Gwen Sweet pulled into the empty gravel parking lot of The Brickyard a little after 7 pm. It was still too early for the crowds of deviants who frequented this BDSM club. Sweet knew because she was a regular there.
She flashed her gold star at the bouncers and entered. She recognized that CIA spook Langley over by the western style bar and hobbled over to him. She was still trying to get used to her new walking stick.
"Well, Gwen Sweet!" Langley greeted her with a smile and a hug. "I thought you'd be in the hospital with that leg for the rest of the week at least!"
"I got bored," Sweet replied. She glanced at the latina bartender. "A Corona and lime with a Tequila chaser." She looked back to Langley. "I see that shoulder didn't keep you incapacitated for long either. And what the hell are you doing here anyway?"
"My new job!" Langley said. "I chucked the Agency and went to work for Paige! Considering the type of work she does, I figured she could use a spy guy like moi."
"She sure needs you today." Sweet accepted her drinks and downed the shooter in one gulp followed by a long swallow of beer. "So where is she? I need to talk to her about Tai Anne Roper."
"You on the case?"
"I'm
one of the detectives assigned to it, yes," Sweet said. "Now where is
Paige Torne?"
"Beats the hell outta me," Langley sighed. "Two hours ago she took off with Kira
to have a chat with Fiendly and Wenche down at City Hall. Kira called awhile
ago and said she never came back to their ride. She searched the whole Civic Center.
She's vanished."
"Waitasec, back up there, pard," Sweet said. "Why was she meeting Fiendly and Wenche at City Hall?"
"They were in court for trying to kidnap Tai Anne Roper last night," Langley replied. "They crashed a cop car in Union Square. Didn't you know?"
"Evidentally I wasn't in the loop," Sweet growled. "How'd you find out?"
"Paige has a contact on the SFPD. Guy named Stoner."
"Harry Stoner?" Sweet asked.
"One in the same. You know him?"
"He's my new partner," Sweet replied. And when I see him, we're gonna have a little talk...
"Paige isn't answering her cell either," Langley said. "I was just about to call in a missing persons report when you walked in."
Sweet nodded. "Things may be worse than you think. On the way over here I stopped by a place called Fashion X-tremez on Leavenworth to talk to one of Tai's accquaintances named Taffy Chu..."
"What happened there?"
"Door was wide open and there was evidence of a fight having taken place," Sweet said. "I called CSI over and canvassed the neighborhood, but nobody saw anything or anybody. I did get hold of a salesclerk who works with Ms. Chu. He said she was there by herself all afternoon."
"Damn," Langley said.
"I already have a BOLO out on Chu. You want me to call one in on Paige?"
"Yeah," he replied.
"And after that, how about bringing me up to speed on what the hell is going around here," Sweet asked. "I need to know everything you can tell me about Tai Anne Roper and what she's doing here with your new bosslady."
Langley nodded. "Agreed."
***
Paige Torne looked up at the too bright sun, where the face of a gurgling and cooing baby looked back at her from the center of the glowing yellow orb.
"What da fuck?" Paige muttered. She looked around and found herself on a sloping field of well manicured, too green grass, broken by impossibly huge flowers.
Where am I?, she thought. Looking down on herself. She was dressed in a black leather corset and bustier, matching knee-high boots and stockings held up by garters. Fetishwear 101.
She tensed up as she heard a lyrical cooing sound. She screamed as three brightly colored little... creatures popped up from the ground. They all had bizarro dildo shaped thingees on their heads which pulsed and shivered as they approached her with glee.
"Oh, Christ No!!!" Paige screamed as she took off running. "Not Teletubbies!!! Noooooooo!!!"
They caught her over the next rise and had their way with her as the baby in the sun gurgled and laughed.
***
"Are you sure that was really necessary?" Glenna Jane Roper asked.
Before her, the bound and webbed form of Paige Torne writhed in her blue latex skinsuit. The VR goggles and enclosed helmet keeping her prisoner in the world Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper had created for her.
"You
want her to talk, don't you?" Yoshiko asked. "It won't be long
now."
Glenna Jane nodded and walked back to the bed, where Taffy Chu was curled up,
still strait jacketed and gagged.
"Hey, pretty girl." Glenna Jane sat down next to her, placing her hed in her lap. "You feeling okay?"
Taffy groaned and nodded her head. She seemed to want Glenna Jane to remove the gag. Glenna Jane unbuckled the strap and gently pulled the rubber plug gag from Taffy's mouth.
"Yes? Wha... mmmph!" Glenna Jane was surprised when Taffy arched forward and kissed her feverishly, licking and sucking at Glenna Jane's lips and tongue.
Glenna Jane hesitated for one-eighth of a nano-second and then returned the kiss, holding and hugging the strait jacketed girl in her arms.
"You arrrrre... such a sweet little thing," Glenna Jane rasped. "A beautiful orchid of a girl..."
"I see why our Tai Anne is so fond of her," Yoshiko said as she joined her wyfe and their captive. Yoshiko kissed Glenna Jane deeply, then slipped to her knees and kissed Taffy, who groaned and writhed in pleasure.
"Do we have time?" Glenna Jane asked as she pulled Taffy to the center of the large bed and began to pull off her flowing kaftan.
"We'll make time," Yoshiko rasped, pulling down her skirt and and taking off her blouse.
Free of their clothes, the two older women joined the young Asian girl who was bound and helpless in their bed.
And while the Ropers enjoyed their Taffy sandwich, Paige Torne pulled and yanked at the rubber web that bound her, keeping her trapped and tormented in her own private hell.
***
Alphabet City was located in lower Manhattan, and had been so named for Avenues A, B, C, and D that ran from the mostly Puerto Rican public housing projects at Stuyvesant Town all the way to the Williamsburg Bridge and the Lower East Side.
Just a few years ago Alphabet City had been a haven for junkies and their dealers. But then a new subculture of artists, students and grunge-goths moved into the low-rent apartments and forced the junkies off their streets.
Soon, new businesses opened. Bars and dance clubs flourished. The crime rate dropped and the rents went through the roof. Out went the folks who had rebuilt Alphabet City, in came the nouveau rich who didn't mind paying $4500 a month for a fixer'uper loft apartment.
Tompkins Square Park was still the center of the universe for those who lived in Alphabet City. But on this chilly, rainy night only the homeless living in cardboard boxes were there. Everybody else was home in their brownstone apartments that lined the avenues, watching 'must-see' TV.
Sitting in her parked Ford Bronco --with the motor running, the heater on and the windshield wipers slapping away-- was Val Corder's security chief, Linda Hansen, with Monkey still behind the wheel. The Bronco was across from the park at East 10th and Avenue B.
About an hour ago, they had tracked Killian's unmarked Ford sedan --with Qwan and her partner-- to the alleyway behind a row of antiquated brownstones. Where --according to the GPS tracking system in her hand-- the car hadn't moved a centimeter since.
Linda Hansen frankly didn't know what the hell to do. If she moved in to find out where they had gone to, she might blow her cover. If they had just abandoned the car and taken another ride, she was screwed as well.
"There might a safehouse somewhere in there," Linda said. "Plenty of tenants to cover any comings and goings..."
Monkey shrugged his massive shoulders and picked his nose.
"Aw, hell. Columbus took a chance," Linda said. "Let's check it out. Give it a quick drive-by, Monkey."
Monkey nodded and put the Bronco in gear. He got into traffic and crossed Avenue B, passing a group of kids just leaving a local watering hole.
He turned the Bronco into the alley and drove slowly to avoid the dumpsters. About midway along the alleyway was a courtyard to the rear of a six story brownstone. The blue Ford was parked there, next to a few other cars and a large van, illuminated by security lights.
"I don't like this," Linda muttered. "Move it."
Monkey accellerated past the courtyard only to find the way ahead of them suddenly blocked by a large Chevy Suburban coming the opposite way, headlights shining in their eyes.
"Monkey! Get me outta this!" Linda ordered.
Monkey put the Bronco in reverse and headed back the way he came. Another Suburban pulled in behind them. Besides headlights, a blue lightbar on the Chevy's inside dash strobed out over the rainslick bricks.
"Fuck, cops!" Linda pounded the dashboard. Monkey shifted to drive and pulled into the courtyard behind Killian's Ford. He And Linda abandoned the Bronco and were heading for the brownstone when the side door to the parked van trolleyed open and Thad Kudlow and a few FBI Swatties piled out with drawn weapons.
"Federal Agents! Stand where you are!" Kudlow shouted as flashlights and red laser sights caught both Linda and Monkey in their beams.
"Don't do it, sister!" Kudlow warned as Linda casually slipped her right hand under her leather jacket. "Keep your hands where I can see'em!"
Linda sighed as they were taken back to the Bronco and forced to 'assume the position' on the hood.
"Well, what have we here!" Kudlow said as one of the swatties relieved Linda of her shoulder-rigged, twin Hk-23 SOCOM pistols.
"Before you wet your pants, I do have a carry permit for those," Linda said. "In my purse."
Kudlow nodded as one of the swatties went through her purse. "And you are?"
"Linda Hansen," she replied. "A senior investigator with Imperial Security Investigative Services."
"ISIS, huh? That's a big outfit," Kudlow admitted. "Wanna tell me why you were following around a Federal agent while he was on the clock?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, and I'm not saying jack shit to anybody without my attorney present," Linda replied.
"Evidentally neither does he," a young, black agent named Frank Case said looking over at Monkey. "I can't even get a grunt outta him."
"You can't," Linda said. "He lost his vocal cords."
Kudlow looked at her. "How'd that happen?"
"Boating accident," she replied. "So you gonna cut us loose or what?"
"'Or what'," Kudlow replied. "In this case, both you jokers get a trip downtown." He turned to the other agent. "Frank, impound the vehicle. Also cuff'em."
Linda Hansen bit her lower lip hard, trying to control herself as her hands were pulled behind her back and she felt the handcuffs ratchet shut around her wrists. She hated being restrained more than anything on earth.
***
Joe Killian has his mouth full of Thai chicken and noodles in a spicy peanut sauce when his cellphone trilled like a pocket full of crickets.
"Yeth?" He said, answering as he chewed. He listened as he swallowed, then scribbled something down on his notepad. "Good work, partner! Keep'em separated and away from a phone for as long as you can. We'll be right down!"
He clicked off, realizing that Qwan, Yukari and the Hacker Queen were all looking up from their styrofoam dinner plates at him.
"My partner got a hit on who was following us from the airport," Killian explained. "A woman named Linda Hansen, who works for..." he consulted his notes. "An outfit called Imperial Security Investigative Services..."
"I'm on it!" Hacker Queen twirled around in her seat to the nearest jerry-rigged PC and began tapping away.
"Driver is a real cipher," Killian continued. "No ID, and won't... well, can't talk because he's had his vocal cords surgically removed..."
Michelle Qwan stood up. "I want to question them."
Killian looked at her. "Are you sure..."
"Got it!" the Hacker Queen shouted. "Imperial Security, aka ISIS is a worldwide private security and investigations firm with offices all over the world, including one here in Manhattan. They do security for movie stars and big time politicos... and ISIS is a direct subsidary of --drumroll, please-- the Corder Corporation! Ha! Gotcha!"
"Good work, Amanda," Qwan said, already pulling on her all-weather trenchcoat she had unpacked. "Stay on it while we're gone. Look for connections between ISIS and Scagnetti. Also get locations on all ISIS offices in the tri-state area."
"Yo-kai, Qwan-sama!" Hacker Queen replied.
"Kohai, stay here with Amanda," Qwan said to Yukari. "Any probs, call either me or Joseph. Better keep this handy, just in case."
Qwan tossed Yukari Mei Awai a fully loaded Heckler and Koch MP5-K machine pistol.
"Yo-kai, Sempai!" Yukari worked the charging bolt and set the safety.
Qwan turned to Killian. "Well? We going?"
***
Dr. Herbert West was by nature a nervous man with a bad case of the fidgits. Being a passenger in a helicopter trying to land at night in the middle of a thunderstorm didn't help.
The turbines of the Bell Jet Ranger howled as it came in for a skidding, messy landing, almost taking out one of the strobe markers of the private landing pad that was on Clark Reznik's property, not far from his mansion on the Hudson.
Dr. West shook hands with the pilot --his was shaking already-- and was met by Ebony who wore a long, black rubber Macintosh, boots and carried an umbrella for the good doctor.
Not that the umbrella did a damn bit of good with a hard rain being driven by a north wind so hard that it hit them both sideways.
"Good evening, Doctor!" Ebony hollered over the wind. "I hope you had a nice trip!"
"Nice? It was horrendous!" Dr. West whined.
Dr. Herbert West was Dean of Students at Miskatonic University located at Arkham, Massachusetts. He had started today's journey reluctantly by taking a private jet to New York and then the scary helicopter ride up the Hudson River Valley. He was not a happy camper.
Ebony and Dr. West made it to the mansion. Closing the door behind them seemed to shut the elements out totally and bring a blessed quiet.
"Thank God!" Dr. West took off his raincoat. His tweedy three-piece suit was mostly dry. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses as he covertly watched Ebony pull off the rubber Macintosh to reveal her tight curves in a white knit minidress and heels.
"This way, Doctor." Ebony started down a corridor. West followed, watching her flexing buns.
"So, is this really Clark Reznik's place?" he asked.
"Ah huh."
"Has he had... ummm, a t-transfusion yet?"
"Took it this morning. He can breath on his own and can now move his arms and fingers. By the time he went to bed tonight he had feeling in his legs and toes."
"Excellent!" West was almost giddy. "This means the potential for the 'Jessica Cocktail' is unlimited!"
"Not quite," Ebony replied.
"Has... Ms. Jacklin taken a transfusion of her daughter's blood yet?"
"Yes. This afternoon."
"And what was the result?"
"See for yourself."
Dr. West shivered as another door opened into a large, wood-paneled guest bedroom. The lights were low and the temperature was down to almost freezing. A pair of portable air-conditioner units that West had seen before were humming away in the room at full capacity.
West recognized Jade, who was dressed in an insulated leather jumpsuit. She was kneeling before a shadowy figure who was reclining in a chair, sipping a glass of iced tea.
"Welcome, Herbert," The figure spoke. "And how are things up at Miskatonic U?"
Dr West felt his guts clench up like they always did whenever he heard Fiona Jacklin speak without the special device he had designed for her vocal cords. Her natural voice sounded like someone was gargling on gravel.
"F-fine, Fiona!" he quavered. "I came as soon as I could."
"You're here because I desire it, Herbert," Fiona Jacklin growled. She got up and began to prowl about the room. "After all, we wouldn't want any of your fellow faculty members --or the Arkham police-- to find out about your... experiments, would we?"
West sighed, sending a plume of his own breath out into the room. "Threats aren't necessary, Fiona. You know I'm here because I want to be."
"Yes, I am aware of that." Her tone softened. "I apologize, Herbert. The truth is --along with my daughter-- you are my last hope for a normal life."
He nodded. "You've already taken an infusion of Jessica's blood?"
"Yes. I couldn't wait. I took a whole unit more than six hours ago." Fiona Jacklin's voice became even more growly. "More than enough time for some improvement."
Dr. West gulped. "Muh-may I see?"
"Of course."
Fiona Jacklin stepped into the light.
She was dressed in a black silk panty and bra set, along with stockings, garter belt and black leather heels. The outfit showed off her supurb body in exquisite detail. Long, tanned legs. Perfect, rounded bottom. A lean belly and firm, rounded breasts. Shoulders thrown back...
Fiona Jacklin was in truth, 63 years old. Yet she possessed the body of a 19 year old centerfold. A result of almost forty years of genetic experimentation with her own body in search of a fountain of youth.
But her face was another matter.
Framed by an expensive wig, her face was drawn back in a grinning, horrifying rictus, exposing her perfect, white teeth. Her eyes seemed perched in their sockets and her nose was little more than a hole in the center of her face.
Everytime he saw her, Dr. West thought of Mrs. Bates at the end of Hitchcock's Psycho. The truth was that the face that the world knew as Famous Actress Fiona Jacklin was little more than some fleshtone latex and glue.
"Why didn't this work for me?!" Fiona warbled.
"As I assumed, it has to do with the fact that the healing, omni-potent stem cells come from your own daughter," West explained. "The fact your own DNA is so close to hers is retarding the process."
"And how do we fix that?"
"Well, I do have a theory that by masking the DNA sequencing, we can basically fool the stem-cells so that you can be cured of your... um, disability."
"Fine. Do it."
"But you do realize that I will have to experiment on your daughter Jessica on a sub-molecular level. Possibly including a radical form of radiation therapy..."
"Is there a point to this conversation?"
"Only that your daughter's own life will be placed in jeopardy," West replied. "You may well be cured, but Jessica could die... a rather horrible death."
Fiona Jacklin took a deep swallow of her iced tea. Without any lips, some of the tea spilled through her teeth and ran down her perfect breasts. "Fine. Do whatever you have to do. Just... fix me."
***
Battery Park City was a shimmering district of highrises, office buildings and greenspace set on the lower west side of Manhattan, right on the Hudson River. The earth it sat on was landfill that had been excavated to creat the World Trade Center back in the seventies.
This bit of trivia was mentioned more than once at tonight's gala charity event being held on the 32nd floor of the Hudson View Terrace, a luxury condo that offered a terrific view of where the twin towers of the WTC had been.
Valerie Corder rolled her eyes and knocked back another flute of over priced champagne. Everybody who was anybody was here to help raise more money for the families of those killed on 9/11.
Spare me, Val Corder thought. In her opinion, enough money had already been raised to send every little bastard child of every dead fireman to Harvard twice over.
Still, it was a chance to mingle and be seen. She had already chatted up Mayor Blumberg, then switched gears to talk to her good friend Senator Clinton and finally to yuk it up with Governor Pataki who bitched about the weather he had to fly in on the way down from Albany.
Val Corder slinked among the rich and famous wearing an Oscar de la Renta sheath dress of shimmering ice-blue. She knew she looked stunning.
She spotted Gwyneth Paltrow at the buffet, nibbling on a stuffed mushroom, looking fabulous as ever in Armani. Corder once again imagined her naked, with a shaved head, cuntstrapped and with her arms forced behind her back in a reverse prayer.
Maybe... someday.
That's when one of the serving girls ran into her while carrying a silver tray loaded with several flutes of champagne.
Corder cursed as one of the flutes splattered the side of her dress before shattering on the oak floor.
The girl was a young, dark skinned and black haired Brazilian who babbled at her in Portuguese while wiping at her dress with a linen towel. Corder wanted to slap the cunt and grind her face into the broken glass on the floor, but managed to restrain herself.
Corder moved on, out to the westside balcony that offered a wonderous view of the Hudson River and New Jersey at night. Plate glass windows kept the wind and the rain away.
Donia Lucrezia Scagnetti was waiting for her, sipping a glass of wine. She was dressed in a beaded Donatella Versace original and looked damn fine.
"Valerie..."
"Luci..."
The two women hugged and kissed, holding each other tightly.
"My deepest condolences," Corder said. "On the death of your son."
Lucrezia sniffled. "They shipped him home today. The funeral director called me an hour ago to tell me Joey would need a closed casket... cuz he can't rebuild his face."
Corder nodded. "I have news of the woman who killed your Joey."
"Tell me."
"Iwana Binder, Sergeant LAPD. She's black, 28 years old and has been a cop for seven years. Disciplined three times for using excessive force, but also has 9 commendations for bravery."
"The bitch!"
"She was in a safehouse today, but this afternoon she jumped ship and took off on her own," Corder said. "My sources in LA say that she's probably headed for San Francisco. Seems she has a girlfriend who's accused of murdering this guy Matthew McClintock."
Lucrezia nodded. "I saw that on the news today."
"I have people in San Francisco hunting her up, but if she proves too slippery, our best bet would be to get our hands on this girlfriend and use her as bait."
"Whatever it takes, Valerie," Lucrezia replied, looking her friend in the eyes. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"I've managed to bring the mighty Qwan here to New York," Corder said. "She's being chaparoned by this pain-in-the-ass fed named Killian..."
"The same one who turned Cundalini."
"Exactly," Corder said. "I need something massive to happen to them both. I also might need for you to take out a fellow slaver named Morrigan."
"That's a tall order."
"So's kidnapping the cop who murdered your son and delivering her to you alive and kicking," Corder replied.
"Agreed." Lucrezia nodded.
Corder sighed as her small cellphone vibrated against her hip. She removed it from her miniscule purse and flipped it open. It was on her scrambled, secure line, which meant trouble.
"Yes?"
"Val? Emma Blackbyrd. Two of my agents just walked in here with two of your people under arrest! Linda Hansen and some big mook who won't talk!"
Corder almost choked, her face going beet red as surprise and anger bubbled up inside her.
"They got caught tailing who they thought was Killian and Qwan, but turned out to be his partner in Killian's car... Val? You there?"
"I'm here." She took a deep breath. "Keep 'em separated and keep your people away from them. I'll have a squad of lawyers over there ASAP."
I'll do what I can," Emma said. "But remember, I'm in this too!"
"That's right, so don't fuck up." Corder clicked off and turned back to Lucrezia.
"Trouble?" Lucrezia asked.
"Nothing I can't handle," Corder growled. "But I must leave."
The two women kissed. Corder stalked out of the party and got her wrap from the maid at the front door and was calling for her limo in the elevator.
Meanwhile, the Brazilian girl who had spilled the champagne on Val Corder was also leaving via the service elevator. She made it outside and ran in the rain to a parked black Porsche 911.
She got in, soaking wet. Ms. Hooks looked at her from behind the wheel, as Morrigan the Huntress peeled away the face of the young Brazilian to reveal her own.
"Well?" Ms. Hooks asked, her right prosthetic hook slipping the Porsche in gear while she steered with her left hook.
"I managed to wire the bitch," Morrigan said. "thought she was gonna bitchslap me when I did it tho..."
"And?"
"Aye. It's as the late Mr. Bok Choy said. She 'n this Scagnetti dame are in cahoots, plain 'n simple."
"Well, that's that."
"Not
quite." Morrigan removed the long black wig and scratched at her short red
hair. "I can't make a woman as powerful as Val Corder just disappear. I
have to prove to the other members of The Consortium that she's a danger to us
all."
"Good luck."
"Also, Michelle Qwan is here in New York."
"How did that happen?"
"I dunno. Get Wendy to check on a woman named Emma Blackbyrd. I managed to pick up most of a phone call she made to Corder. I think she's a Fed."
"Okay." Ms. Hooks studied her friend while they waited for a light to turn green. "If you and Qwan cross paths, do you think she'll recognize you?"
Morrigan shrugged. "Dunno. It's been... Christ, 17 years. But then again, I am a hard woman to forget. Eh, luv?"
"Aye," Ms. Hooks nodded. "That you are."
***
After spending a couple of hours with Greg Langley, Gwen Sweet now thought she could write a book entitled Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Matt McClintock But Were Afraid to Ask!
She now knew it all. McClintock's long quest for physical perfection through experimentation on his own DNA, that extended even to his now ex-wife, actress Fiona Jacklin. Who now supposedly had control of daughter Jessica somewhere in upstate New York, where her pal Jeb Stuart was off in search of her.
She also knew that Jessica McClintock was still the MacGuffin. Whoever murdered her father did it as part of the quest to get hold of her and her miracle blood that could cure all.
Another thing for sure was that Tai Anne Roper had been framed for McClintock's murder. Probably by this Will Tanner-Hyde asshole, who was working for this guy Weskler.
What Sweet didn't know was how a SF motorcop playing detective could help Tai Anne out of this jam.
Sweet was driving North on Van Ness in the evening traffic when her cellphone chirped. She clicked on.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, partner!" It was Stoner. "Wassup?"
"Couldn't find Paige, but I had a nice long chat with Langley," Sweet replied. "And why the fuck didn't you tell me that Fiendly amd Wenche were still in town?"
"Well... ah... y'see..."
"Yeah, right," Sweet growled. "Try to remember that were partners, Stoner. And that you work for the City, not the Brickyard. Comprende, pendejo?"
"Comprende."
"Now, what did you get out of this witness, Hansel Whatizname?"
"Nada," he replied. "He got out of surgery okay, but then slipped into a coma in the recovery room. He's on a ventilator in ICU right now. Doctors don't know if he'll come out of it or not. We got uniforms watching him."
"That's convenient," Sweet muttered, wondering if this Tanner-Hyde had something to do with their eyewitness' descent into lalaland. "Talk to the nurses and doctors, especially the anesthesiologist. See if anything looks hinky."
"Hey, I'm the senior officer!" Stoner whined. "I oughta be givin' the orders! I outrank you!"
"Don't remind me," Sweet replied. "What else is happening with this case?"
"Well, Marin County Sheriffs found the boat that Tai... I mean, the perp escaped with. It was docked at the Belvedere Marina in Tiburon. Ten witnesses described Tai Anne Roper to a T, leaving the boat and heading to the parking lot. There's even some security cam footage of her in the parking lot, tho I haven't seen it yet."
"Well I do wanna see it," Sweet growled. Get that footage ASAP."
"Okay, okay. Where you headed now?"
"Japantown, I wanna chat up Tai's mom. Maybe she has something useful to tell me."
***
It was almost 8pm when Sweet arrived at the Nakatomi Centre in Japantown, where Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper had her office.
As always, there was not a parking space in sight. Sweet parked her unmarked Chevy next to a fire hydrant and proudly flipped down the visor with the SFPD - OFFICIAL USE placard. Take that, metermaids!
Walking to the glass doors of the centre, Sweet thought back to the last time she was here two days ago. That's when she had run into Jeb Stuart for the first time. Then they had both run into the Fist of Allah who had taken Dr. Roper hostage. A shootout had errupted and Sweet had been forced to kill a man.
Sweet tapped on the glass doors with her badge and got the attention of a uniformed security guard, a young Asian man. At this time of night all the professional offices that filled Nakatomi Centre were closed.
He unlocked the door. "Yes, Officer?"
"Detective Sweet, Homicide," she replied. "I need to see Dr. Roper, is she in her office?"
"Oh yes, I just sent someone else up there to see her," The guard replied.
"Really? And who was that?"
"A woman named Iwana Binder. She was on the secure entry list, so I sent her right on up."
"Thanks." Sweet headed for the elevators. So Iwana was in town, eh? That should make life interesting to say the least.
Sweet took the elevator up to the third floor and stepped out into the darkened corridor.
"Hey, sistahblue," came a voice from behind her.
Sweet grinned and turned around, getting promptly enveloped in a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek from Iwana Binder.
"Damn, grrl, thought you wuz gonna be in the hospital fo' a week!" Iwana said, finally releasing her.
Sweet held up her walking stick. "Duty called. I'm working Homicide now, investigating McClintock's murder."
Iwana grinned. "That's good t' hear. I guess you know sistahgrrl didn't have nuthin' t' do wit dat mook gettin' hisself capped."
"I know it," Sweet said. "I also know you're supposed to be in LA under police protection for capping that wiseguy last night."
Iwana shrugged. "Like you said, duty called. Ah gots a responsibility to mah sistahgrrl."
"Okay. So, have you talked to Mama-san Roper yet?"
"Nope," Iwana replied. "An' she gonna be real upset wit me that Ah left LA like Ah did."
"Well, let's break the news to her together," Sweet said.
Together they went down the corridor to a set of double oak doors with a brass plaque that read...
Dr.
Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper Ph.D
Clinical and General Psychiatrist
By appointment only
The doors were locked and the walls of Japanese style frosted glass showed that the office beyond was dark.
"C'mon, she's got living space next office down," Iwana said. They moved on to the next door. Iwana rapped on it hard enought to wake the dead.
"Mama-san!" she shouted. "It be Iwana!"
Nothing.
"I gots a key." Iwana unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened room first, followed by Sweet. It was cool and silent in the room, except for a rubbery squeaking sound and an almost constant, somewhat ghostly moaning.
"Sumpin' ain't right," Iwana whispered. Both policewomen drew their sidearms and moved further into the room, moving along the wall to a set of light switches.
"Lights com'n on," Iwana warned.
"I'm ready."
She flicked on the switches and illuminated the room with lamps and track lights. It was living quarters all right, with a restful, Japanese style decor. Couches, chairs and ricepaper walls.
Iwana and Sweet moved to the right into the next room, which had a more clinical feel to it. They both noticed the large, upright stainless steel ring with the figure of a woman in shiny blue latex webbed within it.
"What the fuck?" Sweet asked.
"That be a VR suit an' goggles," Iwana explained. "One of Mama-san's toys. Ah been in it a few times... so has sistahgrrl. It's a blast, sistahblue!"
Sweet went to the shivering figure. The squeaking sounds were coming from the woman as she convulsively worked her hips back and forth as a dildo hummed between her thighs. The moans also came from her rubber masked face.
"Wonder if this is Tai?" Sweet asked.
"Tits are too big," Iwana replied. "But check her out anyways."
Sweet reached up and pulled the latex mask and the VR goggles off to reveal the sweating and still ballgagged face of Paige Torne.
"What she doin' here?" Iwana asked.
"She came up missing today," Sweet said. "Along with Taffy Chu."
A sudden rustling sound made them both swing around with guns at the ready. Nothing. Paige looked at them and hummed nonsense.
"Fuck this, I'm, calling for backup." Sweet reached behind for her cellphone when something rough and snakelike slithered up her left hand and up her arm.
She screamed as whatever it was slipped over her shoulders and around her breasts. The same thing was happening to Iwana, who cursed a blue streak as she fell onto her side with her legs entangled in whatever the hell it was.
It was rope. Plain, everyday hemp rope. But it moved with a life of its own, winding around the two women's arms and legs, pulling their pistols out of the hands and then yanking their arms behind their backs.
"Iwana! What the fuck is this shit?!" Sweet yelled.
"I wuz hopin' you'd be tellin' me, sistahblue!"
The ropes tightened as they finished off the two bound women, who now squirmed helplessly. Both were bound tight at shoulders, elbows, wrists, knees and ankles, with anchoring points at the waists and tight between their legs.
Sweet tried to reach her walking stick with the concealed blade, but the rope just unraveled around her wrists enough to bind her individual fingers together.
"Dammit, when Ah struggle it jus' gets tighter!" Iwana cried.
"Then don't struggle, Iwana-chan."
Both women looked up to see the elfin Shakira approach, along with Yoshiko and Glenna Jane Roper.
"Mama-san and Mama Jane!" Iwana gasped. "Why you doin' me this way? Ah'm on yore side!"
"And with your own life in jeopardy, you were supposed to stay in Los Angeles under police protection," Glenna Jane replied. "Who is your friend?"
"That's Officer Gwen Sweet of the San Francisco Police," Yoshiko said, crossing her arms before her. "No doubt here in search of our Tai Anne."
"I'm in search of the truth, Dr. Roper!" Sweet retorted. "And assaulting a police officer isn't going to help you or Tai any!"
"I understand this," Yoshiko said. "But you must understand that we must move carefully. We've already questioned and are satisfied that both Taffy and Paige over there are telling the truth about their knowledge of Tai and the trouble she has gotten herself into. Now it is your turn, Officer Sweet."
"Whatta 'bout me?" Iwana asked.
"Since you refuse to look after your own best interests by staying under police protection, you shall remain under our protection... and custody," Glenna Jane replied.
"But, Mama Jane..."
"Hush, Iwana." Glenna Jane turned to Yoshiko. "Tho perhaps more institutional restraints are called for? Those ropes might begin to chafe."
"Hai Hai!" Yoshiko replied, going to a closet. "Looks like it's strait jackets all around!"
***