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  Rachel was packing up to get back to work 30 minutes later when Luke came out of the study room again.

  “I think I passed, thanks to you,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Luke.”

  “Rachel. I’m glad I could help.”

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “That’s probably not your best move, Luke,” she said, pointing to his shirt.

  “Right, how about dinner?”

  “Big leap from coffee to dinner.”

  “Well, you’ve already seen me at my worst, so I’m taking a shot.”

  “If that’s your worst, then dinner should be a breeze.”

  ***

  Rachel’s thoughts were interrupted when two men carrying a boy rushed past her just outside the Jesuit mission on the main street in the village. Their labored gait told her that they had been traveling quite some distance. The village quickly awoke as passersby saw the blood. There was shouting in Spanish as dozens of people descended on the crumbled building. She followed behind the men. The boy, wearing only a pair of swim trunks, was placed on a table. He was bleeding from the left side of his abdomen. A nurse poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound and he shouted in pain. The nurse rolled him over. The blood was coming out the other side as well. He’d been shot.

  Another nurse arrived and shooed all the onlookers out of the room and into the open-air portion of the mission. A continuous stream of villagers filled the square, speaking in excited and furious tones. Some were praying. The scene was chaotic, a community gathered together to learn news of the boy. Rachel knew a little of the language, but not enough. They were talking too quickly and with too much emotion for her to follow.

  Maria, who had served as Rachel’s assigned translator, talked to a village elder.

  “The boy’s been shot by a soldier in the hills,” Maria said. “The elder said that the boy and his friends were swimming in a watering hole that they weren’t supposed to be in. When they refused to leave, a soldier fired into the water and hit the boy. The soldiers are dangerous men and the boys should have known better than to cross them.”

  “But that doesn’t give them the right to shoot someone,” Rachel said, sensing that she was the only one to believe this.

  “There are no rules in the hills except those enforced by the men with guns. We do not interfere with them and they do not interfere with us.”

  “Except now.”

  “The boys should not have been swimming,” Maria repeated.

  “Why is their watering hole off limits?”

  “The army has an encampment in the hills and they’ve blocked off the road and trails.”

  Rachel had seen soldiers in the village buying flour and corn over the last few weeks. They carried rifles strapped to their shoulders and painfully teased the children who played by the market. Some parents didn’t allow their children out of their homes if the soldiers were nearby.

  “Why are they all the way up here?” Rachel asked. “Isn’t there a base in La Paz?”

  “It’s only a small contingent in the hills. They moved up there few years ago and told everyone to stay away. The children of the village have been swimming in the watering hole for as long as I’ve been alive, but they knew that it wasn’t safe after the soldiers moved in. They knew not to go there.”

  A nurse emerged from the medical center. She spoke first to a woman, who must have been the boy’s mother. She was crying out and holding her hands to the sky. The square grew quiet as everyone listened in. The nurse showed little emotion. The boy must have died.

  The nurse gave the woman a curt hug and then looked right at Rachel from a dozen paces away. The people in the square followed her gaze and suddenly everyone in the square was staring in her direction. She spoke with Maria, but continued to look at Rachel. Her eyes were hopeful and full of fear all at the same time.

  “They need your help,” Maria said after the nurse had finished. “The bullet passed through the boy and he is losing a lot of blood. They are certain he will die.”

  “What can I do?”

  “He needs medical supplies that the center doesn’t have.”

  Rachel knew the new center was short on critical supplies and she had already placed orders for much more, but it had yet to arrive. The nurse knew that.

  “I can use the satellite phone and have them brought in immediately.”

  “There is no time, he doesn’t have that long and we don’t have any vehicles. The supplies are close by, we just have to get them.”

  “So what do you need from me?”

  “The villagers are afraid of the soldiers, this is not the first time they have hurt someone. But the camp has medical supplies that could help stop the bleeding and clean the wound.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because the soldiers won’t shoot a wealthy American,” Maria said.

  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 b
ody 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.”