Moffat's Secret

by J. C. Williams

  Chapter 101

  Archer pulled himself up the last few yards of the cliff using the rope from Jonathan. Chad was glad Jonathan suggested it. The two vertical climbs were a good fit for his experience level. All in all, it required his focus and his strength for three hours. No thoughts of quests, of life, of pursuers, nor of killers. No thoughts of Sandy, either.

  Chad collected his shoes, chalk, ropes, carabiners, and helmet. He stuffed them all into a duffle bag lying at the point where Jonathan anchored the rope.

  “Hello,” Chad called out.

  “Over here,” Jonathan yelled back.

  Chad spotted an arm waving from the other side of a pine tree giving shade from the mid-morning sun. He walked over to where his friend rested. Chad stretched his cramped muscles.

  “Hungry?” Jonathan asked.

  “Starving,” Chad admitted.

  They ate the lunch Jonathan packed – blue corn tamales, some type of raw squash, and small bits of frybread, a Hopi tradition of flat, deep-fried bread topped with honey. Chad washed it down with two bottles of water.

  “Peaceful here,” Chad said. They had a view of surrounding hills, tall pines, and barren desert scrubs. Red sandstone walls like the ones he just climbed dotted the hills.

  “Yes it is. I could stay awhile.”

  “I was thinking about my quest, Ahote.” Chad noticed he often used one or the other of his friend’s names. He wondered if there was a reason why one popped in his head. Was it the subject?

  “I have, too,” Ahote said.

  “What were you thinking?” Chad asked.

  “The Hopi have a strong tradition of tablets being shared by their gods with the people as a promise of a return. If a visitor, like a Maya, explained there was a sacred tablet from his god that needed protection, it is very likely the Hopi would do that for them.”

  “Would they look at the tablets or ask the story?”

  “Perhaps. We are a polite people that believe the purpose of life is to live a good life. Most likely we would not ask or pry. Though, we might encourage a visitor to unburden themselves, emotionally as well as physically.”

  Chad kidded his friend, “If any story your tribe shares may only be a half story, or totally made up for the sake of the listener, why would they bother to ask for a story.”

  “You must be from the Boston Hopis” Jonathan laughed. “You are beginning to think like us.”

  “Are there sacred sites where such a treasure may be hidden?”

  “Good question. There are many possibilities in the southwest. Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, Arizona. Once, these were all our lands to roam. The Hopi creation story is that they were the good people. They were led from the Third World into the Fourth World. This world. Historians believe we are descended from the Anasazi, the ancient ones, who inhabited these four corner states from 200 to 1300 CE. They disappeared. They were nomadic. Like the Hopi. The Hopi did not have large cities like you may have seen in Maya Mexico. They lived and hunted and travelled together in small groups. If the groups became too large or fought too much, they broke off and formed more groups. Our travels, our history, and our inheritance over the centuries have named many places as sacred sites. Places like the Superstition Mountains by Phoenix or Chaco Canyon in New Mexico. Those are large sites. There are also caves, mesas, rock formations that are thought to be gates to hell or ascension points to heavens.”

  Chad interjected, “I didn’t realize there was such a concept of afterlife for Native Americans.”

  “It varies by tribe. For the Hopi it is Masaw. Skeleton Man. The Lord of the Dead. He will take care of a Hopi in the afterlife.”

  “Do Hopi believe in visitors from other planets?”

  Jonathan laughed.

  “What is so funny?”

  “You and Doc worked on a sacred site that was said to be a gateway to the stars. A place where the visitors would leave this world to return to theirs.”

  “Really? The caves? I didn’t know.”

  “Did you see any drawings of a man sitting in a position like in a rocket ship?”

  “Rocking Man!” Chad exclaimed. “We saw one where the man was standing, then sitting, then he stood again. We thought of a rocking chair.”

  “That sounds like it. That inner cave had been sealed for centuries. It was mentioned in our stories, but any visit to that cave, to search, always came to a dead end in the outer room. Did you see the funnel? The story is that there is a funnel to the heavens.”

  “No we did not see that. There was a high ceiling where we were working. You know, though, when Doc was out of it, in pain and on a morphine shot, he said he saw stars.”

  “It was open above you to outside?” Jonathan asked.

  “No. It was sealed well. That was the problem for us. No air.”

  “Do you realize right now we are almost over the cave where you were digging?”

  “Cool. Think we could find the spot? Take a look?”

  “I think I can find it.”

  Jonathan stood and closed his eyes. He raised his two arms in front of him. Slowly he started a low chant. He turned in circles and then he stopped.

  Opening his eyes, he said, “It is this way.”

  “Wow. Jonathan. I did not know you had such powers. Did you feel the pull of the sacred site or were you guided by a spirit?”

  “Something like that,” he said solemnly.

  They walked across the mountain, amidst the pines for about thirty minutes.

  “It should be about here,” he said.

  “I am so impressed,” Chad said.

  “We’ll check,” Jonathan said, reaching into a pouch slung over his shoulder.

  Chad was excited again. “What’s in there? A powder to blow in to the wind? Pebbles to cast on the ground and read?”

  Jonathan gave Archer a long solemn look and broke into a smile.

  “A GPS.”

  “What? A GPS. You old fraud. You had me thinking you were this great Indian shaman, tracker, or whatever.”

  Jonathan laughed even harder.

  “Last night I thought about this place, being atop your excavation. I thought you might like to see it from up here. I had the coordinates from when I helped you and Doc locate it four years ago.”

  “Shameless. I think if I meet some elders in your tribe, I will ask them to rename you the Shameless One instead of the Restless One.”

  “You do that. We’ll name you Gullible One. It’s a little more over this way,” Jonathan said, reading the GPS.

  When they found the spot, they poked around. There was a raised area about five or six feet across. Jonathan dug into it.

  “I think this is it.” Jonathan said.

  There was a soil layer with grass and plants growing from it. Under that, were layers of very old decayed tree branches. Digging a little deeper they found animal hair.

  “Looks well sealed,” Chad said.

  “Yes it does. It appears to be of a construction I have seen before. We would layer branches, large and small, then animal hides. More branches and a mud pack making a strong seal. Several layers like that and then we top it with a lot of dirt. As the hides decay, the packed branches and soil settle making a watertight seal.”

  “Interesting. I have an invitation to help on this dig. I may come back later this summer and suggest that it be opened up and covered to prevent disturbance below. How wide do you think the hole itself would be?”

  “Three feet. So a man could be transported through to the stars.”

  Chad started to smile, but realized Jonathan was dead serious.

  Chapter 102

  Archer’s call was sent to voice messaging.

  “Hi, Sandy. This is Chad. I hoped to catch you this morning. My morning. Gosh, it must be four or five your time. Anyway. I called last night, but it was late. I didn’t think. Sorry. Didn’t leave a message. Anyway, I’m off into no-cell coverage for a couple days. Catch you up when I get home. Bye.”

  Did I have a t
one, he wondered. How do I resolve this? Just ask her? He was left with his dark thoughts, the shadow as Jonathan called it, for the three-hour ride to the Hopi reservation. He hoped Jonathan had some topics for the drive to put thoughts of Sandy out of his head. Sandy. Once again he couldn’t reach her. Maybe she was in a car ten miles behind them? A wolf in Chevy clothing.

  -----

  “He was climbing, Professor. I watched him through binoculars. I thought he did quite well. His Indian friend, I think, was at the top. I saw them drive back together. I’m tracking him now by the GPS on the rental. It was good you were able to get that for me.”

  “Any leads for where he went in Dallas?” the Professor asked.

  “No. He either had a car waiting or took a taxi. I don’t know where he went.”

  “Okay, Lupa. Thank you.”

  Lupa hung up. She thought that Dallas was important. That Dallas was maybe where his employer resided. She had waited for him by the car rentals. She already had her car. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to follow him. It turned out to be the wrong choice since he didn’t rent a car. That left her in the dark.

  All she had so far was a picture of a man called Boyer. That and phone calls to a secure phone, probably used by Boyer. The Guardians were no closer to finding the financier for Archer than they were with Dr. Clark.

  She thought again of the image in her field glasses this morning of Archer at the top of his climb. He had taken off his shirt and poured a bottle of water over his head. His taut and muscular body glistened in the morning sun. It was not her first look, on this assignment, at Archer without clothes. But yesterday, well yesterday, the tall redhead looked like a Norse god standing at the helm of a ship rolling on the ocean waves. It was probably somewhere in his DNA.

  She scolded herself. She never had been distracted in the past. She was not about to be now.

  -----

  Chad gathered what he needed for the drive to the reservation. He would leave his laptop. Nothing secret on it anymore. He should lock up his new iPad, bought on credit, on-line, with one of his four new credit cards. He had created two student identities. Credit card companies were always on the prowl for the new students with their new freedom from home. He used the iPad for a new email account and Internet access.

  Maybe the journal should be locked up as well. The safe? Probably not secure from those people following him.

  Where else? Mattress? Under the bed? Behind the dresser? Top of the closet? Too easy. He stared up as we all do looking for some divine intervention. In this case it worked. He saw an AC vent high on the wall. It looked big enough for his iPad and journal. To create deception, he would put his laptop and Doc’s notebooks in the safe.

  Just need a screwdriver he thought. Then it hit him. In Doc’s personal effects was a pocketknife, a Swiss Army utility type, with, of course, a screwdriver. Chad knew you can’t carry that on a plane, it would have to be checked, and Doc didn’t like to check luggage. That meant he bought it in England. Why?

  The answer of course, Chad smiled, was to hide something, in his room, in a vent – a place Chad never checked in Doc’s room. Would it still be there? He needed to go back to York and Doc’s room. Chad hurried down to the breakfast layout and found a plastic knife. Should work.

  All squared away, knife in his pocket, Chad left his room twenty minutes later to pick up Jonathan.

  Chapter 103

  “The sign said the Navajo reservation, not Hopi” Archer commented.

  “The Hopi res is about an hour inside the Navajo.”

  “I bet that has some issues,” Chad commented.

  “Always has been an issue. The Navajo came here through the Back Door centuries after the Hopi came into the Fourth World. They tried to take what was ours back then, so, it was no surprise centuries later they tried again. That was after we had been assigned and restricted to a reservation by the white man’s government. We finally pressured the government to give back most of what the Navajo stole.”

  “The map shows this area, the Navajo reservation, as very large, extending over into New Mexico.”

  “Into Utah as well. Twenty-five thousand square miles the Navajo hold. Compare that to what we have, twenty-five hundred. They have ten times what we do. There are nearly ten thousand Hopi.”

  “How many Navajo?”

  “Three hundred thousand.”

  Chad was quiet for a few miles. He did the math. There were more Navajo per square mile. Then he asked, “What does the size of this Navajo reservation equate to? As big as some states?”

  Jonathan was ready with an answer. “I heard it is bigger than ten of the states. Three times the size of Massachusetts. I looked that up last night. You will try to tell me there is much more land per person on the reservation than there is in Massachusetts.”

  Chad looked at the arid scrabble desert they drove through.

  “Not the best of land though, is it?”

  “There are several beautiful places. It is not all like this. Remember, though, that much of this area had been home to us for many centuries. It could be worse if we were moved like the Cherokee. You’ll see when we get to the three mesas.”

  “Tell me about the mesas.”

  “There are twelve villages on the three mesas. All but one has electrical power. There is one central high school for all Hopi. The villages are very independent, yet also very much together as one tribe. We fight with each other about little things, but stand together with one voice on major things.”

  “Do they have trouble getting food and other things out here? It does not appear there will be a local Walmart.”

  “They can get all the items that they need, but they don’t often have enough money for the extras. That is what I bring to them. A third of our households are below the poverty level for a home of four. Thirty percent of our homes are on food stamps. There is change coming. We are young. Thirty-one percent of Hopi are under eighteen, much higher than in the white population. So education is a primary focus.”

  “How do you know all these statistics, Jonathan?”

  “I am a member of several committees. I may be a restless spirit, but my tribe is important to me. Our future is important to me. I think we have the most forward thinking and action-oriented tribe in the Indian nations. Our small size enables us to hear everyone’s voice and communicate easily.”

  “Good for you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “If you are sincere, just take an interest in what we do. Critique and encourage. We need both. We have nearly arrived.”

  Chad saw the mesas rising hundreds of feet from the desert floor like large, wide, flattened chimneys.

  When they arrived at the one called the Second Mesa, Chad helped Jonathan to unload boxes and bags. Then they made stops at the First and Third as well.

  Jonathan had lined up a storyteller to talk to Chad at each of the Mesas. Each was an elder, a keeper of oral traditions at the Mesa. Jonathan interpreted. He suggested that Chad ask about their creation stories.

  All three said the Hopi came to this land, the Fourth World, led by the Spider Woman or Spider Grandmother. Mother Earth, Mother Corn, or another female deity created many of the important parts of their world. The Hopi society is oriented through the mother. Children belong to the clan of the mother, not the father. The first elder that Chad spoke with was a woman. The second was a male, and the third was another female, the oldest of three.

  Their creation stories led to the tales of the sacred tablets given by various deities to different clans. The elders were understandably reticent and evasive when asked who held the tablets now. Chad respected this and didn’t press. He asked whether the Hopi would keep sacred tablets for any other tribes. The first elder said it might happen. The second one said no. Chad couldn’t read the truth or lies in their impassive expressions.

  Late in the afternoon at the last stop, the Second Mesa, the third elder was the most talkative. When asked about guarding or hiding tablets
for other tribes she said that if the tablets were from the sky people they would be safeguarded.

  This was the first Chad heard about sky people.

  “Tell me more about the sky people?” he asked.

  Jonathan interpreted, “They created the Four Worlds and assigned Spider Woman to lead us here. They visit and help us. They taught us how to grow corn. They told us where to live and when to move to another area. The Hopi and the kachina, the sky people, wandered the world. For a while we lived in an area south of our current lands. The sky people picked these mesas for us. Finally, they left and now live in the mountains.” She pointed to the west. Chad thought of the similarities to the stories of the Guardians at Stonehenge and the sky people.

  Jonathan added some explanation. “One legend is that the area south of here, that she mentioned is Casa Grande, near Tucson. The mountains where she pointed to, the residence of the sky people, are near Flagstaff. The white man named them the San Francisco Peaks. Missionaries had founded a mission in a Hopi village near the mountains and named the mission of St. Francis.”

  Chad asked, looking toward the mountains, “The kachinas live there? Is there more than one kachina?”

  The woman understood English, though she preferred to tell the stories in her own language.

  “Many kachinas.” She waved her arm around the room where they spoke. It was a communal hall - one where they entertained or restricted the tourists to keep them from overrunning their village and intruding on their homes. There were pictures and carvings and stuffed dolls, all representing kachina. She pointed at them, “Sky people.”

  Chad looked at the Kachina and admitted many of the masks or faces had big eyes and a large narrow head. They could bear a resemblance to the greys that are often the depiction of aliens.

  “Is there an importance to the three mesas that were picked for the Hopi?” Chad asked. It was not like they were lush with vegetation or any more fertile than other parts of the reservation.