Lisette and the Cyber Geeks

Lisette and the Cyber Geeks

Brian Sands

Flikken, Anne Cerrvels, VrowenInTouwen.

Chapter Fifteen Sir Justin Hoffnung

Lisette looked up at the fat man in the mackintosh and the Inspector Clouseau mask, her eyes large and round above the broad ribbon of black tape sealed across her mouth. Her lips strained uselessly against the tape; moving her jaws did nothing to loosen its grip.

Who is this person, she wondered, and what does he mean by a proposition? She remembered that when he surprised her disguised as a Revenue security courier he offered her no harm, just left her bound hand and foot and gagged after ransacking the apartment. What was he looking for this time? Before, it was the photographs of Chérie and a disc, she reminded herself. Now, it would be the zip disc of the fudge company’s financial transactions, but only if he knew she had such a thing in her possession. No, it had to be something else.

Lisette inclined her head to indicate that she was listening. The plastic coated Bombadil Kidd lookalike began to speak.

"First the questions. Just nod your head ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when you answer. The tape c’n stay on y’ mouth, just in case you get it into yer pretty head ter scream. These apartment walls ’re thick so it won’t do no good anyway. But I hate unnecessary violence, an’ I’ll have ter use it if you’re a trouble ter me. An that means if yo’ give me any lip. Unnerstan’?"

Lisette nodded gravely. The man was not quite a buffoon like Bombadil Kidd. Lisette intuited an underlying brutality in his character. She told herself to be very careful with him.

"Okay. Now, lady, it’s a simple enough proposition. In yer present position it’s an offer yer can’t refuse. Y’get me?"

Lisette shook her head "no" gravely. The man continued.

"Okay, I’ll explain it for yer ... Y’work fer the Inlan’ Revenue, don’tcher?"

Lisette nodded.

"An yer’ll be writin’ a report about my company ‘Flowers R Us’ won’t yer?"

This time when Lisette nodded, she could scarcely hide the gleam of excitement in her eyes. The man had to be Sir Justin Hoffnung if he was the proprietor of the nursery. What was more, Flowers R Us - she vaguely remembered seeing the name on a faded roadside sign - had to be Nodal Point Number Six. The other nodal points she guessed were the various criminal establishments, the private houses and library, most of which she had seen as a prisoner since the start of the investigation. The broad strip of tape covering half her face also masked any expression that might have given away her thoughts.

"So this is what I want you to do ..."

Sir Hoffnung settled heavily beside her on the edge of the bed. The mattress tilted and the springs creaked alarmingly.

"I want yer to hold yer report for the next three days. Give me time ter leave the country. In exchange I’ll tell my employees not to harm that snooping lawyer an’ to let her go when I’ve stepped on the plane. That’s the proposition, Miss Rivers, my safe passage for the Chalmers woman."

"Mmmph!"

"O’course it’s blackmail," he said smugly, reading her wide-eyed expression right this time. "But I don’ think yer have any choice, if yer want ta see yer friend alive."

The threat made Lisette’s blood run cold.

"I c’ld just hold yer, keep y’ from reportin’ on us, but yer’ll on’y be a nuisance. Y’ll get in the way of my escape plans. If I held you, well ... I’ll have ta drop yer off somewhere in the Channel - if I take that route - or leave yer in a warehouse or a farm where they won’t find yer for days. But we ain’t murderers, jus’ counterfeiters. An’ anyway, I don’t trust them others, not even my worthless brother."

So they are related, thought Lisette. The family resemblance of Hoffnung, as he called himself and Bombadil Kidd, was no accident. It was hereditary. The puzzle was beginning to fall into place. But what was the gang counterfeiting? Was there a printing press hidden away somewhere in the corridors of Nodal Point Number Six? That would explain the mixed currency in Doc Legato’s pocket. The small packet of legal tender lay in her safe only a few metres away in the other room. Maybe it was not so legal after all. She would have to investigate to see whether the notes were genuine.

"Now, girly ..."

The expression grated on Lisette and her eyes flared defiantly.

"There is one other thing I need from yer, and that’s them photographs. The young pipsqueak thought it was funny to pose that lawyer bird in the grounds of Flowers R Us. But that’s evidence. It points the finger right at my little establishment, an’ so right at me. I want it back. That’s another part of our bargain."

Lisette shook her head and grunted ineffectively through the tape.

"Hmm. Better let yer talk fer a little. No tricks mind."

He leaned forward. His hand pressed into Lisette’s cheek and a dirty fingernail succeeded in lifting a small corner of the tape. Then, with a quick movement, he stripped the tape off her mouth and lips. Lisette gasped.

"Okay, what did yer want ter say?"

"I- I was trying to tell you that I don’t have the photographs here."

That was true. They were not there in the bedroom.

"Where are they then?"

"They’re at - at my office, in the city. If you untie me and let me go ... I can get them and- and bring them to you. Only please don’t hurt Chérie."

"Hmm. Yer tellin’ the truth are yer?"

"This is too serious for me to do otherwise. And I agree to hold my report until Chérie’s free and safe. And I guess that will be when you leave the country."

"That’s right lady. I’ll let yer know where she is and by the time you get to her I’ll be on me way. Now ... how are y’ gonna get them photographs ter me?"

Lisette thought quickly. "I’ll meet you at that park over near the river. It’s close to where I work. In, say, three hours from now?"

"Sounds okay."

The man looked at his watch. The bedside clock told Lisette that it was nearly four.

"Is- Is eight o’clock all right?" asked Lisette hesitantly.

Sir Justin Hoffnung paused and thought for a moment, screwing his face up with the effort.

"Yeah ... Yeah, that’ll be okay. I don’t want no tricks though, unnerstan’?"

Lisette shook her head. "I’ll have the photographs ... Please won’t you untie me now? My hands are going numb."

As soon as Hoffnung cut the tape that bound her wrists and ankles, he left the apartment, eager to have the photographs in his hands and not wishing to delay another minute. Lisette was left to nurse her new wounds. She made her plans fast

Half an hour later, Lisette had showered and changed into a simple black silk dress, its texture shifting and changing hues with the different quality of light when she walked. She would meet Donald Caisson at the restaurant and tell him about her latest encounter with the mysterious burglar whose identity was now known. Don could shadow her to the park while she made the rendezvous with Hoffnung. Then she would return to her apartment, put on something a little more comfortable, and wait for the gang to kidnap her, if that was their intention. Don and Roger would follow them and she and Chérie would be rescued. It was a good plan.

With a small handbag tucked under her arm containing the two photographs taken by the boy Legato, Lisette stepped into the lift to the basement car park. There was no point carrying the shoulder bag with the Derringer. She was making a simple delivery, and she would be seeing Don. As she descended, she went over in her mind the route to the park known by locals as The Way By Swans. Would Sir Hoffnung keep his part of the bargain and hand over additional proof about the organisation in exchange for time to leave the country? She rubbed her wrists ruefully. She had only been bound for half an hour, and she had not struggled, but the sticky tape had stung when it came from her mouth, and her wrists felt skinned. They had still been sore from her recent kidnap in the country house.

The lift stopped, its door slid open, and she alighted onto the concrete platform above the car park. The lights were dim and flickering. Ghostly shapes of cars in their bays were silhouetted by the glow of the streetlights from the road outside. Power surges were plaguing the district, a result of the rainstorms, and short circuits were not uncommon. Lisette descended the steps and made her way towards the little Renault, picking her way familiarly between the ranks of tenants’ cars.

She heard no sound, was only briefly aware of a faint movement behind her, before she was seized around her body by a huge arm. A ham-like hand clamped a large folded handkerchief over her face. She was held so tightly that she could not move. A faint yip of surprise was the only sound she could make, and that was stifled under the layers of cloth and flesh that sealed her mouth.

I wasn’t expecting them to strike so soon, she thought dazedly. She wondered whether the pad over her face contained chloroform. She could not smell any sickly sweet fumes. But drugging her was unnecessary. With her mouth and nose covered, Lisette was unable to breathe. She felt the blood thundering in her head and had already slipped into a semi-faint when the hand shifted so that the pad of cloth now sealed her mouth and not her nose.

As she became more aware, Lisette found that she seemed to be in the middle of a crowd. But it was a crowd like none other in her experience. While the huge person kept her head in a vise, someone else dragged her arms behind her back and held them there. She felt her bag snatched away. Someone began tying her wrists together with thin cord that bit painfully into skin that was already stiff and sore. At the same time another person was looping cord around her elbows so that, as the wrist ties were pulled tight and tied, off her arms were drawn back together until her elbows were touching. Her cry of pain was reduced to a muted hum by the hand over her mouth. Yet another person was tying her ankles together as her arms were being bound, and another was roping her legs above the knees.

I don’t like being the centre of attention, she thought worriedly. Lisette was becoming frightened. It was too early for Donald Caisson and Roger Iggotson to be in the vicinity, to watch over her. She was on her own, again.

As her eyes cleared, Lisette began to identify in the dull light the group of captors that surrounded her. It was Sigrid who held her so tightly that all the breath was crushed from her and she could scarcely move. Her wrists appeared to have been tied by Priscilla Moons, who was now doubling a long piece of cord in her hands, obviously preparing to add it to her thralldom. The librarian from hell, Dorothea Wimple, was putting the finishing touches to the cords that so agonisingly bound her elbows. Madame Red Vellum was the one who had snatched her small clasp bag. She was standing back, riffling through its meagre contents. Doctor Bombodil Kidd was on his knees at her feet taking his time cinching the cords that bound her ankles together. His hands strayed from moment to moment to Lisette’s shapely calves. Alvina Gamms was completing the ties around Lisette’s upper thighs after binding her legs at the knees.

It had all been done so quickly and quietly. None of them had spoken. And there was no-one in the car park at that time, though she guessed that people would be moving about soon, getting ready to go out into the city for dinner or to the movies and the bars. The gang members had had to act very quickly. Already she was being half carried towards a large black car.

Standing beside the car, two of the villains completed the next steps in Lisette’s abduction. The librarian began to loop the cords around Lisette’s body. Sigrid gagged their victim by stuffing into Lisette’s mouth the handkerchief she had been holding over her face. The resultant gagging noises were too faint to be heard at any distance.

"Here, use this," said Madame Vellum as she handed to Sigrid Lisette’s own flimsy gray silk scarf.

She had already folded it into a narrow strip with a knot in the middle. Sigrid grunted in reply. The knot was pushed into Lisette’s mouth until it was behind her teeth, then Sigrid tightened it cruelly, tying the scarf at the back of Lisette’s neck over her hair, and so jamming the handkerchief deeper and triggering another gag reflex. Lisette stood helplessly between her captors, her head bowed, tears streaming from her eyes, as the turns of cord were tightened about her body. The bonds passed above her breasts, were cinched somewhere behind her back, then corded around her body again under her breasts.

"Don’t she look nice," slurred Bombadil Kidd, betraying that he had been drinking.

"Shut up, Boompsie, and get back in the car ... on the other side with your chum," hissed Vellum. There was a pause. Lisette heard the car door slam shut. Then Madame Vellum spoke again. "Quick. Someone’s coming. Get her in there!"

Lisette was bundled unceremoniously into the back seat with Sigrid following immediately behind. The horrible woman did not release her grip on the cord cinched between the captive’s elbows, and the tears in Lisette’s eyes were as much tears of pain as from her desperate fight to keep from choking on the gag.

She was jerked upright to find Vellum sitting at her other side. Lisette shook her head to clear her eyes. Kidd was leering at her from the front seat. The driver was the boy, Doc Legato. Where were the other three women? Lisette decided that they were in another car, but she was wrong. The door next to Kidd opened and Dorothea Wimple squeezed herself in beside the drunken man. The back door next to Madame Vellum opened and Alvina Gamms climbed in. The door next to Sigrid opened and Priscilla Moons eased her way in. Her black straggly hair half out of its severe bun. Jammed between four women, one of whom was very large, Lisette felt like the meat in a horribly exotic sandwich.

The gang sat quietly, listening to the chatter of two young office assistants as they passed by on their way to dates in the city. The tinted windows of the large vehicle meant that no-one outside could observe the drama taking place within. Lisette recognised it as the same car from which she had escaped when Vellum and Kidd first kidnapped her.

"It’s going to be a long drive back," said Madame Vellum softly. "But we’ll have a little more space once we’ve packed our prisoner away. But first ... come on, dearie, onto your knees ... That’s right."

Lisette was pushed to the floor of the car. She thought they were going to make her lie there on her face and was beginning to subside to the mat, all the strength choked out of her, when Vellum grasped her hair at the top of her head and raised her face.

"Tape her up," commanded Vellum venomously.

"Ja. She’ll be ver’ qviet like young mices."

"That’s the general idea," drawled Madame Vellum. "Let’s see if you can get out of these bonds, my little escape artist."

Lisette regretted, and not for the first time, the undeserved reputation she had with this gang. Her nerves screamed at the sound of tape being pulled from a huge roll that Sigrid held in one hand.

"That’s my method. You’re stealing my method!" exclaimed Dorothea Wimple aggrievedly.

"Imitation is the greatest form of praise, don’t you know, Dorothea," replied Vellum.

"All right, then at least let me do it. With all due respect, Sigrid dear, you’re much too rough. We want our little prisoner very uncomfortable, but alive when we get to our base."

"Ja?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh very well," sighed Vellum, "Let her have a turn Sigrid ... Is it all right, Dorothea dear, if Sigrid tapes her body?"

"I suppose so. But don’t make it so tight that she can’t breathe."

Wonderful, thought Lisette ironically. Very uncomfortable but alive! I can hardly twitch a muscle now, so unless this car has a secret magician’s compartment ... Her thoughts trailed off as the horror of what was being done to her became apparent.

Lisette was already securely gagged with the handkerchief and scarf, but wide gaffer’s tape was being carefully placed over her mouth then wound about the back of her neck over the knot in the scarf and strapped over her mouth again. The awful librarian delicately smoothed each layer of tape around Lisette’s face and mouth as it was applied until all of her face from below her nose to her chin was slickly encased under six layers. There was no need for the tape to be pulled tight, as Sigrid would probably have done, because the adhesive did that job. The tape was very uncomfortable, and Lisette could not move her jaws any more, but it was not cutting off circulation.

To do the job, Dorothea Wimple had to lean across Madame Vellum, who took her temporary squashed state philosophically, gently complimenting the woman on the finesse with which she applied the tape. When the Wimple woman sat back, Sigrid began with a lot less subtlety but very effectively to wind the tape in layers around Lisette’s body. The tape covered the same areas where the cords were already embedded, in the young woman’s arms and chest, and was applied in four layers each. More was added around her waist so that her forearms were pinned to her back and her hands pressed against the base of her spine. Her legs were then taped at the ankles, around her calves (Kidd whistled softly in disappointment), below her knees, above her knees, around her lower thighs and around her upper thighs. A little more tape, thought Lisette, and I’ll be mummified!

The process creased her skirt high up her thighs so that the black silk panties she wore beneath, and the black garter belt, were in full view. Lisette had chosen the lingerie for Donald Caisson’s eyes because she thought it looked sexy. It was. But the only male eyes to appreciate the effort she had gone to were Kidd’s ... and the eyes of a woman, Priscilla Moons. Lisette shivered under their joint lascivious gaze.

Bombadil Kidd continued to ogle Lisette’s now very erect breasts, and deep décollètage, almost escaping the black silk dress, as the taping up continued. Indeed, all the gang members watched Lisette’s discomfiture with varying forms of pleasure, betraying in their faces emotions characteristic of each member. Legato’s cold, snake-like stare. Kidd’s spittle flecked lips. Sigrid’s deadpan face that somehow showed the pleasure she was taking in the binding at the same time. Moons’ goggle-eyed rapture cast in the direction of Lisette’s bosom. Gamms’ businesslike frown, watching that no cord or tape might slip. Wimple’s thin lipped anticipation of the sight of Lisette completely bound. Vellum’s ironic smile.

There was a collective sigh when it was done.

"Excellent work," commented Madame Vellum. "Blindfold her ..."

"I’ll do it," said Alvina Gamms.

There was a shuffling of places and Gamms was at Lisette’s side. The woman inspected their prize critically, taking Lisette’s head in her hands and turning it from one side to the other, looking intently into her face.

"Hmm. Nasal passages look clear. You don’t have a head cold do you, dear?"

Lisette shook her head no, and instantly regretted it. If she had feigned nasal congestion, they might have removed the tape and even the worst of the gag. That was the handkerchief trapped in her mouth and pressing on her tongue.

"Let’s see," continued Gamms, "Is there anything else in her bag?"

"Only a compact and lipstick, and Legato’s candid camera work - you stupid boy - a few coins and a small handkerchief."

"Let’s have the handkerchief."

"Here ... Now why were you carrying those photographs? Eh?"

Lisette looked blankly back at Vellum. If the woman really wanted an answer, she would have to take off the horrible gag, but no such luck.

"To give to your boyfriend I suppose," continued Vellum, answering her own question.

"I- I haff a sc- sc- , a score to settle with that bastard," muttered Kidd.

"We have just the bait, haven’t we?" said Vellum smoothly. Her eyes looked into Lisette’s with an intention that made her quail.

They returned to business.

Alvina Gamms made a pad of the small linen handkerchief so that the narrow lace edges were within the folds, and placed it over Lisette’s eyes while Sigrid held her head tilted back. Lisette cooperated as much as she could. There was no point in struggling. That would only make things worse, and the situation was almost as bad as it could get. The pad was taped over, sealing immediately against Lisette’s brows, over the bridge of her nose, and across her cheeks. Her head was then taped up neatly and smoothly under three more layers. In its efficiency, it was a job worthy of librarian Wimple. Lisette hated the sensory deprivation of being blindfolded as well as bound, but at least she was not hooded, and her ears were not plugged, although the taped now covering them made all sounds recede into the distance.

"A pity I didn’t think to bring that hood along," commented Madame Vellum, "But that will do very nicely. Thank you Alvina."

Lisette thanked her lucky stars, and hoped that a good conjunction might come soon.

"There’s no-one about for the moment," Lisette identified the voice as that of Mrs Gamms. "Better put her in the boot and we can be on our way."

"Yair. We’ve been here too long," added Legato’s monotone from the front seat.

"We’re making sure this time," replied Vellum brusquely. "But you’re right. We’d better make a move."

There was a shuffling about in the back seat and Lisette felt some members of the gang climb out of the car. She heard the click of the boot’s lid opening. Then she was picked up and lifted in Sigrid’s strong arms, carried, and laid on her side in what she knew was to be her method of conveyance for the next few hours.

The binding was not yet complete. Her thighs were drawn up towards her face and she felt another length of cord being looped behind the backs of her knees and around her body. When it was tightened, her body and knees were pressed towards each other. The method kept her in a tight ball. More cord was tied around her ankles, then her legs were bent back and she felt the other end of the cord being cinched between her elbows.

The overall effect was to make Lisette into a completely helpless ball of misery. She could not move at all. It was worse than the hog tie encountered in the library compactor, and she had thought that that was the most thorough experience in bondage that she could have. When the lid of the boot slammed shut with a whoof of trapped air, she sighed in relief. At last she was alone, no longer tormented by demented captors. That woman’s eyes ... worse than that horrible man.

Maybe it could be worse, she thought, as she felt the car move off. My part of the plan has worked better than I thought. And they took so long that maybe, just maybe, Don and Rover - no, Roger, let’s get it right because I think I’ll know that man for a long time - might have come here and be following us at this moment.

Lisette closed her eyes and tried to be brave. She was beginning to regret her foolhardiness. She had never believed that she could be gagged and bound so completely. She could not move, could not even wriggle or bounce. All that escaped when she attempted to call for help experimentally was a faint smothered glug, and every so often she found herself fighting the gag reflex because of the handkerchief deep in her mouth, by now a sodden but still large bolus that threatened to choke her.

Giving in to panic, hyperventilating, and dying were out of the question. Lisette thought of Donald Caisson. She remembered how exquisite it felt to be bound and gagged by him. He would not let her down. They had a mutual bond of love that would only end with death. And Lisette decided that she had a very long life ahead of her that included Donald Caisson.

Oh Don, I hope you’re there, she prayed.

ã Brian Sands 2004