Sedona Conspiracy

CHAPTER TWENTY ^NEGOTIATIONS

Light rain made the streets slick, but did not deter speeders. By a stroke of exceptional luck, Eric found a space in the little parking lot and darted into it. It was just after sunrise, but the Coffee Pot was full. A line of people waited by the door, others crowded in the adjacent souvenir shop.

John Coulter was seated at a table in the back of the restaurant, and waved vigorously at Eric when he arrived. Eric sat down, shook rainwater from his furled umbrella, and put it on the floor beside him.

“I bet people don’t even slow down when it snows here,” said Eric.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” said John, reached over and shook Eric’s hand. “Lots of empty country out here. People like to get through it as fast as they can. Takes big city folks some time to get used to it.” He took a long envelope out of his briefcase, and handed it to Eric. “Here’s your contract, as promised. Don’t open it here. Read it at your leisure, edit as you please. If you don’t like the consultant fee I put in there, write in your own number. I’m easy, and it isn’t my money. My client expects the information and services he needs, and your loyalty in providing both. The contract is a formality, of course. It’s only for the eyes of the signers.”

“And who are the signers?”

“Yourself, my client, and I’ll sign as witness to your signature. My client’s cipher will be a scribbled symbol, since he must remain anonymous.”

Eric paused to open his menu, and then said, “I understand why your client wants anonymity, but I have a problem with it.”

Another pause of a few heartbeats, and Eric studied his menu.

“And why is that a problem, Doctor Price?” said John softly.

Eric looked over the top of his menu at John’s steady gaze. “I’m used to knowing who I work for, and what their motivation is for asking me to do what I do.”

“This is private enterprise, not government. The motive is money, and recovery of stolen property. What more do you need?” John Coulter had a way of narrowing his eyes when he smiled, and it was not pleasant to look at.

“I don’t like working with intermediaries. Orders have a way of being corrupted when they’re relayed by someone.”

“I transmit my client’s wishes without corruption, Doctor Price. If I had ever made a single error he would no longer employ me. I could even be dead. You’d be less likely to get accurate information directly. My client’s use of the English language is quite poor, and I must translate for him.”

“I speak Russian and Polish fluently, also German and French and others. Take your pick.”

“Ah,” said Coulter, trying to look surprised. “I’ll have to mention that to my client, but it’ll make no difference. His identity must remain unknown to you.”

So I tried, thought Eric. “My point is that it might become a problem if I’m ordered to do something nasty enough to require a surcharge. I don’t like people negotiating for me with the big boss.”

Coulter hadn’t opened his menu, was studying Eric’s face as a waitress approached them with a silex of black coffee. “Why don’t we order, now? Perhaps an advance payment and a trial assignment would show our good faith before you sign anything.”

They placed their orders, and the waitress went away. Coulter pulled out a business envelope bulging with content and heavily taped over the flap. He pushed it across the table to Eric. “Call it a retainer,” he said.

Eric hefted the envelope. “Retainers are for services to be rendered in the future, so what is this for?”

“Information, Eric. You are associated with the transfer and development of a technology that will have considerable potential on the open market. My client’s stolen product can control that market if development here is successful, but it seems there have been considerable problems with that. It has recently come to our attention that since your arrival several technical breakthroughs have been achieved. They have been achieved through your own insights and inspirations, far beyond what others have been able to do. Your talents are of interest to my client, and your knowledge of the project would be vital in his development of a commercial prototype. The project leader’s salary would make a federal pension look like pocket change, believe me. But to develop the prototype he needs information in complete detail about every breakthrough you achieve, as it happens. He also marvels at your recent successes. Any references you can give, or names of people who have made useful suggestions, would also be useful to him. We have gone as far as we can with the written materials you’ve had to work with. With your sudden insights, we know you are close to flight-testing. We want to know how you’ll be proceeding with that.”

Coulter pulled a disk from his briefcase. “Use your home machine to make your reports. Put them on this disk, and erase the originals, and call me when you have something. My number is on the disk. Send nothing electronically. I want your first report within two days. If that seems too soon, then inspect the contents of that envelope.”

Now Coulter handed him a key. “This goes to a postal box at the post office by the Y. When you’ve called me, put the disk in the box, and I’ll pick it up when I can. When you call me, all you have to say is that the package is ready, and hang up.”

“I love drama,” said Eric. “Maybe we should adopt code names for ourselves.”

Even as he said it, Eric knew he’d gone too far in antagonizing someone he already knew was not a friend.

Coulter’s reply was soft, yet crisp. “I’m not trying to amuse you, Doctor Price. This is serious business, and people have been killed for working with us. The same could happen to you.”

Eric’s face flushed. “Who has been killed?”

“A man who was doing very much like what you’re doing now. You have essentially replaced him.”

“Johnson?”

“That was the name he used. He was murdered, you know. You were there.”

“My, how you get around. I suppose Leon told you that.”

“We have many sources, Eric.”

“Whoever killed Johnson tried to kill me. You must know that, too. For all I know, your client arranged the killing and now I’m being set up for the same treatment.”

“Utter nonsense. Johnson was our most valuable asset in the early stages of the project. We think military people killed him. They’re the ones you need to watch out for.”

“Including Colonel Davis?”

“We’re not sure about him. He’s an opportunist.”

“And I’m not?”

Coulter smiled. “You might be. You have to prove your worth to us, Eric. The envelope there is a token of our faith in you.”

Eric smiled back, and pulled the envelope to his edge of the table. “Okay, I’ll have my report in your mailbox by tomorrow morning. Just remember that if something critical comes up, I intend to deal directly with your boss.”

“My client,” said Coulter. “I’ll see what he has to say about that. He might even be willing to accommodate you.”

“Fair enough,” said Eric.

Eric pocketed the two envelopes, and a waitress arrived with their breakfast.

“You think it could be true about Johnson?” asked Eric.

“No, but at this point I don’t trust anyone, past or present,” said Leon.

They’d closed the office for the day, and sat at Leon’s desk. The envelope Coulter had given to Eric contained ten thousand dollars in crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills now arranged in five neat stacks. They’d read the contract together. “Nothing sinister, no specifics, more like a consultant’s contract,” said Leon. “I signed one just like it, but my offer was better. I guess he thinks my tastes are more expensive than yours.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“A week ago. We met for lunch. He’s been around town. Yesterday I saw his car in the parking lot at Nataly’s place. He was just sitting there. Didn’t you see him there once?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder if Coulter knows you’re seeing her?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He seems to know everything else.”

“Either that, or Nataly knows him. I don’t think I’d like that. I know you two are getting close, but I expect you not to share our little secrets with her.”

“Of course not.”

“It wouldn’t be safe for her.”

“No threats are necessary, Leon. If she knew what I was really up to here, she’d probably run like hell.”

“I hope so,” said Leon. “The other possibility, of course, is that Coulter is watching her. It might be part of checking up on you.”

“I could ask Nataly if she knows him, claim he wants to do some export business with me.”

“Yeah, let’s do that. I want to trust her. I want to trust you, too, but you’re still not telling me things. Maybe some new orders from Gil would help.”

“What things?”

“Your new breakthrough with Sparrow. Davis had to tell me. He says you’re going to fly that thing. That’s major news, Eric, and I didn’t hear it from you. I’ve complained to Gil just this morning. Maybe he can clarify for you what our relationship is supposed to be like.”

It would serve no purpose to tell Leon that Eric was following Gil’s orders in not telling him everything. “Okay, let’s see what he says. Are you telling me everything you know? For example, do you really think John Coulter is a lawyer for a big corporation, and if we help him he’ll make us rich?”

Leon smiled. “He’s more of a business partner, maybe. He seems to be serious about the money.”

“Tempting, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. How about you?”

“I guess I’ve risked my ass for my country for so long it doesn’t make any sense to sell out now. Coulter is no friend of ours, and he lies through his teeth. He tried to tell me Johnson was working for him, and was murdered because of it.”

“Bullshit,” said Leon. “My office knew more about that guy than he knew about himself. His whole life was science.”

“Yeah, but he was killed with a military weapon.”

“Which you or I could buy on any street corner in any large city.”

“So why would Coulter tell me something like that?”

“To make you think you aren’t the first. Others have trusted him. You’re part of a team. I don’t know. I sure don’t believe him about Johnson.”

“So we stop stalling about putting a tail on Coulter, find out where he goes and who he’s seeing. My feelings are getting nasty about this guy.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Mine, too. Say, we’ve found something we agree about. Can we be friends, now?”

“People like us don’t have friends, Leon.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You have Nataly.”

Eric swallowed hard. The remark had hurt, and he wasn’t sure why. “I have no illusions about that. When the job is finished, I’ll be out of here. Nataly needs a responsible person in her life. She deserves it.”

“She deserves love, Eric. We all do.”

“Well, I haven’t had much luck with that,” said Eric, and heard the bitterness in his own voice.

“Sorry,” said Leon. “Look, why don’t I keep an eye on Coulter for a while. I can get help with it. You just deliver your reports, and keep them honest, at least with anything Davis might know. And when Gil orders you to trust me, you do that, too. No more charades.”

“We’ll see,” said Eric, and nodded as if he agreed. It seemed like a positive way to end the conversation. But when he got home that evening, he found an encrypted e-mail from Gil saying that due to a recent understanding between NSA and some office in the Pentagon he should keep Leon informed of all recent breakthroughs made on Sparrow, and the identities of any new players he came in contact with, including the mysterious foreign operative known as Mister Brown.

This surprised Eric, because he had not yet told Gil about his meeting with Brown, or the sudden breakthroughs with Sparrow.

So how had Gil found out about these events?

He was still thinking about it when he went to sleep that night. And shortly after that, Eric Price had still another conversation with the Golden Man.

Nataly knew that continued apprehension could make her sick, but all meditative techniques had failed her so she resorted to a non-prescribed sleeping-aid that made her groggy in the morning. She’d slept deeply over the night, but then the call came at six and upset her again, and she couldn’t get back to sleep. She arose, drank strong coffee and reread the local newspaper for the third time, checked her e-mail and found a sweet, two-word message from Eric there. ‘Miss you’, he said.

I miss you, too, the real you. I’m not in love with the killer. Oh, Eric, how I wish things were different for us.

Nataly sipped coffee and walked the floors of her house, checked doors and windows for any sign of incursion. There had been no cloaked entries since the IR sensors had gone in, but outside the residence the devices were so sensitive even a rabbit could set them off and The Council had sent out a tactical team several times to investigate strong disturbances. She could not resent them. It was the same team that had saved Eric’s life.

She checked the recorders in a downstairs closet. There had been two signals last night, quite small, both down by the pool. Rabbits were attracted to that area, and she’d put shields over the plants there to protect them from nibbling. The signals were not the reason for Vasyl’s call. “Things are heating up. We need to talk,” he’d said, and hung up on her.

Things were always heating up for Vasyl, but like it or not, Nataly felt connected to the man and his cause, if only to honor the memory of her father and his origins.

The sun was peeking over the summits of distant buttes when she had a breakfast of dry toast and a banana. She showered quickly, toweled herself dry, and examined herself in a mirror. The curves of a twenty-year-old were there, but the woman was forty-five. What would Eric think if he knew that? she wondered.

The forecast was for a sunny day, but the morning at six-thousand feet would be cool. Nataly dressed in jeans and a wool shirt, added a Gore-Tex shell when she went outside. She wore cowboy boots instead of her clumsy hiking shoes, good enough for a short walk and certainly more stylish to any tourist who might happen to come by.

She left the Mercedes in the garage and took the truck, her white and battered four-runner with nearly a hundred thousand faithful miles on red-rock scree. Traffic was light going into town, and nonexistent up the Schnably Hill Road to the outlook parking area. She parked there, waited in the truck a few minutes, then got out and strolled up the winding trail to the ridge overlooking town and buttes beyond. Someone had recently placed red rocks there in the pattern of a medicine wheel, and she sat down next to it. The air was crisp, and Nataly breathed deeply, feeling the energy of the place, the energy that had brought her father to it so many years ago.

A few minutes later there was a crunch of a step falls behind her. She turned and saw Vasyl’s smile. He was dressed in jeans and flannel shirt and wore a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield him from even the morning sun.

“Good morning, Natasha,” he said, and sat down beside her, put an arm around her, gave her shoulder a squeeze. There was an expression of deep caring in his light brown eyes. “I hope you’re sleeping better these days.”

“The pills help, but they’re not natural. I feel drugged half the day, and then worry the other half. When will this be over, Vasyl?”

“I wish I knew. Doctor Price has made the progress we hoped for, thanks to you. The Americans could have what they want within a month, if Dario Watt can’t find a way to stop it. The man has hidden himself away. We suspect he’s still here, along with agents under his control. We’re certain he’ll make a move before a flight test is made. We have teams watching Price and Davis, and we’re putting one on you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You’re associated with Price. I’m sure Watt knows it. You could be used to intimidate Price if you were taken hostage. Even now you could be watched by someone who works under cloaking.”

“There have been no incidents at the house since the IR sensors were installed.”

“You can be followed anywhere, Natasha. We only want to protect you.”

“And Eric too.”

Vasyl put an arm around her again. “Yes. I hear softness in your voice when you say his name. We certainly didn’t plan for that.”

“I know. I suppose you think I’m foolish.”

“He’s a dangerous man, Natasha.”

“A part of him is worse than that, and frightens me. But when I look inside and see who he really is, the way he was before the wars, the training, the personal losses in his life, I cry for him. I cry for his heritage. Not out of pity, but sorrow over such a gentle, loving soul who has been dragged through circumstance into a terrible existence. The person inside, the real person, cries out for serenity and love.”

“I’ve never envied empaths, or any exceptionals like your father was. You have his soul, Natasha. I can’t feel what you feel, but I see you giving your heart to a man who is paid to kill, a man who has neglected important people in his life. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“The man I love will never hurt me, but he must be allowed to show himself. He is not who you see.”

“Oh, Natasha,” said Vasyl, and pulled his arm away from her. “You can be so frustrating.”

“It will be easier for you if you don’t try to run my life,” she said, and smiled.

“Very well, but we’re still going to watch you. It’ll be best if you see less of Price until the flight test is made. He needs to focus on that task. I want you to report anything that looks out of the ordinary, anything that makes you feel you’re being watched, even if it turns out to be our own people.”

“There is something,” said Nataly. “I’ve seen a man in my shop’s parking area several times, now. He never comes into the shop, just sits in his car a while and then drives away. Could be he’s been shopping next door, but then Eric was in my shop one day and stopped to talk to him on the way out. I’d nearly forgotten that.”

“What does he look like?”

“Broad shoulders, and his head goes nearly to the ceiling of his car. Dark hair and eyes, square face, basically a nice looking man.”

Vasyl’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll check on it. Don’t go anywhere with him if he ever approaches you.”

“Vasyl, I—”

“Please, Natasha, do as I say.”

Nataly sighed. “All right, but I will see Eric, and you can’t force me not to. I’ll make excuses about being busy until his flight test is over. I’ll do that for Eric’s sake. I’ve done a lot for you and the Council, Vasyl. You owe me.”

Vasyl smiled, and took her hand in his. “Yes, I do, and I owe your father even more. He was the first.”

Nataly squeezed his hand. “The first in this town, you mean. I think he would have liked to see people reach the stars. At first, it was only political with him. I’d better go. Maria can’t make change before she’s had two cups of coffee.”

They walked back down the trail to the parking area. Vasyl hugged her, pulled away in his black van, turned uphill and drove away from town in a cloud of red dust.

Nataly got into her truck, turned on the ignition, and thought, I just told my best friend that I love Eric Price.

And I do.