The Lord of Opium(117)
Glass Eye wheezed. It took a moment for Matt to realize it was a laugh. “You sound like the old vampire, at any rate.”
“We don’t know how much of the personality clones inherit,” said Dr. Rivas. “None has survived this long.”
Glass Eye dismissed the comment. “No matter. He’s in my power now.”
Dr. Rivas paused before saying, “Mi patrón, let me warn you that he still has an army. There are men in Ajo—”
“Silence!” Glass Eye nodded to a nurse, who looked perfectly terrified as she approached with a bottle of some liquid. The man sucked on a straw. Click. Whirr.
Matt thought, So Dr. Rivas is calling him patrón now. He was disgusted, but not surprised.
“Where’s Mbongeni?” Listen suddenly asked. Dr. Rivas shushed her, but it didn’t work. “Mbongeni’s my best buddy, and I want him back.”
Glass Eye seemed to notice her for the first time. “Another child,” he said.
“I’m Listen,” said the little girl, wriggling out of the doctor’s grasp. “I want my buddy, and I know he wants me. Do you know where he is?”
Matt grabbed her before she could get too close to the ancient drug lord. She didn’t seem to understand the danger she was in. Dabengwa removed his glasses, and there they were, the yellow eyes that never blinked, the eyes of a crocodile peering up through leaf-stained water. They whirred as he focused on her.
“I am Mbongeni,” said Glass Eye.
Matt felt sick. Part of him was, of course—the heart, maybe the liver.
Listen laughed. “You’re making fun of me ’cause I’m a little kid. Mbongeni is about so high”—she held out her hand, palm down—“and he’s not too bright, but that’s not his fault. He’s a baby and always will be.”
Glass Eye was paying close attention to her. He reached out his hand and turned hers over. “This is how they measure size in Africa. With the palm up.” Matt shuddered to see his massive paw enclose hers, but she shook him off.
“I’m an African, but I’ve never been there,” she said.
“Is your name really Listen?”
“She’s your wife’s clone,” said Happy Man Hikwa.
“I’m not a clone, you turkey. Once the original dies, the clone becomes a full human.” The little girl folded her arms and scowled at Happy Man.
Glass Eye grinned, something Matt didn’t think was even possible. The famous teeth of a twenty-year-old gleamed in his weathered face, and something squeaked in his neck. “She’s as cheeky as the original,” he said with approval.
“Tell me about her, Mr. African. I always wondered what she was like.”
“Well . . . ” The yellow eyes swiveled, remembering. “She was very clever, too clever really. How she could hide when she was naughty! I would look for her all over the presidential palace. I would send guards to seek her out, but she always escaped them. Then, when I was worried enough to forgive her, she reappeared, hanging her head as you do now and promising never to do whatever it was again.”
“She was like one of those brightly colored hummingbirds you have here,” said Happy Man. “They hang in the air, and when you try to grab them, they disappear.”
“Nobody but a dum-dum would try to catch a hummingbird,” Listen said scornfully.
Glass Eye wheezed again. He was pleased with her. “You do remind me of her. So quick. So pretty. I’m glad you didn’t terminate her, Dr. Rivas.”
Matt could see the little girl trying to figure out the word. Fortunately, it wasn’t part of her vocabulary.
“How come you don’t blink, Mr. African?” said Listen, gazing into his face. “If I don’t blink, my eyes hurt.”
“Listen! Don’t ask rude questions!” cried Dr. Rivas.
Dabengwa waved his hand at the doctor. “It’s all right. Her original would have said the same thing. My eyes are artificial, child. They are machines, like little cameras. Dr. Rivas made them for me many years ago, after I was injured by a car bomb. He replaces them every so often.”
Listen was impressed. She went up close and watched as he swiveled them back and forth. “Is that why they make squeaky noises?”
“They should not do that,” grumbled the drug lord. “I need them replaced, but one cannot have several operations at once. Parts of my body are artificial. I was not blessed with a fine hospital and many clones as El Patrón was.”
The little girl cocked her head to one side. She was clearly pondering the meaning of that last sentence. “Why is it important to have many clones?”