The Lord of Opium

The room was deserted, and they helped themselves to hot chocolate and donuts. Only the greasy wrappers that had been around the turkey burritos were left. “We’re taking a huge chance, but I think Listen is right. We need a pick-me-up before tackling the solar telescope,” said Cienfuegos. Matt found a machine that served boxes of apple juice, and he pocketed a few of these before they went to the other building.

He dreaded the giant shaft plunging beneath the solar telescope in a way that wasn’t quite rational. After all, they had survived it before. Yet something about the enclosed space, the hot air gusting up, the darkness and awareness of tons of earth over his head made him break out in a sweat before they even got to the elevator.

“I wish we could leave Listen up here,” Matt whispered when they had reached the shaft door.

“She’s safer with us,” said Cienfuegos.

“Don’t worry, Listen. We did it before and we can do it again,” said Matt, more to reassure himself than her. He held on to the elevator door, wishing he could back out.

“I’m not scared of heights,” the little girl said.

“You can’t be sure of that. You’ve never seen a drop like this.”

“She’ll be fine,” said the jefe

, pulling the door closed. And then they were sinking at a forty-five-degree angle. Round and round they spiraled the huge tube of the telescope. Dim lights gleamed on its dark-green surface. “It’s hot down here,” said Listen, pulling her blouse loose. She was already drenched in sweat.

Air conditioners whirred at various levels, and a warm breeze rose out of the depths. They passed another elevator slowly rising and saw the sickly faces of the eejits moving up.

The heat was unbearable, even at night. Soon they were all panting, and Matt opened one of the apple juice boxes and handed it to Listen. They passed a platform in an alcove and saw eejits mending a pipe with an oxyacetylene torch. Sparks showered into the elevator cage. More heat.

The elevator bumped at the bottom. They moved quickly, but before they got to the door, they heard the sizzle of more sparks. Cienfuegos signaled for them to stop. Matt saw an eejit trying to cut through the wall to the forbidden room.

Listen grabbed Matt’s arm. “I can see Dr. Angel and Dr. Marcos,” she whispered.

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and a lightning bolt snaked out of the wall and incinerated the eejit. The odor of burnt flesh drifted through the hall. “Next!” shouted a voice Matt recognized. Another eejit took up the torch. There was a line of them waiting in the space between the telescope and the wall.

“This won’t work,” said Dr. Angel. “We’ve tried it before.”

“When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it,” said Happy Man Hikwa. “Each time the wall will degrade a little more. Eventually, we’ll break through.”

“It isn’t just the substance the door’s made of, it’s the force field running through it. There’s a plasma current that reacts to energy,” said Dr. Marcos. “The more you pour in, the more powerfully it pushes back. We’ve tried this before.”

Happy Man barked a command, and a soldier struck Dr. Marcos on the head with the butt of a gun. The doctor fell to his knees. The next eejit blasted the wall until another tongue of fire erupted from it. The remaining eejits watched passively.

“Can we do anything?” whispered Matt.

Cienfuegos watched as the next man moved into position. He drew his stun gun and fired at Happy Man twice in rapid succession, a lethal shot. The jefe

jumped back, pulling Matt and Listen with him. “Run,” he said, but when they got to the elevator, it was gone. They had forgotten to prop open the door, and someone had called for it. They could see it slowly spiraling upward. “Climb!” the jefe said desperately.

There was a chicken-wire barrier enclosing the elevator shaft, and Matt tried to haul himself up, but the openings were too small. His feet didn’t fit, and he could only cling with his fingers. Cienfuegos tried to boost Listen into a position to climb, but the structure of the barrier was against them. She wasn’t strong enough to hold on. The jefe turned, thrusting Matt and the little girl behind him, and took aim at the soldiers.

He brought two down, but a third one shot him. It was an old-fashioned gun with metal bullets, and the impact threw Cienfuegos against the barrier. He raised his weapon and was struck by several more bullets. He crumpled to the floor. Listen screamed. The soldier took aim at Matt and a voice shouted, “Stop!”

It was Dr. Angel. “Stop! He’s the only one who can open the door! That’s El Patrón’s clone!”

The soldiers halted. They looked back. “We only take orders from our patrón,” one said.