Shaman Winter (25 page)

“When Raven's woman, Veronica, murdered Gloria Dominic, there were four women in his cult. What happened to them?” Rita asked.

“They scattered.”

“Or he couldn't use them against you,” Lorenza suggested. “So he needs four young women to initiate into his new cult.”

“That frightens me,” Rita said. “He's liable to …” Her words hung in the air. Then: “What if the girls won't obey him?”

“He has ways to control them,” Lorenza said.

Sonny agreed. “He isolates them from their families, takes away their orientation to reality. Takes away that
Center
don Eliseo calls the here and now.”

“But the girls you've described have strong values,” Rita said. “They'll resist him.”

Sonny had thought of that. Yes, the girls came from families with strong values. If they resisted Raven, they would be useless to him. How far would Raven go? How much did he need them? The girls represented Sonny's grandmothers; would he kill them and thus symbolically kill Sonny's grandmothers?

He looked at Lorenza, knowing she was thinking along the same line.

“Maybe he wants to distract me. Have me looking for the girls while he works the bomb angle.”

“Yes, you're right,” Lorenza agreed. “He's working here, so his hideaway is here. You have to keep on his track. When you find him, you'll find the girls.”

Sonny nodded.

“Both girls came from families that are related to yours,” she continued. “It's a distant relation, but it's there. And both were participating in Christmas pageants. Consuelo was in
Los Pastores
, and Catalina was in
Las Posadas
.”

“And both were about to be married.”

“The girls were playing the role of the Virgin Mary in the Christmas pageants. The Virgin is about to give birth …”

“The birth of Christ comes four days after the winter solstice,” Rita whispered. “Raven doesn't want the sun to return after the solstice, he can't stand for Christ the Light to be born. He is the Destroyer of Light.”

“And he'll use the girls to carry out his plan.”

These strands of the plot they knew, but the details escaped them. Sonny shivered, trying to shrug off the feeling of despair.

“Maybe Paiz will find something. Or we have to find a new way of tracing Raven,” Sonny said.

“Like?”

“What is needed to put a nuclear bomb together? People and materials, I mean really specialized materials. Can someone like Raven buy those materials? And couldn't those purchases be traced? We need information on how to build a nuclear bomb.”

“Will Eric help?” Rita asked.

Sonny shook his head. Right now he didn't trust Eric.

“He either won't tell us anything because of security or he'll lead us down a wrong alley. There must be a way to break into his system.”

“Break into Los Alamos Labs?” Rita exclaimed. “Whoa! I will draw the line at that. That's a lot of years in jail, Sonny Baca. Or they'll kill you. Like they electrocuted Ethel and Julius Rosenberg.”

“Ethel and Julius Rosenberg?” He looked puzzled.

“It was one of the books you had in the van. I read most of it last night. The way the book tells it, the whole thing was Harry Gold's fault.”

Sonny vaguely remembered the names in the famous spy case. Harry Gold had passed atomic bomb secrets to the Russians, or something like that.

“The spy?” he asked.

“Yes. Harry Gold got the atomic bomb secrets from Klaus Fuchs, who had managed to get the information out of Los Alamos. Gold gave the secrets to the Russians. And part of the secrets he got from Greenglass. It happened right here in Albuquerque. Two-oh-nine High Street, I drove by there today. Can you imagine, all that happened right here in the 1940s? Now you want to break into Los Alamos. I don't think so.”

Sonny smiled. “Looks like you've done your research. I had forgotten about the Rosenbergs.”

“They took the rap,” Rita reminded them. “They catch you breaking into their top-secret buildings, you will take a
big
rap.”

“I don't mean break into Los Alamos Labs buildings,” Sonny said. “I just need to find what is needed to put a bomb together. Begin to trace materials, see if suppliers lead to Raven.”

“You mean break into their computer system,” Lorenza suggested.

“Yeah, that's it. And for that I need a computer expert. PIs no longer chase credit card thieves or guys not paying alimony. Now they can all be traced with computers. It's all on the Internet!”

He smiled uneasily. The technology was there, and he needed it, but what the hell did he know about it.

“In the meantime, Raven will come for another girl,” Rita said solemnly.

“I'm sure. The question is where?”

“At another Christmas pageant.”

Sonny arched an eyebrow. She was on to something.

“If he came back here because his plans for building the bomb are here, and he's hiding the girls somewhere in the city—they're having
Posadas
in Barelas!” she blurted.

“When?” Sonny asked.

“Tonight. They have the
Posadas
every night for a week before Christmas.”

“It's just possible—”

“—that he'll be there,” Lorenza finished.

“What else do we have to go on? Let's go!”

“Sonny.” Rita reached across. “You've been out all day, your cold is getting worse. You have to rest.”

Yeah, Sonny thought. He felt the cold building inside, the aches, the sniffling in his nose, the strange low-level fever clinging to him. But he couldn't rest, he couldn't sleep. Sleep meant dreams, and that meant, somehow, opening a channel into his past, a way for Raven to travel to the grandmothers.

“I have no choice,” he said.

Rita looked at Lorenza.

Lorenza understood Rita's concern; it was hers, too. She had seen the day take its toll on Sonny, but Raven wasn't resting. To rest meant death for Sonny. Raven was taking a girl a day, and there were only two to go. That meant Raven had to strike again, tonight.

“I'm all right, really.” Sonny said, squeezing her hands, trying to allay her fear. “I just had a good meal, I'll stay warm, we'll go just to look around. It's probably nothing. But if you don't feel well—”

“I'm fine,” Rita replied. “Remember we were there last year.”

“That's right.” Sonny smiled, the memory suddenly flashing like the scene from a movie in his mind. This is the way the past had been returning since his brain had been buzzed by Stammer. A word, a phrase, a sound would suddenly bring forth an image from the past, and the memory would be clear. He remembered the crisp December air at nightfall, the procession of people holding candles as they followed Joseph and Mary from house to house, the smell of wax, the songs.

“So let's do it,” Rita said. “The fresh air will do me good. I'll pray Raven
isn't
there. Let me get my coat and tell Marta to close up.”

“You sure?” Sonny asked.

“I'm sure.” She kissed him and walked away.

“She looks tired,” Sonny said to Lorenza. “Not her old self.”

“She works too hard. But the fresh air will be good for her.”

“What can I do? I feel I'm running in circles, neglecting Rita, neglecting everybody—”

“Rita knows your predicament: She knows you have to find Raven and get the girls back.”

Ah, how the gusano turns, Sonny thought. It was a week before Christmas, and he and Rita should be doing the things they liked to do. Shopping for gifts. He needed to buy presents for his mom, Rita, Lorenza, all of them. Last year shopping with Rita had been a wonderful experience. Now they hadn't even had the time to visit friends. When's the last time he had seen his mother? He didn't remember; he had lost track of time.

He should be going to his therapy sessions, walking the parallel bars, strengthening his legs, willing them to listen to commands from his brain, maybe going to the Jemez Springs Bath House and sitting in a tub full of hot mineral water. Having his legs massaged. Lorenza had told him of a healer who worked there, Cosima, who knew how to free the body's blocked energy. He should be taking care of himself and Rita, but he was too busy chasing Raven.

He needed the time to rest, to get things straight. Winter was for kicking back, eating piñon, sitting in front of a stove burning sweet cedar, listening to don Eliseo's stories, reading, visiting with friends in the evenings, going to Lobo basketball games, watching football games on TV, and looking forward to the Super Bowl, or just helping Rita at the café. Time for doing ordinary things. Instead, he was looking for the grandmothers of his dreams, the two girls, and an insane Raven whom the FBI believed could build a nuclear bomb.

“Ready,” Rita said, appearing in a black leather coat. She had freshened her makeup. Sonny looked at her and smiled. Suddenly she looked radiant, ready to go. He should be making love to her, not chasing after wild impossibilities.

“You look lovely, amor.”

“Gracias,” she replied.

“I—” He wanted to say something more, something about the love he felt that moment, some acknowledgment of the joy he found in her and how grateful he was for the time she spent nursing him. But his voice caught, and he was afraid if he continued his voice would crack.

“You don't have to say anything,” she said, brushing his lips with hers. “It's something we have to do for now. When this is over, spring will come. Then we'll get married. You haven't changed your mind, have you?” She smiled.

“Did I say something while I was under?”

“Yes, you did.” Rita winked at Lorenza. “Didn't he say he was going to make a decent woman out of me?”

“He sure did,” Lorenza said.

“Ah, come on,” Sonny kidded, “you can't hold a dying man to his word. I was out of it.”

“You still are, amor,” Rita said, and took his wheelchair and pointed it at the door.

“Fever,” Lorenza added. “Men are like that. They make promises, then blame it on their fever.”

They laughed as they boarded the van and headed toward Barelas. For the moment, the joy of friendship and the joy of the season had returned.

Fourth Street south of Central was decorated for the season but nearly deserted. A few cars moved down toward Bridge Street and then on to the South Valley. The city was renovating the street, sprucing up the old barrio. Just past Bridge Street the Hispanic Cultural Center rose, a center where the art and culture of the old Hispanos and Mexicanos could be kept alive.

Don Eliseo had warned him: Lose the language, the threads of history, and the traditions and the ways of your ancestors will disappear from the earth of La Nueva México.

Sonny shivered. The barrio, bathed by streetlights, was hanging on to its inheritance. A cold breeze blew across the mesa, over the sluggish Río Grande, crying as it swept past the bare alamos and elm trees and through barrio streets. The cold, mournful whisper forced many a barrio denizen to hurry home.

One bright spot filled the void. At Barelas Road they spotted the procession. Lorenza parked in a side street.

“Pacific,” Sonny murmured, looking up at the street sign. Ben Chávez territory. Should I take my pistol? he thought, and decided yes. He stuffed the pistol under the blanket Rita had placed over his legs.

“We're in time,” Rita said as they made their way toward the small but enthusiastic crowd gathered around the actors playing the roles of Joseph and Mary.

Sonny sniffed the air. Like a coyote coming into new territory, he had the habit of sniffing for scents. Smells revealed the place and often revealed danger. But tonight his sinuses were stuffed, and this heightened sense he trusted revealed very little.

The barrio lay huddled under the cold. The darkness was punctuated by the flashlights and candles held by those in the procession.

A TV-4 van was parked nearby. Carla Aragón and her cameraman were shooting the pageant for the ten o'clock news.

Sonny turned his attention to the actors, paying special attention to the girl playing the Virgin Mary. The girl sat quietly on a burro while the man playing Joseph tugged at the halter. If Raven was here, he would go after the girl.

“Do you know her?” Sonny whispered. Rita had been raised in Barelas, and she knew a lot of the families, but she answered no.

A man next to Sonny drew close and whispered, “She's a substitute for Carmen Abeyta. Carmen got sick. She's at the last house of the Posadas, with her parents.”

“Thanks,” Sonny replied. The man was bundled for the cold, a scarf pulled up around his chin. The black hat he wore was pulled low so Sonny couldn't make out the face.

He turned his attention to the procession.

The man playing Joseph pulled the burro toward the gate of the first house. The chorus of neighbors following Mary and Joseph broke out with the first song, the plea for a room at the inn, their voices rising joyfully into the night:

El Señor de bondad nos proteja,

Nos bendiga y nos colme de amor;

Su Sagrada Pasión nos defienda,

Y nos libre de mal y dolor.

St. Joseph stepped up to the gate of the first house and knocked. The door opened and he asked for a room for the night, explaining to the innkeeper that he and his pregnant wife had traveled very far and needed to rest:

Venimos de muy lejos

Y llegamos cansados,

Ahora les pedimos

Posada esta noche.

The man who opened the door, playing the role of an annoyed innkeeper, answered:

Quién viene a nuestra puerta,

En esta noche de hielo?

Quién se arrima con impudencia

A molestar nuestro sueño?

“Váyanse de aquí,” he finished, closing the door in their faces. St. Joseph and the Virgin Mary moved to the next house, followed by the carolers who now sang along with St. Joseph.