Gil told me I’d be reporting to you, but you weren’t telling me that.”
“Well done, Mister Price. I’ll remember it. Can we start over? Welcome to Sedona.”
“Could be interesting. I was pulled from a nice assignment in Germany to come here. That aircraft must be important.”
“It’s more than an aircraft, Mister Price. It can fly in space at great speed if we can ever figure out what powers it out there. Colonel Davis will do the briefing. Have you been to your house yet?”
“No, I came straight here from town.”
“You passed it, then, the next house down, about five hundred yards. We can walk there if you wish.”
“It’s getting dark out there,” said Price.
Leon smiled. “I’ll show you another way. Come with me, and leave your briefcase. We’ll come back later for your car.”
Price’s eyebrow rose, but he said nothing and left his briefcase on a table. Leon led him through a kitchen with stainless steel appliances and blue slate counter tops to a door that led downstairs. There was a game room with a pool table, an alcove behind glass with two circular openings in the wall. Two cylindrical conduits ran twenty-five meters to bull’s-eye targets on metal frames, well lit. Leon gestured casually at the conduits. “You’re welcome to practice here anytime; I’d like the company. Just give me some warning.”
“Like I said, I don’t have a weapon,” said Price.
Leon smiled. “No problem. I have plenty for both of us.”
They went to another door, which Leon opened with dramatic flair. “Our own, private walkway, good in any weather.”
A tunnel ran straight ahead a hundred meters before turning to the right and out of sight. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and there was an orange light every few meters, high on the wall. The floor was dirt-covered, with sections of metal grating that clanged hollowly as they walked.
“How far does this go?” asked Price.
“It only connects our houses. Quite a job putting it in.”
The walls were solid red-rock, broken by ventilation grates every fifty meters. There was a faint humming sound coming from them.
“You’ll have a key to the entrance at my house in case of emergencies.”
“What emergencies?” asked Price.
“One never knows in our business. And it’s convenient for contact without outside observation. I can never be sure the office in town is secure.”
Price blinked slowly at him, and Leon knew the man thought he was being overly dramatic. “Nothing is done here without reason, Mister Price.”
“That’s Eric; we’re supposed to be partners, at least in business.”
Leon did not like the innuendo when he saw the twinkle in Price’s eyes. “That’s all it is, I assure you. And don’t let my little affectations fool you; appearances can be very deceiving, even dangerous in the wrong situation.”
“Just getting to know you, Leon. No offense intended.”
“None taken,” said Leon, and smiled sweetly while pinching the thumb pad of his left hand with a fingernail because he’d allowed the man to pull his chain again. Price was more than an analyst, that much was certain, and there was a cruel side to his psyche.
They came to the end of the tunnel. The steel door there was locked. Leon unlocked it, and handed Eric the key. “It fits both ends of the tunnel. Both doors are kept locked, and there’s no other way out of the tunnel.”
The basement was dark, and Leon switched on a light. Empty shelves floor to ceiling, and an oil furnace. They went up wooden stairs to the main floor. Beamed ceilings, Santa Fe style, but smaller than Leon’s house, two bedrooms, front and dining rooms, nicely but not richly furnished. A notebook computer sat on a bar counter in the kitchen. Fish swam lazily on the screen. Shelves were stocked with food, and the refrigerator was full. Two garage door openers were on the dining room table. One was for the gate. “Motion sensors all around the property,” said Leon, “and any alarm will be relayed to me.” He pulled open a drawer in the dining room hutch. A Beretta 92F automatic was there, loaded and locked, hammer forward, safety off. “Something familiar, right out of school. Just for emergencies, of course, but you might consider carrying it.”
“Lots of precautions for a data analyst,” said Eric. “I assume the reasons will be made known to me soon.”
“Tomorrow, when you’re settled. We start at eight, at the office. You know where it is?”
“I passed it on the way.”
“I’ll have the entire file there on what I know so far. Here are the house keys, front and back door, garage door to the house.”
They went back to the basement, leaving the upstairs lights on. The walk back seemed shorter. Eric picked up his briefcase again and Leon led him to the front door, stopping there before opening it. He looked up at Eric, and was suddenly coldly serious.
“In the coming weeks or months, however long it takes, I will try to be as honest with you as I can, and I will expect the same from you. This is not to say we must share information about our individual backgrounds, training or agencies. We each have our own agendas, I’m sure, but we must share where they overlap or this operation can turn out badly and even have tragic consequences. You’ll have to decide what you can tell me, and I will do likewise, but please believe me when I say we’ve been assigned to work together to save a project of high value to our country, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
Leon smiled, and extended a hand. “Beginning tomorrow morning.”
Eric nodded, and shook his hand. “Fair enough. Your grip has improved in the past hour. See you at the office.”
Leon let him out, and waited at the door until the big BMW had cleared the gate, and then he went inside the house and placed a phone call to Colonel Alexander Davis to tell him what he’d learned about the new man.
* * * * * * *
Eric made the short drive to his house, and put the car in the garage. It was near midnight when he finished unpacking. He left the Beretta in the hutch, but kept his own forty-five-Colt-Modified in its holster, and put it loaded and locked, hammer on half cock, in the nightstand by his bed. The Walther PPK went under his pillow. He sent an e-mail to a sister he didn’t have, saying he’d arrived home safely and that Uncle Leo was doing fine, then fixed himself half a pastrami on rye from the refrigerator and washed it down with water. It took him over an hour to get to sleep, his senses alert to every sound, every creak and groan of an unfamiliar house settling in for the night. Twice he thought he heard footsteps in the dark hallway outside his closed bedroom door. The yard lights flashed on several times, alert to any motion: mouse, snake, perhaps a javalina on the prowl. Exhaustion overwhelmed all of it, and after an hour he slept without remembered dreams, awakening refreshed to begin his new assignments.
A few hundred yards up the road, Leon Newell’s night passed as well, but not without disturbance.
* * * * * * *
Davis
