An antique clock struck the hour, and the sun on its face moved forward as the starry night retreated. It was six a.m. Matt had discovered a whole shelf of clocks that did amusing things: An old woman hit an old man over the head with a broom when the hour struck, a rooster spread his wings and crowed, a ballerina turned to the music of Swan Lake. There were music boxes, too. On one, an old-fashioned gentleman and lady danced around a sombrero to the tune of the Mexican Hat Dance. Their tiny metal feet darted in and out, and the lady swirled her long skirts. It pleased Matt to know that the old man had such innocent pleasures.
After breakfast he went in search of Celia but found her together with Major Beltrán. The two had their backs to him, and Matt approached with the stealth that had become second nature to him. Celia was holding a coffeepot while the major sampled the brew. “Disgusting! You should never make coffee with tap water,” the man said. He was dressed in a uniform that was surely meant for a parade ground. His shoulders were broadened with gold epaulets, and a black military hat made him look tall and powerful.
“Throw this swill out and use distilled water,” the major ordered. “Grind the beans just before you brew them. This morning’s offering tasted like floor sweepings.”
“I’m sorry, comandante,” Celia said humbly.
“There was an insect in my bedroom this morning,” Major Beltrán went on. “A dirty, disease-carrying insect such as you would never find in a decent home. I opened the window and it flew in.”
“It must have been one of the bees from the flower beds.”
“I don’t care what it was. I want the apartment sprayed with insecticide and the flower beds, too.”
“Oh, but El Patrón never allowed that—” Celia began.
“El Patrón is dead,” the major said bluntly. “Another thing: I won’t eat food made by those creatures.” He waved his hand at an eejit stirring soup. “They haven’t the faintest idea of hygiene.”
“I tell them to wash their hands,” Celia said.
“Look at this!” Major Beltrán grabbed the soup stirrer’s hand and held it out for her to inspect. The eejit did a little dance like a jittery windup toy trapped behind a piece of furniture. It was an activity Matt had seen before when one of the servants couldn’t fulfill a task. “There’s dirt caked under his fingernails,” cried the major. “From now on you will prepare all my meals.”
“I thought I told you to stay in your apartment,” Matt said. The two spun around.
“He didn’t like the food I sent,” explained Celia. “What was I to do? He’s a representative of the UN. Muy importante.”
“He isn’t important here,” said Matt. “Last I heard, Opium wasn’t a member of the UN.”
“Ah! It’s the little drug lord,” said the major, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me, don’t you feel lonely rattling around in this big mansion? Wouldn’t you like some other children to play with?”
“Please return to your apartment,” said Matt. He clenched his fists and then unclenched them. He didn’t want the man to know that the insult had struck home.
“Be careful, little drug lord. Your country is surrounded by enemies. It isn’t wise to offend an ally.” Major Beltrán let go of the eejit, and the servant grabbed the ladle and started stirring again.
“Get out,” Matt said.
“Make me,” jeered the major.
Too late Matt realized that he and Celia were the only Real People in the kitchen. He wasn’t strong enough to tackle the man by himself, and Celia was too old. But it was dangerous to let Major Beltrán get away with defiance. A weak drug lord was very soon a dead one.
“You’re only a boy,” the major said scornfully. “Or at least that’s the official position. I would call you something else. You can’t possibly inherit this country.”
Celia watched the man with large, worried eyes.
“You have no authority over me,” Major Beltrán said. “I will go and come as I please. All those who would have protected you are dead, and your only guardians are a fat, old cook, a deaf music teacher, and a half-wit bodyguard who can’t even speak.”
Casually, without any attempt to hurry, Matt walked over to the soup eejit and watched what he was doing. His mind was racing as he hunted for some way out of this situation.
“Quit stalling, little drug lord,” the major said. “Doña Esperanza sent you here to open the border, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”