helped Ray with his bag and then whisked him off to a
small community airport in San Bernardino where a business jet
awaited.
The Lear jet flew east and Ray tried to
track his location by watching for landmarks that glowed eerily
under a full, ivory moon. The task proved impossible. He recognized
the occasional city, but had no way of knowing if his guesses were
correct. The wide expanse of sulfur yellow lights he saw an hour
after take off could be Phoenix but every thing else was too remote
to identify. He did know they were over the great southwest desert.
That much he could see out the small windows of the plane.
Ray settled in his seat and waited. He was
alone in the passenger compartment. The Lear Jet could seat ten
comfortably, making his isolation all the more real.
The jet landed at a small airfield with a
single runway. Of the two crew who flew the plane, only one exited
the cockpit. He opened the cabin door, removed Ray’s bag and
computer and walked down the steps to the tarmac. Ray followed. As
he stepped from the cabin, he was engulfed by the great blackness
of a desert night. The smell of juniper and scrub oak filled the
air. A stiff, warm, dry breeze blew from the south. A low set of
mountains was to the west, awash in moonlight. Overhead the black
inverted bowl of night sky was bejeweled with stars, dimmed only
slightly by the moon.
“You look well,” a voice said. Ray turned
and saw Devlin Chambers taking the bags from the co-pilot. “I trust
your flight was a good one.”
“Quick and unexpected,” Ray said.
“Yes, I understand.” Devlin was dressed in a
suit. There he stood, surrounded by desert darkness, on a deserted
airstrip wearing a three-piece suit. Ray might have laughed if he
hadn’t felt so adrift. “I hate doing business this way, Ray, but
such is the nature of my work. Secrets piled upon secrets. I’m glad
you’re here.”
“Just where is . . . here?” Ray watched as
the co-pilot walked up the small stairs and disappeared into the
Lear.
“We better step away. Don’t want to stand
too close to the engines. They make a terrible racket.” Devlin
picked up Ray’s things and moved from the jet.
“They’re leaving us here? Stranding us in
the desert?”
“We’re not stranded, Ray. Follow me,
please.”
“Where?”
“There.” Devlin nodded. “That building.”
In the distance stood a wood structure the
size of a small barn. It’s siding was irregular and worn. It looked
as if it had been there since before World War II.
Devlin moved forward, walking briskly, his
back turned to the Lear. Ray jogged a few steps to catch up. “I
don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but I’m a little uneasy here.
Camping isn’t my style.”
Devlin laughed lightly. “Not my style,
either.” He said no more.
The inside of the building looked as
ramshackle as the exterior. A Coleman battery powered lantern
waited for them just inside one of the two creaky doors at the
front of the structure. The lamp was lit. Apparently, Devlin had
been waiting in the old barn.
“Would you mind picking up the light? My
hands seem to be full.”
Ray reached down and took the lantern by the
handle and raised it, holding it at arms length as if it gave off a
noxious odor. The lantern emitted a stark white light; casting
shadows on the walls that were ten times larger than the objects
that cast them. Dust covered the floor; spider webs hung like
tattered drapes from split and twisted rafters. The air was warm
and smelled of dry rot. Ray thought he heard the shrill squeal of a
rat. His discomfort grew.
“I apologize for the surroundings.” Devlin
said as he walked the length of the barn, leading Ray to the back
wall. He set the duffle bag and computer case next to a packing
crate. “Things will become clear in a few moments.” He reached
inside his coat and for a breathless moment, Ray thought the man
was going for a gun. Instead, he removed a white handkerchief and
wiped his hands. He was a
small community airport in San Bernardino where a business jet
awaited.
The Lear jet flew east and Ray tried to
track his location by watching for landmarks that glowed eerily
under a full, ivory moon. The task proved impossible. He recognized
the occasional city, but had no way of knowing if his guesses were
correct. The wide expanse of sulfur yellow lights he saw an hour
after take off could be Phoenix but every thing else was too remote
to identify. He did know they were over the great southwest desert.
That much he could see out the small windows of the plane.
Ray settled in his seat and waited. He was
alone in the passenger compartment. The Lear Jet could seat ten
comfortably, making his isolation all the more real.
The jet landed at a small airfield with a
single runway. Of the two crew who flew the plane, only one exited
the cockpit. He opened the cabin door, removed Ray’s bag and
computer and walked down the steps to the tarmac. Ray followed. As
he stepped from the cabin, he was engulfed by the great blackness
of a desert night. The smell of juniper and scrub oak filled the
air. A stiff, warm, dry breeze blew from the south. A low set of
mountains was to the west, awash in moonlight. Overhead the black
inverted bowl of night sky was bejeweled with stars, dimmed only
slightly by the moon.
“You look well,” a voice said. Ray turned
and saw Devlin Chambers taking the bags from the co-pilot. “I trust
your flight was a good one.”
“Quick and unexpected,” Ray said.
“Yes, I understand.” Devlin was dressed in a
suit. There he stood, surrounded by desert darkness, on a deserted
airstrip wearing a three-piece suit. Ray might have laughed if he
hadn’t felt so adrift. “I hate doing business this way, Ray, but
such is the nature of my work. Secrets piled upon secrets. I’m glad
you’re here.”
“Just where is . . . here?” Ray watched as
the co-pilot walked up the small stairs and disappeared into the
Lear.
“We better step away. Don’t want to stand
too close to the engines. They make a terrible racket.” Devlin
picked up Ray’s things and moved from the jet.
“They’re leaving us here? Stranding us in
the desert?”
“We’re not stranded, Ray. Follow me,
please.”
“Where?”
“There.” Devlin nodded. “That building.”
In the distance stood a wood structure the
size of a small barn. It’s siding was irregular and worn. It looked
as if it had been there since before World War II.
Devlin moved forward, walking briskly, his
back turned to the Lear. Ray jogged a few steps to catch up. “I
don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but I’m a little uneasy here.
Camping isn’t my style.”
Devlin laughed lightly. “Not my style,
either.” He said no more.
The inside of the building looked as
ramshackle as the exterior. A Coleman battery powered lantern
waited for them just inside one of the two creaky doors at the
front of the structure. The lamp was lit. Apparently, Devlin had
been waiting in the old barn.
“Would you mind picking up the light? My
hands seem to be full.”
Ray reached down and took the lantern by the
handle and raised it, holding it at arms length as if it gave off a
noxious odor. The lantern emitted a stark white light; casting
shadows on the walls that were ten times larger than the objects
that cast them. Dust covered the floor; spider webs hung like
tattered drapes from split and twisted rafters. The air was warm
and smelled of dry rot. Ray thought he heard the shrill squeal of a
rat. His discomfort grew.
“I apologize for the surroundings.” Devlin
said as he walked the length of the barn, leading Ray to the back
wall. He set the duffle bag and computer case next to a packing
crate. “Things will become clear in a few moments.” He reached
inside his coat and for a breathless moment, Ray thought the man
was going for a gun. Instead, he removed a white handkerchief and
wiped his hands. He was a
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