It was a pleasant, sunlit afternoon when he drew up before the house of Eden Foster. He turned his car around and parked facing back down the road. From now on every step he took, every minute he lived was tight with danger.
She answered the door herself. Her features were tight and pale, her eyes large. As she stepped back from the door, he took a quick look around. There was no one else in the room.
He walked over and sat down with his back to a wall. They seemed to be alone, but he was quite sure they were not. Now, suddenly, now that the moment was upon him he was ready. It was coming, all right. To hell with it, he was ready. If they wanted trouble he was ready for it.
“Where is Erik?” he demanded. His tone was a little harsh.
Her lips tightened, and he saw some anger come into her eyes. He had started off wrong, damn it. “After all,” he said, more quietly, “he is my friend.”
“I know nothing about him. You have come to the wrong place.”
He shrugged. “If that is the way you want it.” He paused, then said, speaking calmly, “I have drawn maps. I have written a complete report and have had copies made. They will go to the United States government, to the state capital, to the Highway Patrol, to the FBI, and to various newspapers. If something happens to me, all will be alerted. I have given them a time schedule within which I shall act and within which they should hear from me.”
Her face grew whiter still. Her lips were stiff, and when she spoke she had a hard time framing the words. “You do not know what you do. Your own world will be destroyed.”
“If anything is done it will not be settled by me. The problem is in other hands if anything goes wrong for me.” He looked up at her. “I need your help.”
“My help? You are joking. I cannot help you. Even if I were so minded I could not. I am watched. I do not know by whom.” Her eyes held on his. Even now, in this moment when she was obviously frightened, she was beautiful. “I did not know how closely I was watched until now. They know you are here. And they know why you are here. I do not believe they intend for you to leave.”
“They are fools. Instead of stopping things, that will only open it wide.”
“The Hand rules. Nothing thwarts him.” She got to her feet suddenly. “Oh, you’re right! I would like to stay here! I would like to forget all that! I would like to be a part of your world forever, and not go back!
“I like it here. I like the way you live, the bright sunlight, the people. But I cannot! I am a slave! I am a tool used by The Hand.”
She paused again and then spoke recklessly. “I do not know if he hears. It may be that he does, but I must speak what I believe.
“I think The Hand is a man, simply a man, all-powerful in his world, but a man ignorant of your world, ignorant of anything and everything beyond his reach. He has never been thwarted. Nothing has ever been permitted to stand in his way and he cannot conceive of a power greater than his. And he has power, enormously great power. He has weapons which your science has not even dreamed of, and he will use them. Do not think he will not. And he can, if he so wishes, close all avenues to his world.
“Yes, I mean it. Long ago, when his world was younger and wiser, there were great advances in science, advances far beyond yours. Those advances ceased many years ago, but he has access to power such as you cannot believe, a power to destroy life. And he will do it. He has no fears of your world except of ideas. He knows little of you but despises you as weak and inefficient.
“You must understand. The Hand has never seen a newspaper or a book. He cannot read and can scarcely imagine it.”
“You have seen him?”
“I? Nobody has seen him! Perhaps the Lords of Shibalba who are his supporters. I doubt if even the Varanel have seen him. So far as anyone knows, he has never moved from the Forbidden area, and no one is allowed to approach him, but his eyes and ears are everywhere. Even now he may be hearing what I say.”
“How do you dare?”
She lifted her eyes to his. “I do not intend to go back.”
“You know nothing of the others? Of the dissenters who live in the mountains.”
“I have never heard of such people. I do not believe they exist.”
“However, they do exist and The Hand is aware, if you are not. They are descendants of people who returned from here—whom we call the Anasazi. They fled your world of evil and created their own world.”
“I do not believe that.”
He indicated a small sunflower he was wearing in his buttonhole, a practice he had started only a few days ago. “Do you know this flower?”
She shrugged. “I have seen it here. It is not permitted over there.”
“Not permitted?”
“It is not grown, and where grown, must be eradicated.”
“Why?”
She shrugged again. “It is a rule. We do not question rules.”
“It is a symbol, I believe—perhaps a symbol of rebellion. It is used at least by some of those who fled to the mountains.”
“So you say. How do you know this?”
He avoided the question. “You must have seen maps of our country? Of the state, at least? Have you not wondered that your land is so small? So limited in area? For so it must be. I believe much is kept from you.”
She was silent and then she said, “I believe it, too. Since coming here I have changed, but your country disturbs me. It is too…too open. I am bothered by this. In my country everything is regulated, organized. Everyone knows exactly where he is, what is important, what he can do.”
“And what he cannot do?”
“We do not think of that. We know where we live, where we work, where we go for amusement. It is enough.”
“What of Erik Hokart?”
She hesitated. “Nothing. I informed the Lords of Shibalba that he was missing, that officials here were disturbed that he was missing, and there would be trouble.”
“And?”
“Nothing. You see, they think so different from you. They cannot understand that one man disappearing would matter or be noticed. We think in another way than you. It is…it is like you and the Russians.”
“How do you mean?”
“Their newspaper people serve the government, so they believe yours do, too. They cannot accept the idea that newspapers are free to publish what they want. In Russia every newspaperman writes what the government wishes. Newspapermen gather information. Therefore they are spies.
“In our world if somebody disappears, no questions are asked, and…”
She got suddenly to her feet. “You must go! Go now!” She glanced again at her watch. “I had not realized it was so late. Please! Go at once!”
Without another word he stood up and started for the door. Then he stopped abruptly. The door was opening, and two men stepped in. He recognized them both.
Eden Foster stepped quickly back and they came for him. Of their intentions he had no doubt.
He left them none about his.
Chapter 28
*
INSTEAD OF RETREATING or trying to escape—which he knew would be futile in any event—he moved in and, with a flip of his foot, kicked a chair into their path. The nearest rushing man tripped over the chair, and as he hit the floor, Raglan kicked him in the head.
The second man skidded to a halt and whipped a knife from his belt. Without slowing down, Raglan dropped his right hand to the table, scooped up a dish of guacamole standing on Eden’s sideboard, and slapped it into the man’s face. Then he kicked him in the crotch. The first man was struggling to get up, so Raglan swung a backhand blow with a wine bottle that stretched him out on the floor with a smashed ear and a bleeding scalp.
“They’re too confident,” Raglan explained. “They need to spend some time on the streets. I don’t believe anybody ever resisted them before.”
“Nobody would dare,” Eden said.
The second man was pawing the guacamole from his eyes. Mike Raglan picked up the fallen knife. “Lie do
wn,” he said, “or I’ll give you a new waistline with this.”
He waved a hand at the mess the fight had created. “Sorry about this, Eden, but your boys need better manners.”
She was staring at him, white-faced and shocked. “Just muscle won’t handle it, Eden,” he said. “These boys are playing in a rough league when they come here. Take my advice and cut loose from them. If you can’t help me get Erik back, think of yourself. Cut your ties. Move away. Go east or something.”
He walked outside to where their car was standing. Passing it, he used the knife to rip open a couple of tires, driving it deep and pulling back on it. The blade was razor-sharp and the damage considerable. He tossed the knife into the brush across the road and got into his own car.
He drove swiftly but carefully back to the motel, parked the car, and went to the café.
Gallagher was seated at a back table. He looked up with a wry smile. “Had an idea you’d be in. Have you seen Eden?”
“We visited some. Then there was an interruption.”
Gallagher looked at him over his coffee. “Tell me about it.”
“Two husky boys who thought they were tough,” he said. “Not from around here. I read them from The Book.”
He reached for the pot the waitress had left and filled his cup. “Whatever is done I must do myself. Eden can’t help me.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Can’t, I think. Apparently nobody will listen. She’s ready to defect, I think. Likes it here.”
“So, now what?”
“I’m going over. I’ve no choice now.”
“You really believe that stuff, don’t you?”
“I have to.” He paused. “Seen Volkmeer around?”
“No, I haven’t. I drove over to see him and he wasn’t home. At least if he was, he wasn’t receiving visitors.”
Mike Raglan was tired. The brief difficulty at Eden’s had been exhilarating if nothing else. For one brief moment he had confronted something tangible, something he could handle. The rest of it was all too elusive, too vague, nothing he knew how to cope with. Frauds and deception were something he understood, but this was a reality beyond anything he knew.
He thought about Volkmeer. Always a cold and quiet man, not given to talking, he now presented even more of an enigma. True, Raglan had once saved his life, but how far did that go? There was always that “yes, but what have you done for me lately?” idea.
Volkmeer had become suddenly wealthy, and on at least one occasion that wealth had come from golden discs of the same kind that old cowboy had found on the Other Side. So what did that mean? That Volkmeer had found his way to the same cache? Unlikely, but possible. Or that he had found some other cache? Or that he was being paid that way by somebody he served?
Volkmeer was a dangerous man. A solid, dependable man in his own way, and that was just the reason Raglan had wanted him for a backup man. But where did he stand?
Gallagher spoke: “Told you I went to see Volkmeer? He wasn’t to home, but I looked around there, just as a man might comin’ an’ goin’. No reason to do more. Got him a mighty fine place there, mighty fine. Makes a man wonder.”
Raglan looked around at him. “Big house for a single man,” Gallagher continued. “Three-car garage, an’ Volkmeer drives a pickup, mostly. At least, whenever I’ve seen him.
“Makes a man curious, so I did a little nosing around. Seems like he’s contributed to several political campaigns. Never goes to the big fund-raisers, but his name shows up on the lists big enough so’s most office holders listen to him.
“Ranch house is tucked back in the hills, sort of out-of-the-way. Nobody can see who comes and goes. There’s two or three back roads into his place, and one of them has seen a good deal of travel here lately. More than you would expect on an out-of-the-way road like that.” Gallagher paused, taking his time. They were both watching the street. “One set of tire tracks matches tires on that van.”
Gallagher put down his cup. “Figured you should have it to think about.”
“You spoke about money contributed to campaigns. Where do you stand?”
“I’m appointed, not elected, but he spoke for me when my name came up.” Gallagher wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I call ’em as I see ’em, Mike, an’ don’t you ever forget it. I was huntin’ a job when I found this one.”
He paused again. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had ideas about Volkmeer. Whenever a man gets rich all of a sudden, I get curious, and the cattle business hasn’t been all that good lately. I’d like to make some legitimate money myself, so I’m right curious as to how it’s done. Volkmeer claimed income from mining operations where nobody was working.”
They talked at random for a half hour, talking of football, old-time fighters, and bronc riders. Gallagher seemed to be watching for something and Raglan was in no hurry to get on with what he must do.
“Like that big dog you’ve got,” Gallagher said suddenly.
“If he shows up without me, you can have him.”
Gallagher glanced around. “You think that’s likely?”
Raglan shrugged. “I’m going into enemy country, into a place I know nothing about, where every hand will be against me, to find a man who’s carefully hidden away. I’d say I had one chance in a million.”
“Why d’you do it?”
“He’s depending on me. Just like folks depend on you. And he’s got nobody else.”
“How long d’you figure to be gone?”
“As long as it takes. I don’t know what time is like over there. I don’t know what anything is like. We’re used to this world, but over there it can be completely different I may be gone a matter of minutes, but more likely it will be a week or even a month. I hope to wind it up in what is a few hours of our time.”
Slowly, he explained the little he knew. “This Forbidden area covers a lot of ground: big buildings, thick stone walls, built ages ago. Much of it no longer used. I get a picture of an autocratic power that has gone to seed, that’s dying on the vine, so to speak. Of a people who have not only lost the will to resist but to whom the idea of resistance no longer even occurs. The dissident elements pulled out long ago and went to the mountains where some of the descendants of the old Anasazi still live.
“They want some of what we have but are afraid of contaminating ideas coming through. I don’t think there’s any superpower over there or any great guiding intelligence. It is a cramped little world filled with fear, hatred, and held together by fear of anything from the outside. I could be wrong as hell. I just don’t know, Gallagher, except that when Erik opened up that kiva, it was like opening Pandora’s box, if you recall the old myth.”
“I should be going with you.”
“I don’t want you, or anybody. If I can’t take care of myself I’ll be of no use, and I know more of what to expect than anybody I’d take. I don’t want to have to think of anybody but myself, nor worry about what’s happening with anybody. If I can’t do it alone, nobody can. You’ve been conditioned for your work. A good cop can sense trouble before it begins, and in that kind of world, I know what to look for, up to a point.”
He turned suddenly as a shadow loomed over the table. It was Volkmeer. “Been huntin’ you,” he said, and pulling back a chair, he straddled it, leaning his arms on the back. “Thought I’d look in here one more time before I started out to that mesa you talked about.”
“Good to see you,” Raglan said. He got up. “Gallagher? As soon as I get back I’ll be in touch.”
Gallagher turned to Volkmeer. “Raglan is a friend of mine, too. Take good care of him.”
“I’ll do that,” Volkmeer said. “I’ll do just that.”
“If anything goes wrong,” Raglan said, “you’ll be hearing from back east. Help them all you can. And if you see my friend with the busted ear and cut scalp, throw him in jail on some pretext or other and hold him until I get back. He might even come up with answers if you ask the right question
s.”
Outside, Volkmeer said, “What was that about the man with a busted ear?”
Raglan shrugged. “Couple of muggers tried to use some muscle when I was visiting Eden Foster. They didn’t understand their business well enough.”
Volkmeer glanced at him. “I don’t see any scars.”
“I said they didn’t know their business.”
Volkmeer glanced at him again, but offered no comment. Only later, he said, “Two of them, was there?”
“They have the same trouble here I’ll have over there. They don’t understand how different things are. Whoever is their contact here is either lying to them or is ignorant. They can’t seem to grasp the fact that a man or woman may be nobody, but if they disappear or are murdered they become important. Even if Erik wasn’t who he is, questions would be asked.”
“And who is he?”
“An electronics expert, and one who has worked with both the FBI and the CIA. He has testified before Senate committees and every newspaper in the country knows who he is. They are already beginning to ask questions.”
Volkmeer ran his gnarled fingers through his sparse hair. “Never knew him, m’self. Heard about him.”
“They’ll be asking questions, Volk. And they will be wanting answers. That fire that burned the café will be first on the list, and they will go through those ashes like you wouldn’t believe. I’ll be questioned, and so will you.”
“Me? I don’t know anything.”
“They won’t assume that, Volk, and if anything happens to me, I’ve left a list of people and places.”
Volkmeer swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked off toward the mountains, blue in the distance. “Well, I hope they find him.”
“It won’t be quick, Volk. They will follow every lead, talk to everybody, demand explanations for everything. You see, Volk, they have time. If there’s any discrepancy in a story, they will find it and follow it up. They will check the records on mining claims, tax returns, and everything you can imagine.”
Novel 1987 - The Haunted Mesa (v5.0) Page 21