The House of the Scorpion (26 page)

“He shouldn’t have one at all,” María said.

“Do you know where he got it?”

“I—I—” María seemed confused. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but yes, I do know where he got it! And it’s evil!” She hugged Matt more tightly. He didn’t know what to say The fears he’d thrust away came back. He wanted to ask María what she meant, but he was afraid of the answer.

“I’m not like the other clones,” he said, more to reassure himself than anything. “El Patrón gave me the best education anyone can have. He bought me musical instruments, computers, anything I wanted. And he’s really pleased when I get an A or play a new piano piece. He says I have genius.”

María said nothing. She snuggled her face into his chest, and from the dampness, Matt guessed she was crying.
Great. What is she crying about?
“He wouldn’t bother”—Matt stepped very carefully over this point—“if I wasn’t going to live very long.”

“That’s true,” she said in a watery voice.

“Of
course
it’s true,” said Matt firmly. “I’ve had better schooling than Steven. Someday I can help him run the estate—from behind the scenes, of course. Opium is a big country, and it takes a lot of work to control it. Benito’s too dumb, and Tom is—well, a lot of things. For starters, El Patrón can’t stand the sight of him.”

María stiffened. “He likes him better than you think.”

“Tom doesn’t even belong in the family. He’s here only because El Patrón refuses to give things up once he’s laid claim to them.”

“That’s a lie!” María said hotly. “Tom’s one of the heirs, and he’s not stupid!”

“I never said he was stupid. Only corrupt.”

“He’s considered good enough to marry me!” María said.

“What?”
Matt couldn’t believe what he was hearing. María was only a kid. She wouldn’t get married for years and years.

“Oh, let’s not fight,” María said miserably. “None of us has a choice in the matter. I mean, look at Benito and Fani. Fani said she’d rather drink cyanide than marry Benito, and see how much good it did her. El Patrón gave the order, and her father drugged her until she didn’t know what was happening.”

Matt was incapable of speech. How could anyone want María to marry
Tom?
He was such a—such a
rotten little pustule!
It was unthinkable! He turned on the flashlight he always left in the passage and leaned it against the wall. He could see her pale face in the shadows.

“Steven and Emilia like each other, and I don’t mind Tom—much. He’s getting more like MacGregor, but I can change him.”

“You can’t change Tom,” Matt said.

“Patience and love can do anything,” María said. “Anyhow, the wedding won’t take place for years. Maybe El Patrón will change his mind.” She didn’t sound hopeful.

Matt’s mind was almost numb with despair. He’d refused to think about the future. He knew on some level that María would have to marry someday. Then he’d never see her again. But it had never in his darkest moments occurred to him that she’d be handed over to that monster.

“Wait,” he said as an idea came to him. “I have something for you.”

“A present?” María looked surprised.

Matt fished
A History of Opium
from its hiding place. He turned to page 247 and shone the flashlight directly on Esperanza Mendoza’s portrait.

María gasped. “M-Mother?”

“You remember what she looked like?”

“Dada has pictures.” She took the book and stared at the portrait and its accompanying biography as though she’d been turned to stone. “Mother got the Nobel Peace Prize,” she whispered at last.

“And a lot more,” said Matt.

“But she n-never came back.” María’s face looked so forlorn, Matt’s heart turned over.

“She couldn’t, dearest,” said Matt, unconsciously using one of Celia’s words. “She’s utterly and completely opposed to Opium and everything your father stands for. Do you think he’d let her come home? Or that El Patrón would?” In fact, Matt silently realized, El Patrón was capable of ordering her death. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d gotten rid of an enemy.

“She never even wrote me a letter,” murmured María.

“Don’t you see? Your father would have destroyed any message she sent. But you can contact her now. Your convent—where is it?”

“In Aztlán, at the mouth of the Colorado River. It’s in a town called San Luis.”

“I’ve read your mother’s book,” said Matt, taking
A History of Opium
from María’s cold hands and laying it on the floor. He held her hands to warm them up. “She says the Aztlános don’t like Opium and would do anything to destroy it. Someone at the convent could send a message to your mother. I’m sure she wants to find you. I’m sure she’ll keep you from marrying Tom.”

And take you where I’ll never see you again
, thought Matt with a lump in his throat. But it didn’t matter. He was going to lose her in any case. The important thing now was to save her.

“I have to go,” María said suddenly. “Emilia will be asking for me.”

“When will I see you again?”

“The wedding’s tomorrow and I won’t have a second to myself. I’m maid of honor. Will you be able to come?”

Matt laughed bitterly. “Maybe if I disguised myself as an eejit flower girl.”

“I know. It’s horrible. I asked Emilia why she couldn’t have real children, and she said they couldn’t be depended on to do the job right.”

“You know I won’t be invited,” said Matt.

“Everything’s so unfair.” María sighed. “If I could, I’d skip the wedding and stay with you.”

Matt was touched by her offer, although he knew there wasn’t a chance of it happening. “I’ll wait for you here,” he said. “Do you want to take the book?”

“No. I can’t guess what Dada would do if he found it.” She gently kissed him on the cheek, and Matt kissed her back. The feel of her skin stayed on his lips for a long time after she was gone.

It wasn’t a front-row seat, but it was the best he could do. Matt was positioned behind the peephole with a pocket telescope.

He had hoped to find the machine room deserted, but the place was packed. Every view screen had at least two gorillalike bodyguards watching it. They flicked restlessly from scene to scene and spent a lot of time studying boring places, like the spaces behind pillars or curtains. Matt wondered whether they’d seen him hiding there on other occasions.

But as the wedding ceremony drew closer, the men’s attention was concentrated on the salon. An altar had been erected, and the priest was prowling back and forth to one side. The eejit choir was lined up like mechanical toys, and someone was sitting at Matt’s piano. Matt adjusted the eyepiece of the telescope. It was awkward to use at a peephole, and his neck was beginning to ache.

He saw Mr. Ortega. He felt sorry for the dusty little man. He’d gone beyond Mr. Ortega’s skill level long ago, but Matt had covered for him. He feared the music teacher would suffer the same fate as Rosa if El Patrón found out.

On another screen Matt saw El Patrón sitting in the front row, attended by Tam Lin and Daft Donald looking bunchy in suits.

Emilia waited in a dressing room. She wore a white gown with a long train embroidered with pearls and carried by the girl eejits. Celia had said the gown had been owned by a Spanish queen three hundred years before. The eejits’ faces reminded Matt of the winged babies perched on pillars throughout the house. Their eyes were as lifeless as marbles.

María bounced around the room, talking animatedly. Matt couldn’t hear what she said, but there was no question she was giddy with excitement. That was the difference between her and everyone else, he thought. She was overflowing with life. Everything delighted or devastated or fascinated her. There was no middle ground. Next to her Emilia looked faded, and Fani, who was drinking out of a brandy bottle in the corner, was positively drab.

The bodyguards turned up the sound. Matt heard the wedding march, and Senator Mendoza took Emilia by the arm. The eejits lifted the train, and María and Fani took their places behind the bride. They left the room with a stately, impressive walk. A whisper passed over the crowd, and the priest signaled everyone to stand.

Steven waited at the altar with Benito and Tom.

Tom. For a moment all Matt could see was his lying face. What you saw was
not
what you got with him. Underneath that angelic exterior was the boy who’d shot a helpless child with a peashooter, who had pulled chairs out from under El Viejo, who’d nailed frogs to the lawn so they could be devoured by herons. You didn’t want to leave anything vulnerable around Tom.

A bodyguard blocked Matt’s view for a moment. He cursed under his breath.

The next thing he saw was Emilia approaching the altar on her father’s arm. María had a tight grip on Fani to keep her from swaying. Benito’s wife was almost as loaded as Felicia, who was being held upright by Mr. Alacrán.
What a family
, thought Matt. The women were alcoholics, Benito was as dumb as a guppy, and Tom was a moral black hole. Steven was okay, though. Even the Alacráns couldn’t strike out 100 percent of the time.

Now Emilia was given away by her father. Steven placed a ring on her finger and lifted her veil for a kiss. They were married for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death should them part.

But maybe they wouldn’t have to part, Matt thought. Maybe they’d all waft up to heaven together, to a special wing reserved for the Alacráns. They’d have moro crabs and caramel pudding and a vat full of whiskey for Felicia.

“Bloody hell! It’s the old vampire!” swore one of the bodyguards.

Matt pressed his eye to the peephole. He was so startled, he dropped the telescope.

He saw, far away but hideously clear, El Patrón jerk upward in his wheelchair. The old man clutched his heart and tipped forward. Tam Lin scrambled to catch him. Mr. Alacrán yelled for help. Willum and several other doctors who had recently taken up residence in the house shoved their way through the crowd. They knelt around El Patrón, completely hiding the old man. They reminded Matt of vultures huddling over an antelope.

Bodyguards streamed out of the machine room, and a moment later Matt saw them on the screens. They rushed into the salon and herded the wedding guests out.

Tam Lin suddenly rose from the huddle with El Patrón in his arms. Matt saw with horror how small and withered the old man was. He looked like a dry leaf clutched to the bodyguard’s chest as Tam Lin hurried out with the doctors in his wake.

The salon was deserted, except for Steven and Emilia, who were standing alone and forgotten at the altar.

22
BETRAYAL

W
hat should I do? What should I do?” whispered Matt, hugging himself and rocking back and forth in the dark passageway. He loved El Patrón. He wanted to be with him at the hospital, to watch over him and urge him back to health. But at the same time Matt remembered María saying that she did know the source of El Patrón’s transplants:
And it’s evil!

Celia would be looking for him. Unbidden, another memory surfaced. Celia was fussing with the suit Matt had worn to the birthday party long ago.
If anything bad happens
, she had said,
I want you to come straight to me. Come to the pantry behind the kitchen
.

What do you mean, bad?
Matt had asked.

I can’t say. Just promise me you’ll remember
.

And even longer ago Matt remembered Tam Lin speaking to him soon after his rescue from Rosa:
I’ll tell you this: El Patrón has his good side and his bad side. Very dark indeed is his majesty when he wants to be. When he was young, he made a choice, like a tree does when it decides to grow one way or the other. He grew large and green until he shadowed over the whole forest, but most of his branches are twisted
.

So many hints! So many clues! Like a pebble that starts an avalanche, Matt’s fear shook loose more and more memories. Why had Tam Lin given him a chest full of supplies and maps? Why had María run from him when they found MacGregor’s clone in the hospital? Because she knew! They all knew! Matt’s education and accomplishments were a sham. It didn’t matter how intelligent he was. In the end the only thing that mattered was how strong his
heart
was.

And yet Matt wasn’t—quite—sure.

What if he was wrong? What if El Patrón really loved him? Matt thought about the old man lying on a hospital bed, waiting for the one person who could bring him a glimpse of his youth. It was too cruel! Matt curled up on the floor of the passage. He lay in a welter of fine dust that had drifted into this dark, secret space over the years. He felt like the inhabitant of an ancient tomb, an Egyptian pharaoh or Chaldean king. El Patrón loved to talk about such things.

The old man enthusiastically described the wealth that filled the pyramids, for the use of the old kings in their afterlife. He liked the tombs of the ancient Chaldeans even more. Not only did they have clothes and food, but their horses were slaughtered to provide transport in the shadowy world of the dead. In one tomb archaeologists had discovered soldiers, servants, and even dancing girls laid out as though they were sleeping. One girl had been in such a hurry, the blue ribbon she was meant to wear in her hair was still rolled up in her pocket.