Читать книгу Sedona Conspiracy - James C Glass - Страница 9

CHAPTER SIX

SOCIAL GRACES

Leon picked up Eric at exactly seventeen hundred. Eric buzzed the Humvee through the gate, and was waiting at the garage when it pulled up. The mini-opener on his key ring let them out again. Leon turned right on Dry Creek Road and headed back to 89A, left to the Y, then right to the creek and out of town. Traffic was heavy, the weekend crowd from Phoenix just starting to head for home. All around them the spires and buttes were turning yellow-gold and red-oxide in the light of the setting sun. Hardened to travel all over the world, Eric nonetheless thought he’d never seen so much beautiful, surreal scenery in one place.

It was slightly spoiled by Leon being obnoxious again.

“I know it’s not part of your nature, but tonight you’re going to be absolutely charming to everyone and laugh at all their stories, no matter how boring or trivial they are.”

“Can’t I just listen politely?” asked Eric, with what he hoped was a sarcastic tone of voice.

“Not without positive affirmation or a clever response, especially when it comes to their artistic tastes. These are the people who keep our galleries open, dear boy, and they’ve come from as far away as New York just for this party. Nataly is simply fabulous, and just wait until you see the house.”

The narrow road curved sharply several times, and came out onto a sloping plane. Ahead, the multi-spire complex of Cathedral Rocks was a black silhouette against a red and yellow-streaked sky. Leon turned right onto Back-o-Beyond Road, and followed the winding course up into a canyon guarded by red-rock massifs on both sides. Sprawling Santa Fe-style homes were perched grandly on ledges high above the road.

“Definitely the high-rent district,” said Eric.

“Five to eight million, most of them. Nataly’s is more.” Leon turned onto a scree road that climbed steeply and went around four hairpin curves before coming to a closed gate flanked by two guards with holstered automatics. A third man watched from a little kiosk on the other side of the gate.

“Hi, Sam,” said Leon to the guard who peered in at them. “Eric Price here is one of the honored guests tonight.”

The guard checked their names off a list on his clipboard. “Have a nice evening, gentlemen,” he said. A wave of his hand, and the gate opened. They drove through it, around another curve, and came out onto the terraced summit of a butte at eye level with the summits of Cathedral Rocks, a thousand yards distant.

The entire summit of the butte was a single estate built in several layers with a sprawling, single story dwelling at the top. A graveled area was nearly filled with cars. A sloping forest of prickly pear and other cactus led to the edge of an endless pool fed by waterfalls cascading down red rock, and up to a balcony the size of an ordinary house. Festive globe lights in several colors were suspended above the balcony, and a noisy crowd was talking, drinking and enjoying the spectacular views in all directions. Eric followed Leon up red-rock steps to the door of a Spanish-style mansion with red-tiled roof and stucco stained reddish brown. Eric was reminded of Celtic patterns by the ornate carvings on the door. The door was open; they walked right in, and were immediately assailed by those who’d heard about Leon’s new partner and wanted to meet him. The women wore designer clothing from jeans to gowns, their men in casual wear to match, and nothing off the rack.

Eric met dozens of people in just half an hour. He shook their hands, listened politely to their small talk, verified over and over again that, yes, he was a single man with nobody special in his life. He smiled until his jaws ached. Leon watched closely and occasionally raised an eyebrow to show his approval. In just half an hour, four women came on to Eric, one whispering how nice it was to see that Leon’s new partner was, as she put it, straight as an arrow. The noise level was deafening, and the strain of trying to hear an individual conversation was exhausting. Someone put a drink in his hand without asking. It was scotch, with too much water. He sipped it and smiled and raised his glass to toast things he couldn’t hear in the din. His head began to ache. Leon had abandoned him by now, and was nowhere in sight. A woman around forty, tall and elegant, caught his eye from across the room and began edging through the crowd towards him.

Eric fled.

He pretended not to notice the woman coming at him, shouldered his way to the buffet table and filled his plate with prime rib, a roll with butter, and two knishes with some unidentified stuffing. The balcony was within reach, the woman gaining on him. He squeezed past the open, sliding door and fled down a winding staircase to a path descending past the waterfall towards the pool. In seconds he was out of sight of the balcony, hiding like a schoolboy and feeling stupid about it.

The pool was still and beckoning, reflecting the red and orange colors of a sky at dusk. He went to it, eating a few bites from his plate, and sat down in a lounge chair close to the waterfall. Mist cooled his face, his senses calmed by the white noise of splashing water.

He’d been sitting there for several minutes when there was movement in his peripheral vision. He looked right and saw a woman descending the stairs. She wore an orange, Asian-style, sleeveless dress with a slit up one thigh. Her long hair was coal black, draped over a shoulder, and her skin seemed to glow in the day’s last light.

Eric stared without conscious thought, for she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She saw him, then, and smiled. He averted his gaze, looked towards the pool, but she came close, and he smelled scented soap and lavender.

“Leon said I’d probably find you here. A person can’t hear himself think upstairs, but everyone is having such a good time. Aren’t you?”

Eric dared to look at her, and swallowed hard. Up close, her eyes were nearly as dark as her hair, her skin so white that fine, blue veins showed in her forearms. “I’m afraid I’m not very good in crowds,” he managed to say, and was thankful when his voice didn’t quaver. “Introvert, I guess.”

“Me, too,” she said. “I’m most comfortable one-on-one with people. And I think it’s very peaceful down here.”

Eric was trying to think of a profound reply when there was a shout from above him. He looked up; saw Leon hanging well out beyond the corner of the balcony to be able to see them past the waterfall. Leon waved merrily, hanging on tightly to the railing with one hand.

“Hi, Nataly. I see you found him. Do try to coax him back upstairs again.”

Eric rolled his eyes, but Nataly just waved at Leon. “I promise,” she called, and Leon disappeared from view.

“He thinks he’s my mother,” said Eric, trying to be clever.

Nataly sat down beside him, looked out at the pool. “He’s a complex man, so flamboyant, but beneath the surface is something else, don’t you think?”

“Something else?”

She turned to look at him, and he felt himself blush, hoped it was hidden in the rapidly dimming light.

“Yes. Something still, focused, even dark. It’s in his eyes. I can see things in people’s eyes.”

Eric averted his gaze, gestured around him with one hand. “This is an incredible place you have here.”

“It’s comfortable, and I love the views. I can detach myself from the physical plane here, go where violence and tragedy don’t exist, at least for a while.” She stretched out a slender arm and pointed towards Cathedral Rocks. “You see the three spires to the left? Somewhere in there is a portal from another dimension. Beings come and go there, aliens or angels, depending on your beliefs.”

“You actually believe that?” asked Eric.

She smiled with her eyes. “I think it’s possible, and if other people believe I must respect that. I’m exposed to many strange beliefs by people who come into my shop.”

“New Visions? I thought it was a gallery.”

“It’s going to be soon, but the front half is my store.”

Eric’s response was out before he could stop it. “Business must be good,” he said, and hated himself.

“I do well,” she said, after a pause of two heartbeats, “but it’s a hobby for me, like the art. Creative, imaginative people intrigue me, and I cater to their wishes. Come in, sometime, and we’ll find a crystal that resonates with you, or maybe a relaxing fragrance. I don’t do it for money. My late father provided for all my physical comforts, including this estate, but like anyone else I try to provide for my own mental and emotional needs. I see people every day who haven’t been able to do it. I see the pain in their eyes, and hear it in their words. They’ve lost touch with a higher part of themselves.”

Eric tried hard to look her straight in the eye, and failed. “The new-age culture is totally new to me. The artists I’ve dealt with in the east are more pop than new age. I guess I’m really a left-brained accountant at heart, but I’m willing to learn.”

Nataly’s eyes widened beautifully. “Ah, well, that’s a start.” She stood up, extended a hand. “Now, before I throw you to the hordes again, let me take you on a tour of the house. Two of our local artists will join us, and they want to meet you. Leon has not given them the attention they deserve.”

He escorted her up the stairs, her hand on his arm. People watched them, and Leon was grinning. Indeed, she took him on a house tour. Two artists, young, followed them. Wakefield and Enrow were both painters, early thirties, and both had agents. Eric gave each of them his card. The house was monstrous, each room huge, terra cotta stucco, brown beams at the ceilings, three fireplaces, furnished in dark leather and Santa Fe western. Wall niches held collections of pre-Colombian and contemporary Indian art, walls decorated with red-rock paintings in gilded frames, Navaho blankets and a few, small sand paintings. Each room had arrangements of quartz, calcite, halite and other crystals in intricate displays with the overall shape of a pyramid, and in the main bedroom a huge brass bed faced a painted, golden eye on the opposite wall. The aroma in each room was different, aromatic oil burners and sticks of incense spewing lavender, sandalwood, Egyptian musk and myrrh. And through all of it, Nataly’s hand never left his arm.

As promised, she took him back to the crowd, and he endured more hours of inane conversation and prying questions with Leon right there to watch and coach him. He kept looking for Nataly, but she had disappeared as her guests consumed more alcohol and became even louder than earlier.

Finally, even Leon had had enough. It was nearing midnight, and Eric would have little time for sleep. Leon steered him straight towards the front door, and suddenly Nataly was there. She smiled, and stepped out onto the front porch with them. Leon kissed her hand, but she was already turning towards Eric; her eyes fixed on his, and wouldn’t let go.

“Nice meeting you,” said Eric, smiled, and held out his hand. She took it in both of hers, and stepped close. Up close her eyes were the deepest of brown. “Drop by the shop sometime, Mister Price. I hope you’ll like our little town. And if you stay here long enough, I think you’ll experience the healing you’ve been looking for.”

She squeezed his hand, turned, and melded back into the crowd.

Eric stood there for a moment, feeling a variety of emotions.

One of them was anger.

Leon sped him home in the Humvee and mercifully made few efforts at conversation, sensing Eric’s mood. “Be ready at oh-five-hundred. A black SUV will come for you, and I won’t be coming along. You’ll be having an audience with Davis himself. That’s all I know. Brief me when you return.”

They pulled up in front of the gate to Eric’s house. Eric got out, clicked open the gate, then Leon said, “What’d you think of Nataly Hegel? Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Maybe so, but I think she likes you, or at least finds you interesting.”

“Yes, in a spooky sort of way.”

“Like a lab rat. She tried to psychoanalyze me.”

“Go for it,” said Leon, jerked the steering wheel sharply, backed up in a spray of dirt and was laughing when he drove away.

Eric wasn’t laughing. Another woman passing judgment on him, trying to change him, just like Jenny. How easily women bailed when they didn’t get their way. Taking the children with them, turning them against their father. It seemed he’d had a lifetime of it. He didn’t really like being alone; the feeling was stronger with each passing year, but for each woman he’d chanced a relationship with it was always the same. There was a shortcoming, some kind of defect in his character that had to be changed. And it was never the same thing twice.

The first sight of Nataly had taken his breath away; he’d barely missed being struck dumb by her presence, but in the end she was like all the others. She only wanted to change him. Did his bitterness really show that much?

I’m not looking for healing, lady. I’m here to do a job. To hell with you.

Eric unlocked the door, and entered his new house, and immediately knew that something wasn’t right.

Nothing seemed disturbed, and he heard no strange sounds, but a scent in the air hadn’t been there before. Something musky, like wet fur. It was strongest near the door, fading to nothing a few steps beyond, and replaced by something faint and sweet. Only a minute, and Eric didn’t notice it anymore, but the musky odor remained by the door. He was not imagining that one, at least. He went to every room in the house, checked the windows, the back door. All locked tight. In the basement, the tunnel entrance was locked tight. Nothing seemed out of order. He unlocked the door and opened it, his heart jumping with a surge of adrenalin.

The tunnel was empty. He knew it was silly, but his reflexes were jumpy, the hair bristling on the back of his neck. Instincts. His instincts were trained by experts and honed by years of dangerous experience, and they were telling him something.

It was nearly midnight. He had to sleep. He closed and locked the tunnel door again and got ready for bed. He feared his heightened senses would keep him awake, but they didn’t. He drifted off only minutes after the lights were out. He did not sense the sweet odor that gradually permeated his room, hear the creak of a board under footfall, or see the dark, moving shadows that came to stand by his bed for a moment before leaving without a sound.

He only slept four hours, but awoke in the morning quite alert, and amazingly refreshed.