Unlimited Page 22

  “Very.”

  “Good.” The old man waved him on. “So go and be helpful.”

  Chapter 38

  Sofia stood beside Pedro on the tallest rise overlooking the border region. The highway was a long ribbon of slowly moving headlights. Four miles away, the border crossing and the Rio Grande bridge formed a brilliant island of light. Beyond that shone the Texas town of Presidio.

  Sofia asked, “Anything?”

  Pedro dropped his borrowed binoculars to glare at her. “You think I would hide such a thing? Forget to mention it to you?”

  “I am only asking.”

  “You will be the first to know. Believe me.”

  The agents were stretched out along the rise, all of them studying the terrain. One of the agents spoke softly to Martinez, who replied loud enough for them to hear. “So far, we have nothing.”

  Sofia said to her brother, “Pray harder.”

  Simon remained by the apparatus, pretending to make further adjustments while watching as Carlos scaled a rickety ladder attached to the factory’s nearest smokestack.

  Holding himself in place with one arm, Carlos pulled out a pair of binoculars and scouted the distance. From his position by the transformers, Simon thought he caught a flash from beyond the Rio Grande. There and gone in an instant. In confirmation, Carlos leaned down and waved.

  Enrique said, “Make it work. Now.”

  “Okeydokey.”

  Enrique glared at him, clearly displeased with anything other than a man who shared his fear. “I don’t need to tell you what is at stake. Especially for you.”

  Pedro exclaimed, “Did you see that?”

  Martinez whirled around. “See what?”

  “Something by the border. No, it’s gone.”

  “Our side or theirs?”

  “At about ten o’clock. Their side.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “It was beyond the river.” Pedro dropped the glasses. “Maybe I was mistaken.”

  “No, no. I don’t think so.”

  “It could have been anything. Headlights. A reflection.”

  “To the west of the American town there is nothing but desert. A light flashing on and off would most likely be a signal.”

  “Saying what?”

  Martinez lifted her binoculars. “Keep looking.”

  Chapter 39

  Simon flipped the switch.

  The device took longer than he expected to warm up. Or perhaps it was how his heart beat at triple time.

  Enrique shifted impatiently. “Count your breaths, my friend. If you fail, they are numbered.”

  Simon leaned closer still, craning to hear the hum of power.

  “I’m sure one of El Noche’s men can loan me a gun. If you fail, I will personally . . .”

  Enrique stopped because the headlights flickered. All of them. In a unified vibratory pattern.

  Simon heard it then. Unmistakable. “Here we go.”

  The man in the vehicle spoke. Simon knew it was El Noche. No one else sounded that way. Words emerged like the rattle of old bones.

  One of the thugs whistled sharply. A single note.

  Carlos looked down. The thug waved his hand.

  Carlos turned and flashed a light at the border.

  Enrique demanded, “How long?”

  “It’s happening.”

  “I need to know precisely.”

  Simon had to say something. He could feel the man’s latent rage, the natural desire to reach out and strike someone, anyone, him. “Almost there.”

  Which he hoped fervently was true.

  Pedro hissed, “Something’s happening.”

  Martinez and her partner moved in unison. “Where?”

  Pedro dropped his glasses and pointed at the border. “The lights at the station just flickered. And on the bridge.”

  “That’s not . . .” Martinez’s eyes widened. “I see it too! But how is that possible? They have their own generator.”

  “I told you. Simon’s device affects all power in the region. Everything from laptops to car batteries.”

  Sofia moved like a tigress protecting her young. “Will you two stop talking about what does not matter? Look for Simon!”

  The machine’s humming noise continued to rise as it fed off the transformer system. The headlights brightened immensely. They became so intense, they hurt Simon’s eyes. One of the thugs rasped out a curse. The old man still seated in the vehicle shielded his eyes.

  Then the secondary effect took hold.

  The cars went black. As did all the flashlights. And the phones. Everything.

  The only illumination came from a faint trace of lightning that flickered at ground level. Encircling the device at its heart.

  Carlos yelled from the ladder and pointed.

  In the distance, the lights along the border fence began going out.

  “It works! It works!” Enrique was almost dancing.

  The massive island of lights to either side of the border bridge went dark. The old man in the car laughed.

  “Now you will see why your device could not be permitted to fail,” Enrique said. “The night winds are almost always from the south. Feel? Strong enough to carry a dark balloon. There, see? It rises from the earth!”

  And it did. A massive silhouette carved from the stars, big as a floating castle. It drifted steadily northward, silent and massive. Simon asked, “How much?”

  “The cargo?” Enrique’s laugh carried a manic edge. “Six tons!”

  And then the night took a ragged turn for the worse.

  All of Martinez’s agents were staring and pointing. The night was totally dark, as though some massive beast had eaten away every vestige of civilization. The river ran silver and smooth. A dog barked. Then another. But nothing moved. The highway was silent. The border bridge was simply a dark line drawn across the Rio Grande.

  Then one of the officers shouted and pointed into the distance. A monolith rose into the night sky. It was the largest hot-air balloon Pedro had ever seen. The giant ball cut a swath from the stars. It had to be a good three miles away, perhaps as much as five.

  Martinez nudged him. “Keep looking.”

  Pedro lifted his binoculars. Searching the darkness between them and the border. Hunting. Hunting hard.

  Still, it was Sofia who first noticed it. “I see something.”

  Then Martinez said, “I see it too.”

  “But it’s so faint.”

  “What difference does it make? A light is a light.”

  Martinez and her partner called softly. The other agents moved swiftly. They had come prepared. There was no telling what they had thought of Martinez’s instructions to bring mountain bikes. But they had done as she had ordered. They opened the rear gates and pulled out six bicycles. There was soft argument between them. Martinez pointed at Pedro, insisting that he come along.

  Sofia said, “The light! It’s growing!”

  Martinez looked over. “We must hurry.”

  Her partner squinted into the distance. “What is it I see?”

  “Later!” She hoisted herself onto the saddle. “Move out!”

  Chapter 40

  The entire scenario changed for Simon in the space of about three breaths.

  The ground-level lightning gathered and magnified. The effects were heightened by the utter absence of any other illumination. The humming resonated at every level of the audible range and far beyond, both high- and low-end vibratory patterns. Simon knew because his entire body felt like a tuning fork. Even his bones rang to the symphony of rising power.

  The electricity gathered around the apparatus until the device itself became invisible. To Simon it looked as though the machine had entered a shimmering chrysalis. The effect grew in strength, both the brilliance o
f the light and the sound.

  Then it became painful. Both auditory and visual effects reached the point where they began to sear the senses.

  Enrique shrieked, “Make it stop.”

  Simon sensed the mayor was waving a pistol in his general direction. But it did not matter. Nothing did, except observing. Being the scientist. The professional analyst who designed a controlled experiment and carefully assessed the results.

  Which, Simon had to admit, were totally awesome.

  The lightning gathered until the ground between the transformers and the device was carpeted in power. The tapestry of energy was no longer content to remain where it was. It began to rise, a swirling pillar of blue and purple and gold lightning, an inverse whirlpool, forming a column that rose and grew and intensified.

  The pillar of fire rose to join with the sky.

  Simon lifted his hands to heaven. “For Vasquez!”

  The police did not come with sirens. They came screaming.

  If Simon’s life had not been on the line, he would have found it hilarious.

  They bounded and leapt over the rough terrain. Pedro pedaled out front, yelling louder than any of them. Which was nuts. The guy didn’t even have a weapon. Maybe that was why he shouted until his voice broke. It was the only thing he had to throw.

  Some of the cops had clearly not been on a bike in a long while. They puffed and they wiggled, struggling to find enough air to get up the rise, much less take aim.

  Then the pillar of fire vanished. A blinding force one moment, nothing the next. The humming stopped as well.

  Two seconds later, the power returned. The headlights snapped on. Radios crackled. The border crossing came back to life. In the distance rose the faint whoop-whoop of an automatic alarm.

  The first gunshot came from overhead.

  A stone by Simon’s left leg pinged. Martinez’s partner proved a modern-day gunslinger. He spun his bike through a tight wheelie and drew his weapon, all in one smooth motion, and fired a single shot.

  Carlos yelled hoarsely and dropped from the ladder.

  One of the thugs fired his weapon. Both of El Noche’s guards were instantly trapped in a hail of bullets.

  The old man snarled something that did not need translation as Martinez dragged him from the car. Then Simon’s attention was caught by a flittering shadow. He was up and racing before he was fully aware that the shadow belonged to Enrique.

  Simon tackled him at the point where the earth met the pavement. They fell in a heap. Enrique rolled and came up with a stone in his hand. He rasped, “Good-bye, Simon.”

  Then out of the shadows raced another figure. One transformed from a soft-eyed town manager to a snarling foe.

  Enrique did not stand a chance.

  Chapter 41

  Six days later, they buried Armando Vasquez. A small cemetery stood by the city’s oldest church, in a historic setting north of town. Strings were pulled, and space made for Ojinaga’s friend.

  The city and the state reeled from an endless string of revelations. The police had been shamed into admitting they had covered up Armando’s murder. Fingers pointed straight at Ojinaga’s former mayor. Enrique Morales was jailed pending trial, and not even his family’s wealth and power could get him bail.

  The gravesite service was a small affair. Of the orphanage children, only Juan attended. Too many of them held painful memories attached to funerals, and so the night before Harold held a candlelit remembrance in the orphanage chapel, full of laughter and song and only a few tears.

  The day was hot, the sky empty. Simon was one of the pallbearers, along with Pedro and Juan and Agent Martinez’s partner. Harold walked behind them, his good hand resting upon the coffin’s bronze cross.

  The cemetery was rimmed by ancient cottonwoods and looked out over the farming valley to the desert peaks beyond. Simon helped them lower the coffin into the waiting grave, then accepted the Bible from Harold and gave the first reading. As Harold spoke a farewell for them all, Simon held the key in his hand and prayed Armando would consider this a fitting end.

  A week later, Simon sat in the dining hall. The light through the side window was soft in the manner of the long hour after sunset. The sky he could see was glorious, a gentle wash of rose and gold and palest blue. A pair of birds circled in and out of his field of vision, writing a winged script upon the dusk.

  Pedro bustled in. “Have I missed anything?”

  “It starts now!” Juan pointed at the empty place beside him. “Hurry!”

  All the kids were there. Sofia sat with Gabriella on one side and Simon on the other. Sofia held both their hands. Simon looked down at the long fingers intertwined with his own. Here was the strongest evidence of all that the change was not just real, but ongoing. Pedro glanced at Simon from across the room and smiled a heartfelt benediction.

  They occupied the second table from the kitchen. Above the opening where the food emerged, a television was screwed into the wall. Simon had never seen it on before. The kids all treated this as a party. Which they should. Great tubs of ice cream glistened on the pantry counter. The tables were filled with empty bowls and well-licked spoons and happy chatter.

  The regional news went through its opening spiel. The kids all hushed one another with giggles until Juan called for silence. As the newscaster spoke, the orphanage came into view. Everyone in the room cheered. Simon loudest of all.

  Sofia translated for Simon. “The newscaster, she is talking about free unlimited energy. Available for everyone. Some call it an impossible dream. But some say the dream is almost within reach. All because of scientific research that was accomplished here. By a local professor of physics and a visiting American scientist.”

  Simon’s photograph appeared on the screen beside the newscaster. The cheers grew so loud, the newscaster could no longer be heard. Juan and Pedro’s protests could do nothing to stifle the glee.

  When the program went to commercial, Sofia turned to him. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”

  “Or a lifetime,” he said.

  Sofia hesitated in the act of rising. But she recovered well enough and said simply, “A moment will do.” Then she added two words that brightened the evening immensely. “For now.”

  The kids giggled and pointed and made kissy sounds as they left. Simon turned and lifted his free hand in a fist and scowled at them, which of course only resulted in more laughter. Even from Pedro.

  Sofia pulled him across the courtyard and into the girl’s dorm. The last time Simon had been there was to place the solar lantern on Gabriella’s bedside table. Sofia pulled him down the central aisle and stopped before a bed beneath one of the three windows.

  “This bed was mine.”

  The most vulnerable moment of a strong woman’s life. The place she had become reborn to hope. Here. Simon thought it was the most beautiful way of revealing herself she could have ever made.

  “I have something to give you.” Then Sofia stopped because the phone rang in Harold’s empty office, and Juan popped from the doorway and scampered across the courtyard. “Juan! Shame on you!”

  The boy just laughed as he raced into Harold’s office. Simon heard him answer, “Three Keys!” Then, “Everyone! It is Dr. Harold!”

  That morning the orphanage director had traveled to Juárez with Consuela Martinez and Dr. Clara. A church group had asked for their assistance in establishing a new orphanage.

  Sofia hesitated, clearly torn between what she intended to say and wanting to hear Harold’s news. So Simon made the decision for her and led them out of the dorm and across the courtyard.

  The kids crammed into the office and the hall. Sofia and Simon joined those outside the window in time to hear Harold announce, “I think I’ve found the spot for our next orphanage!”

  “This is amazing news,” Pedro shouted over the din. “And the bank tells us t
he first payment from the tech fund has arrived.”

  “So much money!” Juan confirmed.

  Harold waited through the joyful chatter, then went on. “This means I’ll need to be away for a while longer. So now is the time, Pedro.”

  “For what?”

  “For you to take over Three Keys.”

  All the kids turned and beamed at him. Pedro’s mouth worked for a moment, then he managed weakly, “Dr. Harold . . . what?”

  “You’ve earned it. Commit your ways to the Lord and your plans will be achieved.”

  Sofia smiled at her brother, then stepped away from the window and the children. She tugged on Simon’s hand. “Come.”

  Pedro said, “You have no idea what this means to me. I will work very hard. You will see.”

  “I know that, son. I have every confidence in you. Now tell me, how is Simon?”

  “Making progress every day. And right now I think he is working on his fourth goal.”

  “Which goal is that?”

  “The one he did not write down. My sister.”

  Harold’s laugh was captured by all the children. “I think unlimited energy is easier than that!”

  “It is too noisy here to talk, much less think.” Sofia pulled on Simon’s hand. “Come with me. Please.”

  She led him out the courtyard gates and into the plaza fronting the church. The bunting was still up, rattling softly in the night breeze. She drew him to the church steps and sat down next to him. “Something has finally come for you.”

  She reached into her purse and came out with a new United States passport. Simon took it and breathed a soft, “Oh, wow.”

  “You’re finally free. You can go back home whenever you want.”

  Simon slipped the passport into his shirt pocket, next to the small Bible Harold had given him. “What if I’ve found a new home?”

  Sofia studied him, somber, almost afraid. “You would do that?”