A Cold War

by Alan Russell

  Greg’s tone softened. “It’s just that I don’t want you getting hurt. In another month’s time, you’re going to be a mother. Right now you should be thinking about mobiles and scrapbooks and picking out cute little baby outfits.”

  “I do think about those things,” Nina said. “You know how I’ve been trying to make an Elese scrapbook for the baby?”

  “I know. You’ve told me I’m the world’s worst chronicler.”

  “The world’s worst chronicler of anything non-rock-related.”

  Unfortunately Greg wasn’t much of a photographer, and there was a paucity of pictures and Elese’s artwork. It didn’t help that Elese had come from a small family.

  “Luckily you make up for my shortcomings.”

  In addition to making an Elese scrapbook, Nina had also decided to re-create Elese’s journal. She was pretty sure she remembered all of Elese’s words verbatim. She would probably have to hire someone to do justice to her drawings.

  “Just like Elese made up for my shortcomings,” said Nina. “She saved my life, and I’d like to think I was spared for a reason. I have to pay a debt and pay it forward. I have to do it for Elese.”

  “So, do you have a name for this proposed business of yours?”

  “It’s not a business. It will be more like a word-of-mouth service. But I’m thinking of identifying that service with a code name.”

  “That sounds like spycraft. Will I be hearing someone whispering from the bushes, ‘The red fox roams the moors at midnight’?”

  Nina laughed. “You’re close,” she said. “Did I ever tell you the story about La Loba Fantasma?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Nina had worried that she might not be able to love her baby, but those fears vanished the moment she held Elese Carver (Elese’s maiden name) Granville—called Ellie from the first—in her arms.

  Her friends had told Nina that everything changed when you became a mother. And while it was true that Nina had to put another human being’s needs ahead of her own, Ellie’s birth didn’t change her plans. If anything, her daughter made her that much more determined to help those in enforced servitude.

  In the year since she and Greg had started sharing a home, the two of them had grown closer. It was clear from what Greg did and said that he was hoping they might become a couple. He didn’t press her, though, which was good. Nina was still healing. Alaska had changed her. It was possible she could be a loving wife, but not yet. Nina was progressing at what she thought of as baby steps. Maybe she and Ellie would learn to walk together.

  With her daughter asleep, Nina was sitting at the kitchen table going over the checklist for what she called Operation Esperanza, which was the Spanish word for hope.

  Greg came up behind her and rubbed her neck. “How’s it going, Bronson?” he asked. His hands lingered, moving back and forth along her shoulders.

  Charles Bronson had starred as the character Paul Kersey in five Death Wish films. After a brutal attack in which his wife was killed and his daughter was raped and left in a catatonic state, Kersey took the law into his own hands and went around wreaking justice.

  “Bronson went around shooting people,” Nina said. “I go around making a point of not shooting people.”

  “The people you’re dealing with don’t have your compunction. You better remember that.”

  “I do.”

  “When are you leaving for the badlands?”

  Operation Esperanza would take place about thirty-five miles southeast of El Paso, Texas. “I’ll drive there on Sunday, and if all goes as planned, we’ll finish up just before dawn on Monday.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me going with you?”

  She shook her head. Greg was scheduled to fly to Denver in the morning and be gone for the next week. “If anything goes wrong, it will be better that you’re working at a job. That way you could claim you didn’t have any idea what I was doing.”

  “You think you’re emancipating these women,” he said. “What do you think Los Fuegos will think?”

  “I’m more concerned about the women.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Do you know how Los Fuegos got their name? They’re called the Fires, or the Fiery Ones, because that’s what they like setting. Their weapons of choice are big flare guns. If you don’t think that sounds like a terrifying weapon, then you’ve never seen the result of their handiwork. Their flare guns are powerful enough to burn a hole right through a body. That’s something they’ve proven over and over. And the equation gets a lot more horrific when they add accelerant, which they seem to enjoy doing.”

  “That’s why I make sure that everyone involved takes precautions to maintain our anonymity. I won’t be intimidated.”

  “Then you’re the only one who won’t be. Los Fuegos intimidated the Mexican government. When the authorities tried to clamp down on them, the gang made a show of arms in Laredo, Juarez, and Tijuana. From all over those cities, flares were shot into the air. There was a haze of colored smoke hanging over all those cities. They showed their presence in a pervasive and persuasive way.”

  “You seem to know a lot about them.”

  “I wish I didn’t know as much as I do; then maybe I wouldn’t worry as much as I am.”

  “I’m taking every precaution.”

  “I hope that’s enough. These are the same people you crossed when you hijacked their sex shuttles. You can’t count on their continuing to turn a blind eye to anyone or anything interfering with their business. They’ll consider this an act of war. And you know how they treat their enemies.”

  “I know. I’m no Bronson. The plan is to get in and get out.”

  “Remember: Ellie and I need you.”

  She took his hands into hers, brought them next to her cheek, and rubbed them. Greg took that as an invitation to lean down for a kiss. Nina tilted her head, offering a cheek instead of her lips, and Greg settled for a kiss there.

  In the morning Nina drove Greg to the airport. He wasn’t traveling light. In addition to his suitcase and briefcase, he had his backpack.

  “Part of the reason I took this job is that Colorado is a great place for rock hounds,” he said. “There are a few spots I can’t wait to check out, but I’m feeling guilty about taking playtime while you’re doing what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t,” said Nina. “I hope you find the mother lode, but if you don’t, see if you can bring home an ohbez or two for Ellie.”

  Greg laughed and said, “Will do.”

  Every day Ellie was making more and more sounds. One of her favorite words was “ohbez.” It was an exclamation she used when looking at Greg’s sparkling rocks under ultraviolet lights. Nina thought she knew where the “oh” in ohbez came from. She invariably exclaimed, “Oh!” every time she looked at the minerals under the lights. It was a delight she shared with Ellie, who always made happy sounds along with her declaration of “ohbez.” Nina and Greg had incorporated the word into their own vocabulary. Now, whenever anything was special or caught their eye, they said, “Ohbez.”

  Nina waited while Greg finished unloading his luggage from the car. Then he came around to the driver’s-side window.

  “Ohbez,” Nina said.

  It was one of those baby steps toward saying, “I love you.”

  “Ohbez,” he agreed.

  And then he kissed her. This time Nina didn’t avert her lips.

  It was easier for Nina to do her work while Greg was gone. She tried to think of every contingency and imagine all the worst-case scenarios.

  This was the third operation she’d headed up. “Old MacDonald” had been her first challenge. Marisol’s attorney had introduced Nina to several women she worked with. It didn’t surprise Nina to learn that most victims of human trafficking were women, and half of them had children. The attorney’s friends opened their homes to the dispossessed. From them Nina had heard rumors of Old MacDonald—his real last name was Sanchez. In his Central Valley farm in South San Joaquin, he took in wo
men and their children and never paid them for their work. His claim was that he’d “bought” them and that they needed to pay off the debt he’d incurred in getting them. Before seeing to the freedom of the women and children, Nina first had to make arrangements for their lodging and employment. It wasn’t enough to open a door and say, “You’re free,” especially when you didn’t speak English and didn’t have a green card. She’d rented a bus and, when Sanchez was away from his farm, had gathered all his economic captives.

  The “Sex Shuttle” had been next. Enslaved young women were being transported throughout the west for the purposes of prostitution. With help from the inside, Nina had hijacked two of the shuttles and freed a dozen women.

  Now she was working out final details for Esperanza. The women were being held at an old chicken ranch. Instead of caged chickens, there were caged women. Because the ranch was in an unincorporated area called Pequeno Rio, there were few governmental services. That was how Los Fuegos liked it. What few authorities there were had been bought off.

  That was one of the reasons Nina had decided not to contact the FBI, Department of Justice, NHTRC, or Homeland Security. All of those governmental agencies dealt with human trafficking, but they were typically cumbersome and slow. There was no way they would be able to move on the ranch without Los Fuegos knowing first. That wouldn’t help the women being held there.

  Nina had first learned of what was occurring at the ranch after getting a message from a priest, a man who identified himself as Padre Diego. When he’d called La Loba’s private number, he was clearly afraid of leaving a message, not knowing with whom or what he was communicating. It must have surprised him hearing a Norteamericana say, “If you have not dialed this number in error, then leave a message. And remember: you are not alone.”

  The padre left his name and number. When Nina called back, she learned how the priest had obtained her very private number.

  “The Sunday before last, I received the first message in the offertory plate,” he said. “I knew it was written by one of the women from the ranch. The only outing the women are allowed is Sunday Mass, but even then they are closely watched. Those that come to church are each given five dollars by their guards for the offering. The note was slipped under the money. It was a prayer for the Lady of San Guadalupe to deliver her. And it asked me to contact La Loba Fantasma to help in this matter.

  “I did not know this La Loba Fantasma. I wondered who or what was this ghost wolf. I thought it might be a local superstition. My people love their stories of the chupacabra, ahuizhotl, hoga, and campacti. I also wondered if La Loba Fantasma could be another name for Santa Muerta. And so I did not act at first, for I had no idea how to go about contacting a ghost.

  “The following Sunday I received a second note in the offertory. And this one I did not ignore. It referenced La Loba and lanzadera sexo. I did not know what that meant, but at least it gave me something to go on. And so I made discreet inquiries. I asked a woman who I know is involved in the Tren de la libertad—the Underground Railroad for the dispossessed—whether she had ever heard of La Loba Fantasma. It took a few days, but an anonymous caller left me your phone number.”

  Nina’s Spanish was good enough that she understood the priest’s reference to the sex shuttle and Tren de la libertad. The priest then told her about the women at the chicken ranch.

  Because Nina had wanted no one to see her face, she’d worn a special mask while overseeing the hijacking of the two sex shuttles. The wolf mask had not only hidden her features, but had bestowed upon Nina a feral quality. Her mask wasn’t scary as much as it was realistic. It didn’t look like a werewolf and didn’t come with red eyes and huge teeth. The mask frightened because it presented the head of an unfathomable wolf.

  Nina had added her own touch to the mask. She’d been inspired by the minerals that showed their secret colors under black lights. And so she’d purchased what she thought of as war paint and applied the colors to the mask. She was convinced it was those colors, more than it was any weapon, that made the drivers comply with her every command. The clip-on black light came on every third second and revealed the iridescent face of the wolf. Her orders were spoken with an eerie sibilance, or so it was remembered by those who were rescued.

  Word of La Loba Fantasma had circulated far wider than Nina could ever have guessed, all the way to one of the girls being held at the ranch.

  The remoteness of the ranch could be turned to her advantage, Nina thought, sitting at her desk. By using a cell-phone jammer, the jailers wouldn’t be able to call for help. She’d already used one of those jammers while hijacking the shuttles. With each action her arsenal was getting larger.

  Ellie began fussing in her playpen. When Nina’s mother had visited, she’d claimed that Ellie was the spitting image of Nina when she’d been a baby. She did have her big, blue eyes. And already she was showing dark hair. Usually she had an infectious smile; supposedly Nina had been good-humored as well.

  “There, there,” said Nina, putting aside her work. “Mama is here. Come to Mama.”

  Nina was doing her best to ensure that Mama would be Ellie’s first word.

  “Ohbez,” said her daughter.

  Or at least her first word after ohbez.

  “That’s very close to Mama,” said Nina. “Did you want to go see the pretty lights?”

  She leaned over, lifted Ellie out of her playpen, and then the two of them went down the hall to Alcatraz. The room was in complete darkness until Nina turned on the UV lights, and then it felt like a pathway to a hidden world was revealed, with all the glowing minerals showing the way.

  “Oooh,” said Nina.

  “Ohbez,” said Ellie.

  “Say, ‘Mama,’” said Nina, kissing her daughter. “Mama.”

  “Ohbez,” said Ellie.

  Nina put Ellie to sleep with a bottle. Having a daughter who was now weaned made it easier for La Loba to operate.

  Nina returned to Alcatraz to turn off the lights and noticed one of the drawers was partially open. Since the drawers were positioned on sliders that automatically closed, it meant there had to be an obstruction.

  She pulled the drawer all the way open. It closed on its own, but only about three-quarters of the way. Nina searched for the blockage, but there was no obvious obstruction. Like the other drawers, this one was full of rocks. She bent down to get level with the stones and then noticed that one of the rocks, a green mineral, was sticking out. Greg liked to give background history on his stones, and she seemed to remember him saying that this type of mineral had been mined in Israel long before the birth of Christ. There was some story behind its name as well. It looked like green mallow leaves. And then Nina remembered its name: malachite.

  When she checked the identification card, she felt like taking a bow. According to Greg’s annotations, he’d unearthed the sample in the Bisbee, Arizona area seven years ago on March 20. The GPS coordinates for his find had also been entered on the card.

  After Nina repositioned the malachite, the drawer easily closed, but something was nagging at her. She opened several other drawers and did her mental comparisons. For some reason the drawer with the malachite wasn’t as deep as the other drawers, even though she wasn’t sure how that was possible. In her side-by-side comparisons, she could see the drawers were the same size.

  Her interest piqued, Nina held her finger and thumb apart to measure the vertical depth of the drawers. By her guesstimate, there was a little more than an inch difference in depth between the malachite drawer and the other museum drawers.

  She took a hard look at the malachite drawer and then began tapping around. There was only one way to be sure of her suspicion, Nina decided. She grabbed a piece of paper and listed the order of the samples. Greg liked everything just so; it wouldn’t do to have any of his rocks out of place. Satisfied that she could return everything as it was, Nina removed all the items from the drawer.

  When it was emptied, there was nothing to indicate that
the drawer had a false bottom other than its difference in depth. There was clearly less space for the rocks to sit in. She pulled the drawer along its runners and then lifted it out. Even without the rocks in it, the drawer was bulky and heavy. Nina lugged it over to one of the shorter cabinets and propped the drawer atop it. She studied the underside of the drawer and almost overlooked the tiny hole toward the back. It took her a minute to rummage around and find something thin enough to fit into the hole. She pulled apart a pen, inserted the nib and ink cartridge into the space, and pushed upward. A panel lifted, and Nina reached into the drawer to pull it free.

  The first thing she noticed was the gold nuggets. None of them was large; most were BB size, but with the current price of gold, there were enough of them that she could understand Greg’s need to build a secret compartment. In addition to the nuggets, there were also several small glass vials filled with gold dust. Wine-red semiprecious gemstones, what Nina was confident were garnets, filled one of the compartments. Some of them were loose, and others were embedded within stones. There were also a few funny-looking layered rocks, a kind she’d never seen before. The gold, garnets, and strange rocks didn’t come with identification cards, but there were two stones in the drawer that did. One was identified as G. M. Epidote, and the other labeled nephrite jade. Greg hadn’t been his usual thorough self with his identifications; there were no GPS coordinates and no dating of the finds.

  Maybe the secret compartment was Greg’s version of a junk drawer. But then most junk drawers held spare change, not four or five ounces of gold.

  Nina put everything back as it was. The next time she talked to Greg, she might, or might not, reveal what she’d found. They weren’t married, after all; when they’d moved in together, they’d still practically been strangers. Besides, she told herself, when it came to his rocks, Greg still acted like a kid; it was just like him to have a secret compartment.

  She closed the drawer and turned off the lights, seeing for a moment an afterimage of the glittering rocks against the deep, fathomless darkness. She shivered.