Sedona Conspiracy

by James C. Glass

  “If you’ve read the books, you’ve seen the photographs.”

  “Could be fakes, or real phenomena, I don’t know, but it’s all become mixed up with new-age commercialism.”

  “Including auras, and crystal resonances?” Nataly said softly.

  Eric suddenly realized he was treading on dangerous ground. “More phenomena that could be real or faked. I’ve heard of respectable scientists who claim to have seen auras, but I’ve never held a crystal in my hand and felt anything other than rock. I know crystals can have vibrational resonances; we used to use them in radios. It’s the idea of resonances tuned to a person that I find hard to believe. I’d have to have physical proof to be convinced.”

  “I’ll take that as a challenge,” said Nataly, and her eyes sparkled with delight. “You’ve just told me some things I can use to entertain you after dinner. Would you like another beer?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, then, “I’m curious about your house. It must be custom built.”

  That was good for ten minutes of conversation without Eric having to think of anything clever to say. It was also informative. Nataly’s father had not been some rich industrialist. He’d arrived in Sedona in the forties, a kid with a few dollars in his pocket. He’d worked for a grower for several years, living a Spartan existence, bought land and become a grower himself. By the time he met Nataly’s mother Maria he had a hundred acres of fruit trees and grapes, and had purchased the property overlooking Cathedral Rocks. Maria was part German, part Havasupai. She was barely out of high school and working in a grocery store when her itinerant family moved on without her. For Nataly’s father Donald it had been love at first sight. For Maria it had been survival first, then love. They were married after a courtship of three months, but Nataly had come along much later. She grew up in a doublewide mobile home where her mansion now stood, went to school in Sedona, some college in Prescott, then home again to start her business.

  “You’ve lived your entire life in Sedona?”

  “Yes,” she said, and then, as if reading his mind, “All that I know about the world has come from schooling and reading. I’ve felt no need to travel, but it might be interesting someday.”

  “I’ve traveled in business, spent most of my time in meetings and hotel rooms, alone, and little time for sight seeing. Traveling on vacation, without appointments or even a cell phone is the way to go.”

  The servant arrived to announce dinner. Eric moved quickly to slide her chair back as she stood. Again, she hooked her arm in his and walked him to the dining room. Two places facing each other had been set at the end of the massive oaken table that seated fourteen. Small salads awaited them. They sat. In candlelight, Nataly’s eyes seemed amber, her arms copper and glowing.

  “I wish you could have met my father,” she said suddenly.

  The tone of her voice when she said it made Eric’s face flush, and he hoped she didn’t see it in the dim light.

  “Being missed so much is a tribute to the person. I’ve never experienced that.”

  “He’s only been gone four years. To this day we don’t know the cause. Some kind of rapidly developing pneumonia that killed him overnight. He was a healthy man.”

  “Did you have an autopsy done?” Eric felt a crawling in his stomach, but took a bite of salad and chewed thoughtfully.

  “Yes. There was no sign of viral or bacterial infection. The doctors were mystified. They say he died of natural causes, but can’t tell me what they were.”

  Her eyes hadn’t left his since they’d been seated, and she hadn’t taken a bite of food or even lifted a fork. “What else could it be?” he asked.

  Nataly smiled meekly. “Delusions of a daughter who can’t accept the death of a father she thought would live forever. I even thought of murder, but who would want to kill a retired man who spent a lifetime growing fruit? I was silly with grief at the time.”

  Now Nataly began eating, and didn’t look at him. She took two bites, then said softly, “It was only weeks later when we began hearing reports of strange sounds and lights in the canyons. People were reminded of the military base rumors from twenty-five years before, and I found myself trying to connect it somehow with my father’s death. I’d driven myself to the edge of something very dark, and dangerous. I sought help with several spiritual practitioners in town, and began meditations. It brought me back from a bad place, and I’m grateful for it. Do you practice any kind of meditation, Eric?”

  How easily she changed the subject, he thought. She had presented him with a mystery she thought he should hear, but why would she think that of a man who sold art, a man she’d only recently met? He seemed to intrigue her, and though flattered, Eric wondered about it.

  “No. I run each morning, and have a small set of weights I use at home. I sleep well at night. That’s it.”

  “Well, if you’re going to live here, someone is going to have to introduce you to our culture, and I’m volunteering if you’re willing to learn something new.” Nataly rested her chin on steepled fingers, her face glowing in the candlelight.

  “Sounds interesting,” he said.

  “Oh, that was a nice smile. You’re finally relaxing.”

  They both laughed at that, but Eric’s mind was still dwelling on what she’d told him moments before. She was beautiful, sophisticated in an ethereal way, and intelligent. He did not think she would reveal a negative about her character without reason, knowing full well that her suspicions about her father’s death might be interpreted as a negative.

  Soup arrived, was consumed, and taken away. The main course was a prime rib that filled his plate. They ate leisurely. Mostly he listened. Nataly talked about the local tourist industry, and the reasons Sedona was considered by many to be the new age capital of the country. “Many come here to relax and be pampered. For others, it’s a place to find something higher than themselves, and to discover who they really are.”

  “Or who they want to be,” said Eric. “I guess I’m still working on that.”

  That look again, a steady gaze, her dark eyes looking for a way into his soul. For one instant it seemed like she was inside his head, studying him.

  “We all have things to hide, Eric. Some of them are dangerous things, but it doesn’t mean we can’t change. It doesn’t mean we don’t deserve what we want.”

  Whoa, he thought. Here we go again.

  Nataly blinked, looked down at her plate. “I’m sorry. That was too personal. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  “No problem. You say what you think. Most people don’t. Most people are hiding out. At least that’s the kind of people I usually deal with: the collectors, gallery owners, even the artists. They’re all playing a part, like life is a stage play. I do it too, when I’m with them. I don’t think I have to do it with you, Nataly. Why is that?”

  She smiled. “Oh, now you’re looking serious.”

  “I am serious.”

  “And I can’t answer your question. I like talking to you. You’re a good listener. I sense intensity in you, a hint of danger, but you have an emotional, vulnerable side. You show it in your eyes, you know, when you talk, when you listen. You’re not as deep as you might think. I like that.”

  “Now I’m flattered,” he said.

  “Well, you should be.” Nataly turned and beckoned to her servant, who was waiting at the doorway with a silver tray holding two plates of baked Alaska lit by candles. He served them, and went away.

  The ice cream made his sinuses ache for only a moment. Eric was full, but not uncomfortable. He leaned back and sighed. “I haven’t eaten like that in a long time.”

  Nataly stood up, held out her hand. “There’s brandy in the living room.”

  It seemed so natural to take her hand in his, to feel her fingers squeeze. She led him to the front room, now illuminated dimly by four bulky candles, one in each corner, and there was the odor of sweet grass. Curls of smoke drifted from a closed, brass pot with holes in its cover. A window was decorated
with a stained glass panel lit from below, showing stars and a crescent moon. A soft, rhythmic sound came from overhead, a beat of drums, and a high-pitched harmony of voices far away.

  Nataly let go of his hand as they sat down close together on a plush sofa. She poured brandy for each of them from a crystal bottle. “Do you hear the drums?” she asked softly.

  “Yes. And singing.”

  “Yavapai singers. Close to my mother’s tribe. She didn’t practice the old ways, but taught them to me. It’s part of who I am.”

  “Then Boynton Canyon is sacred to you?” said Eric, trying to show some local knowledge. He was rewarded with a smile.

  “Yes, it is. The first people came from there, if you follow tradition.”

  “Lots of UFO sightings in that general area, too.”

  “Yes.” Nataly leaned closer, put a hand on his arm. “Would you like to see an aura?”

  “What?”

  “You’re skeptical about auras. I want you to see one.”

  “Oh—that. Well, sure. My mind was going in another direction just then.”

  “Brandy first,” she said, handed his glass to him. They drank. “First, another candle.” She lit a tall candle on the table in front of the sofa, blew softly on it, and the flame wavered. She leaned up against him, her head touching his shoulder, and he smelled a pine scent from her hair. She blew ever so gently, and the candle flame danced in the breeze. “Watch the flame,” she whispered.

  He looked at the flame to please her, saw the black wick, the wavering glow around it, felt Nataly’s warmth creeping into his arm and shoulder. The sound of the drums seemed to fade until he could actually hear the occasional sound of air escaping Nataly’s pursed lips. His heartbeat slowed, and his right hand, which had been clenched, now opened up and lay as if paralyzed on the sofa beside him.

  “That’s it, Move with the flame. There is nothing else. Keep your eyes on it, now, while I move.”

  Eric lost concentration for one instant as Nataly stood up and stepped around the table. She was watching him, and he immediately moved his eyes back to the flickering glow now blurred in front of him.

  “Keep looking,” she said in a near whisper, and Eric went with it, feeling himself sink deeper and deeper into the sofa. Time seemed to stand still. There was a faint rushing sound in his ears, and he thought of molecules colliding. His fingertips began to tingle, and then his legs, then higher, nearing erotic pleasure until Nataly spoke again.

  “Now look at me,” she said.

  Eric raised his eyes from the glow of the flame. Nataly was kneeling on the floor three feet from the table, and facing him. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were crossed over her chest. Behind her, bookshelves and a sand painting were barely visible in gloom. The candle flame dully lighted the front of her, and at first there was nothing else to see but her serene beauty.

  But as Eric watched her, Nataly began to glow in a new way.

  Her skin first glowed faintly golden, but then the glow moved outwards and took shape like a gold fog, dynamic, with tendrils reaching out from it. Now the tendrils grew, and there were new colors: yellow, red, and a touch of blue. In seconds a beautiful pattern with cloverleaf symmetry surrounded her kneeling form, swirling in gold and shades of orange and red, with faint wisps of deep blue.

  “My God,” said Eric, so softly it was less than a whisper.

  And Nataly opened her eyes. The glow of emerald green there gave her eyes an almond shape, and Eric’s breath escaped him.

  “See me,” she said, and it was the sound of a singing, crystal bowl, “and remember.”

  She closed her eyes, and the colors faded, the glow dimming. The candle flame itself seemed to dim, and Eric was floating away as his own eyes closed and there was darkness, then a spot of light, and he was moving towards it. The light grew, and became a man, a golden man, sitting in lotus position, eyes closed.

  Eric saw himself sitting there, naked, with golden skin and hair, and then there was a voice, saying, “This is who you really have been, and will be again,” and the seated man opened his eyes and smiled. He gestured with a hand. “Please sit for a while, and I will teach you what I can, for the moment.”

  Eric vaguely remembered that he sat down in the vision. He could never recall what happened next. But he remembered a warm feeling when something soft and moist brushed his lips.

  He opened his eyes. There was a faint beat of drums, the high-pitched sounds of an ancient song. Nataly was sitting close to him on the sofa. Her eyes glistened in candlelight as she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the mouth.

  “I think you drifted off there for a while. Did you see my aura?”

  “Yes. I never could have imagined the colors, and then they faded, and I guess I dozed. That was incredible, Nataly. You were beautiful.”

  She kissed him again, longer this time. “We’re all beautiful, Eric, but sometimes we have to look for it. Would you like another brandy?”

  “Better not, if one drink could put me to sleep.”

  “I’d like to talk a lot more, but I suppose you have to get up early in the morning.”

  “Oh, it’s not so late,” he said, and then glanced at his watch.

  It was twelve-thirty.

  “My watch is off,” he said.

  Nataly looked at her watch. “It’s just after twelve-thirty. You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Two or three hours? I’m so sorry. This is worse than embarrassing.”

  Nataly squeezed his arm. “I allowed it because you needed it. I watched you the whole time. Now we have an excuse to get together again.”

  Her face was close, and Eric looked straight into her eyes. “I’d like that. I want that.”

  “When?”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow at your shop. I’ll know my schedule, then.”

  Nataly nodded, and Eric leaned close. “I had a wonderful time tonight. Sorry I nodded away.”

  “Don’t be. It was wonderful to be with you, Eric. I felt very comfortable.” Without hesitation, Natalie put a hand on the back of his neck, drew him closer, and kissed him firmly and long.

  Eric heard his own intake of breath as Nataly made a little sound in her throat.

  Their lips parted, breathing quickened. Nataly touched her forehead to his. “You’d better go.”

  She waved goodbye at the doorway, and Eric drove home in a kind of daze. He went straight to bed, and slept soundly.

  But that night, he had another conversation with the golden man.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ALIENS AMONG US

  Eric awoke and felt a wonderful calmness. He remembered only last remnants of the dream that had awakened him. A golden man was floating in air above a body of water showing white caps, and above him was a single eye in emerald green. He knew there was a significance to the eye, was certain he’d seen it before, and the effort to remember where awoke him.

  The house was quiet, and he lay there a moment, coming back to consciousness. The sheets were not their usual tangled mess around his legs, so he knew he’d slept soundly, and that was a rare thing.

  He remembered Nataly’s kiss, and the smell of her hair, and the way she’d glowed in the darkness, eyes closed, so serene. His chest ached when he thought of her, and his eyes suddenly stung. My God, what is happening to me? I’ve never felt such power in a woman. I thought I’d had enough of women who try to get inside me. Why is this so different?

  Whatever it was, he had to see her again. His watch said seven. To call her now would be far too early. She’s be in her shop soon enough. I’ll call her at eleven. We’ll have lunch. I’ll open the office this morning, get things done early. And I’ve got to tell Gil about Nataly, her suspicions about her father. No, why did I think that? It has nothing to do with why I’m here.

  Eric shaved in the shower. Breakfast was coffee and a protein shake, consumed as he e-mailed Gil on closed link. He gathered up the art portfolios he’d been working on the
day before, finished dressing and headed for the door.

  His computer blinked at him with a red envelope icon. Gil. The message came up with a keystroke.

  ‘Got your message. Nothing to be concerned about, but we’re doing a background check on Nataly. Be careful about what you say to her. Gil.’

  Eric’s face flushed. Oh, oh. He typed ‘Got it’, and sent the reply on its way.

  The BMW spit gravel as he accelerated away from the house. A minute down the road he realized he hadn’t set his usual intruder alarm in the house, but he didn’t turn back. It was seven-forty-five when he reached the office. It was quiet in the room, and the scent of Leon’s cologne lingered. Eric called up the list of phantom markets NSA Phoenix had provided him with, matched them with the portfolios in his briefcase, and scanned in samples of each with prices.

  Leon arrived promptly at nine. “My, what got into you this morning?” he asked, and raised an eyebrow at Eric. “Was last night an inspiration to do good works?”

  “I think I’ll just keep you in suspense,” said Eric.

  “Ha! I bet all you did was listen to her talk about UFOs and aliens.”

  “Nope. I’ll have to ask her about that some other time.”

  “Ah, so what are you doing for the firm this morning?”

  Eric told him.

  “What would we do without our Phoenix friends?” said Leon, and sat down at his desk.

  They worked without talking for over an hour. Leon’s computer pinged twice. Suddenly he turned, and said, “Davis wants to see you first thing in the morning. You’re meeting one of our foreign benefactors. How did you wangle that?”

  Eric shrugged. He still didn’t trust Leon enough to tell him details about breaking into Sparrow, and wondered if he was being fair. He hadn’t mentioned that to Gil when he’d filed his report on the bird, but had said the report was for Gil’s eyes only.

  When Eric remained silent, Leon said, “I expect to hear all about that meeting, Eric. If I don’t hear about it from you, I’ll be very disappointed. Davis will talk, and I intend to verify what you tell me. We’re working together, remember?”