Unlimited (31 page)

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 of 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.

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 the 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?”

“It's on my list of dreams.”

“What?”

He rose high enough to pull the crumpled paper from his pocket. “I've been working on it since, you know, the night.” He handed it over. “Only Pedro got the order wrong.”

Sofia unfolded the page and flattened it on her leg. Studying intently.

“You weren't fourth on the list,” Simon said. “You were first.”

Sofia reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. She clicked it and slowly crossed her name off the list. “Mission accomplished.”