The Lord of Opium

“I’m not a clone, you turkey. Once the original dies, the clone becomes a full human.” The little girl folded her arms and scowled at Happy Man.

Glass Eye grinned, something Matt didn’t think was even possible. The famous teeth of a twenty-year-old gleamed in his weathered face, and something squeaked in his neck. “She’s as cheeky as the original,” he said with approval.

“Tell me about her, Mr. African. I always wondered what she was like.”

“Well . . . ” The yellow eyes swiveled, remembering. “She was very clever, too clever really. How she could hide when she was naughty! I would look for her all over the presidential palace. I would send guards to seek her out, but she always escaped them. Then, when I was worried enough to forgive her, she reappeared, hanging her head as you do now and promising never to do whatever it was again.”

“She was like one of those brightly colored hummingbirds you have here,” said Happy Man. “They hang in the air, and when you try to grab them, they disappear.”

“Nobody but a dum-dum would try to catch a hummingbird,” Listen said scornfully.

Glass Eye wheezed again. He was pleased with her. “You do remind me of her. So quick. So pretty. I’m glad you didn’t terminate her, Dr. Rivas.”

Matt could see the little girl trying to figure out the word. Fortunately, it wasn’t part of her vocabulary.

“How come you don’t blink, Mr. African?” said Listen, gazing into his face. “If I don’t blink, my eyes hurt.”

“Listen! Don’t ask rude questions!” cried Dr. Rivas.

Dabengwa waved his hand at the doctor. “It’s all right. Her original would have said the same thing. My eyes are artificial, child. They are machines, like little cameras. Dr. Rivas made them for me many years ago, after I was injured by a car bomb. He replaces them every so often.”

Listen was impressed. She went up close and watched as he swiveled them back and forth. “Is that why they make squeaky noises?”

“They should not do that,” grumbled the drug lord. “I need them replaced, but one cannot have several operations at once. Parts of my body are artificial. I was not blessed with a fine hospital and many clones as El Patrón was.”

The little girl cocked her head to one side. She was clearly pondering the meaning of that last sentence. “Why is it important to have many clones?”

“Let the man rest,” interrupted Dr. Rivas. “Please overlook her questions, mi patrón. She chatters like a tree full of birds, and half the time she doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“That’s not true!” cried the little girl. “I’m smart. I can recite the names of planets and the twenty biggest stars in the sky. I can dissect a rabbit, or could if Dr. Rivas would let me.”

“Now is not the time,” said the doctor, pulling her away roughly. Glass Eye slumped in his chair, and the nurse came forward again with a glass of liquid.

“We will conduct more business tomorrow,” Happy Man announced. “The drug lord is tired.” He went to the door, but Glass Eye wasn’t finished.

“Tomorrow,” he said heavily. “I will see you tomorrow, Baby Patrón. And then you will open the border for me.”

Never, thought Matt as they were led away.

47

HAPPY MAN GOES HUNTING

Why did Dr. Rivas call Mr. African the patrón? Aren’t you the patrón?” asked Listen when they had returned to the room.

“He’s not called Mr. African. His name is Glass Eye Dabengwa, and he’s trying to take over the country.”

Boris and Samson had settled by the door, this time with two cigarettes. The visit to their boss had unnerved them so much that they were trying to get high as soon as possible. They puffed vigorously until a smoke alarm on the wall went off. Samson bashed it with his fist until it stopped.

“I guess Glass Eye got in when the Bug opened the border,” said Listen.

Matt sat up. “You knew about that?”

“Dr. Rivas said they were going to do it. He told the Bug they were going to the Scorpion Star, and oh boy, was he happy about it. He said he was going to aim a big missile at the nursery and blow me up.”

Matt sighed inwardly. He kept trying to feel sorry for El Bicho, but it was difficult. “I closed the border again. That’s why there aren’t more bad guys.”

“So are you the patrón or not?”

“We’re still arguing about it.”

Matt, in spite of the desperate situation, knew he had a few things in his favor. Glass Eye had few allies in the country, and Cienfuegos, if he was still alive, would make sure that number went down. As for opening the border, no one except Matt could do it. Dabengwa could rage and threaten all he liked, but he couldn’t kill his only chance of escape.