opened the door next to where Heather had been sitting. Inside was another large office with several desks all with computers. “Welcome to Green Keepers Headquarters.”
“Impressive,” Heather said, scanning at least a dozen people busy on phones or on their computers. “What are they doing?”
“This is the inner circle. These are the people in touch with the whales. They’re also the ones who make sure the funds we collect are not traceable back to the source.”
“Why is that necessary? You’re a legitimate nonprofit, aren’t you?”
“Heather, I’m surprised you would ask that. Some of those who side with our cause don’t care to be investigated by the IRS, or have their involvement publicized. We have to promise their donation will remain anonymous. Don’t tell me you didn’t have hidden accounts when you worked for Bancroft or Edmonds?”
“Bancroft is in prison, and Edmonds was indicted for campaign fraud before he ended up dead. Obviously, you’re doing a better job. Maybe I can learn some tricks from you.”
“You’ll learn the ropes in due time. First, I want you to take a look at my personal files.”
“Are you sure?”
“I didn’t hire you to be one of the grunts. I want you to keep me out of trouble. I didn’t build this organization to end up like your last two bosses. I’m hoping you learned a thing or two from their failures? Also, there is a little bit of info I’d like to eliminate from Edmonds’ involvement with Green Keepers. You should be able to help with that.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” She didn’t want to give up her ace in the hole the first day on the job.
“You have access to his records, don’t you?”
“So, you are hiring me to help shield you from Edmonds dealings?”
“I’m going to be honest with you. You take care of the Edmonds account, and there is definitely a place for you in the organization. First, I want you to give me an assessment of my account security.” He led her over to a corner office. “This is my office and the heart of the organization. My personal finances are on this computer. I want you to tell me where I’m vulnerable. I don’t need the Feds hacking into my personal data and bringing me down.”
Heather felt instantly uneasy. It felt like she was being set up. Red flags were going up the flagpole in her head. What is he doing? If he gives me access to his data this easily he’s either stupid, or this is a test, and I don’t believe he’s stupid. She pulled out the plush leather chair and sat behind the desk. In front of her was a flat screen monitor and keyboard. She opened a side door on the desk exposing a computer tower. She booted it up and looked at Josh, “I’m going to need a password.”
“Now that would be too easy,” Josh said. “You’re going to tell me if I’m vulnerable, or not, but you’ll have to get through my firewall to do it. If you do that, then I’ll know you can help me.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you aren’t as good as you say you are.”
“I said I was a whiz at high finance, not at hacking into computers.”
“Fair enough. Play with it awhile and see if you can get anywhere.” Josh turned and closed the door on his way out of the office.
Heather sat staring at the computer, contemplating her next move. Should she play dumb or gain access to his data? Playing dumb didn’t seem like it would be a successful option.
Josh crossed the room to another office and opened the door. There was a desk equipped with a secretary chair and a laptop, a water cooler in one corner and two folding chairs against one wall. A man at the desk had numerous facial piercings. Small gold rings protruded from his lips, nose, eyebrows, and ears. His arms were covered with multi-colored tattoos. He wore a Mariners baseball cap backwards over his long dark hair. “Andy, this had better work,” he said, seeing his partner standing over the young man at a computer. “If she’s as good as I think she is we want her on our side. I’m sure she can get into Edmonds’ files and delete any evidence he did business with us.”
Andy Rhane leaned closer to the young man. “Is she doing anything?” he asked.
“Nothing. It might take her a few minutes to break your password.”
“And we can watch every keystroke from here without her knowing it?” Josh asked.
“She won’t have a clue. If she tries to move any data, it doesn’t leave the building.”
In the other room Heather started tapping on the keyboard.
Chapter 11
August 12th, Above Baja California Sur
The helicopter coughed and sputtered and began to shake. David watched the desert floor rapidly rising to meet him. He saw the highway in the distance. It was the only highway in this part of Baja Sur, appropriately named Highway 1. It would be his best chance for survival, if he could land near the roadway. He estimated he was still a good 30 miles from Santa Rosalia. Should he survive the crash, no one could live long in the desert heat. If he sustained injuries, the chance for survival was even less. He tried to put the craft in a controlled descent, but the engine quit. “Damn,” he said, listening to the flutter of the free-wheeling rotor blades. He disengaged the rotors from the engine to increase their speed and provide more lift. His only hope for survival was the craft would free-wheel in a controlled enough descent it wouldn’t kill him on impact. As the ground rushed up, he closed his eyes and said a short prayer, more like a confession. He wished he’d made love to Katrina the last time he had seen her, instead of rushing out when he’d got a call from USGS to respond to an emergency. He was sorry he didn’t hug his son one more time before he walked out the door. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and pictured his wife and son. “I love you more,” he yelled, as the helicopter crashed into a tree.
The tree was no more than ten feet tall and had endured the harsh environment for over 50 years in the desert. It was weathered, knurled, and tough. The branches of the tree caught between the landing skids and the cabin of the heli
copter, breaking the fall, before the momentum and weight of the craft ripped the limbs from the tree, tilting the helicopter sideways. The spinning rotors struck the ground and shattered, twisting the craft at an awkward angle, finally flipping it upside down, where it hit the ground in a cloud of dust.
David hung upside down struggling against the pressure of the safety harness gripping his shoulders and legs. He could smell 100 octane aviation fuel, pouring from the tank. A single spark and he would be consumed by flames in seconds. With no time to collect his thoughts, his instincts kicked in. He reached for the harness release and closed his eyes before pulling it. This could hurt, he thought. His head crashed into the tinted Plexiglas bubble that surrounded the cockpit. Fortunately, his head was protected by his helmet. That’s going to be a neckache in the morning, he thought. His heart was racing as he kicked open the partially shattered door and wrestled his way out. He rose to his feet and fell back to the ground. His right leg would not support his weight. He dragged himself a distance from the wreckage, before remembering the computers, but it was too late. The craft had already erupted in flames. The wreckage was too hot to approach. He crawled further away and lay on his back staring up at the clear sky. The sun was blazing overhead. This could be worse, he thought. He took a few moments to assess the situation. He shook his head to remove the cobwebs. No problem, I have a cell phone and a satellite phone, there has to be a signal somewhere.
