Shadow Hand Page 7

  “So you’d go if you could.” Insane, to try getting Mona out as well as herself, but Cleo would have done it without hesitation. Someday, maybe she’d be telling Cleo all this, and she didn’t want to have to admit to abandoning Mona. She might even be useful.

  “Is there any way out besides the front door and any others likely to be guarded by gunmen?”

  Mona’s face brightened a little. “Not really, but I’ve thought—I detected—well, I know there used to be an opening at the end of one the tunnels leading from the cellars, but it’s been closed up with heaps of dirt and rubble and nobody knows about it but me. I didn’t tell Major Ratlaff.” Her expression dimmed. “I don’t like to think about it much. There’s too much sadness there.”

  “Dirt and rubble is my specialty.” Ash’s spirits soared in spite of Mona’s change in mood. Their situation was dangerous, escape chancy, but she saw it as a game, too, and one she had a chance of winning. “Where in the office do they keep your documents?”

  “Everybody’s are there, in the deep drawer at the left of the desk. The secretary keeps the key on the ring in her pocket.”

  Ash’s documents hadn’t been taken yet—service ID, passport—but they probably would be soon.

  For three days, she exercised as though she were training for a marathon. How much could she lift without the adrenaline of a crisis? Considerably more on the third day than on the first. Could she focus on something she couldn’t see but knew was there and had seen—say, in a drawer—and move it out in spite of a lock? Sometimes. More often each day. She didn’t want to think about anybody’s pockets except Cleo’s, but maybe she could get around that.

  The director approved of her efforts, noting that they were great for a spy’s work, and she managed to evade him when he seemed about to get too close. But that got harder and harder. She began moving the chair up against the doorknob in her room, for what good it might do. At least there had been no attempt to lock her in. Yet.

  In the evenings, she exercised other skills. She followed Major McAllister’s advice and avoided the poker tables, but billiards was another matter. She’d been good at pool, back in college, so the first night she asked if anybody wanted to place some small bets, and with careful alternation of wins and losses, ended a couple of hundred dollars ahead. Apparently not everyone had known about her particular talents. They all used theirs in similar ways, though, so nobody made much of a fuss.

  The secretary did, in fact, ask for her documents, “For safety, you know. Some of the people here are, well, not entirely trustworthy.” Her look made it plain that she didn’t consider Ash trustworthy, either, but on personal grounds. Ash complied without hesitation, lingered in the office to ask questions about the general operation and customs of the facility, and noted the big leather case in the drawer where her papers were inserted along with a thick stack of others.

  “So many?” she asked casually. “I didn’t realize that many people were here. Kitchen staff’s and the director’s and yours and everyone’s?”

  “Not the director’s, of course!” The secretary’s eyes shifted almost imperceptibly to the briefcase she always kept with her. Now Ash knew where the woman’s own papers were probably kept.

  The office door was locked when the secretary wasn’t there, but Ash noticed that inside, the door had a somewhat old-fashioned handgrip instead of a knob, a grip that when turned downward opened the door even if it had been locked from the outside. She tried to memorize the exact shape and position of that grip.

  Late on the third night, she moved noiselessly through the halls to the office door. She concentrated, envisioning the handgrip on the other side. Focus, focus! Her fingers twitched, almost feeling the smooth metal, and slowly, slowly she pressed the grip downward, heard the click of the bolt retracting, and pushed open the door. She entered, closed the door as silently as possible, and faced the desk. The drawer opened with a little persuasion. She riffled through the contents to find Mona’s papers and her own.

  Ash relocked the office, leaving it in its usual condition. She then proceeded to the secretary’s apartment, right next to the director’s. She’d suspected, from some interchanges between them at dinner, that they’d both be in the director’s bed that night, but she was as careful as possible in opening the secretary’s door, which had the same sort of lock arrangement as the office. Bingo. The briefcase was there, and the woman wasn’t. Soon the woman’s papers, with an ID photograph that could pass for Ash if her luck held, were no longer there, either.

  Mona was ready with a small bag. The tunnel out of the cellar branched in several places, but Mona knew where she was going. After twenty minutes, they reached the pile of rubble, which looked just like all the other piles along the way that Mona had said weren’t the right one. “There is something very, very old, though, beneath us here, very deep, very sad,” she’d said at one point, in a shaky whisper. “I didn’t tell Major Ratlaff. I wish… The old ones should be left in peace.”

  Ash figured they were far enough away from the main building by then that nobody was likely to hear her work, so she lit right into the pile, moving pebble by strategic pebble at first, then making big areas slide down into the tunnel and along it. Mona hung back several feet, pointing her flashlight unsteadily, as though her hands were shaking.

  When the light showed a small dark gap ahead of them instead of dirt, Ash knew where to concentrate her efforts. There appeared to be a passage, once lined by flat stones, some of them missing, so that dirt and pebbles had spilled in and partially blocked the way. She cleared the rubble, and when she knew they could crawl through, she turned back to Mona. The girl’s face was distorted with despair.

  “I can’t! Not any closer…not where the dirt can fall in…

  “It’s all right,” Ash said softly. “My power is from an ancient one stronger than anything here. Will you let me guide you? You can close your eyes.”

  Mona scrunched her eyes shut and nodded.

  “I won’t go without you,” Ash said. “Go ahead of me. I’ll hold on to you the whole time. There’s cool clear air coming in from outside, and with me behind there’s nothing to fear.”

  Moving someone fearful through a narrow, slanting passage called for a whole new level of her skills. She didn’t dare to panic Mona by physically pushing, but she found that she could feel Mona’s body with her mind and move her this way and that, hoping that Mona could feel her as well, and take comfort.

  It couldn’t have taken as long as it seemed, but they emerged at last into a still night lit by a full moon. Mona lay unmoving on a grassy slope while Ash looked around at the trees and hilltops, clear in the moonlight, and knew pretty much where she was. There would be a trail in a nearby hollow at the foot of a cliff.

  “Ash…” Mona sat up. She stared, wide-eyed, at the outdoor world, and then the sky. “This feels like being born!”

  “Maybe.” Ash hoped fervently that she’d never come any closer than this to anything concerning childbirth. She turned her attention to caving in their exit and smoothing the earth outside, but if anyone looked even moderately closely they’d be able to tell something had happened there. By the time she finished, Mona was standing and brushing herself off. Once they found the trail, she moved along surprisingly swiftly, so Ash didn’t have to reduce her own strides all that much.

  They caught an early bus to the nearest major town, changed to another one there, and reached Munich by late afternoon with enough money for a cheap hotel and some left over. Mona’s German was fluent, and Ash had picked up a fair bit when she’d been in training at Hohenfels, so they toured the city’s Rathskellers and seedier dives, and between pool and billiard tables and various games of chance involving dice or other objects moved by Ash, by that night they could split the equivalent of $800 between them.

  Mona did seem reborn. She handled their finances, placing bets on Ash’s pool games with t
he innocent air of a girl who was new to the scene as well as to drinking, and didn’t quite know what she was doing. Ash felt guilty at getting Mona involved in what was, when you came down to it, cheating, however necessary.

  They knew they should keep moving. The second night in Munich, in a smoky dyke bar, after Ash had cautiously won a pool game or two, Mona tugged at her arm and whispered, “Over there. That one who resembles a bulldog.”

  Ash looked. The woman was very large, and deliberately fierce-looking. Quite a handsome bulldog if your taste ran that way. She was arm-wrestling another who looked nearly as strong, but not strong enough, and the bulldog won. Money changed hands in the group huddled around them. Ash, making a good show of resisting, let Mona hang on her arm and steer her in in that direction.

  “So.” The woman stared directly at Ash. “Who has the guts to challenge now?” She swept her stack of winnings from one side of the table to the other.

  Ash tried to balance on the line between reluctance and pride. “What’s in it for me?”

  “What, impressing the little girl isn’t enough?”

  “Hah. I have better ways of impressing my girl.”

  Bulldog, with a guttural laugh, raised her right hand and flexed her thick fingers. “Oh, I’ll just bet you have!” The various onlookers laughed, and others left their pool games and barstools to join the crowd.

  “So you also want to bet that I can’t force your hand right down onto the table.” Ash hoped she’d managed the right tone of dubious bravado.

  “Sure you can, honey.” Mona rubbed up against her. “You can do anything! I’ll bet on you.” She looked vaguely around the gathering crowd and pulled an untidy stack of bills out of her purse. “Let me…oh, I think I’d better sit down.” Somebody offered a chair at a nearby table. Mona stumbled a step or two with Ash supporting her, sat down, and lay her wad of cash on the table while Ash muttered something nearly inaudible, only a few words reaching anyone nearby. “Not too much…don’t know…”

  “So, hotshot, does the girl go with the bet?” Bulldog was having too much fun.

  Ash raised her head. “The lady,” she said in a steely tone, “goes wherever she pleases. Got that?” She pulled out her wallet and slapped her cash down on the table, an approximation of what Bulldog already had there. “This is just between you and me.”

  Bulldog’s heavy eyebrows went up. “Fair enough.”

  Ash could tell she was reassessing the situation, but it was too late for either of them to back out.

  It wasn’t, in fact, just between the two of them. Mona, still in her drifty, half-drunk role, was taking bets from observers, and some of those who’d heard Ash’s tone started making side bets.

  Ash wasn’t, in fact, sure that she could win. She hadn’t tried her powers on anything like this before. Her rolled-back sleeve revealed a well-muscled forearm, but her opponent had much more heft all around. More experience, too, although Ash did know the importance of making sure the bout went on long enough to provide maximum entertainment to the onlookers.

  They tested each other for half a minute. Ash could hold her own legitimately up to a point, but that point came soon. Her arm began to slant backwards. Time to cheat. She couldn’t afford to let her opponent force her too far down, and she couldn’t be too obvious in exerting her powers. It had to look natural.

  Trying to move herself, or parts of herself, had never worked, so she focused instead on Bulldog’s arm, with its taut, bulging muscles. Slowly, slowly, she moved that arm, millimeter by millimeter, clenching her jaw with the effort, letting her strain show, beginning to sweat and even grunt. Ease off just a little…lift again just a little more…repeat…

  She had the feel of that arm firmly enough in her mind now that she could look up. Glaring at each other was good for the show. Bulldog’s face was fierce, intent, maybe even a bit puzzled. She inhaled just before giving a quick, expert twist that regained her lead and more and nearly broke Ash’s concentration. Nearly, but not quite. Ash clenched her teeth, braced hard with her whole body, and pushed harder with her mind. Bulldog’s arm moved back up by centimeters instead of millimeters. Just as their arms reached vertical, Bulldog inhaled again, and this time, Ash, forewarned, forced her back so far that no twist could interfere. Bulldog’s teeth were gritted now, too, and Ash took another half minute that seemed like forever before launching her final drive. As Bulldog’s arm flattened on the table, there were gasps and exclamations all around them, but Ash and Bulldog still held each other’s gaze.

  “What the fuck was that all about?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” Ash loosed her hold and extended her hand. Bulldog shook it with a grip that came close to making Ash yell, but she didn’t try to stop it. Fair enough.

  Mona scooped all the bets into her bag, letting a few notes and coins drop to the floor to keep up her fluttery image. “Save some out to buy a round of drinks for everybody,” Ash told her, and gave the bartender enough and more for that, providing plenty of distraction for them to slip out without much notice.

  Their bankroll had nearly doubled, and it was clearly time to get out of town.

  “Is this enough to get you somewhere safe?” Ash asked the next morning. “They’ll be searching for us, and it’s better if we split.” It was bluntly put, but the truth. They had pushed their luck far enough.

  “Somewhere, yes.” Mona looked mildly hopeful. “I never count on real safety.”

  They parted with a warm hug, and Ash watched Mona board a train, feeling a bit guilty for not making absolutely sure she would be okay. “I tried, Cleo, really,” she muttered under her breath. “I did what I could.” Then she rushed to the international airport, hoping that her theft hadn’t been discovered yet, and managed to get an expensive plane ticket to the States. So far, so good. Except that now she was AWOL, nearly broke, had no idea what to do next—and felt as far from Cleo as though they were on different planets.

  Part Two

  Chapter 6

  Renegade Lieutenant Athena Ashton gazed down from the plane onto sunlit clouds blanketing the earth. Or maybe Rogue Lieutenant would fit better. Ash wasn’t feeling like any kind of hero just now. If she had to be cursed with some unasked-for superpower, why couldn’t it have included the ability to fly through the air like Superman? Would that involve having to wear a stupid cape?

  That made her think of Cleo—not that she wasn’t already thinking of Cleo. That dream early this morning! Touching, feeling, loving, all so real…

  If Cleo were here, it would be fun to pass the time moving things in subtle ways that no one else would notice. Like the clouds. Ash picked out one white mass and stared at it until the billows moved far enough apart to show a wide swath of the earth far below. There was a river, and green hills illuminated by the sunlight streaking through the gap she’d made, and just beyond them a large, narrow lake, or reservoir.

  Cleo wouldn’t act impressed. She’d just come up with more ideas. Ash eyed the opened packet of salted peanuts on the tray table, made it float upward, tilted it so that the nuts started to fall out, and whirled them around in a circle. Boring. She looked around to see whether anyone would notice if she tried something more dramatic. The plane was less than half full.

  Two seats ahead, a middle-aged, sharp-faced man sat with a young girl Ash thought looked like Cleo might have at sixteen or so. Cleo would never have worn her red hair in long waves, though. Then the girl walked unsteadily back toward the restroom with the guy close behind gripping her arm, and Ash was sure Cleo’s green eyes had never been dull like this girl’s, to the point of showing barely a glimmer of life.

  The girl, although her face was unmarked by anything beyond a few cute freckles, looked mentally scarred. She never seemed to speak for herself. When the flight attendant had come by soon after take-off, the guy had snapped, “No, she doesn’t want peanuts or juice. Just some water.” Ash h
adn’t thought anything about it at the time, but now…

  Something felt wrong.

  She could just imagine Cleo saying, “This looks like a job for Shadow Hand!” Beneath the teasing, Cleo really did seem to think Ash was some sort of superhero. Ash had to admit that she herself had felt that way for a while, but now she felt more like a one-trick pony who’d been given, or cursed with, just a single party trick kind of power. In sudden crises she’d reacted without conscious thought, but nothing like that had happened since the helicopter incident at the base. Getting out of the PsyCenter with Mona had been less dramatic, but more…satisfying. She’d made plans, and decisions, and carried them out, instead of reacting automatically.

  The girl and her “keeper”—Ash automatically thought of him that way—returned along the aisle. Ash looked right at the girl and smiled. The wan face didn’t turn toward her, but Ash had the impression of a glance out of the corner of an eye.

  She had to help this girl. The situation called for plans, and decisions, and resolve. Some heavy piece of luggage could be dropped on the keeper guy’s head, but they’d still all be confined together. Better wait until landing, in about—she looked at her watch—another half hour. Getting rid of the guy wouldn’t be much of a problem, but what could she do with the girl then?

  There’d been plenty of minor adventures that Cleo would have termed “jobs for Shadow Hand” since Ash had reached the States, but none had involved somebody to look after once the bad guys were defeated. Ash knew better than to take the few superhero comics she’d read seriously, but it did seem unfair that the heroes generally fought mega-villains in a fantasy world with no connection to the evils going on in this one. The people they saved from whatever or whoever weren’t their responsibility after the rescue.