Sedona Conspiracy. James C. Glass
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Army, scowled as Leon took a big bite out of his hamburger. “That thing you’re eating would stay in my stomach for a week.”
“Too much stress,” said Leon coldly, but smiled to make it a joke.
Davis uncapped his coffee, and took a cautious sip. “Price acknowledged my message. Pickup is at oh-five-hundred Monday.”
“Does it have to be so early? The party will run after midnight.”
“I don’t care about your party. I have a schedule to keep.”
“If it’ll make you happier, you could tell me who your corporate friends are, and I could send them an invitation. Nataly is the best hostess in town.”
“They contact me; I don’t contact them,” said Davis, “and all you are is hired help. Remember that.”
“As long as I’m well paid,” said Leon. He chewed thoughtfully while Davis took another sip of coffee, then, “So, when are you going to have something else for me?”
“Probably late next week. Our guests are preparing an instruction manual that covers the entire system. After the last test I told them we wouldn’t proceed without it.”
“Ah, so they really do know how that thing flies.”
“We’ll see. It could all be lies, and we’ll have to test everything, but a copy of the manual should be sent out right away. The usual way, from Phoenix, and if you send it to anyone except our clients I’ll know about it.”
“Of course,” said Leon, but thought, you just think you know things, asshole, but you don’t know jack-shit about what’s going on.
“Just reminding you,” said Davis, and then he softened, reached into his shirt pocket and took out a small envelope, folded in half. He handed it to Leon. The envelope felt soft, and bulky. “That’ll make you feel better. You’ll get the same in two weeks, and so on, as long as you do your job. Enjoy it. Buy a painting, or something.”
Leon pocketed the offering. “Give me some warning about delivery of the package.”
“Of course,” said Davis. “Well, gotta go. It’ll be a month before we can meet again like this. Check your P.O. box every day.”
Leon nodded. Davis got up and walked away behind Leon’s back.
Leon finished his cola leisurely, then went to his Humvee and drove directly to his bank to make a deposit.
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