Sky and the Hijackers

Fiction by Frank Knebel

Chapter 4

Sunlight was just beginning to appear around the edges of the curtain drawn over the motel room picture window when Laughton swung his legs out of bed and sat up. He ran his hand through his hair and yawned once or twice, then checked time on the wristwatch he had left on the nightstand. Mary La Rocque lay under the sheets beside him. She watched him get up and walk over to the dresser where his boxer shorts lay. After slipping them on, he stood very still for a moment, staring at one of the room’s blank walls. He shook his head.

     “I can’t believe he did it,” he said softly, continuing the head shaking. “Just because Ryder and his niece somehow got wise to the plan, the boss brings in some other guy.”

     “Paul wants results and he has very little patience with failure,” she said. “It’s just his way and it doesn’t mean he’s written you off.”

     There was no more sympathy in her tone than in her words.

     “Watling should have known that this job would be a lot harder with Ryder on their side,” Laughton continued. “He and the Sheriff are pals, and that plane of his gives him all the advantages.”

     “Except surprise,” she said coolly. “Even with all the Sheriff’s men they can’t anticipate everything. That’s why we can beat them.”

     “This new guy’ll probably have some ideas.”

     “He should. He’s been up against Ryder before.” She paused for emphasis. “And failed.”

     “And he still got the job? Maybe you should’ve spent the last couple nights with Paul, convincing him what a bright young man I am.”

     She snuggled suggestively in the sheets.

     “Are you disappointed that I spent them with you?”

     He put a hand to his chin and studied her thoughtfully.

     “I wonder if you were with me because you wanted to be, or just because you enjoy proving that you don’t belong to him.”

     “He doesn’t tell me all his interests and I don’t tell him mine,” she said non-committally.

     Laughton snorted and shook his head.

     “I’ve got to shower and shave.”

     “Before you go, lover, I need some help.”

     He saw some movement in the bedclothes down where her feet were. She caught the hem of the sheet between her big toe and the others and, with a sweeping arc of her leg, swept the covers away to reveal her bound and naked, superbly proportioned body. Her hands were tied behind her and several bands of cords held her arms close to her sides and back. Only her legs were free.

     “You can help out a lady in distress, can’t you?” she said, suggestively laying her upper teeth on her lower lip.

     “You want me to untie you now?” he asked.

     “Of course not, silly. I want a little more distress.” She put her feet together and flexed her toes. “Now that we’re finished with the important matters, you can tie my feet and legs and gag me again. I’ll enjoy struggling helplessly while you shave.”

     Laughton regarded her for a moment with an expression something akin to distaste.

     “I know you want to,” she continued, wriggling seductively.

     He picked up a piece of rope from several that lay on the dresser.

     “You bet I do!”

     He swiftly knelt beside the bed, grabbed her ankles roughly, and began lashing them tightly together. She whimpered slightly as he manhandled her, continuing with tying her legs just above the knees. She appeared to be smiling slightly, and her breath was coming in gasps. When he finished binding her legs, he rolled her on her back and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at his face only inches away.

     “You witch!” he hissed. “What kind of poison are you?”

     He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her, violently and hungrily.

     “Gag me!” she demanded in a whisper. “Gag me, then play with me and take me!”

     He took a handkerchief from his supply in the drawer and wadded it into a ball. She opened her mouth and let him jam it in, whimpering again as he stuffed it deeply inside. He reached to the nightstand and took his tie to secure it in her mouth.

     “If the boss could only see us now!” he whispered to her.

Jill Irons hung up the phone. Her sister Karen sat at the desk opposite her, checking through a list on a clipboard. Karen picked up a pencil from the desk and made a notation beside an item then flipped over the top page, finally looking up at Jill as she did.

     “What’s up, Sis?” Karen asked.

     “That was Don,” she answered. “He’s picked up the stuff from the University and he’ll start back with it after he’s had some sleep. He should be here by six tomorrow morning.”

     “Good. Too bad he won’t be here to help Martha with the rest of the food.” Her eyes returned to the clipboard in her hands. “With any luck, we can get started by seven.”

     Jill leaned one elbow on the desktop and laid her chin in her hand. Karen continued her checking. When she reached the bottom of the page she noticed her sister.

     “Is anything wrong, Jill?” Karen asked.

     Jill turned to Karen, her face eloquent with equal parts of distress and disbelief.

     “Wrong?” she cried. “Why how could anything be wrong? In the last four days we’ve been attacked twice, both times we’ve been bound and gagged and the last time they took nearly all our clothes off for good measure. Then we were nearly been blown up and almost suffocated by exhaust fumes. Why should a girl think that anything unusual’s been happening?”

     She ran her hand through her shoulder-length, curled-at-the-ends blond hair.

     “I’m scared, Karen! Really scared!” Jill went on. “It was bad enough when all those things happened that scared off our drivers: brakes going out on the trucks, rocks rolling down as they were passing, cars that tried to run them off the roads, and the shots fired into the tires. But now they’re after us, you and me personally. And there’s no telling what may happen to us if they get their hands on us again!”

     She buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Karen got up and went to her. She squatted beside Jill and put an arm around the smaller girl’s shoulder.

     “Do you want to quit?” Karen asked softly. “Do you think that’s what Dad would have wanted?”

     Jill raised her tear-streaked face.

     “I don’t know what Daddy would do. But I know that he wanted us to live, to see us get married and have kids of our own! And we can’t do that if we’re dead, and that’s what’s going to happen if we go on like this.”

     She covered her face again. Karen hugged Jill protectively and let her sob for a while.

     “It’s all right to be scared,” she said soothingly when Jill was quieter. “I have to admit that I’m scared myself. But I do feel a little better with them around.”

     Jill raised her head as Karen gestured to the front window. A Sheriff’s patrol car with two deputies inside sat in the shade of Martha’s store across the street

     “And you know that the Sheriff and Sky will be over later to tell us how they’re going to protect us on tomorrow’s trip to Dr. Field’s site,” Karen continued. “After that we’ll have a few days off and maybe Sky and the Sheriff can get to the bottom of this.”

     Jill raised her face and looked at her sister.

     “Do you have any idea who’s doing this to us or why?” she asked.

     “I haven’t any idea,” Karen replied calmly, taking a tissue from the box on Jill’s desk and wiping her sister’s eyes. “Neither of the other trucking businesses in town want to take over the University’s contract--- they’re too scared. And we don’t have any mortal enemies that I know of.”

     Jill took another tissue and began to wipe her tears away.

     “You don’t think that Daddy did, do you?”

     Karen shook her head.

     “Everybody in town thought the world of Dad. This business may not be much now, but it took care of all of us when we were kids. It was all that Dad had to leave to us, and I don’t intend to be scared out of it. With only one contract that runs out at the end of September, we wouldn’t get much if we tried to sell now anyway. That’s what Aunt May wants us to do, and she’s coming over later this afternoon probably to try to convince us to do just that.”

     Jill was suddenly defiant.

     “But we won’t let her, will we?”

     Karen smiled and shook her head.

     “We sure won’t. Now you blow your nose and go wash your face. We wouldn’t want her to see you like that.”

     Jill took another tissue and blew her nose. As she tossed the tissues into the wastebasket, she drew herself up to her full five feet one-and-a-half inches.

     “Well, I’m still kind of scared, but I’m not going to let anybody see it!”

     Karen hugged her.

     “I’m so proud of you!”

Though it was not the first time he had made the trip, Rowlands was a bit surprised at how dull he found the dusty, featureless miles between Los Angeles and Arizona. Sand, cactus, and a few hills were all that could be seen in any direction. Every so often there was a town: dusty, sleepy, and heat-besieged. Right now he was not many miles from Needles, where he needed to stop for gas and something to eat. It would be a few minutes off the hot road anyway.

     He mopped his forehead and neck with his handkerchief. It was crazy, he thought, going back to this isolated town on a job. Of all the god-forsaken spots on earth, everybody needed men like him for work around Kermit, Arizona. He had been seen there and would be recognized. The sheriff there was no dummy, his deputies knew their work and, above all, there was Sky Ryder and his plane.

     Ryder! Rowlands shook his head at the memory. All those men lost on the last job: Carson, Williams, Gordon, Harvey, and Wilke were in jail, and Semels, Bice, Buster, Hammer, Gentry, Lynch, Duncan, and Klee were dead. Thirteen men, he mused: an unlucky number. Unlucky for them, all right. Some of them were good, some bad, but all of them had been his men and Sky Ryder was the biggest reason they were dead or in prison.

     This new man, Paul Watling, wasn’t the type who exactly inspired him. A man who wouldn’t soil his own hands but wouldn’t hesitate to ask another to risk his neck. And he said that his wife was in charge on the scene. Rowlands hadn’t bothered to tell the man that his other woman boss on a job in Kermit was now doing a long stretch in the Federal pen.

     Why was he doing this? Why was he making this long drive in the heat to go up against Ryder? Then he saw the face. He knew it was a trick of his own imagination helped by the waves of heat off the road, but he did not resist the vision. The beautiful oval face, the clear blue eyes, the long dark hair. Deputy Amy Cole. Then came her body, a body he had seen without clothes enough times that he was able to form a picture of her in his mind’s eye. He had often imagined her naked except for her gunbelt and hat, an image suitable for that new magazine, Playboy.

     What would happen if he came up against the beautiful Deputy Cole again? He did not know, but he knew that he had to find out.

May Vinson tapped her handbag, trying to hide her irritation.

     “I don’t see why you’re so stubborn about this, Karen,” she said. “It’s just not sensible.”

     Karen and Jill’s aunt was the younger sister of their father. She was in her early forties, a couple inches taller than Jill, trim, elegant, and with a face that was genuinely attractive save for the continual expression of supercilious displeasure she always wore.

     “We’re not going to sell, Aunt May,” said Karen.

     “I know that you must have considerable sentimental feeling for the business that your father built up,” May continued. “But since you’ve been working here for the last three years, you should know better than anyone that the business has been in decline for some time.”

     “The business was only in decline because Dad’s health was in decline,” Karen replied. “We’ll be fine once we get a few more steady contracts.”

     The office door opened and Sky Ryder, Sheriff Winchell, and Deputies Harry Tyler and Amy Cole entered. Mrs. Vinson turned at once to the Sheriff.

     “Sheriff, I ask you to please talk some sense into my nieces,” she said in a tone more suggestive of an order than a request. “They insist on trying to keep the business running in the face of all these difficulties and dangers. I think that we can find a buyer if they’ll only agree to sell.”

     The Sheriff respectfully removed his hat and shook his head with a rueful smile.

     “Giving advice on business is hardly my line,” he said. “If your nieces want to continue to run Irons Transport it’s their own choice. We’re just here to make sure they’re kept safe.”

     May gave him an offended and disapproving look.

     “A job for which, so far, you have shown less enthusiasm and ability than I would have hoped.”

     “That’s hardly a fair comment,” said Sky Ryder, taking a step forward. “The Sheriff has gone to great lengths to protect your nieces. I’ve never seen him do more for any citizen in all the years I’ve lived here.”

     She looked at the two men.

     “Well, of course I’m grateful for all he’s done, and to you too, Mr. Ryder,” she said, somehow managing to sound not the least grateful or apologetic. “It’s just that I worry so about Karen and Jill, and I can’t imagine who’s threatening them.”

     “Neither can we, Mrs. Vinson,” said Winchell. “But with Sky’s help, we have a plan to protect tomorrow’s shipment that should keep them out of harm’s way.”

     Mrs. Vinson looked at Amy Cole with an expression typical for a woman over forty regarding a twenty-six year old beauty.

     “Does it involve this young woman following the girls again?” she asked Winchell.

     “No, it doesn’t,” said the Sheriff. “I’m going to have two cars escort the trucks. Deputy Cole and her partner will be in front and Deputy Tyler and his partner will be behind them. The State Police have detailed a couple cars to the general area should we need to call them in.”

     “And I’ll be watching from the air to be sure they aren’t ambushed from all sides at once,” added Sky. “We ought to be able to get this shipment through.”

     “And the small truck’s all loaded and ready to go,” Jill Irons said brightly.

     During the conversation, Jill and Martha Winthrop had come from the loading dock and stood behind Karen’s desk.

     “I’m sorry to say that my supplier shipped some different brands of canned goods,” Martha said apologetically. She pointed to the clipboard in Jill’s hand. “I marked the invoices.”

     It took a moment while Martha explained the changes to Karen.

     “I think this’ll be all right,” said Karen, nodding as she scanned them. “The prices are the same and the items are comparable. Of course, Dr. Fields has final approval. Acceptance of the substitutions will be up to her.”

     “Her?” asked Harry Tyler.

     “Didn’t you know, Harry?” said Karen. “Dr. Fields is a woman, a top archaeologist.”

     “Not only is she a woman,” added Sky, “but all of her student assistants are women as well.”

     Amy gave Tyler a triumphant look.

     “I understand,” said Martha. “Well, I’ve got a business to run, so I’ll be getting back.” She turned to Amy and Tyler. “And you and your partners are welcome to stop for coffee before you start out. I make it early, so come on in even if the ‘Closed’ sign is up. It’ll be no trouble.”

     The Deputies gave their thanks and Martha left by the front door.

     “Well I must run too,” said May Vinson. “I hope you’ll consider what I’ve said, Karen.”

     With a disapproving glance at everyone in the room, she departed.

     “And we’ve got a shift to finish, Amy,” Tyler said, touching Amy lightly above the elbow.

     “Right,” she said. “We’d better be rested and alert for tomorrow.”

     The two deputies left the office leaving Karen and Jill with Sky and Winchell.

     “Will you two be safe at home tonight?” asked Sky.

     “We aren’t going home,” said Karen. “We have a couple cots set up in the dock beside the trucks. Don left us his shotgun.”

     “And I’ve assigned Willard and Hansen to park in the rear tonight,” added Winchell. “We should be pretty safe.”

     “It sounds good,” said Sky. But his thoughts were still uneasy.

Lois Coates watched Judy Mailer take a spoonful of ice cream from her milkshake.

     “How can you eat things like that and keep that figure of yours?” Lois asked irritably.

     Judy smiled and shrugged.

     “I don’t know,” she said. She slid the spoon into her mouth, dabbing her lips delicately with a napkin after swallowing. “Maybe it’s just that I’m young and active.”

     Lois stabbed a small piece of chicken with her fork. The remark might have been an insult had it been made by a brighter girl, but Lois was sure that Judy had made it in complete innocence. Judy straightened up and grabbed Lois by the arm, pointing over Lois’ shoulder toward the front door of the diner.

     “She’s here,” Judy announced.

     Lois did not turn around, choosing to finish her forkful of chicken. Mary La Roque slid into the booth beside Lois.

     “Good afternoon, ladies,” Mary said in a business-like tone.

     The two women nodded. It was obvious that neither felt warmly toward the blonde.

     “What’s the story?” asked Lois.

     “We’ll need you two for one more day. Another little job.”

     “Oh, no,” Judy groaned. “Those wigs again!”

     Mary smiled enigmatically.

     “This is going to be something a little different.”

     Judy looked at the white-gloved hand Mary had rested on the table.

     “What happened to you?” she asked, pointing at a red mark on Mary’s wrist just above the glove. She grinned. “It looks like you’ve been a little tied up yourself. Anyone we know?”

     Mary gave her cool, enigmatic smile.

     “Just keeping up morale,” she said.

“So that’s how we’ll do it,” said Laughton. “Any questions?” He looked at Rowlands. “Or comments?”

     The group of men stood around a wooden table that held a large hand-drawn map of the Kermit area. Laughton was bent over, holding a long, thin dowel he had used as a pointer. Rowlands and several other men were leaning on the hands on the edge of the table as they studied the map.

     “How come we’re going after the diggers this time?” asked Bradford. “It’s been hard enough trying to stop the trucks so far, so why are we taking more risks?”

     “Dr. Fields is a lady archaeologist,” said Laughton with a slight smile. “In fact, all of her student assistants on the dig are women too, so the boss thought that a little lesson to them might be more effective in stopping the project than just cutting off their supplies.”

     Rowlands shrugged.

     “It’s a complicated plan,” he said. “The more things that go on, the more things can go wrong, and Ryder and the Sheriff aren’t dummies. If we’re lucky, everything’ll be fine. If not...”

     Laughton straightened up.

     “For what it’s worth, I agree. It isn’t really my plan; it came from higher up. But I think that if we move fast it should work.” He looked at Rowlands. “Your team will be Bradford, Monroe, James, Strothers, and the women. I’ll have the rest of the men in mine. If there aren’t any more questions, you can go get some rest.”

     Rowlands and Bradford walked away from the table. Their current headquarters was an abandoned warehouse just off the main highway that ran through Kermit, but on the west end of town, well away from the Irons sisters’ business. They found a couple of chairs and sat.

     “What do you think?” asked Bradford.

     Rowlands shrugged and spread his hands.

     “I told him what I thought. The plan looks good. Very thorough. But that’s the problem. You’ve got to expect some things to go wrong, especially going against Ryder. And there are too many parts to it.” He looked at Bradford. “How’s our team?”

     “I’ve seen worse.” Bradford’s impassive features hinted neither under- nor overstatement. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

     “In a minute,” said Rowlands. He looked around the cluttered room. “I never thought I’d be back in this town again. What brought you back, Brad?”

     “I needed a job,” he said simply. “It’s not as easy as it used to be to find our kind of work. Now you have to be connected with the Outfit, and I don’t like them.”

     Bradford looked at him steadily.

     “I think I know what got you here. Or maybe I should say ‘who.’ We were lucky last time, but you’d better be careful now.”

     When he saw Bradford’s intent eyes, Rowlands grabbed the arms of his chair and pushed himself up. “It’s time to meet the team.”

Deputy Amy Cole yawned and pressed on the horn. The door of the Sheriff’s office flew open and Deputy Sue Kendall tumbled out, pulling on her gunbelt as she came. When her belt was secure, Sue hurried across to the parking space where their car waited and opened the passenger door.

     “All ready?” Amy asked as Sue flung herself into the seat.

     “Just about,” said Sue, turning the rearview mirror to check her loose dark curls.

     Amy laughed.

     “What’s wrong? Sue asked innocently, pulling out her lipstick.

     “I’m just thinking how nice it is to have a female partner. I’m glad you decided to train to be a full deputy.”

     Sue smoothed on a bit of lipstick then swiveled the mirror back.

     “You don’t think that Harry or Andy would swap makeup tips?” They both laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, Amy. You wouldn’t have a partner yet if it weren’t for me. The Sheriff couldn’t trust any of the guys alone with you.”

     “And how about you? You’re never short of date offers.”

     Oh, I’m cute enough to be the girl next door,” said Sue. She gave Amy a rueful smile. “But I sure don’t fill a bra like you do, and I’d love to have those killer blue eyes of yours.”

     Amy started the engine and waved to Tyler and Rivera who were parked a few spaces away. Tyler waved back and pulled out to follow her. Amy turned into the street and headed for the transport office. She stifled another yawn.

     “Late night?” Sue asked impishly. “Speaking of dates, how’d you do?”

     “Oh, Harry and I had a quick bite at Jeb’s Café and saw that Agatha Christie movie that’s playing at the Star. You know, Tyrone Power and Marlene Dietrich and that fat British actor. He was really good.”

     “Oh, yeah.” She looked knowingly at Amy. “And after the movie...”

     “Honestly, Sue!” Amy exclaimed. “We’re just pals.”

     “He’s crazy about you,” Sue said flatly. “Has been since you joined the force. Everybody knows it. The other guys wouldn’t tell you because most of them are goofy about you too.”

     Amy pulled the car in front of the Irons sisters’ office, leaving it parallel with the road instead of parking diagonally. Tyler parked behind her. The stocky deputy got out and walked up to Amy’s open window.

     “We’re going to take Martha up on a cup of that coffee,” he said. “You stay here and keep your eyes open, then we’ll do the same for you.”

     “Right, Harry. Be sure to leave enough for us.”

     “Hey, Harry, let’s went,” said Andy, doing his best Leo Carillo grin. “Oh, Cisco!”

     “Oh, Pancho!” said Harry following him toward Martha’s store.

     Within a few minutes they were back with coffee in cardboard cups. Amy and Sue could hear the truck engines starting at the rear of the building. They hurried across the road to the store. A sign reading ‘CLOSED’ was visible through the glass of the front door, but Amy pushed it open and went inside as the two men had. Martha Winthrop stood toward the rear of the store behind the long counter that ran almost the full length of one side wall

     “Any coffee left, Martha?” Amy called as she and Sue walked in her direction.

     Martha stood with her arms at her side. She was a rather tall woman, and as Amy came closer the young deputy noticed that the storekeeper seemed to be standing unusually straight, almost stiffly at attention. When Amy saw Martha’s face with its expression of fear, her right hand dropped instinctively to the grip of her revolver.

     “Martha!” Amy said. “What’s---“

     A woman, blond-haired and nearly as tall as Martha, her lower face covered by cloth mask, rose from behind the counter. She held a pistol to Martha’s head.

     “Stay away from the gun, Deputy,” said a male voice behind Amy.

     She turned. Two masked men, their guns trained on the deputies, stepped from behind a rack of canned goods. Amy and Sue looked around them. Two more men appeared from behind shelves near the front door. And two women, their faces also masked, both dark-haired and wearing only panties and bras, looked out from the doorway into the back storage room.

     Amy raised her hands, giving Sue a nudge to do the same.

     “I’m sorry, Amy,” said Martha, her voice trembling.

     “You picked a strange time for a robbery,” Amy began. “Just make sure you---“

     The blonde woman took Martha by the arm and pushed her through the gap in the counter into the main room.

     “No talking, Deputy,” she snapped. “Just keep it shut and nobody’ll get hurt. Get moving, all of you.”

     She waved her pistol in the direction of the back room. The two men nearer the deputies closed in behind them and pulled the women’s pistols from their holsters. Amy felt herself prodded in the back with a gun barrel. She and Sue followed Martha and the blonde into the storeroom. The masked lingerie women handed Amy and Sue wads of cloth. The blonde gave one to Martha Winthrop.

     “All right, ladies,” the blonde announced. “Stuff those in your mouths. Gag yourselves real good now.”

     Amy opened her mouth to say something only to feel the gun in her back again. She took the wadded cloth and carefully filled her mouth with it. Sue and Martha followed her lead. The lingerie girls took up rolls of wide white adhesive tape and began measuring and tearing off six to eight-inch strips. When the gag wads were in place, they handed the pieces of tape to Amy, Sue and Martha.

     “Tape your mouths.” ordered the blonde. “And do a neat job.”

     The prisoners complied, each woman pressing three strips over the cloth packing, sealing their lips.

     “Now for the best part,” said the blonde with relish. “Let’s have your clothes. Hats and belts first, then everything else.”

     “What about the storekeeper here?” asked one of the men, indicating Martha with a gesture of his pistol. “The girls don’t need her clothes, do they?”

     “No,” said the blonde. “But why leave her out? You strip too, lady.”

     Amy and Sue removed their hats and gunbelts and handed them to the lingerie girls. Amy started by unbuckling her pants, Sue by unbuttoning her shirt. As the two deputies undressed, the women stepped forward and took each item of clothing from them. One of the women was a good double for Amy: long straight hair and a short, well-endowed shape. The other could pass tolerably well for Sue with her shorter, curled hair and taller more willowy figure.

     The three prisoners stood before their captors in bras and panties, Martha having been ordered to remove her slip as well, vainly trying to cover themselves, not only from the eyes of the men but the blonde as well. The two masked women were hurriedly putting on the uniforms.

     A horn sounded outside. One of the men who had stayed on watch in the store appeared at the doorway.

     “Hurry up!” he said urgently. “The other deputies are gettin’ antsy!”

     He was a short man, though wiry, and his high-pitched voice made him sound comical.

     “Almost ready,” said the blonde. She looked at the women putting on the uniforms. The buxom one with the long hair was almost fully dressed. “Go give them a wave. But be careful.”

     The girl finished tying her shoe and stood up.

     “Do I make a good deputy?” she asked, putting on Amy’s hat.

     “Great. Now go cool off the deputies out in front.” The blonde turned back to the three captives. “Okay. Get them tied.”

     As the uniformed girl stepped back into the store, the men were taking ropes already cut into various lengths from supplies lying on some of the boxes and shelves nearby.

     “You two, storekeeper and deputy with the big chest,” the blonde said, indicating Martha and Amy. “Hands behind your backs.”

     The two men looped ropes around Amy’s and Martha’s wrists and began tying them. The blonde pointed her pistol at Sue.

     “Sorry you have to wait, Deputy,” she said sarcastically. “We’ll make it up to you.”

     The other imposter deputy stood up and held a brief whispered conversation with the blonde then walked briskly from the room.

     “For your sakes,” said the blonde, “you’d better hope they fool your friends.”

Though it was a subtle moment to be reproduced by a small transistor radio on the dashboard of the patrol car, Dave Brubek and Eugene Wright started their soft five-four vamp under the last few sporadic bumps and flams of Joe Morello’s drum solo. Presently, Paul Desmond began the reprise of Take Five.

     Deputy Andy Rivera, his right elbow hanging out the open window of the patrol car, drummed his fingertips on the top of the doorframe. He raised the coffee cup in his other hand.

     “I wonder what’s keepin’ the girls,” he said, taking a sip.

     Harry Tyler sat behind the wheel, his hat pulled down over his eyes. He pushed the brim up far enough to take a sip from his own coffee cup.

     “You know women, amigo. They always find something to quack about. Amy told us they’re coming.”

     Even as he spoke the front door of the store opened and the two uniformed brunettes trotted across to their car. The long-haired deputy waved without looking as they opened the doors.

     “See?” said Tyler. “Just shootin’ the breeze with Martha.”

     The loud growl of engines behind them announced that the trucks had come up and were ready to set out. The first patrol car pulled onto the highway. Tyler waited until the panel truck and the larger military-style truck had passed before pulling onto the road at the rear of the convoy.

     “Funny,” said Rivera, rubbing his chin. “I may not know women like you do, compadre, but I wonder why they went in for coffee and didn’t bring any out.”

     Tyler drained his last swallow and crushed the waxed cardboard cup.

     “Probably drank it all while they were talking.”

     But he began to wonder about it.

The wiry little man returned to the storeroom.

     “The trucks have started,” he said in his high voice. “I don’t think anybody noticed the switch.”

     “Good,” said the blonde. “You can stay in here and help me. Hold this while I tie the other deputy.”

     She handed her pistol to him and grabbed a rope from one of the piles.

     “Hands behind your back, Deputy,” she said to Sue, “and hold real still unless you want to get hurt.”

     As the blonde started tying Sue, the men continued their work on Amy and Martha, wrapping coils of rope around their arms and bodies at their waists and both above and below their breasts.

     “Shouldn’t we blindfold ‘em so we can get rid of these masks?” asked the man binding Amy.

     Some familiar note in the man’s voice caused Amy to turn and give him a good look. He was on the tall side of medium height, broad-shouldered and sturdy looking. She could see little of his face, but when he glanced back at her she saw a flash of recognition and something akin to alarm in his eyes above the mask.

     “Good idea,” said the blonde. “Give us some tape, Strothers.”

     The little wiry man put down the gun and started tearing pieces of tape from one of the rolls. He took a step toward the big man binding Martha, but Amy’s captor reached out and grabbed the tape strips, quickly pressing them over Amy’s eyes.

     “Now why’d ya go an’ do that?” the little man whined. “She had right purty eyes!”

     The man holding Amy grunted something in response and guided Amy a few steps to a crate or box of some kind. He pushed on her shoulder to indicate she should sit, then bound her legs together at the ankles and just above her knees.

     Sue watched the big man holding Martha do the same to her, first covering her eyes with tape then forcing her to sit on a wooden crate as he bound her feet and legs. The blonde woman had bound Sue’s arms to her body, and now the little man was approaching with strips of tape. Sue saw Amy’s captor lift her off her seat and stand her against to a wooden pillar near the center of the room. He started to secure her to the post when the blonde stuck the first piece of tape over her eyes. Sue whimpered into her gag and attempted to jerk her head away, but it was no use.

     The big man carried Martha to the other upright beam in the room and started lashing her to it with more rope. The wiry man looked curiously around the room and then at Sue.

     “There’s only two posts in the room,” he said to the blonde. “What do we do with this one?”

     “I’ll show you. Let’s get her on the floor and tie her legs.”

     She grabbed Sue by the shoulders. The little man took her by the feet and they set her on the floor in a sitting position. The man bound Sue’s ankles side by side while the blonde tied her legs together above the knees.

     “Put her on her belly.” ordered the blonde.

     They lowered Sue to the floor and rolled her face down. With one last short piece of rope, the blonde connected Sue’s ankle and wrist bonds in a secure hogtie. She looked at the other two women who were now securely fastened to the wooden pillars.

     “There,” she said. “That should hold our little friends. And just to make sure they’re completely embarrassed by all this...”

     She slipped the straps of Sue’s bra from her shoulders and unfastened the hooks. The helpless woman moaned into her gag as the blonde pulled down her bra, baring her breasts. Amy mewed loudly in answer. The blonde stood up and walked over to the bound and helpless Martha Winthrop, slid the straps from her shoulders, and peeled down the cups of her bra as well. Martha gave a little shriek of alarm. Amy again mewed inquiringly.

     “Want to know what’s going on?” the blonde asked dryly. “I’ll show you.”

     She slipped the straps from Amy’s shoulders as well, then peeled the cups from her breasts.

     “Nice pair, Deputy,” she murmured, giving Amy’s firm breasts a knowing caress. “And for you, something a little extra, I think.”

     She reached down and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Amy’s panties on both side of the helpless deputy. Amy shook her head and protested into the cloth wad and tape.

     “No?” asked the blonde teasingly. “Oh, I think so!”

     She slid the panties down Amy’s hips, letting them fall to the ropes above her knees. She brushed her index finger across the dark thatch of pubic hair. Amy squealed into the gag and lunged convulsively in her bonds.

     “There,” said the blonde smugly. “You’re quite a little sweetheart in distress this way. You’ll probably get your picture in the paper, though not as you are right now, I’d think. Well, ta-ta, ladies.”

     She abruptly turned and went into the front of the store, the footfalls of the men following her. Amy Cole pulled furiously at the ropes that bound her to the post, but succeeded only in winding herself. She stopped to rest and regain her composure.

     “Small movements will get me loose,” she told herself. “Relax and think!”

     Amy could hear the mews and grunts of her struggling fellow captives and the voices of their captors holding a conversation in the next room. She heard the front door open and the footfalls of one or two people leaving that way. Another set of feet walked toward her, then past her. A door in the rear of the store opened and someone else left. This happened twice more. The gang must be leaving singly to avoid drawing any attention, though there was little foot traffic so close to the edge of town.

     As she worked against the ropes Amy puzzled over the voice she had heard. It had sounded like the man she had known briefly over a year ago, and the size and build were right. Even the big man tying Martha was the same type as his accomplice in that case. But how could it be? He had escaped, it was true, but why would a low-level criminal, a henchman like him, return to this out-of-the-way town? It made no sense.

     Then Amy heard steps again approach the storeroom. There was at least one gang member still there. The footfalls stopped directly in front of her, and she could hear a man’s soft breathing. She mewed softly into the gag. Then a hand was laid gently on her left breast. She protested and squirmed at the touch, but her resistance was useless. The fingers caressed her, softly playing over the nipple. She shook her head and mewed a ‘No!’ into her gag. While the one hand continued its tender play, Amy felt fingers of her tormentor’s left hand lifting the edge of the gag tapes on her right cheek. Slowly and carefully the fingers pulled the tape away. Before Amy could eject the gag wadding, the man’s left hand pressed over her mouth, holding the gag wad in, while the right let go of her breast and moved up to continue pulling away the tape. When the tape was completely off, the left hand released its hold over the pad and worked at removing it. Before Amy could speak the man’s mouth covered hers, kissing her desperately, greedily, voraciously. She mewed and hummed in surprise but tried not to fight, sensing that resistance would only inflame his passion. His hands pressed the sides of her face and he held the kiss for a long time, breathing noisily through his nose and switching it from one side of hers to the other several times. She stopped any sign of resistance and kissed in return, hoping that somehow she could get him talking, could reason with him in some way.

     Finally he broke the kiss. She waited, fearing that if she began talking too soon he would immediately replace the gag. There were a few seconds of silence.

     “Nice to see you again, Deputy,” he whispered.

     She opened her mouth to speak only to have him stuff the cloth pad back in. She tried unsuccessfully to avoid mewing with alarm as he pressed the tape over her mouth again. She was in near panic, wondering what he would do next.

     To her great surprise, she heard his footsteps recede to the back door. It opened, then closed. The store was silent. Across from her, Martha began struggling again. She could hear Sue doing the same on the floor.

     Amy still had no idea who was behind the sabotage and hijackings of the Irons Transport Company trucks. But whoever it was had hired the man she knew as Rowlands.