Off The Grid (10 page)

Chapter 18

Rachel, Maria and a teenage boy named Paulo hiked up the trail to the army encampment. Paulo was the only one who knew the way. The trail was worn smooth after years of use, but it was steep and twisting through a thick jungle. Massive green leaves attached to small trees had
overgrown onto the trail. The morning dew on the leaves soaked the trio and made the path muddy and slick.

They didn’t encounter any
soldiers, even as they reached the pond the boys had been swimming in. It was small and shadowed by tall trees. You could see the bottom of the water, it was so clear. A knotted rope hung on a large tree branch for swinging into the cool water. Rachel could see why the children had a hard time staying away.

After about 30 minutes of hiking, the uphill trail ended at a rocky dirt road, just yards ahead of an Army Jeep that blocked the road. Beyond the vehicle was a flat grassy field, sunken into the mountainside, which contained an orderly assembly of green tents in four rows. Soldiers in white shirts and black military pants milled about the tents. Several were kicking around a soccer ball.

A young Bolivian soldier in a green and gray camouflage uniform eyed Rachel from head to toe, as they approached the jeep. She stepped back behind Maria. The soldier shouted something in Spanish and motioned for them to go back the way they came. Maria began to speak with him, explaining why they had come. A heated but brief argument ensued.

“He says they will not help us,” Maria told her. “They will not help someone who as disobeyed their rules.”

“Tell him that we will pay for the medical supplies and that he can expect a reward for being so generous.”

Maria translated.

“He says bribing a member of the Bolivian Army is a punishable crime,” she said. “He must be the only honest soldier in the entire army.”

“This honest soldier is going to allow a boy to die for swimming in a pond. There must be someone else we can speak with.”

The commotion at the jeep barricade had drawn the attention of soccer-playing soldiers, who had stopped their game to watch. Rachel looked at them, hoping one of them would intervene. She again got the once-over from the men, eager for a look at an American woman, but no one approached.

A short man wearing a blue baseball hat with a red “C” on the cap walked between the rows of tents, oblivious to the argument at the barricade. He had fair skin and wasn’t wearing a uniform. She took a chance.

“The Cubs suck!” she shouted, referring to the Chicago team’s logo emblazed on his cap. “They are never going to get back to the World Series!”

The man stopped and looked with curiosity at Rachel, Maria and Paulo behind the barricade. In their own right, Maria and Paulo also stared at her sudden outburst, not understanding the reference.

“And they will never win one! I’m sure of it!” she yelled.

The man in the baseball cap briskly walked over. He wore jeans, a gray T-Shirt and black boots. He was not a soldier.

“You came all this way to heckle my Cubbies?” He was American.

“Thank God you speak English. I just needed to get someone’s attention. A
boy from the village was shot by a soldier this morning and we need medical supplies to patch him up. It’s an emergency.”

“I heard shots this morning. They actually hit someone?”

“Yes and he needs help now.”

He spoke to the soldier in Spanish and then pulled half of the barricade open allowing them in.

“Those two have to stay here,” he said, pointing to Maria and the boy. “It’s their rules, but you can follow me. My name is Alan.”

Rachel didn’t hesitate to go, forgoing her own safety by leaving the group and following a strange man into a foreign army’s camp. He looked harmless enough. The injured boy needed her help. Her own safety wasn’t her first thought.

The medical tent was fully stocked with shelves of supplies. It was well lit inside with bare bulbs on a wire. Diesel generators, chugging away outside the row of tents, powered the lights. Rachel couldn’t hear Alan speak due to the noise.

The medical supply boxes were all in Spanish. She handed a list of items to Alan who quickly went about filling a plastic crate.

“This is everything on the list,” he said. “I added some IV bags of antibiotics, even though they weren’t listed. You don’t want him to get an infection and make sure they change the bandages every day. The humidity here slows the healing.”

“Sounds like you’ve had medical training,” Rachel said.

“I attended some classes back in the states,” he said, as they walked back to Maria and Paulo at the barricade.

Paulo took the crate of supplies. He was a fast runner who knew the trail and could get the medical supplies to the village faster than either of the women. Maria followed behind without a word, but Rachel lagged back, curious about the man who had just undermined the soldier’s authority to let her into the camp and offer her supplies even beyond what was on the list.

“Thank you for helping us,” she said. “I was afraid that we had wasted a trip and cost the boy his life.”

“The soldiers here were instructed to keep the pond clear,” Alan said. “I never thought they would harm anyone to do it. The swimming rule was more for them, than for the locals.”

“Why is an American way up here in the mountains with the Bolivian Army?” Rachel asked.

“I could ask the same question of you.”

“Fair enough, I’m working to build a medical clinic in the village and my employer is helping bring power to the area.”

“You work for
StuTech?” he asked. “You guys are the talk of the town around here.”

“I get that a lot. So what are you doing here then?”

“I was hired by the Bolivian government to study earthquakes and fault lines. The land up here is undisturbed by any development. Helps with measurements. It works even better if people stay out of the pond. We’re set up right next to it. I’m afraid the boy was shot because of me. I asked that the water remain undisturbed .” 

“So you have medical training and study earthquakes?”

“Among other things,” he said. “I’m multi-talented.”

“Obviously you are. Tell me, why do you need so many soldiers here? There must be over a hundred.”

“There are rebel forces and tribes roaming the hills who don’t think too highly of the government. They are here to protect us. Strength in numbers. You can’t be too careful. Anyone could be lurking around up here. I’d rather be protected. That’s my story. Why is StuTech so interested in Bolivia?”

Rachel explained that the company was focusing on remote areas to begin its international campaign.

“It still seems a bit off the beaten path,” he said. “There’s been some talk about a natural gas pipeline through here to tap shale deposits, but as far as I know that’s all speculation.”

“Maybe our power can help make it happen.”

“You’re assuming of course that the people here want that.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” she asked.

“Do I have to remind you that we’re talking because of a gunshot victim?”

“That’s doesn’t have anything to do with
StuTech. Your soldiers shot him.”

“Of course, you’re right. My apologies.”

He quickly changed the subject.

“You know, I don’t get too many baseball fans up here, even ones that hate the Cubs,” he said. “Would you stay for lunch?”

Rachel couldn’t believe it. He was actually trying to put the moves on her. What a sleaze ball.

“Thanks,” she said politely, “I’m not really much of a baseball fan. I’m leaving tomorrow to go to Africa and I’ve got a lot of work to get done here before I leave.”

“What’s in Africa?”

“We’ve got another medical outpost opening there.”

“Let me guess – Sudan?”

“Actually yes. How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” he said. “Did I impress you enough to change your mind about lunch?”

“I don’t think my fiancé would approve.”

Noticeably disappointed, Alan held out his hand to say goodbye. Rachel took it.

“Best of luck to you and
StuTech. And be careful at your next stop. You might not run into another American like me nearby.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Alan Grant went back to his tent, fired up his computer and shot off an email to his boss. He couldn’t wait to tell him whom he just ran into in the Bolivian jungle.

Chapter 19

Portland, Oregon

Frankie Forman’s coffee was always cold. The type of insulated metal mugs that actually kept the coffee at a reasonably warm temperature weren’t allowed at MassEnergy’s security entrance. Not professional enough. The security guard had finally fought with her supervisor enough to get a plain ceramic mug – which was terrible at keeping her coffee warm. So Frankie was perpetually cranky. Blame the coffee or the erratic hours standing guard. It might also be the small chair her large frame was forced to endure. But the employees probably had more to do with Frankie’s grumpiness than anything else.

“They are hired for their brains and their PhDs, not their social skills,” her supervisor had told her on day one.

And she tried to tolerate them every day from 6 a.m. until at least 4 p.m., plus Saturday shifts she picked up for overtime every few weeks. The overtime was great. She was trying to save up for a cruise to Hawaii. Maybe she could finally meet a man. That’s not exactly true. She met men all day long, but they all had rulers up their asses and calculators for brains and nothing else.

So the ones that showed the simplest interest, even out of bare bones politeness and nothing else, got special treatment from Frankie. She couldn’t do
much, she was locked down to the front entrance all day, except when she did rounds. But she treated them well, worked quickly when they were in line and made sure to show that she too appreciated being treated like a human.  

Luke Kincaid was one of the good ones. From the first day he always made it a point to say hello, inquire about her day and make her feel good in the span of 30 seconds. That was about how long it takes to dump a mobile phone, pocket computer or any other device with a virtual memory into a sealed box for storage, while their owner was inside the building. The smart ones just left their items in the car, or didn’t bring them at all. It wasn’t a new rule, but every day she boxed up items and stuck them in storage until the owner left the building.

So Frankie was surprised when Luke arrived the Tuesday after the Fourth of July weekend with a phone. He never had a phone.

“Sorry about that Frankie,” he said. “I had to take a call when I left home this morning and it sort of followed me in”.

“Sounds like a stray dog.”

“I don’t think I’d stick a dog in that metal box all day.”

“Good call on that. You’re in box 1126,” she said, handing him a redemption ticket. “Just hand this to the guard when you leave to get your belongings.”

She had him step through the body scanner, which let out a high-pitched beep, the signal for a more in depth search. She tried to hide a tiny grin as she asked him to hold his hands up and spread his feet apart.

“On the first date?” Luke said.

“We go all the way here, Honey, but just with the lucky ones,” she said, as she ran the back of her hands up and down the length of his body.

“Just be gentle with me, I’m fragile.”

“Yep, a regular porcelain doll, you are,” she said. “OK, you’re good. Have a good day.”

He said the same and placed his thumb on the biometric scanner to open the swinging glass gate, the final barrier to enter the building. Just as the device registered his name, a whooping siren sound filled the entryway. Causing him to step backwards, right into Frankie. They both toppled over. 

It had to be the phone. It had a proximity sensor on it that could connect with digital devices. Lunsford had planted a program on the phone that Luke activated minutes before he got inside the building. Luke had touched his phone to the wall of the body scanner seconds before he placed it in the box and handed it over to Frankie. The device registered the scanner as its target and then was supposed to work quietly through the day like a virus to find a loophole in the system’s security. Luke was to check the report created by the program at the end of the day to ensure it was in place. This would effectively give him access to bring in the data-plug watches.

“These things are fickle,” Lunsford had told him. “It’ll build you a nice loophole for the watch, but you have to have your phone within range of the device each time you bring it through. Otherwise the loophole won’t open.”

Luke hadn’t even brought a watch with him, knowing that it couldn’t work until the program was in place.

As he picked himself up off the ground, he was prepared to play dumb, not wanting raise any suspicions.

“Now, help me up so I can turn off that damn alarm,” Frankie said. “Big strong guy like you. What? Afraid of ghosts and black cats too? Alarm dings and you hit the ground like it was an air raid. My, oh my.”

“Sorry about that,” Luke said, using both hands to heave the woman to her feet.

“That damn alarm has been going off all morning. Some sort of reorganization, it changes your security clearance. But the system is buggy. So each time one of you scans in, it freaks out.”

“Freaks out?”

“That’s the official term as far as I know,” she said, punching in a code on her keypad. The siren stopped whooping. “Just head over to HR, that’s where the others went. They’ll straighten it out.”

Luke again apologized for bumping into her.

“No doubt it’ll be the highlight of my week,” she said with a smile and barked at the next employee in line. “Let’s go people, I don’t have all day.”

***

The Human Resources office was located on the second floor of the main administration building. The receptionist handed Luke a stack of papers, blank access badge and a small cardboard box, then directed him to another room. A security guard was set up in an empty conference room. He cross-referenced Luke’s image on his badge and took his orange lanyard and ID tag. The guard inserted the blank ID card into a machine to create a new ID tag.

The new tag had Luke’s name and picture, just like his old one. The plastic card was a few millimeters thick with a metallic gold colored rim. He affixed a gold lanyard to the card and handed it to Luke.

“You are required to wear this ID tag at all times when you are on campus,” he said. “If you are in the Green Levels of the building without your tag, you will be escorted out and not allowed back in.”

“Where are the Green Levels? I’ve been all over campus and never seen a Green Level.”

“It’s your new home,” the guard said, handing Luke the tag.

Printed below his name in black lettering were the words, “Associate, Research and Development. Development Floor.”

He was in.