It was Mary, the Navajo girl, who answered the door. "I'd like to see Eden Foster," he said.
She stepped back, her large dark eyes on his. "I will tell her," she said. "Won't you be seated?"
She drew back a chair, brushed some invisible spot of dust from the cushion, and whispered, "Be careful!"
He did not sit down but stood glancing around the room. All seemed to be the same except that one of his books was on the table, his book on a visit to a long-lost monastery in the Taliangshan Mountains, near Tibet.
He heard a low murmur of voices from the direction in which Mary had gone, and looked around again. There were two doors leading to other parts of the house, another door into the garden, and a fourth that went out to an empty lawn bordered by trees.
Looking again, he thought he glimpsed a shadow on the grass, as of someone near the lawn door. Crossing the room, he turned a chair ever so slightly so that it blocked that door. Now the chair must be moved before the door could be opened completely.
Eden Foster came into the room, suddenly and silently, but with a smile of greeting. "Mr. Raglan! How nice! I was hoping you would call."
Today she was wearing sea-green, and it suited her. Her necklace was turquoise and coral, as were her bracelets. "May I get you a drink?"
"Coffee will do. It's a bit early for a drink."
"Of course." She gestured to the table. "I have been reading your book. What a strange place it must have been! Is it true that even the Chinese know little about the area?"
"It is true, but I doubt if they would agree. The people are related to the Khamba of Tibet, but have managed to maintain a sort of independence in their mountains."
"You visit many strange places, is it not so?"
He smiled. "And I am prepared to visit others. It has become a way of life for me."
Her smile vanished, and she took a cigarette from the box on the table. Oddly, she was nervous. Was she wondering why he was here? Or had his suggestion that he was prepared to visit other strange places alarmed her?
She seated herself and he did likewise. Mary brought coffee and they talked of the weather. When Mary had gone he said, "In going to strange places it is always a help if one knows someone who has been there, or someone who lives there who can be of help. One avoids so many mistakes."
"I suppose that is true."
"You heard about my friend? The missing man?"
"Miss--? Oh, you mean Erik Hokart? Yes, I have heard of him. But then, everyone has. This is a small world, after all."
"I have been hoping he would be found before the government becomes involved. It would be much easier for everyone if he could be found, and found quickly. The government can be very persistent indeed."
"And you?"
"As I have said, he is a friend." Raglan tasted the coffee. "I shall begin my search on the mesa where he planned to build. In that kiva, in fact."
"A kiva? It is just a round room, is it not? Were they not places of ceremony? What can be mysterious about them now?"
Raglan smiled. "This one has a window. My dog has been through that window, and Erik tells me there was a woman, a very beautiful woman who came through that same window."
"He spoke with this woman?"
"She wanted him to come with her, and according to Erik, even her walk was an invitation. He did not trust her."
"And you? You do not like beautiful women?"
"On the contrary, I like them very much. But there are times and places."
"She might have taken him to a very nice place."
"I am sure that was her intention. It would not have been mine, at the moment."
"You must be very strong. Are you?" Her eyes were lovely. She put down her cup and, bending her knees, put her feet up on the sofa.
"I was thinking of Erik Hokart," he said quietly, "and all the trouble there will be if he is not found."
"It concerns you, doesn't it?"
"Very much." He looked across at her. "And it should concern you." He waved a hand about. "All this is very nice, an easy, comfortable way of living. It would be a pity if you lost it."
She was silent, and angry, he thought. Yet when she looked up, her eyes were innocent. "I do not expect to lose it, Mr. Raglan, now or ever. I have friends, very important friends who will not wish for me to be disturbed."
"And when their reputations are at stake? When they are suddenly exposed to investigation because of their relationship with a very beautiful young woman?"
"Our relationships, as you call it, have been--"
"I know they have, Eden. I know it very well. I believe you, but who else will? You must have read the newspapers enough to know that a man's political life hangs by a very delicate thread. Scandal can be destructive, and few wish to risk scandal."
He sat back in his chair, but alert for any sound. Was anyone listening? Or would they await her signal? He doubted she would permit listening, yet what if someone had the power to overrule her wishes?
"Eden, we had better talk, and seriously. I want Erik Hokart back safely. I believe you have the power to bring him back. If you do not have that power, you must do all you can to convince, those who do that Hokart must be freed, at once."
She rubbed out her cigarette and poured coffee from the pot. She looked at him, then looked quickly away. She was worried, that much was obvious.
"I do not see why--" she began.
"Stop it, Eden. You do know why. The night after my arrival from back east a man broke into my condo at Tamarron and carried off a book. It was not the book he thought it was. The last time I was here, with Gallagher, I saw that book here, on your table."
He put down his cup. "You have learned a great deal about how we live over here, but you have not learned enough. Nor do the men who come to help know enough, and they have blundered. For your own welfare, Eden, I suggest you intercede and get Erik back here."
"I cannot." Her eyes were bleak. "I have no power. I am told what must be done. I am not asked."
"You cannot speak to The Hand?"
Startled, she said, "Youknow ? About him?"
"I know, and I know about the Varanel. But do you know about the dissidents? The people who escaped to the mountains with He Who Had Magic?"
"That's nonsense! It is a legend!"
"I know otherwise. You know only so much as The Hand wishes you to know, the Hand and the Lords of Shibalba."
She stared at him. "How do you know so much? Nobody--"
"If you do not help me, Eden, I shall go over there and bring him back."
She laughed, but it was contemptuous laughter. "You? Do not be foolish! In minutes they would have you! You would not know where to go, what to do! Within minutes you would be a prisoner, and when they had what they wished from you, you would be dead!"
"Suppose you helped me?"
"I? You are insane!" Yet she looked quickly, nervously around, as if she feared someone might be listening.
He lowered his voice. "Think about it, but think fast, because if he is not returned here within forty-eight hours, I am going over, and when I go, I won't be making it easy for anybody."
He got up. "You are my only chance to do this quietly, peacefully. You've got forty-eight hours, and not a minute more. I want Erik Hokart back here and in good shape, or I go get him."
"You? Alone?"
"I'd better do it that way. The next thing they may be sending the Delta Squad or the Marines." He was just talking now, but she could not know that, or how important Erik might be. For that matter, Raglan didn't know, himself.
"They will kill you now."
"They can try. But you know that daybook? That record you tried to get back from me? It is in a safe place, far from here, and if anything happens to me, it goes right to the top. I can't take the chance of letting something like this exist without their knowing."
"They will believe you? They will think you're crazy!"
"Perhaps. A few years ago they would have been sure of it, but too much
has happened. We have put a man on the moon--"
"So you say. We do not believe it."
He shrugged. "Nevertheless, it is true, and our people are prepared to accept what would have been impossible a few years ago. The average man knows at least something about black holes, and our science fiction stories and films have introduced a lot of speculation and some understanding. And even your people used to study the stars."
She looked up at him. "Why do you say that? What do you know of our people? We cannot see stars. The heavens are misty. We do not see the moon or the sun."
"Nosun ?"
"Oh, it is there! But it is behind clouds or something--I do not know."
"There is no speculation?"
"Of course not. Why should there be? Our work is enough, and our families. Such speculation is idle, wasteful. We know everything we need to know."
"You believe that? After living here?" He paused, then very casually, he asked, "What of your history? Are there no records?"
"Why keep records? Oh, I believe there were, but they no longer exist. Besides, who would need them? Who needs to know what is past?"
"You have artisans? Men who work with wood and metals?"
"Of course."
"How do they know what to do when they take up a bit of wood or iron?"
"They know what to do. They learn from their fathers."
"That is history, Eden. The skills men acquire are a part of history. If they did not pass on their knowledge, their history, each workman would have to learn everything all over again. That is why we have history in books, so that we can profit from the experience of those who have gone before."
"And yet you make the same errors again and again!"
"Too true. The records are there but too few are willing to learn. For example there's a lot of talk now about using cocaine. It was quite a big thing before the turn of the century, then almost died out in the time of World War One, but now it is back, all the lessons learned in those earlier years forgotten. The people of the drug culture act as if they have made an original discovery, and instead are sending their lives down the same drain as others did years ago."
He was silent, then held out his cup for more coffee. She evidently knew nothing of the Hall of Archives, and probably very few did. Was that Hall in the Forbidden area? Was that how he could gain entry?
If she did not know of the Archives, how many did? Tazzoc had implied that he was left alone. No inquiries came; nobody used his records. If he had visitors at all, they were infrequent.
"You must help me, Eden, and help your people in so doing. If we can get Erik Hokart back, your world will be left to go on as it has. If not, I shall have to come after him."
She laughed bitterly. "You would be killed! You would have no chance!"
"If I go," he said quietly, "I will go armed and prepared for trouble. Even if they kill me, what I will do will change everything. If nothing else it will start people thinking, wondering, and once someone begins to think, there is no end to it. If one asks questions, one will want answers."
"We have weapons, too."
Of course they did, and he knew nothing about them. What of those the Varanel carried?
He needed to know so much more! So very much! He tasted his coffee, put down the cup. "You have lived among us," he said bluntly. "Do you wish to go back?"
"Do you think your world so superior, then?" She spoke with contempt. "Do you think I cannot leave it?"
"You can, of course, but do you want to? Our way of life is different, but you seem to find it not uncomfortable." He looked around, taking in the pleasant, casually easy living room. "I do not know your life. Is it better than this?"
She hesitated. "No, it is not. It is much worse. It is more ... more barren."
"You need not go back."
Her eyes met his and shifted quickly away. So she had been thinking of that?
"How could I live?" she wondered aloud. "What would I do?"
"Your income is from them?"
"Of course. Anyway, I could not. I am watched. Everybody is watched. We are not trusted. If they knew of what we talk I would be taken back. I would be killed."
"There is somebody who watches you?"
She shrugged. "Of course. I do not know who. I do not know how."
"Is your house bugged? You know the expression?"
"Of course. I read your newspapers."
"You must have income. You live well. How are you paid?"
"It is not like that. We are given gold, sometimes gems to sell. Nobody is paid, as you say it, except that those who work with me are given gold or money by me."
"And how do you get yours?"
"It is brought to me from over there."
"And you have no superior here? You said you were watched?"
She shrugged. "By someone, I do not know who. Sometimes messages come telling me to meet someone. I do not know how, but it is arranged. It was so I met the governor, several senators, and men in your army. Invitations came to me."
He stood up. "Remember: forty-eight hours. Erik must be returned or I go after him.
"Think about it, Eden. You have a chance. You could move away from here, go to Washington, to Paris, London! You could be far from anywhere they could reach you. Help me and I shall help you. You could find happiness here."
"I? I shall find happiness nowhere." Her tone was suddenly bitter. "There is no happiness for me. Long before I could think, my way was made for me." She looked at him suddenly, sharply. She was beautiful, really beautiful. "You have not guessed? I am a Poison Woman!"
Chapter XXIV
Mike Raglan drove away from the house of Eden Foster, watching his back trail. He did not like what he was learning nor want to believe it. The Indian people he had known were not like this, and he had known many in his younger years. What he had to realize was that these were not like any people he had known, and their reactions would be different.
Forty-eight hours! What scared him was that he had laid down an ultimatum for himself as well. If Eden Foster could not arrange Erik's release within that time, he now had promised to go in after him.
Tazzoc was the man he must see, but how to find him? He had believed the man would come to him, stirred by his scholar's curiosity, but Tazzoc had no way of finding him when he was away from the mesa. Hence, he must return, make himself available. Tazzoc could not only tell him about the Forbidden area but could also tell him how to come to him once he was inside.
No one, he remembered, was permitted to wander about within those precincts. Once inside, one had to go directly to one's destination. After that ...
He shivered. What the hell was he getting into, anyway? He loved this country. Being here again brought back all his old feelings for it. He knew exactly how Erik must feel.
He would live here himself, when he finally settled down. He loved this wide, beautiful land of desert, mountain, and canyon. In the old days, little time as he had spent here, he had made friends among both Navajo and Ute. An old Navajo medicine man had taught him about wild plants and their values as food or medicine. He had wandered the rough country with him, listened to his stories, and had developed a deep love for the country itself.
His thoughts suddenly returned to Volkmeer. Who would have dreamed that that tough old cowhand would become a wealthy man? It just proved one never knew. He was a tough old boy, and even in the days when Mike Raglan had known him, he owned a few head of cows wearing his own brand.
Well, that had been a start. He chuckled. What a fool he had been! He had believed he was enlisting the support of an old cowhand who would like to make an extra dollar helping a friend. And he was about to offer a deal for a few dollars to one of the wealthiest men in the state! Fortunately, he had not embarrassed himself by making his offer. Nevertheless, Volkmeer was the man he needed.
He returned to the motel, gathered together what he would need, and put it in the car. Then he drove down to the cafe and parked the car where he could see it.
Gallagher was not around, so he ate alone, watching the street and thinking. He would drive to the mesa, look around, and hope for a meeting with Tazzoc. He would wait most of forty-eight hours and then he would drive out to meet Eden Foster.
When he left his car at the closest point to the ruin and let Chief out for a run, he saw nothing of Volkmeer. He had been hoping the man would be there, just for company. It was still bright and clear, not a cloud in the sky when he reached the ruin.
Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. He went to the kiva and looked in. It was like any other he had seen--just a little better preserved, that was all. He shied from the window, but looked at it anyway.
Just a window, looking no different than any other. The trouble was, it was different!
He went back, picking up wood as he went, although there was little around. He broke some dead branches from a pifion, picked up a couple of pieces of cedar lying among the rocks at the mesa's edge. Seeing several good pieces farther down, he climbed down to get them, and when he looked up, Tazzoc was there.
"I wait for you," Tazzoc said. His tone was wistful. "We know so little. Our world is isolate. To the west is desert."
"It has been explored?"
"Oh, no! It is forbidden. What lies beyond we do not know. The Hand says we are all. There is no more. To ask questions is not good, but we see old ruins, and some of us wonder.
"It is spoken that we live today, and we live tomorrow. What is past is finished and we do not look back." He paused. "I am Keeper of Archives, once important. Now forgotten. I fear to speak or they might be destroyed." His voice lowered and he looked from one side to the other as if fearing to be overheard. "I am forgotten, too, but I wish toknow ! I study our Archives, and so many questions arise! There is no one to whom I can talk, I--"
"You can talk to me, but are there no others? None like yourself, who wish to know? And to remember?"
"No doubt there are but they fear to speak. The Hand has listeners everywhere."
He sat down on a slab of rock. "When I am gone there will be no other." He looked up at Raglan. "Always there has been a son, but I have no son. The doors will be closed, the Archives forgotten."
the Haunted Mesa (1987) Page 17
