"Belinda, will you please STOP WHINING!" The redhead lowered her camera and glared at her companion. "I know you're only here because Oakland made you come, but since you are here, how about either giving me a hand or just shutting up?"
Belinda Carver sighed. Jana was right, there was no need to make things hard for her friend just because her pig of an editor couldn't see that covering the annual Classic Car Charity Auction wasn't the sort of reporting she'd come West to do.
"But I'm an investigative reporter, " she had insisted. Oakland had barely glanced up from his desk.
"Look, cookie, you may have been hot stuff back there in Kansas--"
"Nebraska."
"--whatever, but this is the big time, little lady. Now if you really don't want a paycheck, you can hang around here bellyaching, but if you're ready to get to work, get your cute little tushie in gear, and get down to that car show!"
Anger reddened Belinda's cheeks as she bit back a retort , and the deep blue of her eyes clouded like an angry sea. She spun on her heel, and left the editor's office. Out in the hallway, she suddenly had a mental picture of Oakland watching her from behind, her long, dark ponytail swaying across the back of her white blouse to the rhythm of her hips, and she got even angrier. But now, here at the Car Show, she knew that Jana Riley was right: no use taking out her anger on the redhaired photographer.
"Sorry. So, what exactly are we looking for here?"
"Anything," Jana sighed. "There were supposed to be dozens of celebs here, but most of them either cancelled or were never really coming: Tom and Nicole, Jay Leno, Paul Newman... I dunno, at this point, we seem to be down to the usual rich nobodies, a couple of Silicon Valley whiz kids and Diamond Dayle."
"Who?"
"The country singer. Her name was on a sign over by one of the cars. So, in case anyone asks, do you know anything about cars?"
"Well, actually, I've been learning a lot recently. I got a tip about a Mexican 'crime family' that's expanding their hot-car ring into the U.S. Supposed to be a woman named Lupe Martinez running it, with the help of her brother, and--"
"The only Chicana that Oakland would be interested in would be Jennifer Lopez, so unless you see her, just forget about that for today, OK? Let's start looking around and see if we can find someone worth photographing."
Belinda shrugged, and sent her reporter's gaze around the room. There seemed to be literally hundreds of people mooning around over shining hunks of metal, and they all seemed to be saying the same things, acting the same way... except for one couple. Belinda spotted them over in a corner: the man was as well-dressed as any here, but he was paying no notice to the cars. Instead, he was listening, grimly, to something being said by the woman with him. She, too, was well-dressed, with dark hair, but her eyes were hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses, worn incongruously indoors. She was gripping the man's jacket, whispering earnestly to him; he didn't seem to be enjoying what he was hearing.
"Who's that?"
Jana looked up at Belinda's question. "Oh, that's Stan Bullard and his wife. Strange story: he owns the most successful high-end car dealership in town. He's always seen at any big event like this, but for about a week last month, no one saw either of them in public. His wife's name is Valerie; she's a beautiful woman, used to be a model, but now she seems to be doing her best to hide, even when they're out together."
"Hmmmm. Now, that's interesting."
Jana shrugged. "Probably just a domestic dispute. Anyway, it's not very photogenic, and neither of them is what Oakland would accept as a celebrity. Now, there," she nodded toward the center of the room, "is the first thing I've seen that even resembles one."
Belinda followed her glance to see an expensively-dressed woman standing with a drink in her hand, surveying the crowd. For a moment, Belinda was sure she was looking just as intently at the Bullards as Belinda had been, but then she turned her head in the direction of the reporter. The woman was a tall blonde, with pale skin of a near-porcelain quality. Her mouth was fixed in what appeared to be a smirk of superiority, as though she regarded all those she saw as being entirely beneath her.
"Who is she?"
"Her name's Baroness Drella Von Otto. No, really. Her family's supposed to be descended from some kind of old minor German royalty. I've actually heard two stories about her: one, that she's living off some fabulous hoard of Nazi gold, the other that her family lost everything in the war, and she's trading on her name and her looks just to stay afloat. Either way, she makes a great photo op." Belinda had to agree with that: the blonde was all icy beauty, with pale gold hair spilling provocatively across her barely-concealed breasts. Belinda followed Jana as the redhead approached the woman, who gave a wintry smile as she saw the camera.
"Hi, Baroness." The greeting sounded absurd to Belinda. "Jana Riley. Remember, I took your picture at the Charity Auction last month?"
"Ah, yes. So nice to see you again."
"This is my friend, Belinda Carver." Belinda was glad that Jana hadn't mentioned her being a reporter; if there should be a story of interest here, better that the woman was not on her guard. She studied the woman's face for signs of the interest she had seemed to show in the Bullards, but could read nothing in the arctic eyes. As Jana and the Baroness made small talk, Belinda's attention was drawn back to the Bullards: the unhappy couple were still in the corner, but now had a visitor. There was a Hispanic woman talking to them. She had a sharp nose, and was speaking intently to Stan Bullard, who was looking away from her, nodding unhappily. The woman was certainly not dressed in the sort of finery as the others here, wearing a lycra tank-top, jeans, and work boots; her long hair was tied into a ponytail with a black scarf. Bullard seemed no happier with what she had to say than he had been with his wife earlier. The conversation grew more animated, with the Hispanic woman clearly taking a surprisingly aggressive posture towards the businessman.
"Hey, look at this." Belinda did her best to direct Jana's attention. "Doesn't that woman look just a bit out of place here?"
Jana glanced up from her viewfinder. "What are you talking about? Baroness, could we just..." Jana's voice trailed off as she seemed to have lost her audience. The German blonde was following Belinda's gaze, and for a moment, Jana thought she saw a look of surprise on the icy features. It flickered away in a moment, though.
"Jana, do you think--"
"Belinda, I think you and I really need to get moving, here."
"But that woman-- a Hispanic woman who looks out of place here, talking to a man whose business is cars; a man you yourself said had been acting strangely lately. Don't you see? This could have something to do with that hot car ring!"
"Belinda, I don't have TIME for this. We've only got a half-hour until they close."
"But, Jana, I need someone to help me." As they had spoken, Belinda had seen the Hispanic woman leave the Bullards, and disappear into the crowd. "I need to follow her, and find out what she's up to."
"Belinda--"
"Perhaps I could of help be." The blonde woman smiled at the quarreling friends. "Are you, then, an investigator, fraulein?" The cold blue eyes regarded Belinda.
"Well, yes, I am an investigative reporter," when I'm allowed to be! Belinda concluded to herself.
"How very interesting. Are you, then, to seek out the secrets of my past?" The woman gave her such a chilly look that Belinda was relieved to be able to say no.
"Actually, it's a bit of crime reporting, nothing to do with you."
"I see. Well, I have no further commitments here, today. Would you allow me to assist you?"
"Oh, I..."
"Great," Jana interrupted; she was already moving away. "You and the Baroness play hide and seek. I'll be on my way. Diamond Dayle is supposed to make her appearance at the very end, so I'll meet you by her display at 5:00, and we'll wrap it up then." The redhead shouldered her camera, and Belinda lost sight of her in the crowd.
"So. This is like the Watergate, then?" The German woman's voice brought Belinda back.
"Oh. Well, no, not really. Actually, it has to do with stolen cars."
"Ah. And you think we have thieves here of automobiles? That would cause quite a scandal at the Auto Show, would it not?"
"Make for a helluva story, though. OK, Baroness, if you're game to help me, come on. That woman headed in this direction."
"How exciting. We give chase, eh? 'Follow that car', like in the movies?"
"Well, 'follow that car thief,' anyway." Somehow, Belinda knew she was right: if the woman she had seen wasn't Lupe Martinez, she was at least somehow connected to her.
"And will there be danger here, also? I know in the motion pictures the intrepid reporter will often fall afoul of the wicked villains."
Belinda laughed. "Baroness, when you've been in our country for a while, you'll realize that stuff like that only happens on TV."
The Baroness responded with a small giggle of her own. "Gut, so there is no danger. We shall not, then, find ourselves trussed up and gagged, at the mercy of these criminals, then?"
"Take it from me, Baroness, no one's tying me up before I break this story!"
"I am glad you are so certain." The woman's reply was a low murmur.
With the blonde following behind, Belinda headed for the last place she had seen the Hispanic woman.
"So, you do much of this investigation?"
"Actually," Belinda admitted, "I'm pretty new here. Back home, I covered the police beat, but this is really the first big story I've tackled out here."
"Ah. So are there many back at your office waiting for your story?"
"Well, no. The fact is, my editor is a sexist pig who sent me along to write some puffy gossip piece. He doesn't even know I'm working on this story."
"Oh. How very interesting." Belinda turned for a moment, to see the blonde regarding her with a wide smile that, for all its toothiness, had no real warmth in it. "So, then, we will make a great surprise for him when you arrive back with your... do you say 'scoop'?"
"I'll say he'll be surprised. He's probably forgotten I'm even here." The woman's smile seemed to grow slightly at this, but before Belinda had time to question her, the Baroness said, "Could she through this door have come?"
Belinda was surprised. The Baroness had evidently spotted a doorway concealed in one of the partition walls of a display of German motorcycles. It was certainly well hidden, thought Belinda, how had the woman known it was there?
"Well, let's find out." The eager young reporter motioned her new ally to follow her, and eased the door open. She stepped through, and as her eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting, she heard a sound behind her, as though a door might have been locked.
"Baroness?" Belinda squinted, trying to see where the woman had gone. Was there someone else moving in the darkness? Just as she was about to call out again, a light blazed on. Belinda blinked, startled. She was standing in what appeared to be a large garage, with half-a-dozen nondescript cars and one large limousine. She whipped around to see the Baroness standing behind her, having evidently found a lightswitch. The door they had come through was closed behind her. The blonde was still smiling.
"Sorry, fraulein, I had forgotten this switch was here."
In the moment it took for that statement to sink in, Belinda was distracted by movement off to her left.
"What the hell's this?"
"Ah. Lupe. Allow me please to introduce my new friend Belinda. Belinda, this is Senorita Lupe Martinez." Now, the Hispanic woman had moved from the shadows and was scowling at Belinda.
"What she's doin' here?"
"Lupe, Belinda is a reporter of crime stories. She is searching for information on stolen cars. Perhaps we help her, nicht wahr?"
Belinda wasn't stupid, but the situation was so insane that it took her a moment to fully appreciate her danger. She bolted for the door, ready to fling the blonde out of the way. The Baroness had anticipated her, however, and simply stepped nimbly aside, sticking out a leg to trip the reporter. Belinda fell, sprawling, to the floor.
"Someone hel---aaahhh!" Belinda's shout was interrupted by a tearing pain in her scalp as the blonde yanked her to her feet by her ponytail. She felt herself spun around, and the blonde's other hand was pressed over her mouth.
"Ramon. Get rope." Belinda struck at the woman's face, but the Baroness ducked the blow, and Belinda felt a powerful man's hands seize her arms from behind. He yanked her arms up and back behind her, with a force that drove her further into the Baroness' embrace. Belinda tried twisting her head, but the blonde's grip on her hair didn't allow her to free her lips, which were being crushed against her teeth. Meanwhile, the man called Ramon had used some kind of scratchy cord to fasten her wrists tightly together. Belinda shrieked in pain, the sound disappearing into the palm sealing her lips. The man's only response was to wrap more of the cord in the other direction, pinching her skin and isolating her wrists from each other. He then reached around her waist, using another length of the cord to fasten the rope that passed between her bound wrists to the back of her waist. As Ramon stepped back, she felt the Baroness yank her head back and up, to look her in the face.
"So, fraulein, you are interested in stolen automobiles? Gut. Perhaps later, we discuss this topic, eh? For now, though, I feel no discussion is necessary." As Belinda pulled uselessly at her bound wrists, Lupe Martinez came to stand beside the Baroness, smiling cruelly at the captive reporter.
"You a nosy bitch, huh? You a good-lookin' bitch, too. Sure like to get a look at what you got under that blouse." Belinda's eyes widened, and she redoubled her efforts to break free from the Baroness' grip, but the uselessness of her bound hands defeated her.
The blonde laughed at Belinda's futile struggles. "Now, Lupe, we have much to do before playtime it is. Please to gag the young lady."
Lupe Martinez reached to her hair, and pulled free the long black scarf binding it. She rolled it into a thick band, and as the Baroness removed her palm from Belinda's lips, Lupe jammed the thick scarf deep between Belinda's teeth; the cloth tasted of hairspray and the woman's perfume. The Baroness then released Belinda's hair, but with her firm grip on the scarf, Lupe was easily able to control Belinda's head, yanking on the scarf like a pair of reins, and tying the black cloth tightly at the base of the reporter's skull. The cloth cut painfully into Belinda's cheeks.
"Uunnggghhh!!" Belinda did her best to yell through the gag. Though it didn't silence her, her cries were sufficiently muffled not to carry to the noisy convention center on the other side of the wall. Once Lupe finished gagging her, she threw Belinda to the floor, where Ramon was waiting with more rope, binding the captive brunette's ankles together.
"So," the blonde's tone was matter-of-fact, "now we also entertain an unexpected guest. This we shall need to deal with. But what does Bullard say?" she asked Lupe.
"Stupid dickhead tried to say he wasn't helping us no more. I told him next time we'd give his little missus a good taste of Ramon, and he could look at pictures of that." Now, Belinda had her explanation of the Bullards' strange behavior, but at a terrible cost.
"Admirable. No doubt he will reconsider. In the meantime, the reason I had you meet me here was that I have discovered a rare opportunity. Do you watch the Nashville Network?"
"Huh?" Lupe wasn't the only one baffled; even in her dire predicament, Belinda wondered just what the hell this Valkyrie was talking about.
"On the cable TV. In the hotel." Lupe just stared, and the Baroness went on. "It would seem that there is a very famous singer of the country and western music at this exposition, with a very valuable collector's vehicle. Do you know the name Diamond Dayle?"
"Hair down to her butt. Sings about her brown eyes turnin' blue. So?"
"So, she is here to display a vehicle that once belonged to the late Mr. Hank Williams. It is rumored that his child was conceived there. I have seen bids of several hundred thousand dollars for this item. I was thinking... would it not be interesting if Fraulein Dayle were to disappear along with her vehicle? It might be thought she had simply 'driven off' with it, hmm? The vehicle by itself would bring much reward; the additional ransom for a beautiful singer of popular music would be... extraordinary."
Lupe Martinez' face had broken into a grin. "So we snatch her and the car? That's good, I like that. Do I get more time to play with her than I did with the Bullard bitch?"
"So impatient you are. We shall see. There is also another factor. When Diamond Dayle is closing her presentation tonight, a photographer will be there; a very pretty red-haired photographer who is the only one who can link our reporter here to me. I believe that she must accompany Fraulein Dayle into our possession."
Jana. Oh, God, Belinda thought, what have I got us into?
"Perhaps you might dally with that one. She will bring little ransom."
"Meaning I can play with her all I want?" Lupe Martinez cackled.
"First things first." The Baroness seemed amused by her associate's enthusiasm for molesting their captives. "We must first place our young reporter where she will not be found. Ramon, take one of the cars and drive the young lady to my estate. I shall decide later just how best to dispose of her."
Belinda whined through her gag as she felt the man heave her over a shoulder. She struggled to throw herself from his grasp, but he was far stronger than she. With her mocking smile firmly in place, the Baroness opened the back door to one of the cars, and Ramon placed his bound bundle on the floor of the back seat. It was a tight squeeze, and Belinda's pronounced curves allowed Ramon to wedge her between the front and back seats so tightly that she had no room even to wiggle. With her arms and legs tightly bound, it was obvious that she would not be getting up until someone took her out of the car; and just what would happen when they did? The thought terrified her, but she was powerless to do anything about it.
A dirty blanket was tossed over Belinda's bound form, throwing her into darkness. She heard the garage door open, and Ramon was backing the car out into the dim evening light. With all her strength, Belinda threw her face free of the blanket, and strained to lift her head far enough that she might be seen from a passing car; she bleated piteously into her gag, in case the sound would carry. No use. She desperately tried to inch forward far enough to get leverage to sit or kneel, but there simply wasn't enough room. She was trapped, a tightly-wrapped parcel, on her way to some grim fate. And what about Jana and Diamond Dayle? She couldn't let those two women get their hands on them. But as the car sped into the night, Belinda had to admit that she had no idea how she could prevent that.