Lisette and the Cyber Geeks
by
Brian Sands
Good Santa Claus, HtF Vidcaps
Chapter Two The Little Spiv
"I’d better pack a
toothbrush."
"The subtext being
that you plan to pack a bag?"
"Well?"
Donald passed a hand
wearily across his brow. Lisette had an almost irresistible impulse to run her
fingers through his hair.
"The subtext also
reads that you’re coming with me ... " said Donald almost under his
breath. Then he addressed Lisette’s challenge. "I guess it’s okay, as long
as you don’t pack too much."
"I’ll choose sensible
clothes."
"Like that suit?"
"What’s wrong with
it?"
"Nothing ... nothing
at all! Except ... "
Don looked her up and down,
pleasure glinting enigmatically in his eyes.
Lisette was now wearing an
immaculate two piece ensemble of short narrow skirt that rode high on slender
well-shaped thighs over tan stockings, a matching jacket and a spotlessly white
silk blouse. The suit itself was a tan or bone hue to match the stockings and
flat-heeled slip-on shoes of the same colour.
Lisette was dressed
according to her principle for feminine elegance: an almost severe choice of
colour and line broken by one or two highlights. In this case the highlight was
not a blue silk scarf at her slender throat but a white blouse that clung
softly around breasts supported by such a sheer bra that a faint darker hue,
the two aureoles circling her nipples, was revealed to the man’s bemused eyes.
When in a moment or feminine irony Lisette turned and executed a light
pirouette in front of him to model the costume, Donald saw that she wore
another highlight, a small pink silk scarf in hair that had been tidied and
piled up again with not a wisp out of place.
"Very ... presentable.
But," the man continued, "those clothes are not practical if you’re
going to play a kidnap victim."
"Well you’re not tying
me up right away I hope. What would be the point?"
"True. It will be
necessary, though, when the time comes for you to meet some of my less savoury
contacts."
"But that shan’t be
until we reach the city and ... your hideout?"
"True."
"Well, I’ll change
then."
"There may not be
time. But go ahead ... Ah hmmm, you look great."
"Thank you."
As she walked back into the
bedroom, Lisette felt genuinely pleased at the compliment. She always tried to
be well presented, and there was something about this man that made her want to
make a special effort.
Why am I trying to impress
him? she thought. Well, he’s rather yummy, in a Terence Stamp sort of way ...
So why do I think of that? She began to pack a handful of silk and satin
panties and bras into a medium sized valise ... Of course. The Collector.
Gagged and bound. She experienced a shiver. And Stamp today, she reflected.
He’s still not bad looking. There was that crazy and highly diverting
Australian movie. And, ... Donald? I’m beginning to think he’s in a class of
his own ... not really a film character. Maybe a character in a novel, a sort
of new millennium Bogart ... maybe.
Lisette continued packing
the suitcase, wondering why so many inconsequential and unconventional thoughts
were entering her mind. A couple of slips, two skirts, a pair of good quality
jeans, extra blouses, a pullover, two dresses, several pairs of stockings, a
spare pair of shoes, a handful of silk scarves; all went into the tiny valise.
Donald watched with quiet amusement as she walked out with the case in her hand
and placed it on the floor near the front door.
"We can’t leave right
now," he observed. "The storm’s still up and it will be dangerous on
the road."
"But the police won’t
be out on a night like this."
"Don’t count on it.
I’ve had dealings with the law and they can be surprising when they set their
minds to it."
"Hmmm. I wonder what
sort of criminal I’m teaming myself up with?"
"Do you want an answer
right now?"
"No, Donald dear. It
will keep ... What shall we do then?"
"Well, if you’re kind
enough to make up some fresh coffee, I’ll tell you a more about this, ah,
business arrangement."
"It’s a deal. And I’ll
tell you about my investigations."
"Good. I’m intrigued
to know how I fit in."
"So am I ... Donald -
Don, it’s only a hunch, but your troubles and the international situation
appear to be somehow linked."
Lisette entered the kitchen
and was surprised to find Donald a few seconds later standing beside her,
assisting by laying out two coffee mugs. She looked up with a start.
"It’s all right,"
Don said, "I’m restless, don’t like sitting by while you act the part of a
‘fifties housewife."
"Oh. Was I giving it
away - the ‘fifties look I mean?"
"Just a little. Here,
I’ll carry these into the living room. You can bring the sugar and so on, if
you like."
They were sitting over
their coffee cups, Donald stirring his pensively. Lisette took a delicate sip
from her cup, then straightened and looked and looked the man in the eyes.
"Shall I tell you what
I think?"
"By all means, dear
lady. What you have to say might answer
"Well, when I was
sorting through some documents yesterday ..."
But Lisette stopped
speaking abruptly at the sound of a car pulling up on the road outside. The
gale was still blowing but the vehicle’s impatient revving, preceded by a
squeal of tyres, was heard above the storm.
"What on earth
...?"
"Quickly," said
Donald, surging to his feet.
Without ceremony, the man
took the coffee cup from Lisette’s unresisting fingers, snatched the saucer in
his other hand, and sprinted into the kitchen where he dowsed the cup and
saucer under the faucet, placed them on the drying rack and covered them with a
tea towel. He returned to Lisette’s side as the sound of steps was heard on the
porch immediately outside the front door.
"Wha- ?"
"There’s no time.
Don’t speak!" said Donald urgently. "Sit- Sit over there, in that
straight-backed chair, and try to look appropriately frightened. I’m a
desperate and dangerous character, don’t you know. And you’ve only just met
me."
"The- The other man
...?"
"Yes. Now, be quiet,
for your own sake!"
Lisette moved quickly to
the dining room chair and sat bolt upright, her hands clasped in her lap
demurely. Donald walked to the door just as the visitor began to rap impatiently
on it. When the door opened, a heavily over-coated man stumbled in across the
threshold. It was as though the forces of nature through the storm were
ejecting him from their midst. He entered in a swirl of wind and slanting spray
and Donald closed the door firmly behind him.
"So you’re here,"
said Donald conversationally.
"Whadda ya
think?" came a disgruntled reply from somewhere below a wide brimmed hat.
Lisette regarded the
intruder through narrowed eyes. She did not like what she could see of him, and
guessed that her antipathy would quickly grow.
The thin man raised a
gloved hand to his hat, dusted drops of rain from its brim to cascade in a half
circle on the floor around his feet, and raised his head. A narrow, sallow face
regarded Lisette coldly. Hard reptilian eyes took in the young woman sitting
primly on the chair, lingering on her, making her feel more uncomfortable than
ever.
Lisette realised with a
sick feeling that this was the same young policeman she had spoken with earlier
that afternoon. No wonder there was something strange about him. He was not
wearing regulation shoes but ankle-length boots that had a distinctive spiral
pattern impressed upon their uppers. Although they were distinctive, Lisette
had not noticed them except subliminally because the urgency of the police hunt
had driven all sensible thoughts from her mind. And he was also a little short
in stature to be a policeman.
The young man turned on
Donald who was standing a couple of paces from him.
"What you gonna do with
the woman?"
His voice was soft and
sibilant with a faint trace of spoilt child behind it. It sent a shiver along
Lisette’s spine. She hoped her fear did not show too obviously.
"She’s just some
writer taking in the silence of the moors," replied Donald with a
dismissive gesture. "She’s not
"She’d better not
be." The words were low and flat.
"I was going to leave
her. Wasn’t expecting to meet you this far in the countryside."
"Can’t leave her! What
if she raises the alarm, if someone comes, even if she’s tied up?"
The young man - he must
scarcely be a year or two over twenty, thought Lisette - withdrew his hands
from the pockets of the larger than life overcoat he wore, its hem almost
brushing the floor. In his hands were two very large automatic pistols.
Donald smiled. Lisette was
to become familiar with some of his smiles. She did not know it then, but this
was Donald’s dangerous smile, the one that meant his protagonist had better be
very, very careful.
"Put them away,"
said Donald with an affectation of boredom. "You don’t have to wave your
artillery around in front of this young woman. She’s impressed enough. She’ll
do what she’s told."
"She should be
securely bound," the young man grunted as he replaced the weaponry in his
capacious pockets.
"I was just about to
do that before you came. You can watch if you like."
"Nah. I’ll do it if
it’s all the same to you, then I’ll be sure she won’t be getting any funny
ideas."
"Suit yourself."
Donald walked into the
adjoining room and returned several moments later with coils of thin cotton
rope in his hand, found where Lisette had told him to look earlier that day. He
tossed the coils with barely concealed contempt to the kid, who almost dropped
them.
The boy faced Lisette.
"Right, you, turn around and put your arms behind you."
Lisette obeyed stiffly. She
had been secretly looking forward to feeling Donald’s hands when it came time
for him to bind her, guessing that he would be gentle, knowing that she could
fake the stringency of the ties in front of someone else if necessary. But it
was an entirely different matter when the boy’s dry, horny fingers gripped her
roughly by the wrists and drew them together. The thin cord bit into her soft
skin and made her wince, provoking a sharp intake of breath on the boy’s part
in his excitement. The cord was twisted several more times before the ends were
tied off.
Lisette tried to laugh off
her pain and fear.
"So, what do you call
yourself, M’sieur?" she asked brightly.
"Never you mind,"
came the curt response. Then, betraying a flicker of vanity at Lisette’s
respectful approach, and so missing the light irony beneath the young woman’s
words, he added, "You can call me Legato. Doc Legato. But Sir will be good
enough too. When you are able to speak I expect you to address me like
that."
Donald appeared to choke
quietly over his drink. "Sorry, went down the wrong way," he
volunteered from his easy chair.
Doc Legato was turning a
strand of cord around Lisette’s arms above her elbows and passing it around her
body as he spoke. Lisette knew enough Italian to guess that his name was some
sort of joke about tying-up. When he jerked the cord tight and tied the knot,
the single strand cut into Lisette’s arms through the thin sleeves of her
jacket, pinning her elbows against her back and lifting her breasts. In the
round mirror that was mounted on the opposite wall, Lisette could see the
pattern of her lacy bra as if imprinted upon the taut silk of her blouse.
Legato moved closer to
Lisette’s side and ran two scaly fingers across her lips. The young woman
averted her head. Legato chuckled.
"You got any tape in
this place? Medical tape, duct tape, gaffer’s tape?"
"I don’t know what you
call the stuff, but there’s some in the kitchen," Lisette replied.
"Where?"
"The- the bottom drawer,
I think, near the cupboard."
Doc left her standing and
walked into the kitchen where he knelt at the drawers and began opening and
closing them methodically.
Lisette stole a look in
Donald’s direction. Donald in the meantime had been helping himself to a modest
liquor cabinet and was now sitting in an easy chair close to the heater
cradling a brandy balloon in long slender fingers. He shrugged vaguely, then
gave her a wink that was somewhere between being encouraging and outrageous at
the same time. Lisette experienced a frisson of almost sexual
excitement. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. She knew that she and
Donald were playing a dangerous game, and the adventure intrigued her. But at
the same time she was becoming frightened, and Donald was her only lifeline.
Legato approached, peeling
off a strip of wide black tape from a large roll that he held in one hand. She
knew that he was going to live up to his name.
The boy paused, then
swivelled on his heels and disappeared into Lisette’s bedroom. When he returned
a few moments later he was carrying a handful of snowy white, two of Lisette’s
best handkerchief’s of fine linen and, as he moved in on her, he tossed the
tape dispenser onto one of the armchairs.
"Open wide."
Lisette knew there was no
point in fighting the inevitable. Without further ceremony, Legato packed the
first wad of fine cloth into Lisette’s mouth, pushing it to the back of her
teeth and triggering the gagging reflex. This was followed by the second
handkerchief. Although they were women’s handkerchiefs, and somewhat smaller
than a man’s, when bunched together they made a tight fit. This is why it’s
called a gag, she thought with tears in her eyes as she struggled to keep the
bile from rising to her throat. When her mouth was packed to the boy’s
satisfaction and Lisette had succeeded in controlling her retching, the tape
roll was retrieved and a long strip torn off from it.
"This is why I’m
called Doc," the boy hissed into her ear. "Because I’m good with
tape."
Although she was helpless
with her arms trussed behind her back, the young woman stood straight and
defiant while the large piece of sticky cloth was spread across her mouth and
cheeks, sealing her lips neatly together over the wadding that filled her mouth
almost to overflowing.
Legato looked at his
handiwork with approval in his beady eyes.
"Over there!"
He pushed Lisette, making
her stumble towards the sofa.
"Down on your
face."
The beautiful captive,
knelt on the sofa, then allowed herself to fall onto her face into the soft
upholstery. Legato was holding more cord in his hands.
Lisette looked up over her
shoulder as the boy tied her ankles together, first pulling off her shoes and,
with a fastidious gesture, tossing them to one side onto the floor. Grasping
Lisette by the reinforced nylon of her hose, he bent her knees, and passed the
remaining end of the ankle tie between her bound wrists. When the cord
tightened, her feet were pulled close to her hands so that when the boy stepped
back she was held in an uncomfortable position with her arms stretched at full
length behind her back and her body arched.
She remembered the course
in self-defence that she had entered prior to taking her present job, for
Management had been concerned that its investigative staff, and especially the
women in the organisation, should know how to cope with dangerous situations
that might occur during their work. One afternoon had been spent practising,
and experiencing, the use and application of restraints such as handcuffs and
plastic ties. She remembered vividly the answer the security officer gave to
one of her female colleagues when she asked what was one of the most difficult
ties to escape from, if rope was used. A hog-tie was immediately named. Lisette
was now learning fast how it felt to be in one. She did not like it. Her arms
felt as though they were being slowly pulled from their sockets, the
circulation was cut off at her wrists, and her back ached painfully. With her
mouth taped shut and packed with cloth, the only sound she could make was a
faint grunt as the ties were secured.
When Doc stepped back from
her, Lisette was a completely helpless bundle. She raised her head and looked
across towards Donald, but the man was examining his fingernails ostentatiously
with no obvious interest in what had just proceeded. For a moment Lisette
wondered whether she had been thoroughly conned by the graceful suave man
sitting only a few feet from her. Then she reasoned that there was nothing he
could do to prevent Legato, as the boy called himself, from trussing her up
without threatening his own cover as a desperado.
Being really bound and
gagged is no joke, thought Lisette. I hope Donald finds some way of making me
more comfortable.
She was not looking forward
to any of the possible alternatives in her capture. In one scenario she might
lie trussed and gagged in the remote cottage, perhaps for days, or maybe she
would experience a cramped and claustrophobic journey in the boot of the car if
they decided to take her along with them as a hostage. She wondered whether she
would be able to make it to a knife in the kitchen, bound as she was, if they
chose to leave her behind. The tight bonds suggested that she would scarcely be
able to move. Perhaps she could slide onto the floor and wriggle to the
kitchen, but what could she do if she got there, trussed up like a chicken? No,
like a pig, she corrected herself.
The boy was pacing up and
down impatiently, looking every few seconds at his watch. Donald slowly drank
the rest of his brandy, obviously savouring each drop.
"You’re expecting
someone to phone you?" asked Donald in a bored tone.
"Yair. One of the
bosses’ll let me know what to do."
"I seriously doubt
that your mobile will be in range this far out in the countryside. So ... If
you don’t get your orders from the bosses, what will you do?"
Doc Legato’s jaw fell and
he looked puzzled and uncomfortable in the face of Donald’s logic.
"Erhm ..."
"Well, might I make a
couple of suggestions?"
"Erhm."
"You want to get to
the city, and I want to get to the city."
"Yair. Tha’s
right."
"Once we’re in the
city you’ll have a place to go?"
"Yair, so?"
"Yers. Well that suits
me too. Would I be right in thinking that the place you’ll go will be a
boarding house?"
Doc shifted uncomfortably.
"Yair. Mom’s Pantry an’ Nosh House."
"Ah. So if you decide
to take this young lady along you won’t have anywhere to put her?"
"Yair ... I guess
so."
"So either we leave
her here ..."
"Nah, can’t do
that."
"Or I hold her in my
place. It’s my own turf," Donald added in response to the beginning of
Legato’s understanding. "And I can look after the woman as well as anyone
... And I don’t want you or anybody else in my digs, sorry. But if we take her
there, and if you then get in touch with your bosses, everything should go smoothly.
What do you think?"
It took some long seconds
for the idea to penetrate Doc Legato’s thought processes.
"Yair, I guess
so," he agreed doubtfully.
That’s a good ploy of
Donald’s, to put the decision back on this little spiv, thought Lisette. Make the
oversize brat think he’s taking the final decision.
"Then we both get what
we want," said Donald, clapping his hands together, ironically Lisette
thought. "I hold the woman, while you get in touch with your bosses, then
we decide what to do with her. We can move her from my little place to wherever
you’re told to take her. Then she can be, ah, grilled to find out what she
knows, though my opinion is that she’s a completely innocent bystander."
"We’ll keep her
blindfolded."
"Oh yers. But there’s
no need for that just now because she’s seen us, of course. When it’s time, I
shall personally blindfold her ..."
"I’ll do that,"
said Doc, drawing himself up to his full height of five foot five. "An’
I’ll plug up her ears too so she don’t hear nothin’."
"I’m sure that will be
efficacious."
"Yair." The boy
looked down at Lisette and sniggered. "Yair." He walked up to her and
stroked her feet with his reptilian hands. Lisette tried to pull away and let
out a faint squeal through her gag. Doc merely laughed.
"So there’s nothing to
stop us from leaving this place," added Donald. He walked to the front
window and looked out into the darkening night. "The rain’s eased off and
there’s no car in sight. If you take the wheel, and release the boot mechanism,
I’ll stow this little lady in the boot."
Donald turned, crossed
quickly to Lisette - stooping to pick up her abandoned shoes on the way, which
he stuffed into his jacket pockets - and picked her up effortlessly in his arms
before Doc could take that privilege upon himself. The action having been
performed, Doc did no more than mumble angrily as he slouched out the front
door. Donald followed with his pretty burden, stooping a moment and sweeping
Lisette’s suitcase up with one hand as he passed.
"My god, what have you
put in this thing, rocks?" he exclaimed. But he continued walking down
towards the car with both burdens although Lisette felt his body straining for
equilibrium.
Lisette was amazed at the
strength and balance that effort revealed in the man. She felt safe in Donald’s
arms even while her own arms and shoulders hurt like crazy from the hog-tie.
She looked up into his eyes. Don was frowning down at her.
My god, he’s trying to
figure out what to do with me, thought Lisette. This is no time to run out of
ideas. She butted him in the chest with her head in what she hoped was a
meaningful way.
Lisette was carried out the
front door into the swirling wind and, by the time Donald reached the car, she
was shivering in his arms. As he lowered her into the boot, he chided her
gently.
"I did suggest that
your clothes, though lovely, are not a practical choice."
Lisette looked back up at
him in frustration, but she nodded gravely, conceding the point; although if
her mouth had been free she would have tried out an unconvincing argument of
some sort just to hear his gentle frustrated sigh and see him brush his fingers
through his hair again.
"Anyway, you’ll be
relatively comfortable and warm in here," Donald continued as he slipped
Lisette’s shoes back onto her feet. "There’s a small light that goes on in
cars like this I think, so you shan’t be plunged into total darkness. Try to
relax. Here ..."
Donald leant forward and
Lisette felt his fingers working at the ankle cords that held the hog-tie in
place. When they slackened, the strain was taken from her shoulders. In her
relief, she groaned faintly through the gag. But Donald was not finished yet.
His strong fingers worked at the cords to her wrists, loosening them. He did
the same with her elbow ties.
"There. A little more comfortable?"
Lisette nodded gratefully.
She was still securely bound but circulation was flowing back to her arms.
"Good. You’ll be all
right. I won’t let anything happen to you."
Donald picked up the
suitcase and stowed it into the boot between Lisette and the inner partition so
that it rested against her back.
"You might have chosen
a smaller bag!"
Don stepped back and the
lid of the boot closed over Lisette, plunging her in darkness.
As she felt the car begin
to move off, Lisette made herself as comfortable as she could under the
circumstances. She lay on her side, her head resting on a folded blanket that
pillowed her against the swaying of the vehicle. A light had come on with the
muted kick of the ignition switch and she had a view at close quarters of the
sides and cover of her narrow coffin.
She looked down at herself
and saw the ropes still tight around her body below her breasts and at her
knees. By stretching and looking over her shoulder, she could glimpse the cords
at her elbows. Careful searching with fingers that were usually nimble but had
become quickly stiff and sore from the constriction of her wrist bonds told
her, however, that escape was futile. And as well as the bonds that held her at
wrists and elbows, the fact that her arms were pinned against her own suitcase
made movement almost impossible. She could not get free by her own efforts.
That was certain. She had to lie still and wait for the "hard case"
to free her. It was difficult to breathe in that cramped space. She could take
in air only through her nose. And the city was two hours away.
*
The combined effect of the
gag and the stuffiness of the narrow boot in which she lay made Lisette sleepy.
She dozed fitfully, rocked by the movement of the vehicle, insulated by the
trapped air and her own body heat in the enclosed space. She was also buffered
against the sharp turns the car sometimes made by the blankets that cradled
her, by the suitcase, which was of soft nylon, and even the flexed position in
which she was trussed. The ropes were uncomfortable but did not hurt too much,
and she had learnt to tolerate the cloth in her mouth that gagged her and the
broad strip of tape that sealed her lips together to prevent her from doing
anything about ejecting the cloth.
We must be there soon, she
thought muzzily. But there came a long moment after the car’s movements ceased
before Lisette started to return to full consciousness. The gust of cold air
and raindrops in her face as the lid of the boot sprang open gave her with a
jolt. Dazedly she looked around as Donald lifted her out. Lisette was still
confused. She knew that Don was walking, and her body registered the sudden
cessation of cold wind and droplets of rain, and there was an echoing that
seemed to fill her head, and a feeling of cold that only a concrete floor can
transmit.
Then Lisette was standing,
and one of her shoes had fallen off again. The chill was seeping rapidly
through her toes. She swayed as she attempted to hold her balance. The hog-tie
must have gone, but she was still tied at the ankles and the knees. Don was
holding her.
An iron framed door crashed
shut. Lisette heard the soft tap-tap of shoes approaching - the young man who
called himself Doc or Legato: he who binds, who is good at taping women’s
mouths.
"I’ll take over from
here."
"Interesting." It
was Don replying. "Have you any clear idea what you’re going to do?"
"Let’s make the woman
secure. It’ll give us time to think. She’ll stay nice an’ quiet here. If she
doesn’t, she’ll strangle herself."
Lisette felt a loop of rope
encircle her throat. She was being lashed to a wooden post of some sort. She
wanted to cry out, to struggle, but she was still gagged and her bonds were
efficient. Her back was hard against the post, her arms trapped painfully
between it and her body which was now being lashed tightly to attention.
Shaking her head, Lisette
blinked away tears and looked up, her eyes seeking, imploring.
Donald was still there. He
was standing a couple of paces back from Lisette and the little spiv who was
intently tying her tightly to the post.
And Don was smiling.
ã Brian
Sands 2004