Unlimited (28 page)

Sofia's Bible lay open on the little coffee table. He settled into the balcony's lone chair and picked up the Book. He liked the sense of connection, both to her and to the God he hoped he might someday know as well as she did.

The Book was open to John, the pages filled with her writing. Her script was surprisingly feminine, with carefully looped letters and little hearts drawn beside certain passages. He read several verses, tracing his hand over her notes. Then he raised his eyes to the dawn.

The soft pearl tones beckoned to him. The peaks gleamed with a jewel-like luminescence. The razor edges held the power of divine artwork. It seemed to Simon as though he could read God's script upon the distant stone.

Simon heard Pedro shuffling around inside and knew it was time to move. But first he had to acknowledge the moment. It was fitting that his first solitary prayer be in response to the work and the life he had spent so long running from.

It was just as Harold had said. To be successful, Simon had to accept that he could not do it alone. The challenge, the responsibility, the potential—it was all too much. Unless he accepted help from the divine hand.

Simon bowed his head over the Book in his lap.

Pedro returned after breakfast with a plate for Simon and the news that the police was no longer guarding the orphanage gates, and Harold wanted to speak with him. After eating, Simon followed Pedro across the empty plaza and through the portals. Simon sat by the open window and watched as Pedro helped Harold ease into the chair behind his desk. “You should stay in bed,” Sofia scolded.

“Clara said I could get up. Besides which, I've got a speech to write.”

Pedro stood over Harold as the orphanage director used his good hand to pull out pen and paper. “You're sure you want to do this?”

“You've known me all your life, son. The only way to stop corruption is to meet it head-on.”

“But you've been injured.”

“I'm feeling well enough to be impatient,” Harold insisted.

Sofia huffed. “You've been impatient your entire life. One small bullet isn't going to change that.”

Juan arrived bearing steaming mugs of strong black tea. Simon hated how the kid would not meet his gaze. There was no greater conviction, he decided, than not living up to a good kid's expectations.

Harold must have noticed the silent exchange, for he said, “Juan, look at me. Son, we have all fallen short. You understand these words?”

“Yes,
Abuelo.
”

“Simon is our friend. We accept and we forgive. He is striving toward the light. We will help him onward.”

Juan shot Simon a quick glance, lightning fast, but long enough to reveal a world of hurt. And hope. “Yes, Abuelo.”

Simon felt the power behind the words crash upon him like a wave. They knew the best and the worst of who he was, they knew what he had done and what he was capable of, and they accepted him. He fought against the tide of emotions and listened as Pedro described what he had overheard Enrique say through the wall.

Pedro concluded, “Enrique said he was certain the devices would do what they wanted. His technicians at the university spent all last night checking them out. He cannot test it because each time the device has been used, it has shorted out. But he is certain they will work.”

“I don't understand,” Sofia said. “Enrique has both devices, he does not dare test them, and yet he claims they are ready? That makes no sense.”

Pedro shrugged. “That is what he said.”

“Actually, it makes all the sense in the world,” Simon countered.

Sofia said. “Either the device will work or it won't.”

“If what I'm thinking is correct, as far as Enrique is concerned, the device works perfectly.” Simon turned to Pedro. “Who was Enrique speaking to?”

“I could not hear every word. But it sounded like . . .”

“A bad man.”

Pedro sighed. “Very bad.”

“Would this bad man be interested in giving free power to the masses?”

“Impossible,” Pedro replied flatly. “The cartels have invested heavily in the power company.”

“They bribe corrupt members of our government,” Sofia confirmed. “They pad contracts and they falsify inspections.”

“They would fight anyone giving free electricity like they do other drug cartels,” Harold said.

“Tooth and nail,” Pedro agreed.

Simon nodded. “Which means this was never about supplying cheap power to Mexico's poor.”

“But what else is there?” Sofia demanded.

“The blackout,” Simon replied.

Pedro frowned, and started to protest, then he noticed Harold's smile. “You understand this?”

“It's brilliant.” He waved his good hand. “Tell them, son.”

“The blackout didn't just cut out power,” Simon said. “It shut down
everything
. Even the professor's own laptop. Power, phones, everything went down.”

Sofia asked, “What difference does that make?”

“What if this effect carried all the way to the border? What if it impacts everything that uses an electrical current? Radar, communication, surveillance, the works?”

“The cartels could come and go at will,” Pedro said.

“There have been three blackouts,” Simon reminded them. “The first time when Vasquez applied the four frequencies. The second time when he recorded the effect on his laptop. And the third time when we were up by the transformers.”

Harold nodded slowly. “Our foes obviously learned from their allies in the border police about problems at the customs station.”

“Nobody else put two and two together,” Simon agreed. “Not yet, anyway.”

Agent Martinez stepped through the open doorway and added, “Which explains why they are so determined to make you vanish.”

Consuela settled on the window ledge and listened with grim intent as they summarized their discussion. As he spoke, Simon saw what had before been supposition crystallize into a very real threat. Martinez confirmed this by saying, “Carlos, the man who attacked Simon and shot Harold, has been sprung from federal prison.”

Simon felt the tension and fear slice through the room. “How is that possible?”

“Welcome to Mexico,” Pedro said.

Sofia asked, “Should we go ahead with our plans?”

“Nothing has changed,” Harold insisted quietly.

Martinez looked from face to face, waiting for further objections. But Sofia merely compressed her lips and frowned at the floor by her feet. She said, “Simon needs to relocate, in case they are still hunting for him.”

“He can stay in my apartment,” Sofia offered.

“I have contacted my allies on the other side of the border,” Consuela told him. “They are working on temporary papers. You should be able to travel north tomorrow.”

Sofia's head jerked up. She stared at him in mute appeal. Simon had no idea what to say, except, “All right.”

Sofia wrapped her arms about her middle and went back to studying the floor by her feet. Pedro watched this exchange, and showed Simon a huge grin.

Martinez motioned towards the entrance. “We should go.”

“Just a second, there's something more.” Simon turned to Juan. “Did Vasquez leave something for me?”

The boy's eyes went round. “He said I should speak of it only if you asked. And only if you gave me the right . . . I forget the word.”

Simon offered, “The right code?”

“Yes! That was it, the code!”

Simon grinned at the abrupt return of the boy's natural ebullience. “Was it 8:12?”

Juan's smile returned full force. “You wait right here!”

Sofia demanded, “Where are you going?”

Juan called over his shoulder, “Uncle Vasquez, he wrote a secret in my Bible!”

Simon returned to Sofia's apartment and worked on the information he had found in Juan's Bible. In the plaza below, preparations were well underway for Enrique's political rally. Workers strung bunting along the broad stairs rising from the plaza to the church. A podium was erected on the church patio and chairs set in careful rows beneath the trees. Simon worked at the narrow dining table, from where he could see everything and still remain hidden within the apartment's shadows.

Martinez watched him fill one page after another with calculations and asked, “The professor left you a key to making the device work?”

“We'll know when the device gets switched on. The professor never had a chance to test his calculations. But from what I can work through on paper, I'd say yes. He's found the answer.”

Martinez glanced out the balcony doors as they tested the loudspeakers strung from the plaza's trees. “Enrique holds the rally here to reach out to the poor and the working class. In this quarter everyone knows and respects Harold.”

Simon heard the concern in her voice and asked, “Will he be safe?”

“I've got my own people stationed around the plaza.”

Beyond the balcony, workers rimmed the plaza with flags and banner-size posters of their mayor. By the time Simon put away his calculations, Enrique Morales smiled down from everywhere.

Music blared from loudspeakers, and the people came from everywhere except the orphanage. The gates were open, but inside everything remained still. Tightly contained.

The first VIPs arrived, shaking hands as they moved through the crowd. They climbed the stairs just as Enrique's dark-windowed SUV pulled up below Sofia's balcony. Simon remained well back from the open French doors, hidden inside the apartment shadows. Agent Martinez stood where the kitchen cabinets met the living room's rear wall.

Simon watched as a smiling Enrique waved to the crowd and waited while Sofia rose from the SUV. She appeared to have shrunk down inside herself. “I wish she wasn't doing this.”

“It is the right thing. We must try to keep Enrique from becoming spooked.” Martinez glanced at him. “I wonder why Sofia wanted you to see this.”

“She probably wants me to see Harold at his best.”

Martinez showed him a rare smile. “Sure. I bet that's it.”

Enrique and Sofia climbed the stairs to raucous applause. A portly man with a bright sash draped over his suit shouted into the microphone. Simon asked Martinez, “What's he saying?”

“Blah, blah. Politician speech. Same in every language.”

The portly man shouted Enrique's name and the crowd cheered once more. The television cameras panned the crowd, then swooped up to where Enrique held center stage. His voice boomed out, polished and enthusiastic. His smile was magnetic.

“He's talking of how corruption and greed once plagued our region, just like the cartel threatens us now.”

“The guy was made for the spotlight,” Simon conceded.

“Now he's reminding everybody of what he's done. Cleaning up the streets. Kissing all the babies.”

Dr. Clara was seated on the stage next to the portly man. She cheered as loudly as anyone. When the applause quieted and Enrique started talking again, she glanced up at the balcony.

Martinez said, “With the help of the good citizens of Ojinaga, Enrique is promising to bring the same reforms to all of Chihuahua state.”

The applause grew louder still. Enrique launched into his next statement, then his gaze fastened on something outside Simon's field of vision, and he faltered. Then the mayor remembered the cameras. He repositioned his smile as he gestured with both hands, waving someone forward.

Harold emerged from the orphanage gates and climbed the church steps. Enrique spoke into the microphone.

“He tells about the shooting,” Martinez said. “How such crimes must be stopped. He introduces the people's great friend.”

Harold began in his rough-hewn Spanish, which Martinez translated, “I'll be brief and to the point. Corruption is a cancer that slowly but surely destroys. It can annihilate a community, jobs, stability, peace, pride, its very moral fiber.”

The bandage that gripped his arm and clenched it to his chest magnified the force of his words. Simon felt himself drawn forward so powerfully, he gripped the chair in front of him just to keep himself from moving to the balcony.

“Corruption has a death grip on our town. But I tell you there is a cure. It is called integrity and honesty. And for this cure to work, it must start at the top.” Harold turned and glared at Enrique. “Every individual who is tainted by this cancer must be forced from office. They have no place among us. That is why I am here. Use your vote. Make it happen.”

He used his good hand to point at the church behind him. “We stand here in front of our beautiful parish church. Therefore I'd like to close with a prayer.” He waited for the people to bow their heads, then said, “God, we ask that You give us leaders who hold to Your standard. We ask that anyone in office who is infected by the cancer of corruption be cut down and stripped of power. We ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.”