by John Nelson
“So, while there’s some comparison to the actual situation in the West, Fria’s reaction to your storyline seems rather underplayed,” Emma said.
“Well, given her unique talent, she may be able to compartmentalize and hide her true feelings from others, but as I’ve told Musgrave, she seems genuine to me. But I’d be interested in your take.”
“This may require more than a church service or even a healing,” she said. I again sensed this was as much for personal reasons or interests as for our assignment.
“Yeah, I think I can arrange that, but for now we need to ease ourselves back into the scene.”
It was late afternoon when we approached Cleopatra Hill and drove up to Jerome. Emma was fascinated by the location: the 45 degree angle of the streets, the grand vistas, and loved the dry high desert air. We parked across the street from the Sliding Sands and carried our luggage inside. Tim, the head desk clerk, was at the front desk and was certainly curious about my new companion.
“Mr. Hargrove, so nice to see you again. Your room has been cleaned.” He looked over at Emma. “Will Ms. Howell be joining you?”
“Tim, Brenda won’t be returning … for now. The desert air’s played havoc with her allergies. This is my new research assistant, Emma Forbes. Do you have a room for her … on the same floor?”
Tim tried to suppress his lurid reaction and glanced down at his computer screen a little longer than it no doubt required. “Yes, two rooms down from yours.” He looked up. “It’s not as spacious but it has a queen size bed as well.”
I had to wonder if Tim’s intuition was as full-blown as some of Maria Fria’s students, of which he might be one, like almost everybody else here.
“That’ll be fine. Just charge it to my account.”
We took the elevator to the 2nd floor. I went into the room with her and did a quick surveillance check, disabling one listening bug. Emma understood not to say anything, even after the disconnect.
“You probably need a rest. I’ll pick you up for dinner at 7:00 if that’s all right.”
“Sure, Lewis. Look forward to it and a further rundown on the novel.”
I headed back to my room and was surprised that no new bugs or video surveillance had been installed. Of course any room surveillance was against the law but when the mayor was your “research” subject, I would’ve expected more from them.
32.
I had decided to take Emma to the Iguana Café, and not the more formal Diablo Restaurant at the south side of town. This is where I had been doing most of my writing, and it seemed appropriate that the first outing for me and my new researcher should be there. It was also where June had come to fetch me for my tryst, as it were, with Maria Fria, so I figured the staff there might be more “connected” to her. Emma wore one of her new Southwest outfits, a white blouse with a Western motif, and a wide ankle-length blue skirt. Her retro-style jean jacket had an image of a lizard comprised of small stones. She looked beautiful, and I had to remind myself that resuming our romantic relationship might not be the best move for either one of us.
As we stepped inside the cafe, I watched Emma quickly scan the surroundings and get a fix on everybody there. Once an operative, always an operative I said to myself. I also noted that several people recognized me and their reaction to Emma was grist for the rumor mill. Since it was the middle of the week, there was a window table available and we were seated there. The waitress brought us menus; the fare was mostly Mexican and vegetarian, although there were a few meat dishes. We ordered a variety of dishes, and since you couldn’t find authentic Mexican cuisine back east these days, Emma was looking forward to our meal.
After the waitress left, I took out my innocuous-looking bug suppressor and placed it between us on the table. It actually resembled an animal totem, very ingenious of the tech guys, but then they were located in Phoenix.
Emma sat back in her seat and sipped her iced tea. She stared across the table at me for a moment. “Well … Lewis, remember that last time we went out to dinner?”
“You mean in that … Midwest town?”
She laughed. “Those people never could figure us out. Remember that big-bosom woman, Lidia, whom you refused to hug, until she just grabbed you and pulled you to her.”
I laughed, but gave her a questioning look.
“You mean we can’t talk freely.”
“Well, even with the bug suppressor, it’s best to stay in character, or at least in public.”
“You mean we’re getting some private time?” Emma smirked.
I was saved by our meal coming, or was it a relief for both of us, because Emma just scoffed up her meal and ate nonstop for a while? You really didn’t realize how artificial our food or modern diet had become until you were exposed to a real meal made with all-natural ingredients. Apparently, our Midwest excursion was the last time she had tasted such healthy fare.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pig out on you, but this is so good. I’d move here just for the food.”
I nodded my head.
“Lewis, it’s been a while since I’ve … worked with you, so it’ll just take some time to get in the swing of things again.”
“I know; it’s an … unusual situation, but if you’re referring to your private time remark, don’t sweat it. Believe me. It’ll be hard for me as well.”
“You mean you and Brenda weren’t … intimate?”
“Yes. Of course, but our cover story required it, and there’s intimate and then there’s … intimate.”
This was becoming just a little awkward for me, and again I was saved, but this time by a somewhat expected visitor. June and a friend, Brad, stopped by on their way out of the café to say hello. He was one of the masseurs at the Institute.
“Lewis, you’re back.”
I stood up and gave her a hug. “Yes, and let me introduce my research assistant, Emma Forbes.”
The women exchanged light handshakes. June looked puzzled and I added, “Brenda went back home to Chicago; the dry dessert air was a little much for her allergies after a while.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, I’ll let Maria know that you’re back; hope to see you at our next service.” June stared at us for a long moment before she and Brad headed off.
“I see what you mean,” Emma said. I wasn’t sure what she was implying. “Very developed intuition. She didn’t buy your explanation one bit.”
“Really.” I replayed the exchanged between us and that long look of hers but didn’t detect any tells. “You may be right. I think I’ve got so used to these people that things may be slipping by me.”
Emma smiled. “That’s not a bad thing, Lewis. You seem much more relaxed here than … in the Midwest.”
“Good. Keep monitoring me. I need the feedback. I’m looking forward to Sunday’s healing service.”
Emma gave me a questioning look.
“No. I agree with Musgrave—it’s too soon for you to step forward, especially since I seem to be a bit compromised in terms of my own objectivity, or so he thinks.”
“Again, that’s not a bad thing, Lewis.”
I didn’t reply; the bill came and I did my e-transfer and we left. On the walk back, I broached the subject. “There’s a whole other layer to this assignment and to our tasking here, and it may take a lot of ingenuity to survive this in one piece.”
Emma walked on for a while, as she mulled over my warning. “I figured as much, Alan. And I’m here as much for you as I am for myself and getting out from under their thumb.”
She reached over, gave my hand a squeeze and withdrew. We walked in silence back to our hotel. I dropped Emma off at her room; there was an awkward pause before she reached over and hugged me. “Pleasant dreams, Lewis. But, I’m sure that’s not a problem here.”
I wondered if Emma’s remark acted like a subconscious suggestion, because I did have a dream about Maria that night. Instead of the desert vistas of some of my earlier dreams, this one was set in an underground cave, a
t the juncture of two rivers flowing in different directions. On the wall of the cave were ancient Native America pictographs, and Maria was drawing new ones that looked very similar in design, if not in intent. The one I was fixated on was of a turtle swimming with its head tucked inside, but its feet frantically doing strokes to keep itself afloat. Maria turned to me; she was dressed in Native shaman attire, with a wolf skin over her shoulders and its head atop hers.
“Lewis. You can’t find your way unless you stick your head out.”
“Figuratively?” I asked.
But she only smiled and turned back to her cave drawings.
When I woke up in the morning, that phrase was on the tip of my tongue. Did I need to stick my head out, and would it be cut off if I did?
33.
The following Sunday morning was the Institute’s next healing ceremony. This was the first Sunday gathering I could remember, and I speculated about this switch. There also seemed to be more people in attendance than at the usual midweek services I had attended. I wondered if the Sunday setting didn’t bring out more closet Christians. I was also as interested in Emma’s reaction to the service, as I was to Maria’s presence and the energy that seemed to emanate from her. Or maybe I was just more attuned after my own healing. Emma listened intently to the introduction, took careful note of Maria’s entrance, and watched the procession of people and their sometimes dramatic reactions to their healings with interest—especially those who fainted and had to be escorted to their seats. We had a good angle—I did pick the seats for that reason—for her to watch several people’s facial reaction as they shuffled back to their seats. Most appeared, at least to me, to be genuinely affected. For myself I seemed to be able to draw on her energy from a distance and it felt like receiving another healing to me, if not as intense.
Afterward, and another switch from her previous services, Maria stood up and walked down the center aisle with people following after her, then she stood outside and greeted people. Again, this was reminiscent of a priest, at a Catholic Church service, from her childhood. Today she was wearing a white gown with a turquoise sash. While we had sat midway down the row of chairs, I held Emma back and indicated we should let the others file out first, which would allow us more time with Maria. I now wondered if this was her plan from the start for this Sunday service.
“Lewis, it’s nice to see you again. June said you were back.”
“Maria, this is my new research assistant Emma Forbes.” They shook hands and had good eye contact. Emma was not one to back down from any face-off.
“Emma, I hope your stay here will be … fruitful.” Maria turned to me. “And Brenda’s … allergies were acting up?”
I stared at Maria and held her gaze for a long moment. “Oh, it’s not that entirely? Is it something we should discuss? I do hope it wasn’t a reaction to her … healing, since you did leave town the next day.”
There was a long pause. Emma broke the silence. “Lewis, I do need to hit the books to get up to speed for tomorrow’s meeting with you.” She stepped back. “I mean, if you two want to … discuss something in private.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you dear,” Maria added. “I am interested, and now’s as good a time as any to hear what happened.”
I turned to Emma. “So you can find your way back?” I asked.
Emma raised her eyebrows. “Lewis, it’s not Chicago.”
As she traipsed off down the street, Maria gave her a long, steady look. “I like that woman, Lewis. Very genuine.” She turned and I followed her back into the church, through the vestry, to the Institute’s building and then on to her private quarters. Interestingly enough, we didn’t talk the whole way, and it was hard to gauge Maria’s … feeling tone, as they say here.
After I sat down on the sofa across from her chair, she stared back at me. “Would you like some tea? I don’t have any coffee, but maybe some green tea will do the trick.”
“Thank you. That would be fine.”
She called out and her housekeeper stepped into the living room. Maria asked her to bring us green tea. Maria sat down, closed her eyes, and centered herself, I guess you would say. When she opened her eyes, she was definitely in a perceptive mode. “So, Lewis, tell me about Brenda and her … reaction.”
I’d known this inquiry was coming and had prepared my little speech, but Fria’s energy always seemed to undermine any deceit on my part, and I couldn’t give her my operational spin on the situation. I looked away for a moment before turning back and speaking. “Well, she had a very restless night, and when she woke up the next morning around 4:00 a.m., she was in an absolute panic. Seemed to be overwhelmed by repressed feelings and couldn’t string two sentences together at a time. We packed, drove to Phoenix, and took a plane to Chicago where she was admitted to the hospital. They replaced her neural processor, and she still hasn’t recovered completely.”
Maria sat with his explanation for a long moment. Her housekeeper stepped forward during this pause, served our tea, and then withdrew. “That’s some story, Lewis.” Her tone was rather neutral, but I wondered if she doubted me. “I mean, we have had reactions to healings, but this is pretty drastic,” she said.
“Well, I’m sure it’s a lifetime of repressed feelings coming forward.”
“But, that’s the point, the energy compensates, or it usually does, as I believe I’ve told you. And since it’s in tune with one’s totality, it shouldn’t adjust her to the point that something like this would occur.”
Maria appeared very concerned; given my own orientation, I figured she felt threatened for her ministry. “So this has never happened before?” I asked.
She took a long sip of her tea and looked across the table at me. She was definitely monitoring my energy field, and I tried to calm down any heightened emotional response. She smiled. “I like how you do that, Lewis. Pull in your emotions. Very advanced. With some training, you could …” She stopped herself, spread out the creases in her skirt to buy time. “To answer your question, I have seen this kind of drastic reaction before, but I’m not sure you want to hear this.”
I was taken aback by her warning. “Well, I most certainly do.”
“While I’m not a national figure per se, my healing practice and the healers I’ve trained and sent out into the world have created some notoriety for me. This has in turn attracted certain … interest by the government, and on two occasions they’ve tried to infiltrate my organization, and one of their agents had a similar reaction to his healing. I later attributed it to a neural processor with … certain insidious features that wouldn’t allow alignment.”
“And it didn’t … compensate?”
“Again the person needs to want it, and having such a processor indicates otherwise. We don’t force-feed the energy, Lewis,” she said.
“So, what usually happens?” I asked.
“Well, sometimes the person’s unconscious opens the floodgates of repressed feelings, in hopes they can free themselves of the outside influence.”
Talk about a panic attack. I could barely get this. “So it’s not you or the energy, but them?”
Maria nodded her head. “So, does this indicate that Brenda was a government operative and attached herself to you, and guided you here as some kind of cover?” she asked.
Maria and I stared at each other for a long moment. If she had gotten this right, I wondered if she suspected me as well, and if this was my opening to confess and either start the double agent protocol, or grab the brass ring, as it were.
“Insidious features … like what?” I asked.
Again that long, piercing look, and a somewhat disappointed one I suspected. “Behavior modification, or that capability, which the person may not even know they’ve been subject to and could be a victim, or someone who needs the … reinforcement.”
“Wow. That’s really disturbing. I know my work’s been … rebellious, to say the least, but not subversive and that the government would set me up to set you up is
… well, unbelievable.” I paused, gauging her reaction. “I mean, that they would go to this much trouble.”
Maria stood up. “What’s the saying—kill two birds with one stone?”
I was being dismissed, and happy to flee this testy situation. “I need to go back and think through my contact with Brenda, if that was even her name, from the beginning and see if you’re right.” She walked me to the backdoor. “If you are right, I’m sorry to have brought this to your doorstep.”
She gave me a kind look, but no hugs today. “We’re kindred spirits, Lewis. I’m sure we can work this out, and either way our contact has put you on another path that should contribute greatly to your work.”
I looked back at her, in great conflict over my own deception. “I’m more concerned about its effect on you, Maria.”
She gave me another piercing look. “I’m protected in ways you can’t even imagine, Lewis.” She opened the door. “Be well.”
Chapter Twelve
34.
I headed back to the Sliding Sands, but then made a detour to one of the overlooks. I was discombobulated by my talk with Maria and needed to settle down. There was a bench there with a green UV-ray cover for daytime viewing. I sat there and stared out at the desert at noon, with the sun’s rays beating down on it. After a while it seemed to stop my interior dialogue, as I melted into the surroundings. The earth’s energy was palpable, and for the first time I sensed its correlation with Maria’s energy and her healings and wondered if this wasn’t the true source of her power. I did notice that nobody in her group sat cross-legged like yogis, and I assumed that this was to help draw energy not only from the cosmos but through one’s feet from the earth herself. As I sat there, I could feel this energy rising within myself but only so far. This was interesting, and I wondered what would happen with an even more intense exposure.