The Titicaca Effect

by Richard N. Tooker

  “Yes! Don’t shoot!”

  “Relax, Doctor. We’re Americans. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  “I can see that you’re an American. What are you doing here?

  “We’ve taken control of the island.”

  “Aren’t those gunshots? It doesn’t sound like you have control.”

  “We will have shortly. A few of the Bolivian soldiers got to their weapons before we could secure the sleeping tents. We have them pinned in.” The gunfire stopped, followed by shouting.

  “There. You can drop your hands, Dr. Stout. Both of you please come with me.” He pointed his rifle at the unarmed Bolivian soldier, who still had his hands behind his head, motioning for him to follow Stout.

  “Just a minute, Lieutenant,” Stout said. “Where’s Roger Malloy?”

  “Who?”

  “The foreman! Where is he? We have to find him now!”

  “I don’t know. Why? What’s the big hurry?”

  “You’d better hope to hell you have him. If you don’t we’re all in big trouble! If something like this happens, he’s supposed to trigger an explosive device that will blow this whole island sky-high!”

  “Jesus! Are you serious?”

  “You’re damn right I’m serious!” Stout began running across the ridge trail as fast as he could in the dark, dropping the blanket when it got in the way of his feet. “We have to find him.” The marine was right behind him, gasping as he tried to get his breath in the rarified atmosphere. The Bolivian soldier, now forgotten, followed them, along with the other American soldiers who had backed up the lieutenant.

  Less than two minutes later, they ran into the center of the camp in front of the command tent. It looked like everyone on the island was there, including six Bolivian soldiers on stretchers. Three of them were bloody and obviously dead. The rest of the Bolivians, including General Linares, stood in a knot under heavy guard.

  God almighty,” Stout shouted at the marine who arrived right behind him. “Did you have to kill people? What the hell do you people think you’re doing?”

  “Following orders,” the lieutenant answered. “They fired on us, so we fired back. Shit happens.”

  “Dammit, can you blame them? You’ve invaded their island!”

  “Dr. Stout, you need to settle down before I put you in restraints,” the marine answered coolly.

  “Roger!” Stout yelled. “Has anyone seen Roger Malloy?” He looked around frantically for the foreman.

  “I saw him heading toward the pipe,” one of the workmen answered, “just before these guys started killing people.” Everyone on the island had started calling the effect “the pipe” when they heard Stout use the term.

  An American soldier stuck his head through the flap on the communications tent. “Lieutenant Burke!” he shouted. “I have General Whittington for you on the secure phone. And there’s some guy named Freeman on a cell phone we found in here. He says he has to talk to Dr. Stout immediately!”

  Stout and the lieutenant both bolted for the communications tent. Stout got there first, ducked inside and grabbed the cell phone from the soldier who was holding it. “Tyler, are you there?”

  “”Thad! Thank God,” Freeman’s voice crackled. “Your cell phone is off, so I started dialing every other phone on the island. “I was trying to get you before the invasion force landed. Are you all right?

  “Yes, I’m OK. Invasion force? Is that what this is, an invasion?”

  “Yes. But I talked to President Truesdale a few minutes ago and he’s going to call it off just as soon as he can get through to the island.”

  “The lieutenant who seems to be running the show is outside right now, talking to some general on a satellite phone.”

  “Well, that’s good news.” Freeman sounded relieved. “Is Roger there with you?”

  “No, dammit! Somebody said they saw him head for the pipe. I’ve got to stop him before he triggers the doomsday device.”

  “Christ! Don’t stand there talking, man! Go!” Freeman shouted.

  “On my way! Stay on the line.” He pocketed the cell phone and started to leave the tent just as the lieutenant poked his head inside.

  “Dr. Stout? There’s been a change in plans. General Whittington just told me to give control of the island back to General Linares.”

  “That’s just great!” Stout snarled. “After how many Bolivians lost their lives? I swear to God, I’ll never understand how politicians think.” He pushed the lieutenant aside and exited the tent.

  “You!” he pointed to one of the soldiers. “Give me that flashlight.”

  Startled, the soldier handed it over without question and Stout started running down the trail toward the area where the Titicaca Effect erupted each day, his mind racing to come up with a way to stop Malloy from triggering the device even though the foreman had instructions to complete the task no matter who – including Stout – tried to stop him. Malloy, acting under orders from Freeman, had told no one, not even Stout, what the control device even looked like. He had just about settled on plain old violence as the solution when he ran headlong into Malloy, who was coming up the trail in the dark. Both men went sprawling onto the rocky trail. Stout banged his knee on an outcropping and grabbed it, wincing in pain. Malloy had a cut on his forehead that was oozing blood.

  “Roger, please tell me you haven’t triggered the device!”

  “Sure I did,” Malloy responded, looking confused. “Just like Tyler told me to. I started the countdown a couple of minutes ago.” He glanced at Stout’s knee. “Are you OK? We’ve got less than two hours to get everybody off the island.”

  “There’s been a mistake. The invasion has been called off, and there’s no reason to blow the damn thing up! We’ve got to stop it.” Stout winced again as he stood, tested his knee and decided that although it hurt he could make it the rest of the way. He limped down the trail again toward the small observation tent that he assumed held the concealed control for the explosive charges that had been buried more than 20 feet down in the holes he had created when he had drilled core samples. Malloy followed him, carefully picking his way past the rocks and debris on the trail. He held a handkerchief to his forehead to stop the bleeding. It hurt, and he didn’t want to fall again.

  “They told me it can’t be stopped, Dr. Stout. That’s why they call it a doomsday device.”

  “I know that’s what they said, Roger. When the Sandia lab created the control code they said it would be unbreakable. But I have to try. We can’t just blow up the most important scientific find in history without at least taking a shot at it.”

  They reached the tent and Stout started sweeping the area with the flashlight beam. “Where is it? What does it look like?”

  Malloy grinned. “I knew nobody would ever figure it out. It’s right in plain sight. In the computer.”

  “What? You used the tracking computer? The control program is in there? How do I find it?”

  “Well, I’m not sure I should tell you. Tyler told me that if we got invaded, I’m not supposed to let anybody stop me from triggering it.”

  Stout glared at him. “Dammit, Roger, you have to listen to me. There’s no invasion. It’s over, and we have to stop this thing from going off. He pulled the still active cell phone from his pocket and held it to his ear. “Tyler, talk to Roger!” He handed the cell phone to Malloy.

  “Roger? This is Tyler. By now, you and Dr. Stout are probably about to kill each other over whether or not you’re going to tell him how to find the control program. Am I right?

  “Yes.”

  “Tell him. The explosion has to be stopped.”

  “OK, if you say so.”

  “Good! Now let me talk to Thad.”

  Stout took the phone from Malloy and sat in the folding chair in front of the computer. “Tyler? Just getting into the control program is probably not going to help much. As I understand it from the briefing we got, any attempt to shut it down will detonate the explosives. I know it’s
the middle of the night in New Mexico, but I need to talk to the programmer who wrote the code.”

  “I’m already on it. She didn’t answer the phone at home, but we have the FBI looking for her. They’ll find her, and when they do I’ll patch her through to you. Anyone who works at Sandia Labs can’t be out of touch for long. Their security clearances are too high.”

  “Alright. I’ll see what I can do until then. I’m going to hang up now. Call me back when you’ve found somebody.” He snapped the phone shut, put it on the table, then turned his attention to the computer.

  “Okay, Roger, how do I find it?”

  “It’s like an Easter egg,” Malloy replied. “You know, those little programs that developers sometimes hide in computer applications? They usually give credit to the development teams.”

  “I know what an Easter egg is. What’s the key combination that gets me in?”

  “Hold down the shift and control keys, then type ‘GO739’.”

  Stout typed the key combination and watched as the screen refreshed. Except for a single blinking white cursor, the screen was dark blue. “Looks like it wants a password. Did they give you one?”

  “I had to create my own password when I installed the code. It’s ‘Damaranger’. D-A-M-A-R-A-N-G-E-R.”

  Stout frowned. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “An imaginary playmate I had when I was a little kid. Don’t laugh. It’s easy for me to remember.”

  “Hey, whatever works. All right, I’m in!” The screen refreshed again, presenting a form to fill in a single blank, obviously designed to start the countdown. The blank was already filled in with the start time that Malloy had entered. Beneath that was a small box that read “01.42.49” and the final two digits were counting down as the seconds ticked by. A drop-down menu at the top of the screen revealed a set of options for working with the program, including one labeled “admin.” Stout clicked it, and the screen changed to reveal computer code. It looked like gibberish.

  “Oh, man, it’s encrypted,” he said as he scrolled through what appeared to be hundreds, if not thousands of lines of code. “I thought the access looked too easy. I need another password.” He glanced up at Malloy.

  “Don’t look at me. I didn’t write it.”

  Stout leaned back in the folding chair, scratching his goatee and frowning. “I can’t do anything until I get a password from the programmer who wrote this.” He leaned forward and pressed the ESC key, which returned him to the countdown. “Less than an hour and 40 minutes now. At least we have some time.”

  “Not that much time, Dr. Stout,” Malloy said, looking worried. “We have to get everyone off the island. That’s going to take some time.”

  “How long?”

  “At least an hour, probably longer. Those are large C4 charges, and anyone who’s still within a mile of the island when this thing explodes risks getting killed. We only have access to one helicopter, and it’s in La Paz. It can get here in time, but it could only carry four or five people. That means everyone else has to leave in boats, but I’m not sure we have enough to move everyone.”

  “Well, that means we have to start evacuating the island. Maybe you’d better find your guys and start figuring out something. I can take it from here, assuming they find that programmer.”

  “And assuming there’s even a way to turn it off,” Malloy said.

  “Good point, Roger. Thanks for the words of encouragement. Would you please get the hell out of here?”

  “I’m gone,” Malloy replied. “I’ve gotta find some boats.” He headed back up the trail at a trot, the flashlight sweeping the rocky ground in front of him.

  * * *

  General Linares was questioning Lieutenant Burke in the command tent. “Three of my men are dead, Lieutenant,” he said. “Why did you come to the island?”

  “Just following orders, general.”

  “Of course, but did your superiors not tell you the purpose of your mission? What did you hope to accomplish?”

  “We were to take control of the island. I wasn’t told why. Maybe you need to ask General Whittington.”

  “I will do more than that, Lieutenant. I report directly to the president of Bolivia, and I am expecting his call at any moment. He will ask your President Truesdale why you are here. What you have done is an act of war, and you should be thankful that I have not executed you for killing Bolivian soldiers! As it is, you and your men can consider yourself prisoners of war until and unless I am ordered to release you.”

  Burke met the general’s glare without blinking. “General, with all due respect, do you really believe you would be in control right now if we hadn’t willingly laid down our weapons? We’re talking about the United States Marine Corps here. You’re in no position to be giving orders and treating us like prisoners.”

  Linares placed his hand on the Lieutenant’s chest and shoved him backwards and down into a chair. Three armed Bolivian soldiers behind him shifted their aim to the American’s new position, keeping him covered with pistols cocked. “You will keep quiet until I say otherwise, Lieutenant!” He turned to leave the tent, pausing long enough to tell the three soldiers guarding the American, “If he moves, shoot him!” He ducked through the flap and came face-to-face with a breathless communications specialist who tried to salute him and hand him a radio transceiver simultaneously. Obviously flustered, he dropped the transceiver, interrupting the salute in mid-snap.

  “I am sorry, general,” he stammered, retrieving the transceiver and wiping the dust off it with his sleeve. “The presidents want to speak to you.”

  “Presidents?”

  “Both of them, general! President Maldonado and the president of the United States!” The soldier was trembling as he handed the instrument to Linares.

  Without even thinking, the general stood at attention. He cleared his throat and said as formally as he could, “Mr. President!”

  “General, I’m calling from Washington. I’m in the White House with President Truesdale. I understand you lost three men in the assault.” The voice was Maldonado’s, on a speakerphone.

  “Yes, Mr. President. They were shot trying to keep the Americans from coming ashore.”

  “President Truesdale wants to talk to you.”

  “General Linares, this is Bill Truesdale. I want you to know that I’m very sorry about your men. It was not our intention to harm anyone.”

  “What were your forces doing here, Mr. President?’ Linares asked.

  “We had information that an invasion by Red China was imminent,” Truesdale responded. “Our objective was to secure the island to keep that from happening. We were a peacekeeping force.”

  “I see. President Maldonado, if you knew of this ‘peacekeeping force,’ shouldn’t you have told me? It would have saved the lives of three men.”

  “I didn’t know, general,” Maldonado answered. “Believe me, had I known, it never would have happened. President Truesdale and I have much to discuss. In the meantime, I want you to cooperate with the Americans. They will be leaving the island immediately. In fact, you will all be leaving the island, and soon! Apparently, there is some kind of explosive set to explode in less than two hours. Just a moment, please, general.”

  There was a long pause, then the general could hear a muffled and apparently heated conversation going on in the background. After more than a minute, Maldonado said, “General, apparently they’re looking for someone who might be able to help stop the explosion. But there’s no guarantee they’ll find her in time, and even if they do, they’re not sure there’s anything she can do. You’d better get moving.”

  “Well, Mr. President, there is a problem,” the general said. “We do not have enough boats. It will require too many trips to get everyone off the island in less than two hours.”

  “I am aware of that, general. I have asked Crillon Tours in Huatajata to send their entire fleet of hydrofoils. Each one of them can carry 30 people in an emergency, and this certainly qualifies. They
promised me they would get underway within the next 10 minutes, which means they’ll be there in a little over an hour. They’re getting the captains out of bed now.”

  “That will do nicely. Thank you, Mr. President.” Linares handed the transceiver back to the soldier and stalked through the camp, barking orders.

  * * *

  Despite the chill in the air, Stout was sweating. If there was one thing he did not do well, it was waiting. He looked at his watch for what seemed to be the hundredth time then stared at the computer screen again, drumming his fingers on the desk. Finally, his impatience got the better of him. He picked up the cell phone and punched in Freeman’s cell phone number.