Novel 1987 - The Haunted Mesa (v5.0) (7 page)

“It was against old beliefs, but our people feared hunger and the fierce enemies coming down from the North, so some went back.

“But the evil was still there. It had not gone. Our people had closed the top of their heads and could no longer hear the Voices.”

“Where is this place you went back to?” Mike waited, half afraid of what he knew he would hear.

“It is on Other Side. I do not know what to say, what words. It is like this, only…only
different
.”

“You said they went back. How did they go?”

“There are places, openings sometimes, never always. Places where can go through to Other Side. The old man who tells me your words, he got through but never get back. He was young man then. He was what he say a ‘cow-boy'? They come to look for him. Somehow they know he is on Other Side. He very…he keeps away from them. Somehow…they do not find him. I think he kills one man, but he finds ways to hide.”

“He is there yet?”

“Still there. Some of my people know. They help him. But he very how you say? Strong? He know how to hide. Now I do not think they look any more. Maybe. I do not know.”

“What do you call him?”

“He is Johnny. Only Johnny.”

“Your people were the cliff dwellers? The old ones the Navajo call the Anasazi?”

“Yes.”

Mike glanced out the window. The street looked the same as always. A truck was parked across the way, its driver coming toward the café. His own Jeep was in plain sight. Two local men stood across the street talking. All seemed to be as usual.

What was he to do? If they had taken Erik back, wherever “back” was, then he was gone, perhaps gone forever.

“What will they do with Erik?”

“Many questions. When no more answers, they kill. They hate much and they fear. They rule all, yet they live in fear. They fear to lose their power, they fear we who do not agree will get strength from Other Side. They fear ideas from your side. Any who get through they kill.”

“Then some do get through?”

She shook her head. “Not often. In my memory only two, I think. Or maybe they did not tell us all. Long ago there was a boy, a young man who got through. I do not know what happened. Long, long before that, there were two men who hunt gold. They were tortured, killed, then left on Other Side.”

“What do they know about us? The people on this side?”

“Much. Sometimes they send men to steal. To kill. You have things to listen, things to speak long distances. This they want.”

And Erik was a specialist in the field. What he did not know, nobody knew. If they discovered this they might keep him alive.

“What about the kiva?”

“It is mystery place. Long ago story say it is secret way to pass through. The kiva is sacred place, but evil men close it up. Now they want open.”

She sipped her coffee. “I think they make house now. I think they want always place, an all time open place to go and come.”

Mike watched the street, trying to bring his thoughts into focus. What was going on here? Was this real? Or some elaborate hoax? He knew nothing about physics but he knew such things were said to be possible, that parallel worlds could exist. At least, some believed they could. He had seen things in Central Asia and Tibet…could there be a connection? He doubted it.

Erik's cry for help must be heeded. Whatever else might or might not be true, he was in trouble, and he had called on Mike for help.

“Over there? After your people went back from here, what happened?”

She shook her head. “I know little. For a time they lived as always, then change. It was my ancestor who began it.

“He was very young boy when, by himself, he built a larger dam to save water. He grew fine crops. He found new ways to do things. He created devices—what you call machines—to do things. The evil ones decided he was bewitched and killed him.

“They could not kill his thoughts. Those who killed him began to use his magic. They built stronger walls and larger houses and they built other dams. Then they made laws to say who can have water and when. People accepted the laws because they were good and they kept away much trouble. But the ones who said yes or no on water soon made other laws which were not good. So some of us left them and went to a new place to live as we always had.

“They came against us because we did not obey. Some they killed and some they took as slaves, but then we found a place where my ancestor had worked when building things, and we found some other things he had made and some he had begun to make. We used those things to fight them and they left us alone. Johnny helped. He said my ancestor was another Davinch.”

“Da Vinci? Leonardo da Vinci was an artist who invented many things.”

“I think so.”

“You have come over to this side. Have you done this often?”

“It is not permitted. Somehow they know. I do not know how, but instantly they know. If one comes through he is seized. They do not rest until he is taken.”

“What about those who rule? Do they go over?”

“They say no, yet sometimes do. Or once they did and then a great water covered the place and for long time they could not until Erik opened the kiva.”

“But there are other ways? He who drew the line on Erik's blueprints must have come some other way.”

“There are sometime ways. I do not understand but sometimes there are openings. That is how I am here.”

“The great water was probably what we call Lake Powell. We built a dam to stop the water of the Colorado and drowned most of what was Glen Canyon.”

They were both silent. His eyes sought the street. Suppose they came now? What would he do?

“I must help him,” he said.

“You cannot. They have him.”

“Where will they take him?”

“It is a bad place, a place of fear. It is an old place, a place that was there before we entered into the Fourth World, your world. I have not been there but he who was my mother's father knew it.”

She looked at him with sudden realization. “Now it is you they must take. They must have you. They wish none to know their world exists and now you do.”

“And you also.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “They know of me. I am hated. I am wanted most of all. I am head of family now, of clan. They look to me. I am descend from He Who Had Magic, the old one who made many things. I must go back.”

“There's the kiva.”

“No. That is their way. They will watch and they are very near to it.”

“But you came!”

“My way is not sure, very dangerous, but there is a way that is open, most times open. They do not know it. We do not. Only the Saqua know.”

“The Saqua? The hairy ones?”

“You know of them? They are not people, but they know things others do not. They come to hunt or to take sheep to eat.”

“Sheep? From the Indians?”

“They take sheep. I do not know whose sheep.”

He finished his coffee. “We had better get away from here and do some planning.”

Raglan started to rise but a hand dropped on his shoulder. He glanced up.

The man was stocky, strongly built. He wore a badge. “Mind? I've a few questions for the lady. For you, too, for that matter.”

He turned and called to the waitress. “Marie? Another cup of coffee.”

He glanced from one to the other. “I'm Gallagher. I'll ask the questions.”

Chapter 8

H
E GLANCED AT Mike Raglan, then at the girl. “What's your name, ma'am?”

“Kawasi.”

“You from around here?”

“I am…tour-ist.” She spoke calmly, without hesitation or fear.

“You're an Indian?”

“Long ago my people live near here. I have come to see where it was.”

He turned to Raglan. “You two old friends?”

“We've just met. I recognized her from the description of a mutual friend—Erik Hokart.”

“Hokart? Is he the one who plans to build somewhere down the river? Some kind of scientist, isn't he?”

“That's his reputation, but he's a successful businessman as well. The two do not always go together. Yes, he loves this part of the country and planned to build a home there. He made a fortune in electronics and can afford to live wherever he wishes.”

Gallagher took his coffee from the waitress and sipped it, then turned his attention to Kawasi. “Were you in the restaurant when it burned?”

“No, but I was in it just a moment before. When I saw those men I was frightened. I ran.”

“What men?”

“I do not know them. There were two, perhaps another. I am not sure. Mr. Hokart was afraid and went to the counter to ask the man for a gun. The man would not give it.”

“He was right. What did Hokart do then?”

“I do not know. I am gone.”

“Where'd you go?”

“I hide. Then for room for sleep.”

Gallagher turned to Mike. “What do you know about Hokart? Was he on anything? Narcotics?”

“Not him. He was far too sensible a man. He didn't need any crutches. He was a sober, almost too serious a man, something of a loner because he did his best thinking when alone. What he really wanted was a place away from the telephone. You know, when a man attains great success, people are forever coming to him with ideas and he did not need ideas from anyone else.

“He wanted a place where he could sit and think. I would not actually call him a scientist. He was an inventor of sorts but he had the ability to make things work. Many of his friends were doing pure research, but Erik had a way of sensing the practical value of things. He knew how to turn their work into money.”

“Anybody want to kill him?”

“Nobody I know. He had no relatives. No heirs. Most of his friends had every reason to keep him alive.”

If Gallagher knew anything, he appeared to have no intention of revealing it. From his questions he seemed to Mike to be feeling his way, searching for some explanation of what had happened.

“Ma'am, you said you were afraid of those men. Why?”

“I am in the desert with Mr. Hokart. He very…very anxious. We get into car and those men jump from behind rocks, but we drove away. Then they come to the restaurant.”

“Where's Hokart now?”

“We were just wondering about that,” Raglan said. “They must have taken him.”

“Kidnapped?”

“Something of the kind. From what I have heard, no bodies were found in the fire, so he must have escaped that. You have his car, I believe.”

Gallagher sipped his coffee, mulling it over. He was a shrewd, intelligent man and Mike hoped he was accepting the story, which was about as much of the truth as he knew, not referring to speculations. Gallagher glanced at Raglan suddenly. “What's your business?”

“I'm a writer, mostly about the far-out and far-away. I've known Erik for several years and he wanted my advice.”

“On what?”

“This country, particularly. I used to live around here, wandering the back country.”

“What country?”

“Dark Canyon, Fable Canyon, Beef Basin, the Sweet Alice Hills, Woodenshoe—you name it.”

Grudgingly, Gallagher nodded. “Sounds like you know something about it.” He took a swallow of coffee. “Know anybody who'd want to kidnap Hokart?”

“No.” Raglan hesitated. Then he said, “Officer, Hokart and I have exchanged books from time to time, mostly paperbacks. One was left for me at Tamarron where I am staying. A short time later a man broke into my condo and tried to steal it.”

“Steal a book? What the hell for?”

“You've got me. He took it thinking it was something else, I suspect.”

In as few words as possible, Raglan explained about the warning from the girl at the desk, then awakening in his bed with the man standing at the bar.

“Lucky he didn't kill you,” Gallagher said.

Raglan smiled. “I think I could have persuaded him not to,” he said mildly.

Gallagher looked at him again. “You got a description?”

“About five nine or ten, judging by his height against the bar, dark hair and eyes, swarthy skin. Very broad-shouldered. My feeling was that he was a very tough, dangerous man.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He was under control. Not the least nervous. He took in the situation at a glance. He saw I wasn't going to try to stop him and knew an attempt to kill me would stir up more trouble than it was worth. My feeling was that he was a professional, knew what he was doing at every step, and was not to be stampeded. He just turned and went out.”

“And then?”

“I went to the window and watched him cross the snow to the highway. He got into a white van. It pulled away toward Durango.”

“You called him a professional. What did you mean?”

“Just what I said. I've known such men in a dozen countries. He was a CIA, FBI, KGB type. He knew exactly what he was doing and didn't plan to do any more or any less.”

“What did he weigh?”

“About my weight. One-ninety, I'd say, but to most people he would look fifteen pounds lighter. Moved like a cat. He was nobody to play games with.”

“This Hokart—he ever work for the government? Secret stuff?”

“Not lately—at least not that I know of. He's done something of the sort in the past.”

Nobody spoke for several minutes. The officer impressed him, so Raglan decided to take a chance. If he told the man what he believed he might be considered off his rocker, but he wanted to prepare Gallagher for what he might encounter. This was no time to let such a man go it blind.

“I take it you've been around here for some time.”

“Most of my adult years. Why?”

Again Mike hesitated. “This used to be considered kind of spooky country. I don't mean right here, but off there toward the river. When Hokart asked me to come out, I had the impression that whatever was worrying him was from around here.