The Lord of Opium

It hadn’t escaped Matt that Cienfuegos had said “we” would secure “our” power base. Somehow, he had to make the man understand that they were not sharing power. “I really do intend to cure the eejits,” he said.

The jefe held out his hands in mock submission. “One may intend anything, mi patrón. The reality, alas, is different. In the old days the drug lords used one microchip the size of a grain of rice. It wore out after a few months and had to be replaced. Now they inject thousands that are no larger than bacteria. These spread out over the brain and form a network, and if one fails, the others take over its function. The effect is permanent.”

Matt felt shaken. “If a surgeon tried to remove them . . . ”

“It would be like finding the right grains of sand on a beach.”

They ate in silence. Waitress brought them crème caramel custards and withdrew to stand by a painting of a Spanish infanta being amused by a dwarf. She looked hypnotized, and the dwarf’s face was twisted in an expression that might have been pain.

The windows of the dining room were open, and a cool breeze carried the smell of distant creosote bushes. Matt thought it must be raining somewhere out on the desert. “Please close the windows, Waitress,” he said.

Cienfuegos laughed. “You say ‘please’ to an eejit. You might as well say ‘thank you’ to a duck.”

“It does no harm,” Matt said, disliking the man’s attitude.

“It doesn’t bother me, but you can’t do it in front of important people. I’m telling you this for your own good.”

Waitress had closed the windows, but she still stood in front of the glass, gazing into the darkness. What is she thinking? Matt thought. Does she know what she’s doing? Can she smell the creosote?

“Please meet me in Celia’s kitchen tomorrow morning,” he said, turning back to Cienfuegos. “Eight o’clock. You can show me the holoport.”

“You almost had it right,” said the jefe, grinning. “You don’t say ‘please’ to me, either.”

“It seems that being a patrón means being rude to everyone,” said Matt.

“Pretty much,” Cienfuegos admitted.

“One thing more. I want to change Waitress’s name to Mirasol. Is that possible?”

“Of course. I’ll give her a retraining session tomorrow.” The jefe bowed and took his leave. Matt was left to watch Mirasol at the window.

“Come here,” he commanded. He filled a plate with lamb and mint sauce, asparagus, and half a baked potato, as much as he thought healthy for her. “Now eat,” he said.

And Mirasol ate ravenously. She acted as though she were starving. The pellets that made up the eejits’ diet were running out, so perhaps she was starving.

After she had finished, Matt got her one of the custards from the serving table at the side of the room. It was creamy on the inside and brown with caramelized sugar outside. To his amazement, she stopped eating after the first bite. She sat as though stunned, with the spoon in her mouth, and he was afraid he’d made her sick. But then she began to eat again, slowly, keeping the custard on her tongue for a long time. She had to be tasting it! She had to be!

“I’ll make it up to you,” Matt said softly, watching her. “There has to be a way to find all those grains of sand on the beach.”

7

MAJOR BELTRÁN

Matt woke up feeling elated. He wasn’t confused as he’d been in the morning. He knew he was in El Patrón’s bedroom, but the mattress was new and the windows were open, letting out the odors of old age. Today he would have the servants take up the musty carpets and change the curtains. The tapestries would be stored and the walls scrubbed.

I can do anything I want, thought Matt, stretching out on the clean, fresh sheets. It seemed incredible that he’d been here only two nights. The first he’d slept on the ground at the oasis; the second had been spent here in the lair of the old man. But I can make it my own, the boy thought happily. He sprang up, eager to explore his new empire.

In the old days he hid in shadows, avoiding the cruel remarks from people who thought him lower than a beast. He’d learned to move like a shadow, eavesdropping and trying to make sense of the world around him. Now he had come into the light.

Today he would contact María. She would come to him, and he would show her how everyone obeyed him and how they need never hide their love again. They would be together always and perhaps become prometido, engaged to be married.