I TRIED TO THINK OF SOME REASON TO GET UP AND follow him, but could think of nothing, having used up the bathroom diversion.
Most of the members in the dining area were finished and were leaving in twos and threes. The people around me all left, except for Monica, who made it clear she was going to be my escort while I was in the place, either because she was afraid to leave me alone or because of some misdirected notion about enlisting me in the nonsense.
“And what brings you to this part of Arizona?” she asked, as the waiter cleared the table.
I had known she was going to ask that, but was lost for an answer. I was not about to say I’m trying to find out more about the legend of Neftoon Zamora and the magical city of Chuchen, to tell her about the blues tape. My mind was racing when, like a ball stopping on a wheel of fortune, I blurted, “I’m looking for UFOs.”
Something about the moment, the place, the wacky look in Monica’s eyes—I don’t know why—it just came out. It could not have been more perfect, though, because somewhere inside the crazy-lady look of Monica Humm I had hit the jackpot. If she was doing chores around the Success Center to earn her keep, what brought her here was a search for spacecraft—that was her main agenda. The most remarkable look passed over her and all of her body language
shifted into a new syntax, her physiognomy cycling from benefactor-guide to naive hopeful. She handled it well, I thought, given that I was sure she wanted to throw herself into my arms and shriek, “At last, I found you!”
“Really? How long have you been interested in extraterrestrial phenomena?”
I never heard it put quite that way. While I was cheerful about the connection between Monica and myself, I was a little troubled she would soon find out I knew nothing of UFOs and had practically no interest in them at all.
“For years now,” I said. “I got interested when I was I child. I saw one once.”
It was a wild hip shot, as crazy as the first remark and even more difficult to back up, but I thought, “As long as I’m out here this far I might as well look around, enjoy myself, see where this goes.”
“I see,” Monica said, uncrossing her ankles and spreading her legs so she could squeeze in closer to the table, leaning over, resting her chin on both of her closed hands, and looking longingly into my eyes. “What was it like?”
Oh, brother. Now what?
“I’m not sure, Monica. I was young and it’s only a vague memory. I’ve probably been influenced by a lot of the things I’ve seen on TV and in the movies.”
“I know what you mean. I saw one once when I was young. It landed.”
I was beginning to feel bad. I didn’t want to engage this woman in a complete hoax about something she obviously took seriously. I thought about some type of retreat. She brushed her hair back from her eyes and became thoughtful,
then took a strand of hair, drew it across her mouth and began chewing on it. After a second or two, she went on.
“I didn’t get close enough to ever see anyone, but it changed my life forever.”
“Why is that?” I asked as fast as I could, less interested in the answer and more interested in getting the topic back in her hands.
“Because it was the greatest love I ever felt. I have never forgotten it, and to be honest, it is one of the reasons I first came to the center. I was, like you, wandering the desert looking for UFOs, when I met August. When that spacecraft landed in the field where I was camping with the Girl Scouts, I felt a communication coming from inside the ship, telepathic, and it told me I had been chosen, and that my life was special. Was yours anything like that?”
“No, not really. Mine was more, uh, mythological. As a matter of fact, I am not sure I ever really saw one.”
“Oh, you mustn’t let yourself think that way. Of course you saw one. Why else would you be here? Why would you be telling me this now, if it were not to fulfill a promise, a connection set by destiny?”
I decided to try the old switch-up.
“How long have you been at the center?”
“The center has only been here for twelve years, but I met August when I was in my twenties. He had a place near here. He was one of the few people who really listened to me and he taught me many things about life. I have helped him out over the years, all the way from calming some of the new girls to helping him set up new courses.”
One thing was getting clear about Monica. She was genuine.
I could see beneath her bag-lady potential she was a sweet and good person, even if she was a little light.
“But August doesn’t really share my thinking about UFOs. He hasn’t had the experience. You have, so you know what it’s like to see one, to know they exist, but it’s hard to talk sincerely with those who have not.”
“I know what you mean,” I said.
We stood up from the table and the change I had noticed was still present with Monica. She was treating me much more like a soul mate and less like a customer.
“There’s an overlook where you can watch Armando’s airplane take off. Would you like to see that?”
“Armando?” I said.
“Someone August works with. He has very nice planes. They come in once or twice a month, and all his planes are pretty.” She motioned for me to come with her.
We walked along an outdoor path to the foot of the great red boulders that served as backdrop to the center, then along a sandy path to a high clearing that gave a clear view of the landing strip.
The Avanti, beautiful indeed, had started one of its twin pusher engines and still had the door open. From one of the hangars came three men and Rootliff. There was tension in the air.
“Hmm. That’s funny,” said Monica. “August didn’t tell me he was leaving.”
There was something more to her remark than curiosity; she was concerned. The other engine started up as everyone boarded and closed the door.
“He was supposed to give a lecture tonight and bring out the new girls. I wonder where he’s going.”
The plane taxied to the end of the runway and took off. Monica watched it with what I took to be a growing fear.
She made an effort to continue the tour.
“This is where I come at night sometimes and watch the stars, the skies. The landing strip seems friendly to me. I think sometimes I might see another …” she trailed off, preoccupied. “I’m sorry, Nez. I should go back in and see what happened to August. This is so unusual for him. He’s never left in Armando’s plane before. You’re welcome to stay if you’d like. I’ll send one of the other members to show you around.”
“No. I understand, Monica. You sure there isn’t something I can do to be helpful?”
“Thank you, nothing. I’m sorry not to be more hospitable.”
We started back down the path to the center, and when we came to the walkway to the main building Monica turned and offered her hand in a proper handshake.
“If you take this walkway around the side, just here,” she said, pointing around the outside of the building, “it will take you back to the parking lot. I hope you’ll come back. I’d like to talk to you some more about our visitors from the stars. Don’t lose faith in what you saw.” She gave my hand a formal, perfunctory pump as she squeezed it, then hurried away.
I was standing alone outside the center. I could only get back to the main building if I went down the same path Monica had taken. I didn’t want to do that. If I was caught, the impudence would be hard to explain. I looked around for another entrance to the building but didn’t look too long before my own discomfort overtook me. I was not cut out
for spy work. I decided to take Monica’s instructions back to the parking lot and walked slowly along the flagstone walkway, looking at the beautiful cactus and rock. All were darkening in the incipient indigo of gathering twilight, while at the same time rimmed with the light orange from the setting sun. Suddenly, I heard Harouk.
“Nez.” He was standing in the rock garden partially hidden from view behind a saguaro.
“Harouk. How did you get in here? I thought you were going back to the station.”
Neffie walked up behind him.
“Did you get a look around?” Harouk said, avoiding my question.
“No. I went to something they call ‘evening energy,’ met some of the guests that are staying here, and Monica, the—I don’t know—the madam, or concierge, or something. I never got off the main paths. Did you see the plane that came in and left?”
“Gus is on it,” said Neffie. “I was watching. The men he was with were taking him somewhere he did not want to go.”
“How long have you been here?” I was trying to reconcile the time I had been at the center with the time I thought it would have taken them to walk from the highway.
“Did she, Monica, give you any idea where he was going?” she said, bypassing the question as Harouk had.
“No, but she was upset about it. She left me here a few minutes ago. She thinks I’m leaving.”
“And no sign of Kweethu?” Harouk said.
“At least not at ‘evening energy.’” The three of us began walking to the parking lot.
“We need to find out where Gus went,” said Neffie.
The outdoor lights began popping on from the photosensor switches as twilight settled in. The fragrance of sage brushed the air. We were at the parking lot, standing next to the El Camino.
Suddenly three men came out of the front doors and hurried quickly along one of the walkways, urgent, searching.
“Looks like Gus has been kidnapped,” Neffie said. “That’s a search party if I ever saw one. Can you ask Monica where the plane might have gone?”
“I can, but she’s going to think it’s weird. She thinks I’m looking for UFOs … .” As I said this, Neffie and Harouk looked behind me and signaled for me to be quiet.
I turned to see Monica approaching. She was simmering with anxiety, too absorbed to notice Neffie and Harouk until she was almost on us. Once she was aware of them she slowed slightly, but was overcome with worry and pressed on toward us.
“Hello,” she said to the three of us.
“Monica this is, uh, Mary and Joe.” I have no idea why I lied about their names. Just more spylike I guess. “They’re friends of mine I was going to meet at …”
Monica didn’t need any explanations. She nodded an indifferent hello to them. Harouk extended his hand and Monica shook it.
“Joe,” said Harouk, “short for Jor-El, Superman’s dad.”
I wanted to kick him. He had thrown us into that nutty moment when I knew if I made any eye contact with him I would double over with laughter, and if I did that, the consequences would be dire, since the laughter would be unexplainable to Monica.
“Oh, you must be very proud,” Monica said.
I looked at her for a split second, utterly confused. Fortunately, there was a glint in her eye. She was being facetious. Maybe this was her way of letting off tension, a little light laughter. That gave me the opening to laugh out loud with a purpose, which I did, letting the laughter blow off the tension like the steam whistle on a ship. But it was not to be a good, long laugh because Monica only smiled and quickly returned to her seriousness, to her anxiety.
“Nez, when August left, did you notice whether he was carrying anything, a suitcase or a bag?”
“I really didn’t.”
Monica’s brow furrowed. I felt bad for her. She seemed on the verge of hysteria. A tremble was slowly overtaking her, starting with her hands. Neffie stepped in.
“Are you worried about something?” she asked.
That was all Monica needed. She began to wring her hands and to talk while struggling for composure.
“I think August is in trouble. Serious trouble. Those men on the plane were from Nevada.”
She said the word Nevada like she might have said Beelzebub.
“What do you think has happened to him?” Neffie probed further.
“I don’t … I really shouldn’t bother you with this.”
“If we can help, Monica, we will.” When Neffie said that, she sounded like Monica’s guardian angel. I didn’t understand how she had managed to shift from our mission of finding Kweethu to helping Monica retrieve Rootliff, but the sincerity was real, undeniable. Monica surrendered. The
tears flowed as Neffie walked to her and put her arms around her in a display of comfort and affection that was inspiring.
“I’m afraid they may hurt him,” Monica said through tears.
“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.” Now Neffie was in full command.
Monica nodded and motioned for us to follow her. As we walked to the main entry and down one of the halls, the three men I had seen earlier walked up to Monica. They were not interested in us. One of them spoke.
“He’s not here.”
Monica nodded to him. “Okay. I was certain I saw him leave with the fellows from the plane. Okay. Thank you for looking. John, tell the members there will not be a lecture tonight and handle the advanced ungerret yourself, will you? It’s four thousand.”
There is something to be said for maturity. If Monica had been a younger person I think she would have not had the presence of mind to keep the activities of the center going. I was impressed with her aplomb.
We continued through the complex until we came to what could only have been Gus’s office.
It was a large rectangular room with a fireplace along one wall and a glass partition to an enclosed garden at one end. A desk was catty-corner at the other end, in front of it a conversational seating area of a sofa and two easy chairs around a low table. The table was piled high with books and papers as was his desk—messy. The walls were covered with pictures of various people with Gus, a large white board with some recent scribbling, and a framed
poster of “Seven Sacred Sayings of Success.” I didn’t read them but noticed in passing there seemed to be only six. Monica motioned for us to sit down in the chairs and sofa, which we did as she went behind Gus’s desk and picked up a small piece of paper. I thought it must be some kind of ransom note, perhaps a suicide note, or good-bye letter, because she held it away from her like it had an odor, holding it by her thumb and forefinger at arm’s length and turning her head slightly from it. She brought it to Neffie and handed it to her.
“I found this on his desk. Gus has been having some trouble, I think, meeting some payment schedules. The men in the plane usually come once a week and leave in a few minutes with a briefcase. This is the first time he’s gone with them. It isn’t like him to go like this, without saying anything. He’s been talking about flying to Nevada but … he just came back from New Mexico and was really afraid. He said he had been unable to get the money back from someone who had taken it.”
I looked surreptitiously at Harouk and raised my eyebrows. He nodded ever so slightly.
“When he came back was anyone with him? A woman, an Indian woman?”
“No,” said Monica, a little curious Neffie would ask such a pointed and informed question. “Why?”
“We knew the man Gus went to see in New Mexico,” Neffie said.
Monica looked at all of us without speaking, somewhere between fright and puzzlement.
“Do you know Gus?” she asked, trying to understand who we were.
“No, we had never seen Gus, until he showed up where we worked. He had a gun and he started shooting.”
“Oh my god,” Monica said. “And you people are the police.”
We shook our heads in unison.
“No, no. We aren’t after Gus. But a friend of ours was with him and she has disappeared. Gus picked her up in Quemado and was the last person we know she was with.”
“Oh, dear god,” Monica said, now really succumbing to some horror she had in her mind. “I knew he was in trouble.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Neffie. “Did he say anything about his trip to New Mexico?”
“Only that he couldn’t get the money back, someone had stolen it, and he was concerned Armando would be extremely angry and do something.”
“Armando?” Harouk said.
“He’s the man who lent Gus the money to build the center. They have all sorts of dealings, but I never was sure what they were.” She pointed to the note she had handed Neffie. “What do you suppose this means? It’s frightening to me.”
Neffie studied it, then showed it to Harouk. Both of them were mystified, as if looking at some recondite, obscure language. They handed it to me. I recognized it immediately. It was a flight plan.
“This is a flight plan,” I said. “You said Gus was planning to go to Nevada?”
Monica nodded yes.
A flight plan is a routine document pilots use to inform the air-traffic system about a proposed flight. This was a VFR
flight plan to a latitude and longitude coordinate, probably a private field. Without a map I couldn’t tell where it was, only that it was somewhere in the Southwest.
“Do you know where Gus keeps his flight gear?” I asked.
“No. He usually wears his regular clothes when he goes flying.”
“No, I mean maps and stuff like that. Pilots usually carry a bag with maps and airport directories, things like that. Where might that be?” I asked.
“It’s most likely in the plane.”
“Can we take a look?” I asked. “Just to ease your mind, this is nothing sinister.” I held up the paper. “I think I can tell where Gus is from this.”
“Okay.” Monica stood and led us out of the room. As we walked, Neffie put her arm around Monica and said something quietly to her. Monica nodded and smiled in appreciation.
I was walking beside Harouk.
“‘Superman’s dad’?” I said.
“She thought it was funny. It was good for the moment.” Harouk was deadpan.
I gave him a shove on the shoulder.
We walked from the complex along the outdoor winding paths down a few steps to the hangars. Monica dialed in a combination on one of the doors, opening it to reveal a beautiful early-eighties V Tail Bonanza.
Neffie, Harouk, and Monica stood beside the plane while I climbed in and looked around for Gus’s pilot bag. It was on the backseat. I took out two of the aeronautical charts and laid them out on a table set against one wall of the
hangar. It was the first time I had understood exactly where I was, at least according to a map.
The Success Center was south of the Apache National Forest, southeast of the towns of Stargo and Morenci, near the junction of the Eagle Creek and the Gila River. Gus had a flight plan that took him into northern Nevada between Elko and Battle Mountain to a private strip somewhere near Newmont Mine in the Tuscarora Mountains, a low range of five- and six-thousand-foot peaks. Whether this was where Gus had gone with the men in the Avanti was another story.
“Did Gus ever tell you where Armando lived? Did he ever mention the name of a town?” I asked Monica.
“Oh, if he ever did I never paid any attention.”
“The flight plan takes him here.” I pointed to the chart. “Do any of these towns ring a bell?” Monica read the map and shook her head no.
“Can you fly this?” Neffie asked me.
“Sure,” I said.
Neffie turned to Monica. “Do you think we should go look for him?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Could you really get there?” Monica asked me.
I recognized the question as more than what was said. I had answered it many times before. The question was really, won’t this thing plummet to the ground if you have the slightest problem, can one really navigate the skies, if god had meant for man to fly wouldn’t he have given us wings, aren’t airline pilots a cross between genius-level physicists and supercomputing robots? All this rolled into the questioning look now in everyone’s eyes except Neffie’s.
“If you would like me to fly us to the destination on
this flight plan I can do that easily, assuming this is an airworthy ship.”
“Oh, Gus kept it in perfect shape” said Monica. “But …”
I didn’t like any equivocation in a statement like this one.
“But what?” I said.
“Maybe you three could go. I wouldn’t want to leave the center.”
Monica’s instinct for trust was amazing to behold. I had the feeling it put a panoply of protection around her, so complete was her faith in the goodness of other people. She was willing for the three of us to leave with Gus’s airplane and she had no doubt we would go forth and return faithful to the task of finding Gus, and not simply steal the airplane. The astounding thing, the lovely thing, that made the childlike trust of Monica Humm so startlingly substantial, was that she was absolutely right. That is exactly what we would do.
It was then I noticed Harouk. He was not happy. Some people have an aversion to flying—in fact, most people do—then some are categorically, unequivocally, sincerely terrified. Harouk was one of these. I could see it in his eyes, darting from escape to escape, looking for cover. Whatever else might happen tonight, Harouk was never going to set foot in this aircraft.
The little kid in me thought about saying, “C’mon Harouk, this airplane used to fall apart in the sky, but it’s fixed now.” Instead, I opened an escape for him. I didn’t want him to have to explain himself.
“We can go look, Monica, but it might be best if one
of us stayed here, to help you keep an eye on things, and we have our car here, so …”It was lame, but it was the best I could come up with as far as giving Harouk a flight-preempting job.
“I can stay,” Harouk said with remarkable restraint. “Fine with me. I’ll watch the car.”
Monica walked to a metal locker next to the table we were gathered around, opened it and took a set of keys off a hook inside.
“These are to the plane. How long will it take you to get there?”
I looked at the flight plan.
“About three hours if all goes well.”
I looked at the wind sock above the building. The wind was directly down the runway, blowing gently. I grabbed a tow bar leaning against the wall, wrestled the airplane out of the hangar, and pointed it into the wind. The stars were out now and I could see a faint halation along the distant horizon heralding a moonrise. Neffie turned to Harouk.
“Turn your phone on just in case. What’s the number here?” she asked Monica.
Monica wrote the phone number for the center on the map I was using.
I began a preflight exam of the Beech, and when I was sure we were ready to go, climbed in the pilot’s seat. Whatever Gus’s shortcomings, they were not apparent in his airplane. Everything looked in excellent condition. Neffie got in after me and sat next to me in the right-hand seat.
Harouk and Monica stood by each other next to the hangar, watching as this most abnormal of human activities
got underway. The relief on Harouk’s face was palpable, the hope on Monica’s touching. I gave them a little wave as the motor started and we taxied to the end of the runway. Then I checked behind us, gave the little butterfly full power and we lifted off into the night sky. I made a climbing right turn and crossed the landing strip at about five hundred feet. Below we could see the tiny figures of Harouk and Monica, eyes skyward, as they waved us good fortune.