Flight of the Serpent

by R. R. Irvine writing as Val Davis

  Odell grit his teeth. They were goading him, he knew, running a con on him. But knowing that didn’t help. Their love of their job was real enough. And he had no doubt whatsoever that if the Director gave the order, they’d use those guns on him.

  The helicopter pilot, dressed in a one-piece khaki flight suit, appeared in the chopper’s open doorway. He eyed their weapons, shook his head, and jerked a thumb toward the nose cannons. “Mine’s bigger than both of yours.”

  Unsmiling, Voss and Wiley holstered their guns, and disappeared into the chopper, sliding the door closed behind them.

  Christ, Odell thought, retreating out from under the whirling blades. Thank God his wife had left him and taken their son with her. Otherwise, he’d have to explain why he worked in a place like this.

  Chapter 13

  Gault insisted on walking Nick to her pickup. When he opened the door for her, she had to hold back a smile. Being out here so long, she’d forgotten how nice common courtesies could be.

  She took a long look at the man holding her door. In the past two days, he’d aged terribly. The strength she’d felt the first time she saw him had drained away.

  To hell with it, she thought, and hugged him tightly. There was a good chance she’d never see this man again.

  “I’d feel better if you got a night’s rest before flying to Phoenix,” she said.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I’d just lie there thinking about Matt being in the hands of strangers.”

  He hugged her back. The determination was still there in his eyes. No, it was more than determination. It burned too brightly for that.

  “I’ve just made a decision,” he said. “I’ll have Matt cremated. We can drop his ashes from the Lady-A as soon as I’ve got her ready to fly one last mission. A nostalgic flight of fancy.”

  “You said ’we.’”

  “You can fly with me anytime,” he said. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get my Liberator ready, but you’ll be welcome aboard. I mean that.”

  It seemed to her that the simple hug had changed into a mutual embrace. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “You said you were coming to Salt Lake for research at the Genealogy Library. When will that be?”

  “A week, maybe two,” she told him. “I’m going to have to pry my father away from Ophir first. That man has a one-track mind whenever he gets near a dig. Then there’s the helicopters we saw at the mesa. I might try to do something about them.”

  Startled, Gault stared at her. “What the hell do you mean? Those were gunships, for God’s sake. Don’t mess with them.”

  “I’m not going to shoot at them, but I am going to report them to our NTSB friend, Kohler. He all but called me a liar when I told him I heard a chopper in that canyon.”

  “Forget it. Kohler’s no different than any other bureaucrat. He’s afraid of making waves.”

  “Why do I have the feeling that you’d have taken on those choppers if you’d been flying something with guns?”

  Gault chuckled. “They pissed me off. I admit it. But you can’t go around killing people. Or taking unnecessary chances either. If you get yourself hurt, you won’t be able to fly with me and the Lady-A. So, do I have your promise to stay away from the top of that mesa and its black helicopters?”

  “Absolutely,” Nick said, smiling because she didn’t have to cross her fingers. It wasn’t the top of the mesa she had in mind at all, but what she’d seen at the bottom of it. Those men behind the wire still haunted her.

  She shook his hand and climbed into the kiln-hot truck.

  He smiled and handed her a badly creased business card. “Don’t lose my number.”

  “Never.”

  He started to say something more, then smiled, and headed for the terminal building. She started the engine and drove slowly away, watching him in the rearview mirror until the door closed behind him.

  Originally, she’d intended to spend the second half of the summer working on her paper about the Benson sisters and their pioneer life in a mining town. That had included a one-day side trip to the Genealogy Center.

  Now, she’d have to rearrange her schedule to fit in the Lady-A, because she wasn’t about to miss a chance to fly on a B-24 Liberator. Not only was the bomber a piece of history, it was a childhood fantasy come true. Night after night, she’d lay in her bed staring up at the models suspended from the bedroom ceiling. For years, a B-24 had hung directly above her head. How many times had she climbed into its cockpit and flown away? she wondered. A hundred times? A thousand?

  She whooped excitedly. The next time would be for real.

  First, though, there was Walt Kohler and his sidekick, Odell, to deal with. The thought of making them eat crow had her whistling all the way back to Ophir.

  But they were gone by the time she got there, along with all their gear and their guard-dog deputies. She found her father, Zeke Moyle, and Dobbs, the old prospector, sitting on the Emporium’s porch, drinking beer.

  “We saw your plane go over,” Elliot said as she joined them.

  “We saw them choppers too,” Dobbs added.

  Moyle snorted but didn’t say anything.

  “What about Kohler and Odell?” Nick said, snapping up Elliot’s beer. “What did they have to say when they saw them?”

  “They packed up and left,” Elliot answered. “A little too fast if you ask me.”

  Bastards, Nick thought. She’d wanted to confront them, to find out what the hell was happening out in the desert. She hoped Gault had been right, that it was a secret military base. But the nagging thought that it was some kind of detention facility wouldn’t go away.

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind about the Feds,” Moyle piped up. “They spent good money while they were here, so they’re welcome back anytime. Hell, they’re the last people I’m likely to see now that your students are gone, Missy.”

  “I’ll pay for another round of beers if you stop calling me that,” Nick snapped back.

  Moyle’s eyes lit up like a neon sign as he hustled inside to fill the order. Dobbs trailed behind him.

  “Well, Nick,” Elliot said the moment they were alone, “has Gault gone home?”

  “It’s only temporary. He’s invited me to fly in his B-24.”

  Elliot shook his head in disbelief. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that isn’t a fifty-year-old World War Two bomber you’re talking about.”

  “You know damn well it is.”

  “Your mother was right. I should never have bought you that first model airplane.”

  Those models saved me, Nick started to say, then settled for a shake of her head. Now was not the time to rake up memories. Besides, flying in a B-24 might well be child’s play compared to what else she had in mind. Chances were she was being foolish, that a trip into the desert at night wouldn’t prove a thing. But then again, it might.

  Nick waited for her father to fall asleep before making her move. A note explaining her intentions had already been pinned to her sleeping bag. With luck, she’d be back long before morning, so Elliot would never have to read it.

  She’d left her truck parked outside the Emporium, so no one would hear her leaving. Even so, she drove as quietly as possible with the headlights off until she was well away from Ophir.

  ******

  By the time Nick swung onto the dirt road heading toward the mesa, the moon was low. From that point on, she kept the pickup in first gear, raising as little dust as possible, and watching the odometer closely. The only way she could follow the ruts without using the headlights was to drive with the door open, watching the ground beside the truck instead of where she was going.

  She stopped a mile short of where she and Gault had encountered the humvee, then turned the truck around so it was aiming back toward Ophir in case a quick retreat became necessary. After that, she waited in the cab to see if her arrival would provoke some kind of response.

  Finally, she climbed out of the truck, slung two canteens over her shoulder,
and grabbed her flashlight. The sinking moon was casting just enough light to make the road stand out from the surrounding desert.

  Taking a deep breath, Nick started down the road toward the mesa, which was cutting a black hole in the star-filled night. For a while each step was a thrill. Maybe there were sensors planted in the road, or worse yet, mines. But that didn’t make any sense. Deer or range cattle, if there were any, would be constantly creating false alarms.

  Even so, the farther she went, the more spooked she became. Traveling at night was accepted procedure in desert trekking she reminded herself. She was also carrying water—rule of survival number one—plus a compass and a Swiss Army knife. Of course, none of those would be much use if she ran into the soldiers again.

  Relying on her memory and distances judged from her one fly-over in the Cessna, Nick estimated her walking time to the foot of the mesa at a little over an hour. At the fifty-minute mark, she heard a dog barking. Or was it a coyote? Whatever it was, it sounded close by.

  She stopped dead in her tracks. If there were humvees and armed soldiers, chances were there’d be guard dogs too.

  His bark gave way to a howl. Nick sighed with relief. Guard dogs stalked silently. At least, she hoped they did.

  Five minutes later, she saw a dim light in the distance and headed for it. After another minute, it took shape and became a shaded window. The barracks building had to be directly ahead, and so was the chain-link security fence she’d seen from the air.

  She was starting to edge forward when a light flared not more than fifty feet away. It disappeared in an instant, as if someone were striking a match. Keeping low, she homed in on it, her eyes searching frantically for the glow of a cigarette. If it was a soldier she was heading for, God help her.

  She fought to breathe slowly, quietly. Finally, her lungs rebelled, and she had to take a deep breath. It brought with it the smell of tobacco.

  She squatted, searching for the telltale cigarette. When she saw it, it looked close enough to touch.

  “I heard you coming,” a man said softly.

  Nick held her breath.

  “My dog heard you, too.”

  Nick stayed silent.

  “You cannot be a guard,” the man said. “You would make more noise.”

  He lit another match, shielding it with his hand. In the glow, she could make out the chain-link a foot away. On the other side of it, his face lit up, stood an old man. Even in the flickering light, his face showed a lifetime of outside work that had weathered his dark Indian skin until it stretched over his bones like shrink-wrap.

  Cupping his hands, he held the flame out toward her.

  For an instant, Nick hesitated, then decided she was committed. She moved close enough to the fence for him to see her.

  “Dear God,” he said, closing his hands to extinguish the light. “You’re a woman. Please, for your life, leave before the soldiers come.”

  “Do they come often?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m surprised they let you out here by yourself.”

  “The doors are not locked, senorita. There is no escape. Some have tried, but all have failed. Besides, the desert is vast and I’m an old man.”

  Nick took a deep breath. It was unnerving talking to a stranger in the dark, but she wasn’t about to walk away yet. “I flew over here today,” she said quietly. “Did you see my plane?”

  “Yes,” he whispered back.

  “There was another plane two days ago. Did you see that one?”

  “Yes, senorita, I did. But you must go. It is not safe here.”

  “That plane crashed.”

  “If you say so, senorita”

  The ambiguity of his answer sent Nick’s heart hammering. She didn’t know if he was afraid to contradict her or afraid to admit to anything.

  “What do you say?” she continued.

  “I know nothing.” The old man paused. “Others might say differently.”

  “What others?” she persisted.

  “One hears things. The guards sometimes talk loudly. Sometimes they forget I speak English. They think we are all stupid here.”

  “And the guards, they know about the plane?”

  “Perhaps it did crash, but they did not think so.”

  “Please tell me, what did they think?” Nick wished she could reach through the fence and shake the answers from him.

  “They were very amused. They thought it was a good joke that the plane should have come here.”

  “Did you see the pilot?” she asked.

  “You’re the only one I’ve seen.”

  Nick sighed. Even if Gault had managed to land out here and talk to the old man, it would have been for nothing. The old man knew nothing about Gault’s grandson.

  Suddenly Nick realized she hadn’t asked the obvious question. “Who are you and what are you doing out here?”

  “My name is Luis Sanchez. They keep me here because I am the only one who speaks enough English. The others know only Spanish.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “We wait and then we are summoned. Those who are, never come back.”

  Nick shivered. “Where do you come from?”

  “From the other side of the border. We come without permission. In my country I was a teacher. I came to this country for sanctuary.” His laugh was like a cough in the night.

  Hairs rose on the back of Nick’s neck. The old man’s tale sounded like some ghost story made up to scare children. But she believed him. The sadness, the sound of inevitability in his voice was all the corroboration she needed.

  “Do you know what happens on the mesa?”

  “The black helicopters go there. The black ones carry many things, people, great boxes. Maybe even the plane you asked about, but I am not certain. My eyes are not that good anymore.”

  A door opened, spilling light from the barracks.

  “Go, senorita.”

  “What about you?”

  “There is no help for me. Now go. Run before they catch you.”

  Nick knew better than to run in the desert, even at night. But that didn’t stop her. The old man’s tone of voice had unleashed her childhood demons, and they didn’t go away until she was back in her truck, racing toward Ophir.

  Chapter 14

  Nick stood in front of the Emporium, staring at the over-hanging cliff and its abandoned mine shafts, trying to focus on John Gault’s invitation to go aboard his B-24. An honest-to-God guided tour would be a first for her. Up to now she’d never been inside a Liberator that wasn’t in pieces. But thoughts of Luis Sanchez kept getting in the way. What the hell was going on out there in the desert? Could it possibly be some kind of INS holding area for illegal aliens? If so, why the secrecy? And why the helicopter flights to the mesa?

  Nick shook her head in frustration.

  Beside her, Elliot whistled shrilly. “I’d offer you a penny for your thoughts, but the dazed look on your face tells me everything I need to know. You’re up there in the sky in one of your airplanes, probably that B-24.”

  “I was thinking about helicopters.”

  “They’re not safe either.”

  “You’re forgetting that my last B-24 got me on the cover of National Geographic.”

  “It could have been worse,” Elliot responded with a grin. “It could have been the Enquirer. My advice to you, daughter, is to concentrate on the work at hand. That last trench I started may have more treasures just waiting to be uncovered.”

  “Gault’s going to rebuild his plane for one last flight. He says it will be as good as new.”

  “When you’re my age you’ll know nothing’s ever as good as new.”

  Nick punched him playfully.

  “All right. How does this sound?” he said, calling a truce. “We’ll work my new trench for all it’s worth, then I’ll go with you to see that plane.”

  She hugged him. “You won’t be sorry. Going on board that Liberator will be like
visiting history, like stepping into an undiscovered Anasazi cliff dwelling. It’s a chance of a lifetime.”

  “Maybe,” Elliot said. “Let’s get a cold drink before we go to work on your trench.”

  Zeke Moyle must have seen them coming, because when they stepped inside the dim Emporium, he had open beer cans waiting on the counter next to the cash register.

  “Now that your students are gone, I propose a farewell toast,” he said. “That includes you, too, Dobbs,” he told the old prospector, who was killing time pretending to examine the dry goods.

  The beer was ice cold, which meant it came out of Ophir’s one and only refrigerator.

  “I was just telling my daughter that this site needs further exploration,” Elliot said.

  “I hear you’re an expert on Indians,” Moyle said.

  Elliot raised his beer-free hand, a gesture of modest agreement.

  Dobbs gave up on his beer long enough to say, “What about those old Indian ruins out in Sulphur Canyon?”

  Elliot looked inquiringly in Nick’s direction.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I forgot to tell you about it. I was out there looking for the site when the plane crashed. At the time, I half-suspected that Zeke was putting me on about it.”

  “They’re out there, all right,” Dobbs said. “Me and Zeke used it for target practice a couple of times.”

  Elliot shuddered. “What kind of Indians?”

  Moyle and Dobbs shrugged in unison.

  “Where is it exactly?” Elliot asked.

  “Like I told Nick here, there’s a cave with some ruins in it about a mile inside Sulphur Canyon. My canyon, by the way. On my land.”

  “We have a contract to work the entire area,” Nick reminded him.

  “Which expires today, in case you’ve forgotten. After that . . .” He smiled and made a slashing motion across his throat.

  “I’d think you’d be happy to have our company, not to mention our business,” Elliot said.

  “When I signed up with the university, I thought you people were going to make my town famous.”

  Nick sighed. “He was hoping we’d find notorious outlaws buried in boot hill,” she explained to her father.