Kimberly stumbled on one of the wooden steps, barking her shin and making her gasp with pain through the cloth gag wedged between her lips. Her legs, still stiff from her long confinement overnight simply refused to cooperate as she was half-led, half-dragged up the flight of stairs leading out the basement. Off-balance she again stumbled over the top step and, with her hands still bound behind her back, would have fallen on her face had her two captors not maintained a firm grasp of her arms.
The bathroom she was pushed into was a filthy mess. Grime coated everything in the room including the toilet bowl that looked especially unsanitary. Worse was the odor, a mixture of urine and other unidentifiable odors that brought bile up into the back of her throat.
Hands fumbled at her wrists and she felt the ropes binding her wrists loosen then drop away. “Do your thing. We haven’t got all day,” a rough voice said from behind her, a stiff shove sending her stumbling forward.
Kimberly stood in indecision waiting for the pair to leave her in peace at least for a few minutes. Instead they stood and studied her naked body making it apparent they had no intention of letting her out of their sight. For a moment she considered refusing but the pain from her bladder left her no choice but to squat on the toilet and relieve herself before their prying eyes.
When she finished cleaning herself up a bit, the small one who she’d already mentally named ‘Weasel’ threw her a grimy T-shirt to wear. Despite the stale unwashed odor coming from the it, Kimberly quickly slipped it on and tugged the bottom down as hard as she could but even so it barely reached below the level of her crotch.
“Now don’t you look fashionable,” Weasel said, a smirk painted across his face as he watched her efforts to cover herself. “Time for breakfast.”
Kimberly half-expected to be bound again but instead he simply took her by the arm and led her to the kitchen.
If she thought the bathroom was bad, the kitchen was even worse. Not really expecting much considering the general state of the house she’d seen so far, Kimberly’s first glimpse brought her to a stunned halt. It was a pigsty beyond comparison, the cracked and peeling floor tiles, the battered kitchen table with its two mismatched chairs and the counters piled to the breaking point with food-encrusted dishes were a public health disaster waiting to happen.
“You’re on your best behavior, bitch,” the other larger captor, who she now thought of a ‘Bulk’ commented in his gravely voice as he undid the knot in her gag and pulled it from between her aching jaws. “Try something stupid and I’ll stuff this so deep down your throat you’ll be able to wipe your ass with it.” The look in his eyes, a glittering feral savagery that seem to beg her to try something was more than enough to convince her to forget the idea of screaming for help as she fished the sodden wad out from inside her mouth.
Kimberly sat down on the chair he pointed at and stared with distaste at breakfast. A creature of habit, Kimberly was accustomed to starting each day with a fresh fruit and a toasted bagel washed down with fruit juice and strong imported coffee. She hated cereals and the bowl of bran flakes in front of her, so saturated with milk that they’d dissolved into mush made her shudder despite the hunger pangs in her belly.
The meal was as bad as it looked. The first soggy spoonful made Kimberly gag but somehow she’d kept it down along with a few more spoonfuls before her stomach, still aching from Weasel’s kick last night, threatened to rebel.
“Give her some coffee,” Weasel told Bulk when it became plain she had finished eating. “I’m going to make a phone call and arrange the exchange of our guest here. While I’m gone you keep your hands off her,” he added, pausing in the door to glare at Bulk.
Bulk grunted assent after a pause then went to the stove to get Kimberley a cup of coffee. Kimberly watched as he filled a dirty, chipped mug with dark fluid from the battered metal coffeepot. A faint plan formed in her head about throwing it in his face and trying to escape but it dissipated as soon as he handed her the cup. The coffee was barely lukewarm, offering no possibility of disabling him. Thirsty, she’d took a large mouthful of the brew, grimacing as she swallowed the acrid fluid. As coffee goes it was awful, especially compared to the expensive blends she was used to but it was drinkable.
“Please,” she’d said in a whisper, looking at her large captor over the rim of the cup, “I have money. You can have it all. All you have to do is let me go.”
Bulk stepped towards her, annoyance twisting his features, then he paused, a glimmer of greed shining in his eye. “How much?”
“I’ve got almost six hundred thousand saved. You can have it all.”
“Not even close, sweet cheeks. Sayad’s offering a cool million dollars for you. You’re going to have to do better than that,” he countered but there was still a flicker of interest in his eyes. “Besides my partner is talking to his buyer right about you.”
“Say Ad?” Kimberly asked, her eyes puzzled.
“Sa-Yad,” Bulk said, pronouncing the memorized name carefully, “he’s some kind of Arab king or something that.”
Kimberly really wanted to pursue this thread but she could see the interest fading in Bulk’s eyes. “You could tell him I escaped,” she continued desperately.
“Nope.”
“Someone else then,” she continued. “I know, someone who looks like me. You could grab her and sell her to them. By the time they realized what’s happened you could be long gone with the money.”
“You really are the ruthless one aren’t you?” Weasel interrupted from the doorway staring at her almost in fascination. “Don’t even think about it,” he said directing his comment to Bulk as he walked into the room, “you don’t want to screw around with Sayad. Trust me there isn’t anywhere on this planet you’d be able to hide if he decides to have you whacked.”
Something inside of Kimberley seemed to stretch and break. Almost as in slow motion, mindless anger clouding her judgment she sprang towards Weasel intent on clawing his eyes out with her carefully manicured fingernails. She could almost feel his flesh under her fingertips when a fist, fine silvery hair on the bony knuckles, appeared from nowhere to send her tumbling into blackness.
Stan Barrens stood still and surveyed Kimberly Dumont’s empty penthouse apartment with barely concealed amazement. The lavish luxury that was spread out so casually before him was something he’d seen in magazines but never in person. It made his own small bachelor suite or even Jan’s neatly decorated apartment which he had just left, look shabby in comparison. Still there was something uncomfortably sterile about the place, something museum-like that said ‘look how rich I am’ rather than being an extension of the owner’s personality.
“Get moving, Stan ol’ boy,” he murmured to himself as he shook his head, “you don’t have all day.” It had taken a lot of talking plus a nice wad of money to convince the building manager to give him access to the apartment. Even then the building manager had made it plain, as he tucked the money in his pocket, that he five minutes to look around and not a second longer.
Stan took a quick look around and immediately spotted the raincoat crumpled on the floor behind the door in the entranceway. It had a familiar look and when he picked it up it took only one quick sniff to identify it’s owner. While not an expert he’d recognize Jan’s perfume anywhere. So Jan was her he thought but where is she now? And where was Kimberly Dumont?
The search of the remainder of the apartment did nothing to answer those questions but it did provide some clues. The stereo, it’s power light burning brightly, the abandoned wineglass all suggested something interrupted. It was the discarded pieces of rope on the carpet in front of the love seat that most caught his attention. The pieces looked out of place, their ends barely frayed suggesting they’d been cut recently. There was no reason for rope to be here unless it had been used to secure something or someone.
Puzzled but satisfied he’d got all he could from the apartment Stan bid the manager a good day and left the building. On the sidewalk out front he fished a business card from his side pocket. He’d found it in Kimberly’s desk drawer when he searched her office earlier that morning and its presence was so unexpected that he’d brought it along. Now why would Dumont have a FBI business card he wondered.
Awareness returned to Jan like a thinning black fog, a horrid metallic taste in her mouth. Somewhere nearby a man was talking and it had been that voice that finally dragged her out of her drug-induced sleep.
The recognizable support of a bed beneath her, she stared at the ceiling overhead in puzzlement. This isn’t my apartment -- where am I? The memories came flooding back – her abduction, the events in Ms. Dumont’s apartment, the man in black and his needle. Terror and panic suddenly overwhelmed her. She tried to sit up, only to collapse back onto the mattress as a wave of dizziness swept over her.
“Easy,” a male voice said from somewhere nearby, “that drug hasn’t fully cleared out of your system yet. It’ll be gone in a few minutes.”
The fog in her mind evaporated as she jerked her head towards the voice, part of her mind noting with dismay that she was naked except for her panties. A few feet away was the man in black lounging on a chair, his amused eyes watching her from the eyeholes in his hood, a large gun lying conveniently on a nearby table.
“Wh--, who are you?” she rasped through parched lips, her eyes locked on its gaping muzzle. She didn’t know much about weapons but she’d seen enough television shows to recognize a silencer when she saw one.
“Me?” he laughed harshly. “I’m a businessman.”
“Businessman? What do you mean by businessman?”
“I sell things. If everything goes well I’m going to sell you for a nice chunk of change.”
“Sell me,” Jan gasped faintly, “you can’t do that, it’s--, it’s illegal.” Surely he can’t mean what it sounds like, she thought, he’s talking about slavery. I’m an American citizen; he can’t do that to me.
His laugh was not reassuring. “Where you’re going illegal has no meaning. It’s not that hard, you’re simply going to vanish. Oh, they’ll look for you awhile but soon you’ll be forgotten, just an unsolved disappearance sitting in a dusty file folder.”
“But you--,” she paused and started again. “Please I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to me, I never hurt you, I don’t even know who you are?”
“Honey, it’s just plain bad luck. I was after your boss and that one million-dollar bounty on her nice tight ass. It should have been simple but some competition has appeared on the scene and somehow got you involved. When I found you at her place there were only two options left open to me, sell you or kill you. Lucky for you the Frenchman is willing to look you over to see if you’re worth adding to his employer’s collection.”
“Collection?” Jan parroted as a thick nausea began to rise into her throat.
“Yes, collection. The Frenchman’s boss, a very wealthy Arab gentleman named Sayad is an admirer of beautiful women, especially those in positions or power and authority. What he sees in those ball busters I don’t know but that doesn’t matter. All I care about is the fact that he pays big to have his selections delivered to him. That arrogant bitch you work for is his latest quest and he’s offering a cool million dollars for her. I was going to retire on what I got for her only to find some other assholes have beaten me to her. Well its not over yet,” he said raising his voice, “I’m still going to collect that money and maybe a little extra for you.”
“But what if he doesn’t like me?” Jan asked already suspecting the answer but having to ask the question anyway.
“Then you disappear.”
“Nooooo!” Jill protested her voice shrill with despair. Control gone, she began to scream mindlessly hoping someone, anyone would come to her aid.
It was the gun that brought sanity back to Jan, the silencer jarring her teeth as he shoved it into her mouth. “You get one choice,” he purred at her, “are you going to behave yourself or do I end it right here?”
Jan froze, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as the meaning of his words sank in. Lips wrapped around the silencer in an almost sexual embrace, she slowly nodded her head as tears formed in her eyes. She could smell her own fear, the taste of oil filling her mouth and knew she’d do anything to keep on living.
“Excellent,” he said as he pulled the silencer from between her lips. “Now just lay back and put your hands above your head.”
Jan wasn’t sure what he had in mind but it didn’t matter, there was no other choice. As soon as she lifted her hands he took hold of the right wrist and cold steel wrapped around it with a smooth clicking of a well-lubricated ratchet. Jan craned her head back in time to see her other wrist treated in a similar manner. Jan had never seen real cuffs before but these had a bright, business-like look about them, as did the padlock that attached their chain to an eyebolt screwed into the wall.
“There you go. Nice and comfy,” he said as he straightened up and pulled something from his pocket. . “Open wide.” A hard, rubber plug pressed impatiently against her lips then slide deep inside as she opened her mouth. Gagging and choking she tried to spit it out but failed as he turned her head to the side and fastened the buckle of its broad leather strap behind her head. Seconds later her misery was complete as a thick blindfold was fastened over her eyes.
“You just relax now,” he said, “Emil will be here soon.”
The yellow taxi drew to a stop in front of the Federal Building and Stan stepped out onto the cluttered sidewalk. After paying the driver he studied the massive concrete building for a moment. Tall and grim looking, it had a functional, no-nonsense look that almost seemed to dare you to enter it. Stan took the atmosphere in then with a shrug walked through the double doorway.
The main floor was a bustling hive of people scurrying to-and-fro but a helpful security guard was more than pleased to give him directions to the correct floor. Three minutes later he stepped through a set of double doors into the world of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Unlike the lobby the work area was quiet and subdued, people moving quietly with a look of studied intensity. Directly in front of him was a reception desk behind which sat a pretty young woman who immediately flashed him a megawatt smile as he approached her. The whole scene was no different than any other reception area except for the security guard in the corner who shifted slightly when he entered to make sure his weapon could be accessed quickly.
“How may I help you,” the young woman asked giving him an appraising and not entirely professional look.
“I wonder if I might speak to Special Agent Fallows, Ted Fallows please?” Stan replied, politely.
“Your name please?”
“Barrens, Stan Barrens. I’m Head of Security at Empire Investments.”
The receptionist picked up her phone and spoke quietly into it. “I’m sorry Mr. Barrens,” she said as she put the phone down, “but Agent Fallows is out of the office right down. However his partner is available, would you like to speak to her?”
Her? Stan thought as he followed the receptionist down a corridor. Reaching a small office she knocked lightly on the door then opened it and indicated he should enter.
The woman that rose to her feet behind the desk was FBI all the way, from the severe business suit she wore to the bland professional look plastered across her face. “Mr. Barrens?” she said, “please take a seat,” gesturing a chair set in front of her desk.
“Yes,” Stan said noting how she studied him closely as he sat down. Nice looking lady he thought as he returned the favor I wonder if those dowdy clothes are FBI standard issue?
“I’m Special Agent Trent, Alison Trent. I work with Agent Fallows. What can the FBI do for you?”
“To be perfectly honest I’m not sure if you can do anything for me,” Stan replied. “I’m currently looking into the unexplained absence of two of our employees and happened to find Agent Fallows' card in the desk of one of them. Although unlikely I thought I might talk to Fallows and seen if there was any connection.”
“And what are the names of these employees?” asked Alison.
“Jan Linksman and Kimberly Dumont.”
Alison stiffened slightly at the mention of Kimberly Dumont but kept her face impassive. Dumont. That’s the woman Interpol sent the notice on. Fallows was supposed to have this case under control. What the hell is going on? “I’m sorry,” she finally said, “but I’ve never heard of either woman.”
Oh, well in that case please accept my apologies for wasting your time” Stan said graciously. He’d caught her reaction to the names but it was obvious she wasn’t about to tell him what it was all about. What she’s hiding? He wondered. “Perhaps you could tell Agent Fallows that I stopped by. Let me give you my card, I still would like to talk to him just on the chance there’s something he could tell me.”
“I’ll tell him,” said Alison taking the proffered card. “I wish you luck on your search. I’d like to help you but there’s little we can do until we know definitely that a crime has been committed.”
After a few more pleasantries Alison showed him back to the reception area. As she watched Stan leave she couldn’t help notice how he walked. She’s seen her father walk that way --careful, controlled motion, the body always well balanced. It was the walk of a professional soldier.
The sound of two men talking woke Jan from her sleep. For a brief moment everything seemed like a dream like but the rattle of chains above her head as soon as she moved her arms dispelled the thin hope quickly.
“There she is Emil, just as I described her,” a now familiar voice said from somewhere near her bed.
Jan could feel her skin crawl in shame as she realized that they were discussing her. She wanted to curl in a ball and hide but lay still as one terrifying thought kept playing in her brain. If whomever he’s talking to doesn’t like me then I’m dead. It was the worst moment in her life, to lie there on display, praying that she’d be found worthy enough to be taken as some kind of slave.
“We shall see, monsieur, we shall see,” Emil replied in a cultured refined voice, a strong French accent making his words difficult to understand.
Jan couldn’t see what the two men were doing but she could feel their eyes on her nearly naked body. It made her feel so dirty, like some kind of cheap slut but there was nothing she could do to stop them.
“So what do you think Emil? Pretty in a mousy sort of way but she has good legs and breasts. Dress her up, train her and she’ll make a worthwhile addition to his collection.”
“Oui, monsieur,” Emil replied, “and you say she is trained as a personal assistant?”
“She is, replied the man in black, “works for that Dumont woman.”
The silence hung in the room as Emil studied the woman lying on the bed before him closely. “Eh bien,” he said, finally making up his mind, “I will take her. This one is for me, I have need for an assistant ever since that unfortunate accident with Marie.”
“Excellent,” the man in black replied, “you’ve made a wise choice. Shall I expect my usual commission for her?”
“Oui,” Emil replied reluctantly, “that is a little steep for my more modest resources but it is fair.”
“Excellent,” the man in black replied. “Now about the other matter?”
“Ah, Mademoiselle Dumont. Those who hold her have contacted me. We will be meeting tonight.”
“Where and when?”
“Pardon?” exclaimed Emil, “Why is it you want to know?”
“Because I’m going to get her back. She’s mine! I’ve worked too fucking long to let a couple of scumbags steal her out from under me.”
“This is most irregular, monsieur. This was not in the deal. We are businessmen and they have the merchandise that we wish to purchase. It would be most irregular if…”
“Fuck that businessman shit,” the man in black snarled, “you do business with me and me alone in this country. You fuck me about and I promise that you and your boss Sayad are going to find life in this country very difficult.”
“Monsieur,” said Emil with an edge in his voice, “it is most unwise to threaten my employer. He is a man to considerable resources and little patience. Still he is pleased with the quality of the merchandise you have provided up to this point and you have been most reliable. It would be unwise to, as you American say it “change horses in mid stream.”
“Excellent,” the man in black replied not bothering to correct Emil. “Good news honey,” he said patting Jan on the thigh, “you get to live. It’s not much of a life but it beats the hell out of a bullet behind the ear.”
Jan began to cry on the bed, her body racked by great sobs that made a choked, strangled noise behind the gag. It was more than she could bear – the sheer joy of finding out that she was going to live twisted into the horror of the reality that she had just been casually sold into slavery. Her entire being seemed to wither inside her.
“So Emil,” the man in black said as the pair of them walked away leaving the distraught woman behind them “tell me all about this little deal you have with those assholes and I’ll arrange a little surprise for them.”
Kimberly had no idea how long she’d been unconscious but it couldn’t have been for long. When she awoke she was back in the basement, face down on the mattress, naked once again. Her wrists had been tied behind her back and she could feel coils of rough, scratchy rope being tightened around her crossed ankles.
“Back with us again,” Hulk chucked when he noticed her open eyes. “I’m glad of that. My balls still hurt from your kick last night and I don’t want you to miss anything I’ve got planned for you.”
Kimberly was still trying to figure just what he meant by that when he dangled something in front of her face. She barely had time to study the item, the black leather straps with chromed buckles dangling from a large red ball when his hand had smashed the ball against her lips crushing them against her teeth. Crying out in pain she’d open her mouth only to have the ball pushed brutally into the cavity forcing her jaws wide open. Frantically she tried to spit it out, her curses muffled and indistinct but with quick efficient motions he’d tightened and buckled the strap that went around her head followed by the one that went up between her eyes and over her head. As each strap was tightened her curses became less distinct until finally the last strap, the one that went under her chin, forcing her mouth to clamp down on the ball, stifled her tirade into unintelligible, barely audible grunts.
As Kimberly lay there tugging at the ropes and shaking her head in rage he’d tied a long rope to her ankles then pulled her ankles up back behind her. For a moment Kimberly thought she was going to be tied back into the same position she’d been forced to endure all night but Bulk soon showed her he had something else in mind for her. Instead of just tying her wrists and ankles together he threaded the free end of the rope through a ring on the back of the harness gag and begun to draw it tight. Both head and heels began to move towards each other forcing her entire body to bend backwards. As the rope tightened the arc became more and more acute until she was grunting frantically in distress.
Hulk tied the rope off then and stepped back to admire his handiwork, “I wish I had a camera,” he’d said in sadistic glee, “just remember you by.” Slowly he circled her, his eyes shining with delight, touching and stroking her body while listening to her pathetic moans coming from her gagged mouth.
“Oh man, do you look gorgeous,” he finally said with just a tone of awe in his voice as he stared into her pleading eyes, “this is something I saw in some bondage magazine and always wanted to try. From the look in your eyes I’d say it’s as uncomfortable as it looks. I got a couple of things to do so you enjoy it for an hour or so and then I’ll show you another trick I’ve always wanted to try.”
Kimberly bit down on the ball in her mouth as her strained muscle joints cried out for relief. The sadistic bastard was obviously enjoying her pain and it was obvious that she wasn’t got to get any mercy from him. There was nothing she could do but endure but she couldn’t help wondering what else he had in mind for her.