Tai Anne Roper 2

by Nicole Sutter

FOR MATURE READERS ONLY

Chapter 20 - "Hit Me with Your Best Shot"

"All you assholes just freeze! Nobody move!"

The words came from the tall, bald-headed behemoth that had wanted to know if he could rape Qwan after beating her up. His eight associates did as he asked.

He turned to Qwan, looking down on her with a big greasy smile.

"So you know some kung-fooey, huh, slope?" he asked. "Well I tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna stand right here and let you take a free shot at me. Go ahead! Do yer worst. But you only get one, y' dink bitch. So make it count!"

There was a few nervous chuckles in the vast warehouse from the man's eight accomplices. Spurlock kept the pistol he had taken off Joe Killian trained on his head, while Samarkand had Qwan's gun aimed at her.

Michelle Qwan nodded and took a step forward. She was five foot six and the man she faced topped out at six foot four.

She hit him twice. Two lightning fast strikes. Right fist to the solar plexus that caused him to gasp and jack knife forward, sending his face right into the heel of her left hand as she drove it into his nose.

He took a step back and fell to the concrete dead. The bone and cartlidge from his nose now driven deep into his brain.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Joe Killian took the initiative and punched a goon in the throat, sidestepping and catching another's left arm as he swung a billy club. Killian gave him a punch to the belly that doubled him over, then snatched away the billy and drove it deep into the gut of number three goon.

Four goons went for Michelle Qwan all at once. Three grabbed at her arms and shoulders while the last tried to open her head up with a prybar.

Qwan dodged the blow and kicked him in the groin, belly and face. She flipped over the three others, pulling herself free of both her trenchcoat and the goons holding her.

The three dropped the now empty trenchcoat and went after her, but Qwan didn't give an inch. Ducking blows as her forearm drove though an elbow joint of the first, her elbow smashed a nose of the second and she snatched pepper spray from the belt of the third to spray it in his eyes.

Spurlock was trying to get a clean shot at Killian when he had one of his own men thrown at him hard enough to send them both sprawling.

Killian was on him fast, pulling Spurlock up and jamming the slide of the pistol with his left hand so it wouldn't fire while he pummmeled him with his right fist.

Killian dropped Spurlock and ducked as the two shooters up on the catwalk opened up on him. He barely made it to some crates.

Samarkand had backed off as the fight had begun to go badly for his team. He still had Qwan's gun aimed at her. She finished up with another goon and started his way. Almost regretfully, Samarkand pulled the trigger on her.

Nothing happened. He jacked the slide of the Glock and it jammed on him. Qwan was then attacked by another goon whom she dispatched with a spinkick to the head.

"I'll get her!" Slacker shouted. He flicked open a long Italian switchblade and advanced on Qwan, swinging the blade wildly.

Samarkand used this moment to get while the getting was good.

Qwan gracefully snatched up Slacker's right wrist and snapped it. Then she drove the blade – still in his hand – deep into the meat of his upper thigh.

She let him crumple to the floor, screaming like a girl. She looked for Samarkand. He had vanished.

Qwan hit the deck as the shooters went for her. She used their own people as cover, snaking among them to make it to a long row of wooden crates. The shooters managed to wound three of their associates on the way.

Killian cleared the jammed action on his .45 Sig/Sauer and covered her with three quick shots at each shooter. Then he ducked down as they returned fire, chewing up the crates around him with automatic weapons fire.

Qwan snatched up a steel prybar and headed up a small mountain of shipping crates both large and small, using them for cover as she reached the underside of the catwalk.

The shooter on the north side was banging away at Killian again. But Killian had kept moving and had changed positions. Now he aimed at the muzzleflash up on the catwalk and cranked off three rounds.

The shooter tumbled from the catwalk, crashing through the crates below him.

Killian spotted Spurlock and one of the goons running out on him. He aimed and carefully shot both them in the ass. They hit the deck screaming and cursing.

"Fuck!" Killian had to duck and run as the last shooter homed in on him. He was running around up on the catwalk, trying to get a clear shot at Killian and never saw Qwan now hanging from the underside of the same catwalk.

As he passed, Qwan reached up and hooked the curved claw of the prybar she was carrying around the shooter's right ankle. He went down hard, almost falling over the side. Qwan vaulted herself up on to the catwalk, knocking aside the shooter's carbine and kicking him in the chest.

The shooter was Andy. The young punk who watched too many old movies. He yelped as he lost his balance and tumbled over the edge. Qwan made a desparate grab for him but it was too late. He hit the concrete headfirst with a sickening crunch.

"Don't shoot!" Two of the ISIS guards who hadn't been beat up too bad were surrendering. Killian made them get bellydown on the pavement. By the time Qwan had made it down from the catwalk and collected Andy's chopped-down M-16, Killian had called for backup.

"So, is this how you show a lady a good time?" Qwan asked Killian.

He grinned. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"I'm good, but you're bleeding."

She hissed as she touched her right ear which was bleeding again where she'd had stitches put in after tha bastard Reno had tried to garrot her in Montreal this morning.

Killian did a quick headcount. Out of twelve badguys, four were dead, six were wounded and two were mobile.

"And Samarkand has left the building," Killian announced.

"But the cargo he came for tonight is still here," Qwan said, nodding at the orange plastic cannister that was still sitting on the tongs of the forklift not far from them.

They both looked around. None of the bad guys looked like they were going anywhere but to a hospital. They both walked over to the cannister.

"So what the hell is in here?" Killian wondered.

"You mean who the hell is in here, don't you?" Qwan replied.

"Jesus..." Killian holstered his pistol and looked over the control module on the side of the cannister. "This is too weird. I see what looks like a heart rate... respiration... If someone is in this thing we're gonna need a freakin' doctor to open it up!"

There were the sounds of sirens coming from outside.

"Lemme see," Qwan said. She bent down and began pushing buttons and flipping switches.

"Hey!" Killian shouted. "What're you doing!"

"We gotta figure this out before the back-up gets here," Qwan said. "For all we know they might be in on this operation."

There was a harsh beeping sound now coming from the control panel, and the sounds of the respirator suddenly stopped. Cursing, Joe Killian grabbed up a prybar and forced open the top of the cannister, where he found the hard, resin-like blue goo filling the interior.

"Christ, now what?"

"Look," Qwan gasped. "It's softening..."

Killian stuck his hand in it and found that it was indeed getting soft. Fast. Within seconds it was the consistancy of warm pudding.

Without a second thought, Killan jammed both hands deep into the cannister all the way to his elbows. He searched around and a second later pulled out the body of a young, naked woman by her shoulders.

Qwan grabbed her legs and together the two peace officers got her out of the cannister and on to the concrete floor.

She was still covered in the shiny, clingy blue goo. Killian yanked the rubber helmet with the breathing tube off her head. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, as were her ankles.

Even covered in goo, she was beautiful. A woman with short blonde hair and a slender yet ripe body.

She groaned and her eyes opened. Killian though they were a lovely shade of blue.

"Hi there!" Killian said to her. "Don't worry, you're safe. I'm Special Agent Joe Killian of the FBI."

The woman gasped, tryong to catch her breath, trying to figure out her wherabouts. She looked at Qwan with wide, scared eyes.

"Don't be afraid," Qwan said gently. "My name is Michelle. I'm a friend. We're here to protect you."

"Wh-where am I?" the woman gurgled.

"You're in New York City," Killian replied. "JFK Airport."

"We rescued you from Valerie Corder," Qwan said.

"Corder..." the woman whispered.

"And what's your name?" Killian asked.

"My name... my name is... Melissa Martin."

***

"Boy-howdy, does this ever suck."

Ana Puma rolled her eyes at her sister's pronouncement. She wasn't happy either, but bitching about it never helped.

The Pumas were parked on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights, on a quiet street set along a row of expensive townhouses all with a great view of Manhattan across from the Hudson River. It was a few minutes past midnight.

The rain had stopped, but the streets were still slick. They had found a parking spot in an alleyway between a Walgreen's and a neighborhood bodega.

Their new ride was a recently stolen, black GMC Hummer H2. It was a boss looking vehicle and drove like a dream. Ana was thinking of even buying one with some of her new found wealth.

"This is sooooooo stupid!" Una griped. She was lying down in the spacious passenger seat, with her head in her sister's leathered lap. "Why don't we look for this Tupac asshole like Samarkand suggested?"

"Cuz Samarkand usually has his head up his ass," Ana replied. "This is better."

"Mmmmm... who is this bitch anywayz?"

Ana sighed. "Her name is Alisha Black, and she was this Fanni Hall's best friend for a long time. She also scrounged information for her. I got her name and address off the known associcates list in the file Sam gave us."

"So fucking what?"

"So... this Hall bitch has been out of the game for 18 years. My bet is she's gonna be talking her old friend up for a 411 fix," Ana said. "And when she does, we'll be there."

Una yawned catlike and started to doze off.

"Vehicle coming," Ana said.

Una sat up and looked. From their vantage point they could see but not be seen. They watched as a white Ford panel van came down Montague and parked in front of the very townhouse that was the residence of Alisha Black.

The street lights were bright enough to make out the lettering on the side of the van. AAA Heating & Plumbing and below that 24 Hour Emergency Service. There was 212 area code phone number next to that.

The Pumas watched as a guy wearing grey coveralls got out carrying a large metal tool box and walked up the small front yard and knocked on the front door of the townhouse. A few beats later the door opened and he he entered.

"Check the tags and that phone number," Ana said.

"Fer Chrissakes, sis," Una whined. "It's a goddamn motherfucking plumber! The bitch's crapper prolly overflowed on her."

"Maybe, but check it out anyway."

***

Alisha Black hugged Jeb Stuart.

"Damn, Jeb," she said. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Jeb smiled. He put down his toolbox and unzipped the coveralls, stepping out of them. He still wore his khakis, denim shirt and Doc Martens.

"Alisha... you haven't changed a bit."

"You're a lying white boy!" she laughed. "But I do appreciate it!"

Really, Alisha hadn't changed very much. At 40, she was still a slender, yet quite busty black woman with a mature, beautiful face. The years had been kind to her, even if there was a streak of gray in her tight, close-cropped natural. She wore a long, red satin robe and matching slippers.

"Sorry about getting you out of bed," Jeb offered.

"Nothing to it," Alisha said. "Com'n, we can talk in my study."

They moved through the well-appointed townhouse. In a hallway adjacent to the stairs leading to the second floor, Jeb spotted a black man, also in a robe, who seemed to be waiting for them.

The man was in his fifties. Fit and distinguished. He was also pissed off and trying not to show it.

"This is Jeb Stuart?" he rumbled.

Alisha sighed. "Jeb, I'd like for you to met my husband, Nathaniel Banks. He's an attorney on Wall Street. And yes, dear... this is indeed Jeb Stuart."

Banks reluctantly took Jeb's offered hand and shook it. "Charmed."

"I'll be up in a bit, dear," Alisha said, moving on to her den.

"Don't be long!" Banks said. Half demanding, half begging.

Alisha's study was in dark mahogany, with a large, matching desk fit for a robber baron and a leather covered sofa and chairs. The state-of-the-art PC on the desk seemed incongruous next to the antique Tiffany banker's lamp.

Valuable antiques were on display. A Ming Dynasty vase. An oil painting by Van Gogh on one wall. And a rather gaudy representation of the infamous seven headed Whore of Babylon in 24 karat solid gold.

Jeb looked at it as Alisha sat on the sofa and crossed her long, dark legs.

"This is nice," Jeb remarked.

"Ummm... a friend of mine 'liberated' that piece from one of Saddam's palaces in Baghdad," she replied. "I'll let you have it cheap."

Jeb grinned. "I see you're still keeping your feet wet."

"Not really. I don't deal in people anymore," Alisha said. "I deal in things. I've found that inanimate objects don't get pissed off and try to kill you."

"I'll try to remember that," Jeb replied, sitting down next to her.

"So, handsome, what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could do a favor for me," Jeb asked. "I need for you to deal with a person. One more time."

"Com'n Jeb," Alisha said. "You're as good as I am when it comes to getting the 411 on anybody in the world."

"I don't have your east coast connections, nor a base of operations like this tidy setup." Jeb replied. "Besides, I'm gonna be too busy playing gumshoe on this one."

"Awwwright," Alisha said. "Who's the bunny?"

"For starters, Joe Weskler."

Are you shitting me?" Alisha got up and walked over to a well stocked wetbar. "In a world full of sharks, Weskler is the biggest, baddest, great white in the whole damned ocean!"

"Hear me out," Jeb said. "Weskler's showing an interest in a girl named Jessica McClintock, who was recently kidnapped by her mother, Fiona Jacklin..."

And who's daddy Just got capped by some young honey in SF, or so says CNN," Alisha said.

"The 'young honey' accused of murdering Matthew McClintock is a good friend of mine named Tai Anne Roper," Jeb said. "And I believe she's being framed by one of Weskler's operatives, a man named Will Tanner-Hyde."

"Another familiar name, and another badass I don't want to cross," Alisha said.

"I believe Fiona Jacklin is holding Jessica against her will at the estate of actor Clark Reznik, upstate in Rhinelander County," Jeb said. "I believe Weskler is going to make a grab for her there. I want to rescue her before that happens."

"And then?"

"For Jessica, a new identity," Jeb said. "A new life."

"Sounds groovy," Alisha said. "And who picks up the pieces of my life after Weskler and Tanner-Hyde get through with me after fucking around with them??"

"I choose you because I think you have the know-how and the smarts to pull this off without getting caught," Jeb said. "Besides, I can make this worth your while."

"Look around, does it look like I'm hurting for money?"

"Also, there's an old friend of ours involved in this," Jeb said.

"Who?"

"Fanni Hall."

Alisha laughed. "Damn, Jeb! You could've saved up both a lot of time by telling me that little factoid up front!" She poured herself three fingers of an ancient scotch and drank it down in a swallow. "Now you can get the hell out of here. You knew I never wanted to have anything to do with that bitch ever again."

***

Una Puma held up the cellphone so Ana could hear the recording she got when she had called the number on the side of the plumber's van.

"You have reached Triple-A Heating and Plumbing, serving the five bouroughs and Long Island since 1986! We're open 24/7, 365 days a year for your emergency needs! Please leave a message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible!"

"That means less than nothing," Ana said as Una clicked off. "Just means that this guy is a pro."

"Or a real plumber," Una yawned. "Besides, we'll never be able to follow him in this gunboat without getting spotted."

"I'm gonna mark the van." Ana opened the door of the Hummer. "We'll follow it for an hour and see where it goes."

"Ho."

"Bitch."

"Skank."

Ana Puma shut the door and pulled the black, PVC raincoat over her curves.She casually walked across the street and up the sidewalk to the parked plumber's van.

She pretended to drop something and bent down on her knees, pulling aside the raincoat as she unzipped the crotch zip of her black leather catsuit, her shiny butt facing the rear wheel of the van.

A hissing, steaming spray of fluid came from between her thighs, splashing over the tire and rim. Ana shuddered and got back up, walking back to her own ride.

***

"Waitasec." Jeb interrupted Alisha's tirade and flipped open one of those new PCS cellphones that also sent and took color, digital pictures. It had vibrated three times on his belt, which was the code for the silent proximity alarm on the van.

It was nothing, just a buxom blonde in a raincoat going for an evening stroll. The hidden digicams on the van let him watch her cross the street. Jeb clicked off. "Now, where were we?"

"You were leaving," Alisha said.

"Look,"Jeb sighed. "I know you and Fanni have some bad blood..."

"That... bitch, got me into a world of pain," Alisha said.

"It was nineteen years ago.  You were twenty one.  Fanni was twenty two."

"I know when it happened," she replied. "She sent me to Gray's little hotel near that cabin of hers. But instead of meeting dear Fanni, I meet Bertram's goons..."

"I know the story."

"I was raped," Alisha hissed. "And then after Suni came around we were both wisked away to Bertram's mansion where we both became fucktoys for him, his men and that sicko Goord."

"Alisha..."

"I lost count of the number of times I was fucked!" Alisha shouted. "Not to mention the assfuckings and the blowjobs! I thought I was going to die, goddammit! Then Fanni Hall comes in all tied up, and a day later, Ian and his boyos show up."

"You got your revenge," Jeb said quietly.

"If you mean that the bastards who raped me all ended up dead, then yes," Alisha said quietly. "But you have no idea of how long it took me to even look at another man, and even then..." she shuddered. "And dear Bunzie has her precious daughter. She got to watch her grow up and even leave the nest. What did I get? No children. No nothing. Just a lot of empty years."

Jeb nodded. "I'll be going. I am sorry, Alisha."

"Yeah."

Jeb went to the door, remembering to pull on his plumber's coveralls and to take his fake toolchest, which really held a a silencered Uzi machine pistol.

"Jeb?" Alisha stood in the hall.

"Yes?"

"I'll see what I can do," Alisha said. "No promises."

Jeb nodded and tossed her another PCS cellphone. "This is a clean line, totally untraceable. Call me anytime."

Jeb walked out the front door and back out to the sidewalk. Across the street, a yuppie was walking his poodles against the impressive vista of Manhattan at midnight.

Jeb stopped when he got to his van. Whew! What a stink! He'd owned a few cats in his lifetime and remembered the smell of a cat in heat when she marks her territory, but this was fifty times worse!

He got in the van and did a sweep for any electronic bugging or tracking devices, but came up clean. Besides, the only thing the motion sensors had picked up was that blonde chick built like a brick you-know-what.

He made a U-turn and headed for the nearest on-ramp for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. His next stop was to meet up with Fanni and Drew in their cabin in the Jersey woods to see what information on Weskler they had squeezed out of their captive.

His cellphone chirped. He clicked on.

"Yeah?"

"Jeb? This is Landry." The connection was good. Landry was a skateboard punk in SF who was also one of Jeb's 'Market Street Irregulars'. His cadre of eyes and ears in SF who could follow and monitor anyone, anywhere in The City.

"Wassup, Mr. Landry?"

"Well, I'm like out here by the Nakatomi Centre in J-town like you wanted..."

"Anybody come by?"

"That's why I called! Place was quiet after about 7pm, but after that, a really pretty black woman came to the doors and was let in by the guard..."

"Was she sporting dreadlocks?"

"Nope. A real tight, hi-top fade."

So, not the missing Kunta Kintare, but Iwana Binder, Jeb guessed. In The City looking for her 'sistahgrrl' no doubt. So much for staying safe in Los Angeles.

"And then a few minutes later, A pretty blonde lady came to the same door. She showed what I guess was a badge to the guard and also entered."

Gwen Sweet? Was she out of the hospital already? More importantly, was she working the McClintock murder case for the SFPD?

"And just now," Landry continued. "You're wife, Kate shows up and is also let in by the guard!"

That was a surprise. But not totally unexpected. Kate had a bad habit of occasionally wanting to play detective.

"You say this just happened?"

"Yup."

"Okay, if the black lady comes out, have Edie follow her. Call me again if anything interesting happens."

"Okies."

He hung up. Trying to drive while quick-calling a number on his cell – which is against the law in New York State – Jeb finally was rewarded with a line ringing on the other end.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Konbanwa, Roper-sensei," Jeb said. "Jeb des."

Konbanwa!" Dr. Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper replied. "Ikaga des ka? How is New York?"

"Genki, genki," Jeb replied. "And how did you know where I am?"

She chuckled enigmatically. "I have my sources."

"Well, New York is fine. I'm here trying to find Jessica McClintock... and clear Tai Anne of this bogus murder rap."

"I know this as well," Yoshiko said. "As always, your help is greatly appreciated."

"Good, cuz I was hoping you could do something for me."

"Does this have anything to do with a woman named Kate Stuart, who just called from downstairs, wanting to see me?"

"Yes it does," Jeb said. "Now here's the plan..."

***

Kate Stuart ghosted down the dark corridor that led to Yoshiko Roper's office. She didn't know what actual good she could do trying to help Tai Anne. She just knew she had to do something.

She came to the double oak doors of her office and was getting ready to knock when a voice startled her.

"Mrs. Stuart?"

"Oh! My yes." Kate clutched her ample chest. "I'm Kate Stuart."

"I am honored to meet you." A slender and very pretty Japanese woman in her late forties or so appeared out of the darkness. She was wearing a charcoal gray skirt, a white blouse and sensible shoes. "I am Tai Anne's mother. Dr. Yoshiko Katsuhara Roper."

They shook hands.

"I am honored as well," Kate said. "My husband Jeb has told me much about you."

Yoshiko nodded. "And it is my daughter who has brought you here?"

"Well, concern for you daughter, really," Kate replied. "I want to do anything I can to help her out of this jam she's in."

"Please." Yoshiko beckened to the next door over. "My living quarters are through here."

Yoshiko gave Kate the once over as she passed. She was also on the point of turning forty, with long, shining, dark brown hair and a cafe au lait complexion. She was also very curvy and zoftig as her friend Dr. Merlinsky would say. Kate wore a tan leather jacket, skintight, black knit slacks, Nikes and a clingy black stretch blouse. Yoshiko thought Jeb was a lucky man indeed.

"So, does your husband know you're out playing detective?" Yoshiko asked, now leading Kate through her quarters.

"Heavens no!" Kate replied. "He's always so afraid I'll get in over... my head."

Kate gasped as she saw the four women all sitting on a couch of black, tubular steel and rubber cushions. They women were sitting there because they had no choice. All were sporting tightly buckled, institutional canvas strait jackets. They were also hobbled at knees and ankles by straps, and al four were tightly gagged by red rubber balls strapped into their mouths.

All four restrainted women cut loose with a chorus of mmmmpphs and uuummphs while they twisted about and struggled, giving Kate quite a show with four sets of wide, pleading eyes.

Kate recognized Paige Torne right away, but not the small Asian girl beside her, nor the tall and busty black woman next to her. She did recognize Officer Sweet of the SFPD at the other end of the couch from her picture in this morning's SF Examiner.

Kate also noted that leather straps connected all the women to each other at the elbows, while the two blondes acting as bookends were also strapped to the steel frame of the couch.

"What the hell is goin' on here?!" Kate asked with only a bit of panic creeping into her voice.

"Just a little information gathering," another voice came from the darkness. Kate saw two more women arrive. A big earth mother type with gray in her hair and a tiny East Indian girl dressed in jeans and a leather jacket.

Earth Mama nodded at the line up of strait jacketed beauties. "I think you know Paige Torne. That's Tai's friend Taffy Chu beside her, followed by police officers Iwana Binder and Gwen Sweet."

Kate nodded at them. "Hello."

"I'm Glenna Jane Roper, Tai Anne's other mother," she said with a smile. "And this is Shakira, Tai's future wyfe."

"Most pleased to be meeting you!" Shakira bowed slightly with her hands together in the traditional Hindi greeting.

"Now, Janie!" Yoshiko said. "Tai-chan has never agreed...."

"Nonsense! As far as I'm concerned it's a done deal," Glenna Jane replied. She then held up a length of canvas festooned with buckles and straps in her hands. Kate blanched when she realized it was another strait jacket. "Now, Ms. Stuart... try this on for size!"

"I will not! Heeeey!!"! Kate struggled as Yoshiko came up behind her and with practiced ease slipped her arms under Kate's and locked her fingers behind Kate's neck, so Kate's arms were locked up straight before her.

Kate huffed and struggled as Glenna Jane slipped the closed sleeves of the strait jacket over her extended arms, but Yoshiko's grip was very strong. No doubt she had done this operation more than a few times before.

"Dammit, stop this at once!" Kate shouted. Glenna Jane now held her wrists while Yoshiko buckled her up in back. "When my husband finds out what you've done..."

"And who do you think requested this service in the first place, Ms. Stuart?"

Glenna Jane replied.

"What?"

"Indeed." Yoshiko finished with the buckles up her back and the collar strap. "And after all your husband has done for our daughter, and continues to help in her plight even now, we simply could not refuse him."

"But... but..." Kate now hugged herself while Yoshiko tightened and buckled the sleeve straps behind her back. "But why?"

"He's worried about you playing detective while he's three thousand miles away," Glenna Jane said. She handed the thick, leather crotch strap to Yoshiko who worked it through the rear buckle and gave it a good hard tug

that caused Kate to squeak as it lifted and separated her bottom cheeks.

"But my children..."

They're safe." Yoshiko said while she and Glenna Jane both kneeled down to strap up her knees and ankles. "He's called Langley to have Tess and the twins watched by some ex-agency friends."

"And what happens to me?" Kate growled.

"Your husband has also called a woman you already know." Glenna Jane stood up and brought a huge rubber ballgag before Kate's mouth. "Mother Grace of the Convent for Sequestered Girls..." Glenna Jane smiled. "She's already on her way to pick you up."

Kate Stuart's wide-mouthed gape of surprise and shock was all Glenna Jane needed to neatly shove the red rubber sphere past her teeth and deep into her mouth. Yoshiko buckled the straps from behind.

"Okay, girls, make a hole!" Glenna Jane unbuckled the strap holding Taffy to Iwana and they scooted over to let Kate squeeze in between them. It was a tight fit, with everybody literally ass to elbow.

"Well, all righty!" Glenna Jane stood with her hands on her hips while Yoshiko strapped Kate's arms to Taffy on one side and Iwana on the other.

"We should get a picture of this," Yoshiko said. "Five women strait jacketed all in a row? No telling when we'll have an opportunity like this again!"

"Get your camera then," Glenna Jane said. While Yoshiko hurried off, Glenna paused to admire tha tableau before her, especially the contrasting ethnic deversities of her captives. A regular Rainbow Coalition of Bound Women!

Yoshiko returned with her Fuji Advantix camera and took almost a whole roll of film until the five bound women were half blinded by the flash going off in their faces.

"What now?" Yoshiko asked, rewinding the camera.

"I think it's time for a private chat with Officer Sweet," Glenna Jane replied.

***

A few minutes later, Gwen Sweet had been led – still strait jacketed and hopping like a demented bunny – into Yoshiko Roper's office. She sat down and found herself surrounded by the three women who had captured her.

"I'm going to remove your gag," Yoshiko said gently. "Please, no screaming or yelling."

Sweet nodded and felt a wave of relief as the strap was unbuckled and the large rubber ball – which she would have sworn was growing in her mouth – was removed.

"Ugggh..." She licked her lips as she drooled down the front of her strait jacket.

"Don't worry, happens to everybody," Glenna Jane said kindly as she dabbed at Sweet's chin with a tissue.

"This doesn't happen to me!" Sweet said. "I am a San Francisco Police officer, here on official business! I demand you let me go immediately or I will have all three of you in the county lockup tonight on felony kidnap charges!"

"That's tough talk for someone in a strait jacket," Glenna Jane observed.

"You know you can't keep me here forever," Sweet replied. "And I think you know that since I haven't checked in, the SFPD is probably tearing up the town looking for me. They also know I was working on the McClintock case. It won't be long before a tactical team comes pounding on the door to this office. You want them to find me here? Or that row of strait jacketed girlies you've got in there?"

"It was never our intent to 'keep' you, Officer Sweet," Yoshiko said. "Merely to ascertain your feelings towards our daughter and the crime she is unjustly accused of."

"You know where I stand," Sweet said. "I think she was framed for Matt McClintock's murder by Will Tanner-Hyde, who is working for Joseph Weskler. But right now I'm the only cop who knows this. And I sure as hell can't help your daughter while I'm your captive, can I?"

***

Outside the office, back in Yoshiko's quarters, the group of four strait jacketed women continued to hum and twist about on the couch, testing the strength of the unforgiving canvas strait jackets.

Suddenly there was a popping sound, followed by a long rip of fabric.

Paige, Taffy and Kate all looked in amazement as Iwana Binder – straining mightly – slowly flexed her arms and popped each of the buckles and straps at the back of her strait jacket.

Finally she yanked it off her body, unbuckled her ballgag and undid the straps that held her at ankles and knees

Iwana got up and stretched. She still wore her leather pants, latex top and boots. "Damn! Glad t'be outta dat jackpot!"

The three remaining strait jacketed women all hummed and looked at her pitiously.

"Sorry, grrls. But you gotta find yore own way home." Iwana said. She went to a dresser where she had spotted Mama-san stashing her things and retrived the Beretta and two clips of ammo she had taken from Rachel Cuerda, her wallet and ID and even her LAPD shield. "Don't worry, tho... The Ropers are a little 'out dere' but they gots good hearts. Seeya!"

And with that, Iwana Binder slipped on her leather jacket and got out the back way. Paige, Taffy and Kate looked at each other and started huffing and puffing against their restraints with renewed vigor, not knowing that it was Iwana's Jessica Cocktail that had given her the strength she had needed to escape.

***

Gwen Sweet stretched as the last of her restraints fell away. Yoshiko handed her back her gold SFPD star, her S&W service pistol and her purse.

"No hard feelings?" Glenna Jane asked.

"I oughta run all three of you witches in!" Sweet growled. "But that won't help me find your daughter, will it?"

"No, Detective Sweet," Yoshiko offered meekly.

"And how did you do that trick with the ropes... Shakira was it?"

"Oh my yes!" she grinned. "Shakira is my name! And as Avatar of the Goddess Kali, the 'rope trick' is but one of my many powers!"

"Whatever," Sweet said. She looked back to Glenna Jane and Yoshiko. "Now I want you two ladies to behave yourselves. Let go all the other women you've got bound up back there and we'll be on our way."

"But..." Yoshiko began.

"But what?"

"You must admit that Iwana Binder will be much more safer back at our commune in Santa Cruz, then she will be out on the streets of San Francisco looking for Tai Anne, or even back in Los Angeles being watched by the police there," Yoshiko said.

"Well, yeah," Sweet sighed. "I guess."

"And what about Kate Stuart?" Glenna Jane said. "With her husband in New York trying to find Jessica McClintock, he deserves to know that she's safe."

Sweet thought that one over. She owed Jeb Stuart her life several times over since the shootout at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.

"Okay, Iwana and Kate Stuart stay, but I take Paige and Taffy Chu with me."

Yoshiko and Glenna Jane Roper nodded. Shakira sipped a diet Coke.

The four women walked back to Yoshiko's quarters only to find that one of their birds had flown the coup.

"What the hell!" Glenna Jane shouted. "How did Iwana get loose?!"

Paige, Taffy and Kate hummed into their gags.

"Oh, sorry!" Glenna Jane said as she and Yoshiko undid straps and pulled the rubber balls from the women's mouths.

"Bleeeh!" Paige Torne licked her lips, wondering if the taste of rubber would ever leave her tongue. "Your girl Iwana just... Hulked out of her strait jacket! Then she got her things and amscrayed!"

"Impossible!" Yoshiko said.

"Believe it," Sweet said. "When she and Tai visited me in the hospital, she told me she had gotten a 'Jessica Cocktail', a blood transfusion from Ms. McClintock that healed her from her fight with Paige's girl Kunta almost instantly."

"She's right!" Paige said. "And a side effect of taking a transfusion from Jessica is increased strength... faster healing... God knows what else."

"She is right!" Glenna Jane held up Iwana's strait jacket, now ripped and torn apart.

"And who else had this... 'Jessica Cocktail' as you call it?" Yoshiko asked Paige.

"So far... Iwana, and my girl Kunta Kintare," Paige replied.

"And Kunta is still missing," Sweet said, deciding to keep what she knew about her partner Harry Stoner's Jessica Cocktail to herself. "She disappeared almost exactly the same time as Tai Anne was set up for the murder of McClintock."

"You think that this Kunta was kidnapped by the same people who now have Tai Anne?" Glenna Jane asked.

"Yeah."

"That means that Will Tanner-Hyde has Tai Anne, and Kunta Kintare and is probably after Iwana Binder as well!" Kate Stuart exclaimed.

"I agree," Sweet said. "Which means I have to get the hell outta here and start proving your daughter innocent."

"I'll contact Jeb as soon as you let me go," Kate offered.

"Sorry, Ms. Stuart," Sweet said. "I'll be contacting your husband. You'll be safer at this... convent, or whatever it is he has set up for you."

"What?! No way! I... ummmmph!!!" Kate protested as her rubber ball was reintroduced to her mouth. She was then forced to watch and fume as Paige and Taffy were released from their restraints.

"Then you believe that Tai Anne is not on the run, but has been captured by this Tanner-Hyde?" Taffy Chu asked.

"If she was on her own, she would've contacted somebody by now," Sweet said.

"If Tanner-Hyde did this than that means Tai Anne is Joe Weskler's prisoner now," Paige said.

"And Weskler really wants Jessica McClintock," Glenna Jane said.

"Who is a prisoner of her mother, Fiona Jacklin..." Shakira finished.

"Jeeeeezus, why can't things ever be easy!" Sweet wondered aloud.

"But what about Iwana?" Yoshiko asked.

"I believe she's a target for the same person who took Kunta. This Weskler is collecting anybody who's had a Jessica Cocktail. Probably for research," Sweet said. She looked at Glenna Jane and Yoshiko. "If Iwana contacts you, explain that she is in great danger, not only from Scagnetti, but from Tanner-Hyde and Weskler."

Glenna Jane and Yoshiko Roper both nodded. All the women then left the room, leaving Kate Stuart strait jacketed and alone, humming nonsense into her gag.

***

Man, that was no fun at all!

Iwana Binder took a deep breath and flexed her muscles. Even after spending a few hours in one of Mama-san's strait jackets, she felt pretty damned good.

She was in a dark alleyway just off Sutter, still within the confines of Japantown. Her motorcycle wasn't far away, and at ten o'clock at night, this part of the business district was deserted.

The trouble was that from all the talk she had overheard, there was a a damned good chance that sistahgrrl was no longer in The City. That she had been taken away by this bastard Tanner-Hyde.

So what the hell could she do now?

Well, tomorrow was another day, as Scarlett once said. Maybe she could come up with something after some dinner and a little shuteye.

Iwana tensed up as she heard a women scream long and hard from up the dark alleyway. She drew the Beretta from her belt and headed for the trouble.

"Taskute! Taskute!!!" a small Japanese woman in a torn red dress screamed as she ran as fast as she could in one high heel and one bare foot.

"Ah'm a police officer!" Iwana said as she reached her. "What's goin' on?"

The women was a tiny, yet pretty little thing. Even with her makeup running and tears streaming down her face. "T-two men... tried to rape me! There they are!!!"

She pointed and Iwana saw two young Japanese yakuza punks in cheap suits step boldly out of the darkness.

"Get behind me," Iwana whispered to the girl, who slipped behind Iwana's leathered side, still sobbing. Iwana turned her attention to the punks by cocking back the hammer of the Beretta and aiming it at them.

"Okay, assholes," she said. "Find a wall 'n spread'em... befo' Ah spread you two all ovah a wall."

They just grinned at her. That's when the tiny Japanese woman leaped on to Iwana's back, wrapping her legs about her waist and her right arm around her throat. With a flick of her left wrist, a glass and steel syringe sprang into her hand from the spring-loaded holster on her forearm.

She jabbed Iwana Binder with the syringe needle before she could even react. Right under the jawline to pump the juice into a neck artery and deliver it right into her heart and back out into her circulatory system.

An instant later the pistol Iwana had been holding hit the pavement, followed by Iwana's knees. The Japanese woman laughed as she rode the big black bitch all the way down to the ground.

Michiko Kazikama stood over Iwana and retracted her syringe back into it's holster while the two yakuza punks approached.

"Velly easy!" one said.

"The bigger they are, the dumber they are," Michiko said. She sighed. Taking down a woman always made her sopping wet between her legs. Between this little scene and her successful abduction of Kunta Kintare earlier today, she was ready to pop. "Load the bitch up."

"Hai!"

The punks went to get the cars while Michiko picked up Iwana's fallen Beretta and tossed it into a dumpster. She then took out her cellphone and quickcalled her employer.

"Yes?" Will Tanner-Hyde asked in rich, mellow voice.

"Michiko des," she said. "I have another Jessica Cocktail ready for delivery."

"Excellent! Sergeant Binder I presume?"

"Hai."

"Go to the same place as before, transportation will be waiting," Tanner-Hyde said. "Any other cocktails out your way?"

"Hai. I have intel that a male SF police officer who knows Paige Torne took a tranfusion as well," Michiko said. "We're working on a name."

"Mmmm... you're doing an excellent job, Machiko," Tanner-Hyde allowed. "Keep at it and I'll see you get a 100K bonus."

"Domo Arigato," Michiko said. Her two cars were squealing up the alleyway. "Talk to you later."

She clicked off. A red Mitsubishi Eclipse and a neon green Toyota MR2 – both tricked out and with enough custom engine work to blow the doors off anything else on the road – pulled up to her.

The yakuza punks loaded the unconscious Iwana Binder into the trunk of the Toyota. Restraints weren't necessary since the trank – Michiko's own homemade formula, based on synthetic curare – would keep her out for hours.

The two yakuza got back behind the wheels of their cars while Michiko got in the passenger side of the Eclipse.

The cars squealed off into the night. Iwana Binder had effectively ceased to exist.

 

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