Shadow Hand

by Sacchi Green

  “Well, it sure was fun to watch, but I do prefer more hands-on fun from time to time.”

  They drove on in perfect understanding, each with a firm hand on the other’s thigh.

  Twelve’s videos of the girl-snatchings had been avidly shared online even before this last one. Now comments came from all over the world, and stories circulated that were far wilder than anything they’d actually done. T-shirts printed with “The Shadow Hand” appeared for sale like mushrooms after a rain. There were even reports of girls inspired to get away on their own initiative, and police departments cracking down on traffickers. Twelve had been right that the local police had been monitoring the videos, and they’d begun taking action. Awareness had definitely been raised.

  “It’s time,” Ash told Cleo a week or so later as they lounged on their backs in the big bed. “We need to move on. Val and Jana have contacts in New York inviting them to come and help set up some new rescue crews. The others can handle things around here without us.”

  “You sure set Jian up with an impressive reputation,” Cleo said lazily. “Have they decided what to call their crew?”

  “Still haggling over it. Chiu favors Dragon Tongue, but Jian says that’s too clichèd.” Ash could predict Cleo’s reaction.

  “Really?” Cleo sat up. “Tongue? Almost makes me wish we were sticking around.”

  “You would. One of these days, though, either the traffickers or the Army spooks will get us. Twelve says most folks think the superpower aspects of our videos are faked, but they don’t mind. And then there are those who believe because they want to believe. But Major McAllister can certainly connect the dots.”

  “Yeah, it’s time.” Cleo flopped over and began to trace the seams in Ash’s denim jeans with her fingertips.

  Ash wriggled, but kept on with her train of thought. “We’ll make plans tomorrow and pack up. Maybe we could go someplace with mountains. Stop by New Hampshire, and then on to Montana.” Then, as Cleo’s fingers got more insistent, “But okay, let’s see how much advantage we can take of this roomy bed tonight.”

  It was just as well they did, Ash realized in the morning, when the spooks caught up with them. Or, more precisely, one ex-spook.

  Major Margaret McAllister knocked on their door just as they were getting ready to go out to grab some breakfast. “Nice to see you two,” she said. “Great work you’ve been doing.”

  Ash’s fingers twitched. It took considerable effort, but she didn’t try anything. “How long have you known?”

  “Quite a while. Let’s just say those remarkable videos came as no surprise. I ferreted out a good deal of information about you from those, and about their creator as well. Food for thought. I didn’t want to interrupt your campaign, though. May I come in?”

  “Might as well.” Ash backed away from the door.

  “I’ll get right to the point. I need your help. No, not on official Army business; I retired two months ago.”

  Ash sat down on the bed, willing to hear more out of curiosity, but still feeling a grudge.

  Cleo leaned against the door, arms crossed firmly over her chest, jaw raised at a challenging angle. “That ‘you’ had better include me! Where Ash goes, I go.”

  “It definitely includes you. And your ‘instincts.’ Your skill at detecting explosives is as rare and valuable as the lieutenant’s abilities. I suspect your automotive skills go beyond rational explanation as well. I have quite a file on you, and would have tracked you even if you hadn’t been linked to Ash.”

  Cleo, looking half-stunned, slid down to sit on the floor. McAllister turned her attention to Ash.

  “Before I retired I took care of your records. Listed you as not a candidate for further study, even deleted your AWOL status.” At Ash’s frown of disbelief, she added, “I have my ways. And friends in the right places.”

  “Blackmail,” Cleo muttered.

  “No, just…persuasion. And now I need to persuade you two to undertake an undercover, unofficial, and quite possibly deadly mission. In case my powers of persuasion aren’t enough, I’ve brought someone else I’d like you to meet.” Her gaze swept the small room, the rumpled bed still musky with their lovemaking, the half-packed duffle bags, the teakettle on the single electric hotplate perched on the shelf next to the sink, the cereal boxes on top of the tiny refrigerator. “Is there somewhere convenient we can go?”

  “If it’s privacy you want, Major, what you see is what you get.” Ash had no patience with condescension.

  “Oh, just call me Mac, will you? I’m no longer officially in the Army.” The words were spoken with confidence, but her stance and tone revealed a trace of anxiety. Whatever she wanted from them, Ash thought, it was personal, and mattered so much that she was shaken.

  “All right, Mac.” Ash couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for the woman. “Go ahead and invite your friend up here. We’ll listen to what you have to say.”

  Cleo stood up. “I’ll go out and bring back some coffee and muffins or something. We haven’t had breakfast yet. Coffee okay, or would you like tea?”

  Mac shot her a look of deep gratitude. “Coffee’s fine. Two, please. Large. Black. We’ve already eaten, though, so no need for food.” She scooped a phone out of a jacket pocket and texted a few words. “She’s parked a few streets away.”

  “I’ll be back with coffee pronto,” Cleo said. “No fair doing anything exciting until I get back.” She dashed out the door, and they could hear her bolting down the stairs two at a time.

  In just under ten minutes they heard voices, and two sets of feet on the stairs. Cleo came in, juggling a take-out tray and bracing the door open with one elbow to let a fit, mature woman with short dark hair and khaki pants and jacket enter past her.

  Mac introduced the newcomer all around. “Colonel Razhan Khider.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Colonel.” Ash felt a grudging respect for Khider’s firm handshake, direct gaze, and lean face, all the stronger for being lined by weather and hardship.

  Cleo slid her tray onto the table and offered a steaming cup of coffee instead of a handshake.

  “Thank you.” Khider took a sip. “I’ll get right to business, if I may.” Her slight accent left no doubt that she served in the women’s branch of the Kurdish Peshmerga.

  “There are thousands of women, Kurds and Yazidis, kept in slavery by my country’s enemies. I was one of them, but not for long.” She raised her chin, ostensibly to look around her, but enough to reveal deep scars on her throat and jaw. “Some have escaped, with aid, and often with lives lost. Some have been purchased out of slavery by their families, but our funds ran out some time ago. Most, especially the youngest, are offered for sale, sometimes in encrypted posts on social media.” She paused to drink more coffee, and to let what she’d said sink in. “Some are my…our…friends.” Her gaze flicked very briefly to Mac, now perched on the bed beside Ash. Mac’s tension was so pronounced that Ash had a fleeting impulse to put an arm around her.

  “My sister Nisreen, also a colonel in the women’s division of our army and a good friend to Mac, is one of those, captured in battle, now imprisoned in an ancient walled city along with hundreds of others.” She paused, the lines on her face appearing to deepen. “There seemed to be no hope… We have been battling the enemy on so many other fronts, and the city is impregnable without endangering the captives. Our army will give what little aid they can, but it did not seem possible until…” She paused. “In honesty, it still does not seem possible, but I have known Mac for two years, and if she says that you may help to do the impossible, I must bow to her powers of persuasion.”

  Ash caught Cleo’s eye, and Cleo nodded almost imperceptibly.

  They had known, of course, about the women’s troops in the minority resistance effort, and about the enslavement of women, but suddenly it was personal, no longer something far away and impossible to affect.
Now they were being asked to join a campaign more than likely to fail, and quite possibly to cost their lives.

  Ash straightened. “Colonel, just tell us what we can do to help.”

  Cleo nodded. For better or worse, they were in.

  Colonel Khider smiled. “My forces would welcome the Shadow Hand. Yes, your fame has spread even that far. We will discuss in time whether revealing your identity would be more useful than keeping it under cover, but that is just one small point on the list of what must be discussed. Before we can mount any attack, there must be planning, and training in the mountains, and gathering of troops and weapons.”

  Ash dipped her head in agreement. “Mac, was this what you had in mind when you hinted at some other plan for me, then decided I needed to learn more control?” She didn’t try to hide a trace of bitterness.

  Mac sighed. “Yes. I know it was harsh, dumping you at that place. I realized then how badly it was being run, but I’d just received word that Nisreen had gone on a rescue mission so daring, so dangerous…” She paused, drew a deep breath, and pulled herself together. “I had to go, and I had to leave you there for Mona’s sake. I knew you’d take care of yourself, and of her. I did return as soon as I could, when Nisreen succeeded against all odds. But by then you were gone. Good work getting both of you out of there!”

  Cleo started throwing more gear into her duffle bag. “And now,” she said, “Colonel Nisreen Khider has been captured? Another mission for Shadow Hand!”

  Ash stood up and sent her own gear floating toward her bag. “How soon do we leave?”

  Part Three

  Chapter 11

  “Place your bets, Mesdames, Messieurs.”

  The casino in Geneva was heavy on slot machines, light on table games, only two for roulette. It would have been suspicious for Ash to win every time, so Cleo took several turns, intentionally losing at first, then winning as much as seemed wise while Ash watched from just close enough to be able to work her will on the wheel. It was a relief when Cleo could give up her seat and retreat to the impersonal rows of slot machines. Most of those were computerized, but a few mechanical ones remained, for the sake of tradition, Cleo guessed. She watched the machines play for a while. The garish colors, glaring lights, set her on edge. Given long enough, she was pretty sure she could figure out their patterns and quirks and win a fair amount of the time—machines held few secrets from her—but she didn’t think she could stand being in the casino atmosphere that long.

  Fair was fair, though, and they’d already taken a two-day trip to Chamonix and Mont Blanc as she’d wanted, although she had to admit that the grandeur of the mountain had been nearly canceled out by the glossy commercialization of the ski resort.

  Now she’d put up with the casino for a while, people-watching from a corner to pass the time, observing Ash from a distance. The dress code here was casual, so ski clothes like those they wore, bought for the wintry mountains where they’d be going, were common, but there were also folks dressed as formally as extras in some James Bond movie. When she caught a glimpse of intense blue silk from the corner of one eye, she didn’t bother to turn and look until a familiar voice right next to her ear cut through the general buzz.

  “What that girl needs is a big enough challenge to make her stretch.”

  Cleo’s head jerked around. Mac, stylish and composed in a form-skimming blue silk dress, gold jewelry, and glossy, upswept hair, was observing Ash as well.

  “And challenge is exactly what she’s going to get,” she went on. “You too. And you’ll both meet that challenge.”

  Cleo nearly blurted out, “Who’re you calling a girl?” But dazzled by Mac’s elegance, she stammered, instead, “You’re…you’re two days early!” They had arranged this rendezvous in Boston.

  “I concluded my last piece of business sooner than I’d expected, just half an hour ago, in fact, so we’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. Very early.”

  Half an hour? Had she been dressed like that for whatever her business had been? Cleo’s question must have shown on her face, because Mac gave a short, sharp laugh.

  “I have enough irons in the fire to build a fence around the Pentagon, but now nothing matters more than our mission. I’m off to the hotel to get some sleep. Can you get her to the airport by 6 AM, Aegean Airlines, or do I need to come pounding on your door?”

  “We’ll be there. She can sleep on the plane, but I won’t. Don’t worry.”

  “You heard about that ‘copter incident, I gather.”

  “Won’t happen now. She’s been teaching herself to control her impulses. Besides, it’s got so that I can feel when she’s about to let loose before she knows herself. Kind of like when a mine’s about to go off, or a gun about to be fired. It’s like the prickle on your skin just before the lightning flashes.”

  “Yes,” Mac said. “Like lightning. Just like that.” She turned and walked away, perfectly balanced on spike-heeled shoes the exact color of her dress.

  Cleo stared after her. Ash appeared beside her just in time to follow the direction of her gaze. “Who…?”

  “Mac.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. We have to fly out early. 6 AM at the airport. And it’s now,” she checked her watch, “1:30.”

  Ash looked back toward the roulette table, rubbed the back of her neck, and sighed. “Okay. Let’s cash in our chips and be on our way.”

  At the hotel, in bed but not yet wound down enough to sleep, Cleo gave Ash a back massage. The repetitive motions, the flexing of her hands, the familiar feel of Ash’s body, worked together to center her on the bond they shared. Ash, face down, mouth half pressed into the pillow, seemed to relax, but after a while Cleo felt tension again in her muscles.

  “It’s not about the gambling,” Ash muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “I need to DO something. Something that matters. Something big. I know I can’t win enough gambling to buy back all those women from their captors, but even if I could, once they were safe I’d still go after those bastards and bring the wrath of Ishtar down on them.”

  “I know.” Cleo dug deeper into the tense back. “That’s what we’re heading out to do.”

  “The thing is,” Ash went on, “what I want to do is so huge, so immense, that…that I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “Mac said you need a challenge that will make you stretch. And she says you’ll meet the challenge.”

  “Yeah, well, I could do without Mac being right so often. But she is.” Ash yawned, sighed, and snuggled down into the bed, finally relaxing now that she’d shared her inner turmoil.

  Was Mac right? About Ash, yes. Cleo was sure of it. About what she was leading them into? They had to take that chance. The hardest part was taking Mac’s hints about Cleo herself seriously. Were her own instincts, skills, occasional dumb luck—were they powers in the same way Ash’s were? Well, this mission would prove something, one way or another. She was suddenly drowsy. None of that mattered, as long as she and Ash were together, doing whatever they did, in the best way they could.

  She slumped down beside Ash, an arm across her back, head nestled into the curve of her shoulder. She breathed Ash’s scent, felt Ash’s dark hair brushing her face, and slept pressed against her for what remained of the night.

  Ash didn’t fall asleep on the plane. She sat by a window with Cleo leaning across her while they both looked down on the white peaks of the Alps.

  Mac said, from across the aisle, “Impressive, aren’t they? But so small when viewed from way up here. Are you considering trying to move mountains?”

  Cleo sat up straight. “Don’t give her ideas!”

  “No,” Ash said bluntly. “I have too much respect for mountains. They do their own moving without any help. One tectonic plate shoving under the edge of another.”

  Mac nodded. “No place shows that better than the Zagros Mount
ains. Row upon row of layered limestone folded into steep ridges with narrow valleys between.”

  “Sounds interesting. Kind of like the Rockies.”

  “A different climate, but yes.” Mac gave her sharp laugh. “Except that thousands of years of human predation have stripped away almost all of the lush forests of cedars that were renowned even in Biblical times. And now some areas are being raped by giant oil rigs.” She shook her head, leaned back, and closed her eyes, sinking into her own grim thoughts. After a while, she slept. Cleo noticed lines of stress on her face, of pain and sorrow, emotions that she managed to conceal when awake. Ash saw them too. She and Cleo exchanged glances, then turned back to looking at the world below, giving Mac privacy in the vulnerability of sleep.

  They flew over Italy, and then the deep blue of the Adriatic. “Too bad there aren’t any clouds for you to mess with,” Cleo murmured, remembering what Ash had told her about making the clouds move apart.

  “I’m making waves down there in the sea move in different directions, and redirecting currents. Can’t you tell?”

  “Sure you are. And I’m scanning for submerged mines in the water.” How long had it been since they could be playful like this, the way they used to be traveling across the desert? Too long. Except for sex, of course, where there was usually a playful element.

  “Find anything?”

  “Not yet. Oh, wait, now I have. There’s an ancient galleon a hundred fathoms deep over there, still fully armed with Greek Fire.”

  “Sure there is.”

  They snuggled as close together as their seats permitted, each with an arm around the other. A flight attendant came by, gave them a professionally neutral smile and nod, and went on. Cleo saw a genuinely amused smile tease at the corner of her mouth before she was more than a couple of feet past them.

  “This is nice,” Ash said. “Peaceful.” But in a few minutes she straightened and checked her watch. “When did you say we land in Athens?”