“Dammit, Sonny! I’ve got my men working on it! FBI has their agents on it. Don’t go talking scary stuff like that. Don’t mention that to the press. You hear?”
“I understand,” Sonny said. “I’m not going to mention anything to anybody. I’m confident you and Paiz are going to take care of things. We’re in good hands, Chief.”
“Yeah, well, thanks,” Garcia grumbled.
“How did he get into the labs?” Sonny asked.
“How am I supposed to know!” Garcia replied. “He can break into Fort Knox! He had that damn Chernenko building a bomb right under their noses. Let the lab’s security figure out how he got there, I’m on my way to a press conference. This is big, Sonny. Goddamned mayor is so happy he’s taking me out to lunch.”
“Have a good lunch, Chief.”
“Yeah, thanks. Say hi to Rita for me. Tell her I’ll be stopping by her restaurant for some of that carne adovada.”
Sonny clicked the phone off. The chief didn’t know Rita was in the hospital. The chief didn’t know about dreams.
Sonny looked at Lorenza. She had freshened up while he was taking care of don Eliseo. Brightened her face. Like Rita in the morning, always showered and ready to face the day. What luck to have such beauty to gaze at early in the morning.
“You look very beautiful,” he said.
“Gracias.” She returned his smile.
Chica dragged herself into the kitchen, whining softly. Lorenza had bandaged the cut over her eye, and blood spotted the gauze.
“Poor Chica,” Sonny crooned, picking her up softly. “Next time you stay home. Human dreams can get dangerous. Even for a power dog like you.”
He fed her pieces of buttered tortilla as he ate, surprised that even with the grief of losing don Eliseo he could eat.
It comes together, he thought, the loss and going on. Today he had to go to Rita. He needed the strength to walk, to drive, to bring her home.
As he finished, the phone rang.
“Buenos días,” Paiz greeted Sonny. “I suppose you heard.”
“Yeah, Garcia called.”
Paiz chuckled. “He thinks he broke the case.” Then his tone changed. “I don’t think the body they found is Raven’s.”
Sonny waited. Of course the body burned by the laser at the labs wasn’t Raven. But somebody had gone through great trouble to plant it there.
“Oh, I think the fingerprints will be a positive match. They will belong to the man who once was a courier up at Los Alamos. There are ways to make that stuff fit. That will satisfy Doyle and Eric.”
“Yes,” Sonny agreed. “What about the plutonium?”
“That’s what worries me,” Paiz continued. “Doyle is flying in from Washington. He and Eric are going to reveal the whole story to the press. Raven, the man found dead at Sandia Labs, will be identified as the person who killed the Los Alamos guards. Expert work by the FBI tracked the man down. There is no missing plutonium pit, no vials of Ebola virus floating around. Disinformation rules the day, case closed. The public won’t be panicked.”
“But the poison is still out there.”
“Yup.”
“In the hands of the Avengers.”
There was a pause. “I’m calling from my office, Sonny. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” Sonny replied. His phone was tapped. He had to believe that there were still good men who couldn’t be bought. He had to believe Paiz was not with the Avengers.
“So what do you do now?”
“I show up at the news conference. At Doyle’s right hand. I nod and say ‘Yes, that’s the way it happened.’ Then I turn in my badge. I’m retiring, getting out.”
“Going fishing, huh.”
“I’m tired of the game. I used to think we could beat the drug cartels, beat the crazies who want to destroy the world. I don’t anymore.”
“Sounds negative, bro.”
“Not really. I’ll have the time to do a little of my own investigating. Maybe give you a little competition. Become a PI.”
He laughed.
“That’s all the world needs.” Sonny managed a chuckle. “One more Chicano PI. But, hey, with your training you can really make a difference.”
“I don’t know. I have a feeling you do all right.”
“Let’s say I work in another reality,” Sonny said. “But the workplace is changing. Now we need computers. From now on I sit at home and do all my work on the Net. With a little help from an expert.”
“Just be careful what your expert gets into,” Paiz said.
He knew about Cyber.
“They’re on to him?”
“Eric’s pissed.”
“And if they catch him?”
“He’s okay for now. Pulled the plug and disappeared.”
Good, Sonny thought.
“Anyway, soon as I give up my badge, I think I’ll snoop around. Look for the plutonium.”
“Take on Raven?”
“Somebody’s got to do it. You know the score better than anyone, and computers aren’t the only answer. A good PI knows the streets, the people. I’d like to work with you.”
“Why not. But I’m taking time out to take care of my familia.”
“Didn’t know you had a family.”
Sonny looked at Lorenza. “Oh, yeah, large family.”
“Well, family comes first,” Paiz said. “Take care.”
“I will. Buena suerte.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
29
He felt strong and renewed when he stepped outside. Above him the clear, blue New Mexican sky was a bowl holding the promise of clarity. Around him the neighborhood stirred. A red Ford Mustang moved down La Paz Lane, the driver waved. César and his wife, Bette, going to church. Sonny waved back.
People were going to work, preparing for Christmas, going about their daily lives, unaware the hinge of time had turned one more time, the solstice sun was returning north. He breathed deep the life-giving element, then exhaled vapor plumes.
How beautiful the simple things of the earth appeared, how sublime the nature of ordinary things.
“Gracias a Dios,” he whispered, closing his eyes and turning to face the warm sun. “Bless all of life.”
The warm sunlight filled the valley with a dazzling dance. The million rays of light were the Lords and Ladies of the Light, as don Eliseo taught. They came streaming from the sun, source of light, representatives of the Universal Spirit, the transcendent. Lords and Ladies dressed as brightly feathered Aztec dancers, kachina warriors, souls of the departed, brilliant spears of light that returned promise to the earth, infusing everything with life.
The bare branches of the alamos and elms reached up and breathed through frozen pores the light that fed the sleeping sap, and in the cornfield sere plants grew golden. On the potholed road thin crusts of ice glistened, a flock of sparrows swooshed by, alighting to feed in the cornfield, somewhere a dog barked, a horse whinnied.
Sonny’s nostrils quivered to the smell of a new day, the frigid air that carried traces of composted leaves, faint piñon smoke, the aroma of coffee, breakfast, lovers parting.
Everything participated in the light, became light.
Moments passed; there was no count, for time itself became an element of the light, a commingling of matter with spirit, earth and sky animated.
Then slowly he returned from the blessing the sun conferred, breathed deep again, felt the solid earth beneath his feet, looked across the street at don Eliseo’s home. The old man was resting, but his spirit was here in the morning light, still blessing Sonny’s path.
“Gracias, don Eliseo,” Sonny said, as he had thanked the old man on many a morning. “Gracias por mi vida.”
He walked to his truck, thanking the miracle that had returned his strength. Opening the door, he felt the cold inside the truck. He turned the ignition, feeling surprised when the motor turned and started. All was strange, yet all was as it should be.
He shivered. There were ma
ny worlds. Planes of reality. He touched the steering wheel, amazed at the simplicity of metal. It served a function, but it melted away in the time of dream, the time of the ancestors.
He drove down Fourth Street, deeply aware of people moving on the street, cars and trucks, children, stores opening for business, Christmas decorations glistening in the bright sunshine.
When he arrived at the hospital, he felt weak and thought he had attempted too much too soon. But he wanted to show Rita he could walk. It was important to him, and to her.
He walked slowly, bypassing the nurses’ station and going directly to Rita’s room. When he opened the door, Rita looked up in surprise. “Sonny! You’re walking!”
He gathered her in a warm embrace. “I’m so happy, so happy,” she kept repeating. “How did it happen?”
Sonny shrugged. “We had a little car accident last night. Something snapped when I got tossed around. I got up and I could walk.”
“An accident? Are you all right? Your face is scratched.”
“No, I’m fine. Can you believe, I drove here. Got in the troca and drove myself over.”
“That’s wonderful. Where’s Lore?”
“She stayed with don Eliseo.”
He didn’t yet want to tell Rita that the old man was dead. He thought of the body of the old man resting in the cool shadows of his home, and doña Concha and don Toto praying over him, lighting candles, bathing the old man and dressing him in his Sunday suit. They would want him to look nice when his sons came.
He pulled up a chair and sat by the side of the bed.
“You look beautiful, amor,” he whispered to her, gazing into her eyes. The clear brown eyes brimming with love for him.
“Gracias, señor. The nurse is wonderful. She came in before her shift was over, gave me a sponge bath, helped me with my makeup.”
“You look like a Rosa de Castilla on a bright summer morning.”
“Oh, listen to the poetry.” Rita smiled. “I like it, I like it.”
She was being brave, he could tell. But the pain and loss of her ordeal still showed in her eyes, and he knew that would be with her for some time.
“Good news,” Sonny said.
“You found the girls!”
“They’re safe.”
“Ay, gracias a Dios. I’ve been so worried, prayed for them. But I knew you’d find them.”
Her eyes sparkled with admiration when she looked at Sonny.
“What about Raven?”
“He won’t be hurting anyone for a while. It’s a long story. I’ll tell it to you as soon as we get you home. Can we take you today?”
A shadow crossed Rita’s face. She shook her head.
“Qué pasa?”
Rita bit her lower lip. “The doctor wants to keep me another day.”
“Why?” Sonny asked, holding her hands. The inflection in her voice told him all wasn’t well.
“She wants me to rest, do some lab work.” Her voice broke, tears filled her eyes, he handed her the tissue box. “I just wanted to go home—”
“It’s all right,” Sonny reassured her. “Don’t worry. She probably wants to make sure you’re strong enough to leave.”
“I hope so.”
“I’m sure that’s it. I’ll talk to her. I want you home where I can take care of you. I’m going to get you good and strong. Feed you.”
“I like that.”
“You just concentrate on getting well.”
“I will.”
“As soon as you’re well enough, we’re going to get married.”
“Get married?”
“Yes. Just like we planned.”
Rita shook her head. “We planned, but that was before this—you don’t have to.”
Sonny smiled. “Have to? Hey, this is no shotgun wedding. We made plans, remember? This thing with Raven slowed me down, but that’s over. I’m walking, I’m well, and as soon as you feel better, we do it. I want to marry you.”
“It’s not right, Sonny, it’s not right. What if I can’t have children!” Her voice broke with emotion.
“I don’t care about that. I love you; I want to live with you. That’s what matters.”
“You need children, Sonny. A man needs a family. It wouldn’t be fair—”
“A man needs the woman he loves.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. You’re the woman in my life. Children? Hell, if we want children, we can adopt half a dozen. We’ll have as many as you want. I just want to make you happy the rest of your life.”
“And I want to be good for you.” Rita smiled.
“You are.”
He took Rita’s hands and held them to his lips.
“Qué piensas?”
“I’ve been thinking about quitting this business.”
“No more chasing bad guys?”
“Maybe go back to teaching.”
“You’re an excellent teacher, you have so much to share with the kids.”
“That’s what mamá tells me.” Sonny smiled. “Lord, I have to call her. I have to call a lot of people. Mando, Diego, friends. I need to buy you a present for Christmas, buy everybody presents.”
“You’re a good man, Sonny.”
“Ah, I’m not getting younger. Gotta settle down.”
“Only if it’s good for you, Sonny.”
“It’s good for me. I’ve learned a lot. I want to take time to digest it. Talk to people who understand the world of dreams, the world of our ancestors. Maybe understand how Raven comes to a new reincarnation.”
“New reincarnation?”
“It’s nothing,” Sonny said.
“He’s not dead?”
“Let’s not talk about Raven. Let’s just concentrate on you getting well. I want to sit still for a while, enjoy life. Have time to go for walks, read books, maybe go to the pueblo and listen to the old men, don Eliseo’s friends. And spend a lot of time with you.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“You are lovely, amor.”
“There’s hope.”
“Amor y esperanza. And a new dream.”
He looked into her eyes, and she saw the wisdom that had settled into his soul.
She drew him to her and whispered, “Yes, a new dream.”
Turn the page to continue reading from the Sonny Baca Novels
1
Do dogs dream?
Sonny awakened slowly, opening his right eye first, then the left. He stretched like a rubber band until every nerve and muscle twanged. His vertebrae cracked and he relaxed back into the warm blankets.
Beside him, Chica stirred.
Do dogs dream?
That’s the question, Sonny thought. He yawned and looked at the light filtering through the window.
The denizens of the City Future weren’t discussing the depressed economy, terrorism, Iraq, tapping the Rio Grande for water, the silvery minnow, drought and fires, or politics. For weeks now the regulars at Rita’s Cocina had tossed the dog question back and forth. The discussions had grown heated, some arguing yes and others adamantly denying it.
Sonny rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. Dead battery.
I dream therefore I am, he thought. In last night’s dream he had only one eye, like Cyclops. A one-eyed man lived in ordinary time, like Polyphemus. Odysseus had blinded the giant and the poor Cyclops ran out of his cave, crying I am blinded! Noman has blinded me! Chingao! Noman has blinded me!
Sonny had taught the Greek myths to his literature classes at Valley High. That seemed ages ago. He always acted out the part, working like hell to get their interest. But the ancient Greek stories were far removed from the memory of the land-locked Chicanos of the valley where the phrase we sail with the tide had never been heard. So he told them the cuentos his grandfather had taught him, incorporating them into New Mexico history. The history of la gente was embedded in the oral tradition, but it had to be mined if one was to know the ways of the ancestors.
The teachers wer
e alchemists, turning raw material into gold, but they had to compete with teenage interests: cars, video games, rap music, after-school jobs, family troubles. And hormones.
“I was a good teacher,” he said to Chica, rubbing the head of his one-eyed dachshund. Raven’s demons had scratched out her left eye. So much loss in that winter-solstice nightmare where Raven killed don Eliseo.
For the past three months Sonny had been reading don Eliseo’s books. He couldn’t sleep, so he read till two or three in the morning, and the more he read the more he understood that ordinary people go through life thinking they see, but what they’re seeing is only the surface of things. The trick was to see beneath observed reality, and for that one needed to develop a new kind of sight.
“The Egyptians painted the all-seeing eye on their temple walls,” he said to Chica. “Horus had one eye cut out by his uncle Seth. Seth had killed Osiris, the Ruler of Eternity, as the ancient Egyptians called him. It was the eye of Horus that restored Osiris to life. A lot of powerful magic there.”
Seth cut Osiris into pieces and threw him in the Nile. Isis and her sister had brought Osiris back to life; that is, they gathered the dismembered body and sewed it together. The first mummy. One thing was missing. His penis. The organ had been thrown into the Nile where a goldfish ate it. Centuries later, a poet Sonny knew wrote that the missing organ had washed up on the banks of the Rio Grande. History belonged to those who wrote its poetry.
So many allusions to sight in the old stories, he thought, and still, most of us go through life half asleep, one-eyed men, tuertos searching for the truth, a purpose, the meaning of life. Somnambulant, we stumble down the road, unto the burning sheets of the malpais. Unconscious. Why?
If you are unconscious you feel less pain, he thought.
Yeah, that’s it, we don’t want to feel the pain. A man can get along with one good eye, lead the ordinary life of Polyphemus, until along comes Odysseus and drives a stake through it.
Bile rose in his mouth. Raven had driven a stake through his heart.
“Maybe I opened a few eyes,” Sonny whispered, thinking nostalgically of his teaching days at Valley High.
But the classroom was confining, so he quit and learned PI work from Manuel López. He liked the independence.