Love Story: In The Web of Life (25 page)

We got back in the truck and drove the mile and
a half to the ranch through the pine forest.

The gateway to the ranch had two posts and a
lintel made of logs. The lintel across the driveway mounted several
sets of long steer horns. A wrought iron sculpture on the top of
the lentil pictured bucking horses ridden by cowboys in Stetson
hats twirling lariats. In the center was a large letter R with a
bar underneath it, apparently the ranch brand.

The road from the gate wound downhill past a
meadow filled with spring wildflowers to a slight rise where the
ranch house sat, a factory-made log house, with logs turned to
uniform size and machine-made notches in the corners where the
walls connected to the front. It was two stories high with two
dormer windows protruding from the roof that extended over a large
covered porch. Four rocking chairs sat on the porch.

As we pulled up in front, I saw a woman sitting
in one of the rocking chairs. She got up and came out to greet us,
kissing Buster, and then turning with a hand out to introduce
herself.

"Hi, I'm Sofia, you must be Dave Willard. We
are here to make sure you have a safe and enjoyable
stay."

I was surprised at the strength in her
handshake, more like a man's than a woman's. Sofia was dressed in a
plain blue denim dress, and a heavy silver and jade necklace about
her neck, and a variety of matching bracelets, and belt. Long black
braided hair fell down the length of her back. A dark complexion
and brown eyes gave me the impression that she must be Native
American.

Buster laughed. "I haven't seen you in that
getup since we left Taos! It looks good." He turned to me and
volunteered, "We were out there on a western shoot. Although Sofia
is of Portuguese descent, she gets cast for some Indian roles. That
was her reservation–diva costume. Wrong tribe for Rocky Butte,
though."

"I think it’s cute," replied Sofia.

"Here, Dave, I'll show you around. This is the
main lodge, and there are six cabins nestled in the woods, three on
the other side of the meadow and three in the woods behind the
house. Down below there, in the back, are caretakers, maids, and
hands quarters plus a barn and five horses in the corral. Two
maids, who don't speak much English, and a wrangler, Ben, are
there. We gave everyone else a vacation–security convenience to
make sure nobody would be going into town telling about our
operation. If you or your guests would like to go riding, they can
see Ben. He also has a Jeep for rides to and from the airstrip or
over to the lake where there is a swimming beach, and a few
rowboats and picnic spots. People don't need to be escorted, unless
they want to be, anywhere on the ranch.

We then went over to a dilapidated–looking
pickup, with a camper shell on the back parked near the lodge.
Buster walked around back and then opened the camper shell door.
There was no roof on the camper, and the shell was filled with a
satellite dish.

Buster volunteered, "This provides secure high
speed internet service. We are too far out in the boonies for cable
or DSL. The rig also has a miniature cell site so you and your
guests can use their phones. The lodge has its own satellite
TV."

We went into the lodge. The walls were
varnished logs, the furniture, deep–brown leather with the wooden
parts made from whitish branches, something like birch. On the
walls and the floor were rugs woven in an Indian style. A large
river rock fireplace filled one end of the room.

'Very Western,' I thought. 'Tina will like the
fact that there are no mounted animal head trophies on the
walls.'

Buster showed me a bedroom off the kitchen.
"This is where we will sleep, handy to respond to
anything."

Then, he went to a heavy wood plank door and
opened it. "This goes to the wine cellar. We can use it as a safe
room. It has a heavy lock on the inside so nobody can get in. If
anyone needs to take refuge, this is a good place.

"You and your guest will stay in the suite
upstairs. There is an office area up there with a small conference
table. We put your boxes that the courier picked up at your office
up there. The satellite rig in the camper provides Wi-Fi so you and
your guests can have Internet access anywhere in the
house."

Sofia invited us to follow her out onto the
porch for lunch, carrying a platter of sandwiches. "I have iced
tea," she said. "But there is beer in the fridge if you want it.
Feel free to go into the kitchen and get anything you want at any
time day or night. This is your house."

"Thanks," I said. "By the way, where is the car
I will drive?"

"Cody is bringing it up tomorrow."

After lunch, I excused myself to rest and get
settled in.

Sofia said, "Dinner at six, happy hour at
five."

****

Unknown to Dave, somebody was using this night
to visit CrystalAire airport and tamper with Dave's
sailplane.

Mr. S drove his white van with the lights off,
in the light of the quarter moon, down the dirt road to where the
enemy kept his sailplane trailer, thinking to himself,
‘
I will destroy this agent of the forces
of evil, those who would move the world back into superstition and
fear by promulgating false beliefs in the name of a false science.
The attorney will die a deserved, terrible death.’
He
chuckled to himself. ‘
The Skeptimos Order
will honor me for this feat.’ He visualized the ceremony. The
members in their hooded white robes, emblazoned with the flame red
crosses, would chant and place a wreathe of laurels on his
head.

Mr. S parked his van near the sailplane
trailer, went into the back and, pulled the black curtains over the
windows. By a dim light, he assembled his bombs. The first was a
flare that made a poisonous smoke, one that was intended for
killing gophers and varmints in their tunnels or dens. The second,
a half stick of dynamite, was rigged to detonate two minutes after
the smoke bomb. He laughed to himself as he set the smoke bomb
altitude detonator to go off after the sailplane had gained two
thousand feet above the airport. He used a marking pen to draw the
Skeptemos symbol on the duct tape holding the bombs
together.

After turning off the light, he left the van
for the sailplane trailer. Fortunately, an outside night-light on a
nearby hangar provided him with enough illumination to do his work.
He put on surgical gloves to prevent fingerprints, and used the key
he had made from a wax impression to unlock the trailer. He slowly
opened the trailer, reached in and removed the cockpit canopy.
Watching pilots rig their sailplanes in Ogden had carefully planned
his procedure. He gingerly placed the bombs behind and under the
pilot's seat, in a place that wouldn't be discovered in assembling
the airplane.

He removed the parachute and turned it over
and, placed a locking pin in the ripcord to prevent it from being
pulled to open the parachute. The parachute was carefully replaced
in the cockpit and the canopy was restored. He closed and locked
the trailer and returned to his van.

Mr. S was jubilant as he drove away, laughing
to himself about the cleverness of his plan. When the attorney took
his next flight, being towed to altitude, the smoke bomb would go
off filling the cockpit with black, poisonous smoke. If the pilot
could open the canopy in time to not be overcome, he might try to
fly the sailplane back to the field. The second bomb would kill the
pilot if he tried that. If he managed to bail out, the parachute
wouldn't open and the attorney would fall in terror to his death.
He wanted to be there to observe his creation.

The next morning was a beautiful Sierra morning
in Rocky Butte. I woke up at six and went down stairs in my running
suit. Sofia was alone in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee and
sitting in a chair with her legs pulled up under her
bathrobe.

"It's cold," she said. "Pour yourself some
coffee while I make breakfast."

I poured a cup of coffee and then said, "Don't
bother with breakfast now, I am going for a run. How far is the
lake?"

"About a mile. Go past the stables and turn
right at the fork in the road." She went to the cupboard and took
out a canister of bear spray tucked in a little hoister on a belt.
"Here, take this with you, it's good for lots of
things."

"Is there a bear problem here?"

"No, but you may never know what you might run
into around here. Had some rumors about Sasquatch."

"I know about him. Remember, I was raised in a
logging town in Northern California. I understand he can be a
really bad one."

I didn't think she had Sasquatch in mind, so I
didn't protest.

I had a pleasant run to the lake, taking it
easy to get used to the thin air at this altitude. It was
refreshing to be among the tall trees, hear the wind in the
branches, smell the pines, and run on a carpet of dry needles. It
is very different from running in LA. I decided to rest and enjoy
the view of the sparkling lake and the surrounding pine forest. I
sat down on a soft bed of pine needles underneath a tree, shifted
my weight to remove a small pinecone underneath me, leaned back on
the tree, and relaxed. I closed my eyes and was enjoying the sun on
my face when I heard an airplane. I looked up and saw a single
engine airplane a couple of thousand feet up, flying off to the
East. I closed my eyes again and listened to the fading engine
noise and relaxed, thinking I could easily nap. My mind
drifted.

Then, I started to see pictures, in my minds
eye, of biplanes circling, as if dog fighting, with the sounds of
machine-guns and engines revving and slowing as the planes climbed,
turned, and dove. I felt a sense of fear and intense concentration.
I sensed I was flying a biplane and pursuing another airplane
laboring along, an observation plane, one with a pilot and a
machine gunner. It didn't seem to maneuver to evade me.

I made one pass with my machine guns blaring,
saw the pilot and gunner slump down, and saw the smoke begin to
pour from the engine. I circled to make sure it went down and then
saw the machine gunner emerge and start turning his gun in my
direction. His gun apparently jammed, and he was pounding on it. As
I closed in I saw that the gunner was a mere boy, with a look of
terror in his eyes. I couldn't fire my gun. As I passed by the
plane, I could see the pilot's head slumped over the side of the
cockpit. He also was a mere boy, and judging by his displayed
aeronautical skills, someone who had only been trained to take off
and land before being sent out on a reconnaissance mission. I was
fighting against children!

I moved away and watched the plane go down and
crash in flames. I realized that trying to win the Blue Max was not
the result of engaging in dogfights between chivalrous knights of
the sky: it was awarded for murdering children.

I believe I dozed for a while, and then the
vision came back. I was at an assembly of military personnel on the
parade ground of the airfield, and the commandant was cutting off
my medals and insignia. I felt totally disgraced. Then, I sensed
that I later died in a trench as an ordinary
infantryman.

I woke up and cried openly. I slowly walk back
to the ranch house, assimilating what I had experienced traveling
in space-time, wondering why I had been exposed to such dreadful
vision.

When I entered the kitchen, Sofia glanced at
me, then looked at me carefully and said, "You OK? Did you really
run into Sasquatch?"

I replied, "I'm OK. I just recalled a terrible
time when I lived in that logging town, when I discovered a dead
body in the woods." That really had happened: it was a passible
explanation.

"I'll bring you your breakfast. Go into the
dining room. Buster is there with Cody who drove your car up from
LA."

Buster introduced me to Cody who didn't look
like a western movie stuntman at all. He was five–feet,
seven–inches, about one-hundred-seventy pounds, brown eyes, and
wearing a short haircut, carefully made to appear spiky. He looked
exactly like me!

Buster explained, "Cody is your, shall we say,
stunt double who will be living at the farmhouse we stopped by up
the road. He is well trained, like all members of our organization,
and will give Mr. S an appropriate welcome if he shows
up."

I looked in astonishment at Cody and said, "Are
we related? You look like you could be my brother."

We went outside to the black Camaro parked next
to Buster's truck. Buster handed me the keys. "We have modified the
alarm system. Since we wouldn't put it past Mr. S to tamper with
your car, you have a special electronic door opener on the key
chain. It has two indicator lights above the door open button. If
either of those is lit, don't go near the car. The yellow light
indicates that someone has been in the car since you locked the
door. The red light indicates that someone has had the hood open
since you turned off the engine. If either of those lights is on,
walk away. I'll probably be nearby to take care of you. This is a
very important instruction. Also, don't give your car to anyone
else to drive unless it is at my instruction."