Lisette and the Cyber Geeks
by
Brian Sands
Die Cleveren, HtF Vidcaps
Chapter Six: Say it With Flowers
Lisette awoke from her exhausted sleep feeling renewed. Her head no longer hurt and, when she moved her body gingerly, she had few aches and pains to speak of. Raising her head, she saw that the early grey of dawn was already penetrating into the bedroom. She also felt someone’s warm body lying close to hers. She turned to her sleeping companion. Donald Caisson was resting on his side facing her, his breathing soft and deep.
Delicately, Lisette ran her fingers along the man’s arm, then felt appreciatively the broad flat chest and the firm mounds of his pectoral muscles. Her hand continued gently along the narrow waist and a thrill went through her as she felt the corded strength of his thighs. He must do a lot of working out or something, walking maybe, to have legs as strong as this, she thought, as she allowed her hand to linger over his buttock. Lisette reached between the sleeper’s thighs and closed her hand gently. Donald’s body awoke.
"I wondered whether you were asleep or only pretending," Lisette purred softly into Donald Caisson’s ear.
"I was asleep, my dear," came the reply, his voice thick and drowsy. "But you have a very effective way of catching a sleeping man’s attention."
"Come here, darling man."
Lisette drew Don into her arms and made him comfortable. Her slender fingers guided the now very rigid part of Don between the delicate crenellations of her flower. As the head pushed into the velvety lining, Lisette arched her back and wrapped her legs around Don’s buttocks. Her guess was accurate. Donald Caisson had very strong thighs. He took over and played her, raising her to a pitch then teasing it out until she was on the point of begging him to finish her off. But the delay culminated in added pleasure when she was racked by a series of orgasms that seemed never to stop. When it was over, they collapsed into each other’s embrace and slept once more.
It was fully light when next Lisette opened her eyes. Languidly she lifted her head and looked at the bedside clock. It was already seven. She disengaged herself from the arms of her still sleeping lover, slipped out from under the satin sheets, and sat on the edge of the bed, her feet on the floor centring herself for the day. She looked down at the man, almost disbelieving their new relationship. They had progressed a very long way since her first sight of the haggard convict at the back door of the country cottage. Had it only been three days? Thoughtfully, Lisette ran her fingers lightly through Donald Caisson’s hair. The man stirred and was suddenly wide-awake with no apparent transition between sleep and full consciousness. A good man to have in a dangerous situation, she thought.
"It’s time to get up, Darling," said Lisette softly. "I’ll make up eggs and bacon for us both. No," she added as Don began to protest, "My treat this time. I know my way around my kitchen better than you do. You can have a turn another day."
"Another day?"
"Of course. A girl doesn’t find a man who is good at rescuing her from the hands of evil minions every day, or who is so good in bed afterwards."
"That’s being melodramatic."
"But it’s true. Last night I felt like a heroine in one of those ancient vaudeville plays, or those Republic serials, a ‘damsel in distress,’ bound and gagged. "
"You shouldn’t joke about such things."
"I know ... The reality is pretty frightening. I never knew what it was really like to have a gag in my mouth and be completely unable to do anything about getting it out. It makes a girl feel so helpless when she can’t even speak, much less call for help."
Donald took her hand.
"I see you wore a dinner suit last night," Lisette continued, changing the subject as she eyed the heap of men’s clothes that lay over the dressing table chair. "I’m sorry we didn’t go out. It would have been fun."
"Another night ..."
"Yes ... Come on Darling, last to the shower scrubs the other’s back!"
Donald Caisson won the challenge.
*
Later, at precisely 8.45, Lisette shooed Donald away.
"I have to pull out the data in those files, and eliminate more suspects. In the meantime, you said you had things to check out in the underworld haunts."
"Yers. I’ll play the part of the patsy who wants to square himself with the bosses. Maybe I can get back into their network."
"But what about that little thug who calls himself Doc? Won’t he blow your cover?"
"Not necessarily. From their point of view it will look like a common garden-variety double-cross. Doc was only the chauffeur, you might say, on the lookout for me after my escape, and their intention was to ‘bring me in.’ So I must be useful to them still. Like I told you before, the little shit is just a messenger boy."
"Do be careful, Don."
"Don’t worry. I’ve had a lot of experience dealing with those sorts of people. It’s you who should be careful, Lisa. Make sure this time you leave me a message, so if you don’t turn up I’ll know where to start looking."
"I will. I’ve learnt my lesson ... Now, off you go. And have a good day. I’ll see you tonight, okay?"
Don left.
*
At precisely 9.00am, Lisette picked up the phone and dialled the number for Sir Justin Hoffnung, "florist extraordinaire" it said in the promotional advertisement in the directory. A quiet morning in a country flower nursery was attractive. She decided to use her everyday alias but not to disclose that she was a Revenue officer. A feature covering the nursery of the month for an in-flight international airline magazine seemed a safe enough cover.
Sir Hoffnung’s secretary, Miss Priscilla Moons, was ecstatic at the suggestion. "Sir" was away at a conference in Stockholm but she would be delighted to show Miss Lisa Rivers around the grounds and the company’s finely stocked floral rooms.
Lisette’s little Renault was fully fuelled and ready and it was not long before she was on the road. In keeping with her role, she wore a smart business suit, short skirt, stockings and heels, and a jacket to match the skirt over a thin white silk top. In keeping with her dress code, a single strand necklace of ivory coloured beads adorned her throat.
*
Priscilla Moons was waiting at the main doors of the convention centre. The woman was tall and carried a little extra padding that was camouflaged by the clothes she wore. She was dressed well if somewhat severely in a black trouser suit over a purple satin shirt. The high heels she wore accentuated her height, several inches taller than Lisette. Like the satellite after which she was named, the woman’s face was round with brown eyes that tended to goggle whenever she became excited, which seemed to be once every minute on the average. Long, rather mousy hair straggled around her shoulders. Crooked in one elbow she held a clipboard. A watch hung on a pendant around her neck in the fashion sometimes favoured by nurses. It dangled at the point where her shirt came in view and was lost from time to time within the folds of the jacket. She extended her free hand to Lisette.
"So pleased that your airline, United Hebrides, is interested, Miss Rivers. We have some indescribably beautiful blooms to show you."
"Sometimes my job gets me out in the open air," replied Lisette as she stepped across the threshold into the Bouquet Room. "One of the pleasures of the work."
"What would you like to see first? This is the introduction room, for cocktails and so on. There are other rooms for different functions. As you see ..." the woman waved a hand expansively to cover the sprays of blooms that festooned the walls, "we go to considerable lengths to make our visitors happy. Flowers can soften the most intense meetings, sometimes."
"Well, if it’s not much trouble, maybe you could show me around the grounds and the buildings, then if I may I’ll photograph some of the displays. I’ll choose the best ones for the magazine in my workroom."
"Very well then. We’ll walk through to the back where our principal garden is laid out, then I’ll show you some of the cool-rooms where the most precious blooms are stocked."
Miss Moons led the way, threading their steps among the tables and chairs that were also decorated lavishly with blooms, and into a hallway that ran off from the far end. As they walked down the hallway, their high heels clicking on the polished wooden floor, Lisette began to feel more comfortable. I can cross this little business off my list anyway, she thought. It all looks pretty kosher.
They came to a point where another hallway intersected the one they were in at right angles. When she glanced along it, Lisette saw a man sitting in a chair outside a closed door halfway down. She paused. Miss Moons responded to the puzzled look on her face.
"That’s Jakes Bottomly, our caretaker and security guard."
"Security?"
"Oh yes. You’ve no idea how rough it is in this field. Flowers are big business. And there are always competitors trying to sneak in to see the latest ideas for display, or what’s new in up-market fashions, or the identify of our suppliers. Why only last week a young woman came here calling herself a reporter for a well-known magazine. Jakes phoned the organisation while I was showing her around and, do you know, she was not from there at all. We sent her packing."
Lisette’s confidence quickly turned to unease.
"I suppose you’ll check on me then," she remarked with a forced smile.
"But naturellement! One can’t be too careful. But I’m sure you are bone fide. We can’t have two spies within a week of each other."
Can’t you just, thought Lisette wryly. As they walked on out the back door, she knew it was only a matter of time before Bottomly made his investigations and found that there was not only no employee named Lisa Rivers but no airline called United Hebrides. Lisette castigated herself. Why didn’t I think to use British Airways or Qantas? They’re so huge and they employ part-timers on contract work not easily traced. She did her best to appreciate the banks and rows of flowers they walked between but, as they returned towards the building, she knew that she would probably not get to see the interior rooms. Well, all they can do is eject me, she thought bitterly, and I’ll still eliminate them from my investigations.
Jakes Bottomly was waiting for them as they mounted the steps to re-enter the back door.
"Well, Jakes, what have you found for me?" asked Miss Moon brightly.
The man, a thin weedy character dressed in baggy overalls with a greasy beret covering what Lisette suspected was a balding head, looked at her sourly.
"Regretfully, we’ve drawn a blank on this one too Ma’am," he intoned.
"Oh dear," said Miss Moons, but not, thought Lisette, with much surprise, "Another Revenue snoop."
"But I’m not ..." began Lisette.
"Don’t bother trying to lie any more," replied Moons abruptly. "Jakes took the opportunity to check your car out. You must be very careful what you leave in the glove box, Miss Lisette Ruisseau. The letter from what is obviously your favourite boutique, to which you give also professional advice, is quite incriminating."
"In that case, I need to see your books," replied Lisette firmly, determined to bluff it out. "I was hoping that I would see enough without recourse to official action. That was my reason for coming incognito."
"A likely story. Jakes, show the lady out!"
‘This way," growled the factotum as he turned and proceeded up the hallway.
Lisette followed demurely with Miss Moons on her heels. But when he reached the junction of the two hallways, Jakes turned left down the one where he had been on guard. Lisette paused.
"But this isn’t ..."
"Shut up and keep moving," hissed Miss Moons in her ear.
Lisette was about to turn when she felt something hard press against her back. She froze.
"Yes, this is a gun," said Moons matter-of-factly. "It doesn’t fire bullets. It fires a tranquilizer dart. You have a choice. Walk the rest of the way or be carried. And believe me, if you choose the second option, you’ll wake up with the mother of all headaches."
"I’ll take the first option," said Lisette resignedly.
Things were moving fast from bad to worse. She walked on. Priscilla Moons followed. The dart gun remained pressed against Lisette’s back.
Jakes Bottomly stopped outside the door he had been guarding earlier. He fished around in his pocket and extracted a key on a long pink ribbon. As they stood waiting while the man fiddled with the lock, Lisette saw that he had been reading comics. One lay on the seat of the chair and a small pile of them rested on the floor beneath. Lisette recognised two Natacha bandes dessinées, an Asterix, and several that looked decidedly erotic in content. The door opened and Miss Moons hustled Lisette inside.
It was a small storeroom, dusty and dimly lit. Half its narrow area was stacked with bundles wrapped in thick brown paper held in place with gaffer’s tape. A large roll of the silver tape lay on one of the stacks. Jakes took it up and turned to her. The dart pistol nudged Lisette in the back.
"Turn round, bitch, and cross your hands behind you," commanded Miss Moons.
Lisette had no choice but to obey.
As soon as her wrists were crossed, Bottomly began winding the tape around them. He worked quickly but methodically, and within seconds Lisette’s wrists were taped tightly together beneath half a dozen layers of the heavy sticky material. She heard another ripping sound as more tape was torn from the roll. Priscilla Moons raised the pistol level with Lisette’s eyes.
"Turn back now, dearie."
When Lisette obeyed this order, the man strapped a wide piece of tape over her lips and mouth with a quick, practiced movement. The adhesive made a tight seal over her lips. Every nerve in her wanted to struggle in revolt, but Lisette knew better than to anger people who held her at their mercy. She stood still and tried to remain calm.
"Sit on the floor," directed Miss Moons, "Jakes will help you."
Lisette knelt, and was taken under the shoulders by the man, who lowered her the rest of the way so that she was sitting on the cold wooden surface. Bottomly hunkered down in front of her and quickly taped her ankles together side by side. This time he was content with winding the stuff around her legs three times. He straightened up.
"Good work, Jakes," said Priscilla Moon, "She’s nicely secure ... I must say you’re a lot more cooperative than your blonde colleague," added the woman. "She fought all the way, panicky bitch, and I had to use this thing." Moons raised the pistol menacingly, and for a frightening moment Lisette thought that the dart gun was going to be used on her too. Moons laughed at the expression in Lisette’s eyes over the tape gag. Her own eyes were goggling in excitement. "It will be necessary to knock you out when the time comes to transport you away from this place. But I’ll probably use chloroform. It’s cheaper than the cost of the dart."
"There’s a shipment leaving tonight," grunted Jakes. "She can go in one of the packing cases."
"Excellent idea. In the meantime, sit guard like you usually do, only I don’t think this young woman is going to be a problem, all taped up like that."
Lisette’s two captors departed. The door closed behind them, its lock snapping shut automatically, and Lisette was left alone in the semi-darkness. A single forty-watt bulb glowed faintly, illuminating the small patch of floor on which she sat and the tall stacks of unknown merchandise that crowded towards her and gave the room an eerie shadowy look. It was no place to be if one was afraid of the dark or of deep shadows, especially when bound hand and foot and gagged. The dim globe flickered occasionally, either close to the end of its life or in response to a power surge. Lisette sat still and listened. The door was thin and she could hear the occasional shift and creak of the chair where Jakes was sitting. From time to time she heard a chuckle, and once or twice a guffaw. Jakes Bottomly was evidently enjoying his comics.
Although she was confident that Donald would know where to look for her, Lisette recognised that it was only a matter of time before she was shipped out in a crate. After which the trail would grow cold. She remembered with a shiver how close she was to disappearing without a trace when she was in the hands of Red Vellum and that horrible woman Sigrid. So Lisette resolved that she had to do something about getting free by herself. It was too dangerous to sit still and await developments when rescue was too far away and the situation so problematic. Her eyes searched the small room, looking for something she might use to cut the tape.
That was the main defect in tape, she knew, that is, if kidnappers wanted to keep the heroine from escaping. Rope was more difficult to escape from, if tied tightly enough. Tape could be weakened, frayed against anything rough so that, given enough time, a resourceful girl could free her hands on the simplest of a room’s appointments. The raised hinges of a door, for instance, or a nail, even the butt of a nail might do very nicely. But the sound Lisette would make if she tried it against the door hinge would be heard instantly by the man sitting just outside.
Bottomly had used tape, not just on her but on the packaging of the large mysterious parcels. Maybe they contained drugs of some kind. That was the obvious suspicion. But if tape had been used for packing, a knife or perhaps scissors might be lying around somewhere. But there was no welcome gleam of metal although Lisette looked in every corner she could see.
She was in a quandary. Think, Lisette ... think, she cried to herself. The stuff imprisoning her wrists was sticky and very tight, welding them together. She could not twist her hands far in any direction. Her breathing came with difficulty because of the tape locking her mouth shut. And the small dusty room was becoming stuffy. If she struggled too much, she would exhaust herself and defeat the purpose, and she would not get free without a clear head.
And then a possibility offered itself. It was so obvious that at first she doubted it would work. But she had to try. There seemed to be no other alternative.
With more effort than she thought she would need to make, Lisette inched her way across the small space of open floor between the door where she sat and the first stack against one wall. When she gained her objective, snorting hard through her nose and with sweat glistening on her face, she turned around so that her back was against the corner of the stack. Her fingers stretched and explored the wrappings as she tried to guess what was inside. Fingertips encountered hard surfaces. Further explorations reminded her forcefully of childhood Christmas and birthday presents that she used to guess by their feel were books or something else. These appeared to be books too, books stacked one upon another.
Suddenly it came together. Jakes Bottomly was reading hard-backed bandes dessinées on the other side of the door. Was the consignment all comics? No, she reasoned. It had to be drugs hidden within the comics. It was what Donald would call a devilishly clever ploy. She would give that man a big hug if she got home tonight. But now ... Lisette realised that she was becoming groggy in the small room, gagged, struggling, and overheating herself. The way to freedom was just possibly there, but she had to work fast.
The corners of the stack were of hardback comic books and, arranged as they were on top of one another, they presented a continuous saw-tooth profile on the corners. Lisette began to rub her bound wrists against one corner, hoping that she would not pass out with the effort. As she progressed, she managed to catch the edges of the tape against the saw-tooth edges of the bandes dessinées and was rewarded by the sound of a faint rip as the tape began to split at one side. With frustrating slowness, the bands at her wrists came apart. She wondered deliriously whether she was cutting herself free on the latest editions of Tin-Tin, or Natacha, or on a stack of Tara comics, the erotic cover of one showing a very thoroughly gagged and bound red-head she had glimpsed under Jakes’s chair.
When the six-layered band of tape was at last severed, Lisette spent several anxious moments trying to pull her wrists free from the adhesive surface. It had become part of her skin and she winced with pain when, with a desperate effort, she pulled her hands apart. Trembling, and with shaking fingers, she sought for the corner of the tape covering her mouth and gingerly pulled it away. Her lips stung as the tape came off. Then she had to wrestle also with the tape at her feet. It came away, however, when she found the end of the strip and unwrapped her ankles. But the ripping as the adhesive surfaces broke apart made so much noise that her heart was in her mouth lest Jakes outside should hear it.
Lisette climbed to her feet and leaned against the wall, her senses reeling. She was shaking all over. Her heart pounded and her legs felt weak with the adrenaline rush. She almost sat down again, but clung to the wall with both hands and kept herself upright. Then the dust in the room entered her nose and lungs and she sneezed, followed by a fit of coughing. Oh god, he’ll hear that for sure, she told herself.
Lisette’s fears were realised. As she fought to clear her head, she heard Jakes swearing, followed by the metallic sound of the key entering and turning in the lock.
ã Brian Sands 2004