The mysterious woman known only as the Collector woke up as the silent alarm on her Tag Huer watch tingled her wrist. She found herself still in the cockpit of the Gulfstream II private jet that she had hijacked from Air Weskler some hours ago. The comforting, muffled hum of the powerful jet engines had lulled her into a fairly deep sleep.
A glance at the same watch told her it was now 8am EST. The autopilot was still taking her and her two captives women due east towards New York at 400 mph, with the morning sun now streaking through the cockpit windows. A check on the GPS system showed that they were somewhere over Indiana right now. ETA New York area: 9:30 am.
The Collector yawned. The few hours of sleep had done her a world of good, but now she was hungry, and thinking about all the gourmet goodies a bigwig like Weskler no doubt kept on his planes.
She headed towards the cabin to use tha bathroom and also check on her captives. She had removed her oilskin duster and felt comfortable in her worn black leather pants and vest.
The two women were right were she had left them. The small, Japanese yakuza bitch who like to play with needles was still tranked and bound to her seat, secured with an armbinder, crotchstrap and straps at knees and ankles. A latex blinder and a ballgag kept her blind and silent.
Iwana Binder was opposite her, also still unconscious. Since she was her mealticket, the Collector checked her pulse and found it good and strong. The black leather body harness that webbed her torso was as she had left it, with her hands strapped behind her left wrist to right elbow and vice-versa. Matching straps at knees and ankles completed the look.
The head harness with attached blinders and plug gag distorted her face, but the Collector still thought she was a beautiful bitch of an Amazon. Especially in her black latex top that seemed to be spraypainted over her big breasts and the too tight black leather stretch pants and boots.
The Collector ignored her more carnal desires and went to the Gulfstream's lavatory. When she was done she went forward to the small galley and started raiding the mini-fridge.
That's when Iwana Binder decided it was time to get herself out of this jackpot.
From the humming of the jet engines, Iwana knew she was aboard a jet plane. Prolly a small private jobbie. With the blinders on she couldn't tell for sure where her captor/captors were, but she had a feeling that the cabin was empty. For now.
She took a deep breath and strained her muscles at the leather harness that bound her torso. This got her nothing but a mega-wedgie as the crotchstrap cut deeply into her. Holeeeee Mamajama!
She then tried pulling at her bound arms. The array of straps at wrists, elbows and upper arms kept her from getting any leverage, yet the curious feats of strength she had shown in the last couple of days since she had indulged in a Jessica Cocktail now emboldened her to try again.
Straining as hard as she could, Iwana flexed her biceps and popped both locking straps on her upper arms.
Now she had a little something to work with. She twisted her wrists and snapped the buckles holding her elbow straps.
Sweating like a pig, and breathing hard through her nose, Iwana pulled her arms in front of her and quickly snapped the leather on her head harness, pulling the straps and the blinder away and spitting out her plug gag.
She blinked and looked around. She was in a private jet with the morning sun streaming through the windows. The lil jap bitch who had kidnapped her back in San Fran was trussed up like she had been one seat over, but there was no sign of whoever had hooked up the two of them.
She also heard someone working up forward of her, busy doing something.
Iwana snapped the locking straps at her knees and ankles and got up just as the Collector turned the corner with a flute of champagne and a small plate of goose liver pate and crackers.
"Awwww... bloody hell!" The Collector said. Her customized trankgun was currently disassembled and secured under her left arm. She threw the plate and the glass at Iwana to no effect while Iwana charged her, but she did manage to deflect Iwana with a judo throw into the forward bulkhead.
Iwana bounced back and slammed into the Collector, giving her a punch to the gut and an elbow to the jaw that sent her sprawling. The Collector kicked Iwana hard in the gut, followed by another booted kick to the face. She was lining up anther kick when Iwana snatched her leg up and tossed her all the way back to to the rear bulkhead of the jet.
The Collector got up, managing to pull out a 7mm Vertagg trank dart from the hollow stock of her holstered piece. She primed the needle and faced off Iwana once more.
The two women jigged and jagged at each other. Iwana studied her opponent. A tall, muscular, dusky skinned woman with long, dark curly hair and a curious looking tattoo on one side of her face.
Iwana snatched up the Collector's right wrist in her hands and twisted her arm up behind her back, slamming her down onto the carpeted deck and pinning her down by sitting on her, while relieving her of the trank dart.
"G'night, bitch!" Iwana raised the dart to jab it deep into the woman's round leathered ass.
"I wouldn't do that, luv," the woman replied. "Unless you know how to fly this plane!"
Iwana paused and looked at her.
"Y'see, that trank will keep me out for eight hours or so... and you've got about two hours of fuel left." The Collector shrugged. "'Course, once we miss the Newark ATC hub its all academic. A private jet without a flight plan heading for New York City will be shot down by F-14s long before we run out of fuel over the Atlantic!"
"Ah could always radio fo' help," Iwana growled at her. "An' get talked down like in th' movies."
"I am afraid that only works in the movies, luv," The Collector replied. "Besides, I locked out the radio except for receiving transmit. Only I can operate it."
Iwana considered her options. "Okey-dokey... so Ah don't trank you." The Collector grunted with new pain as the more powerful Iwana shifted her onto her belly and pinned the Collector down with her leathered legs while getting the straps that had bound her just a few minutes ago.
If there was one thing that Iwana Binder excelled at, it was the art of tying somebody up. Almostly nightly, she and her roomie Tai Anne Roper would play 'the games' that invariably left poor Tai bound and gagged and helpless.
The Collector found herself to be no exception. First Iwana checked her over for weapons and such, relieving her of a cellphone, wallet, two knives and a set of lock picks.
The leather straps --minus the torn buckles-- were cinched about the Collector's wrists and then her elbows. Tighter than tight. Then straps at knees and ankles. Iwana dropped her into the chair she had been sitting in and strapped her in place with a standard seatbelt.
"There!" Iwana stood over her with her hands on her hips. "Now, lemme check out a few things 'an go t' the lil' grrls room... an' then we'll talk!"
It took a cop like Iwana about 30 seconds to figure out how to assemble and load the Collector's over/under carbine. She headed up to the cockpit and was disappointed to discover it empty. She was hoping for at least one scared, white boy pilot that she could smack around and convince to land this crazy thing.
All she knew about airplanes she had learned from the movies. So unless Charleton Heston dropped in thru a hatch in the next minute or so, she was screwed.
She next went to the galley and guzzled some champagne and scarfed down some finger food. She forced open a few of the locked, stainless steel cabinets and found a first aid kit, more bondage toys and a stainless steel Colt Anaconda .44 magnum with a six-inch, vent-ribbed barrel and black rubber combat grips. There was even an Alessi shoulder-rig that fit her just fine.
"Well Ah'b damned!" Iwana grinned as she flicked open the cylinder and found it loaded. "Christmas done come early!"
However, such a weapon was worse that useless in a pressurized jet in flight. So she also took a loaded M-18 Taser pistol and stuck it in her belt.
The Collector watched as Iwana came back her way. She unbuckled her from the seat and effortlessly picked her up and dropped her into a circular couch in the forward section of the jet, behind an oak table.
Iwana then pulled the blinder off the restrained Japanese girl. As she had suspected, the girl was awake, and glaring at her with her cruel eyes. Iwana unstrapped the ballgag and pried it out of her mouth.
"You're part o'this too, geishagrrl," Iwana said. She hefted her up and dropped her onto the sofa next to The Collector. Then she sat down by them both, placing the Taser in the table.
"Okie-dokes, first thangs first!" Iwana looked from one bound woman to the other. "The three of us be the only ones 'board this plane." She looked the Japanese girl. "Ah take it you kidnapped me, then she kidnapped you, right?"
"Hai." The girl nodded. "And... where are we now?"
"Well, right now we be travelin' at 400 miles an hour, at 41,000 feet, and we be crossin' over into Ohio." Iwana looked at the other woman. "You were right, Ah can't figure out th' radio, Ah can't call fo' help, an' yore cellphone has some kinda code prefix."
The Collector smiled.
"An' If'n Ah fiddle wit the auto-pilot, Ah'd prolly just turn this plane into one expensive lawn dart."
"Seems like you have a problem," the Collector said.
"Honey, we all gots a problem," Iwana said."Cuz we gots 'bout an hour or so to come up wit some kinda unnerstandin' ... or we alls gonna be dead."
"Ah'm Sergeant Iwana Binder of the Los Angeles Police Department." She leaned back. "But Ah bets you two bitches awwwwwready knows dat!"
More silence, except for the humming of the jets.
"I am Michiko Kazakami, of the Seppuku Swords of Clan Saotome," the little Japanese girl said.
"That makes you San Fran yakuza." Iwana looked at the dusky-skinned woman in leather. "An' you?"
"I am known as the Collector," she replied. "An independent agent in the transport and delivery of precious goods and commodities."
"You are a kidnapper of women," Michiko replied flatly. "You work independent for various white slavers the world over. I have heard of you."
"As I've heard of the Seppuku Swords," the Collector said. "You're organization is also fond of making women disappear. Like nubile California blondes who end up as sexslaves in various Asian pleasure palaces."
"Enuff," Iwana growled. "Neither of you two byotches are angels, dats fo' shure."
Both women shrugged.
"Now here's what Ah do know. Ah was in San Francisco, when I was kidnapped by you." She pointed at Michiko. "An' then when Ah wake up, Ah'm on this fancy-ass jet headin' fo' the east coast. Someone wanna fill in the blanks?"
"You have a choice, Sergeant Binder," the Collector said. "Live, or die. You're only hope of survival is if you untie me and let me land this plane."
"Is there a deal in there somewheres?"
"Sure," the Collector said. "Let me land the plane and we all go are separate ways."
"Don't trust her, Binder-san!" Michiko said. "Kudasai!"
"Don't worry, geishagrrl," Iwana said. She looked at the Collector. "An' once you be in the cockpit, what's to stop you from slippin' on an oxygen mask, and then poppin' the air pressure enough t' put me under, then takin' over again?"
"Trust is earned," the Collector admitted. "You have no reason to trust me, but then none of us want to die either, do we?"
"I have a... proposition," the Collector finally said.
"Ah'm lissenin'," Iwana said.
"I am an independent operator, as Ms. Kazakami pointed out," the Collector said. "However, I am also a member of an organization called... The Consortium."
"Chiksho!" Michiko's eyes went wide.
"And who they be?" Iwana asked.
"A very powerful, worldwide association of white slavers," Michiko answered before the Collector could. "Very high and mighty! Seppuku Swords have dealt with them on occasion... and found them to be most honorable!"
"Honorable slavers?" Iwana chuckled. "That be a paradox an' a half!"
"She means that we have rules and regulations, and we abide by them," the Collector said. "The individual who contracted me to abduct you is also a member of The Consortium."
"So, I know The Consortium's Enforcer," the Collector said. "When there is a dispute, or hostage situation... such as this. She can act as a mediator. She can make the rules and settle this."
"An' what makes you think Ah'm gonna trust that bitch anymore'n Ah trust you?"
"Because..." the Collector sighed and pulled at her strapped arms. "She's different. She's... our collective conscious. Keeps us on the straight and narrow." She looked at Iwana. "She helps me live with myself."
Iwana studied her. "An' how do I contact her?"
"Get my cellphone, punch in star-774," the Collector said. "That releases the code. Go to quickcall seven."
Iwana did so. After getting a dialtone, she thought about trying tp call for help, but instead followed the Collector's instructions.
The Ericcson flip-phone had a speaker option. Iwana keyed it and placed the cellphone in the center of the table before them. It rang four times before being picked up.
"Morrigan?" the Collector said. "It's me."
"Ah, good mornin', Reka! How are things with you today?"
The Collector seemed uncomfortable with the fact her true Maori name had been used. "They've been better. I need you to mediate a hostage situation."
"And who's the hostage?"
"And where are you now?"
"In a Gulfstream jet at 41,000 feet and about an hour from New York," the Collector said. "Unfortunately I'm the only one who can fly it... and I'm kinda tied up right now."
"Ah! Hence the mediation," Morrigan said. "And pray tell, who did the tying?"
"Ah did," Iwana said. "Sergeant Iwana Binder of the Los Angeles Police."
"Oh yes," Morrigan said. "The policewoman who killed Tony Scagnetti on Tuesday. I've been hearing all about you! Seems his mother wants you very badly."
Iwana looked at the Collector. "Is that who you be working fo'?"
"No," the Collector answered.
"Actually, I believe Reka is working for a white slaver named Valerie Corder," Morrigan said. "Isn't that so, dear?"
"Abductor/client priviledge not withstanding," the Collector sniffed pensively. "Yes."
"You see, Sergeant, La Donia Lucrezia Scagnetti, and Valerie Corder have entered into several rather nefarious criminal conspiracies as of late," Morrigan said. "Unfortunately, this has put Ms. Corder in direct violation of the edicts and principles of the organization she belongs to."
"This... Consortium?" Iwana asked.
"Yes indeed, Sergeant Binder!" Morrigan said. "I see Rika has already told you of our top secret little club..."
"Actually, she didn't," Iwana said. She looked over at Machiko. "It gets complicated."
"I'm listening," Morrigan's voice was calm. "Start at the beginning and go to it."
"Awwwright," Iwana said. "Last night in San Francisco I was abducted by a yakuza girl who is now sittin' next to me."
"And who are you, dear?"
"Michiko Kazakami... of the Seppuku Swords of Clan Soatome."
"My gawd, are they still around?" Morrigan chuckled. "Is Genma Saotome still running things?"
"Hai!" Michiko replied.
"And who has your contract, dear?"
For the first time, fear crossed Michiko's face.
"I know the penalty for revealing a contract is steep, dear," Morrigan said. "But right now you don't have a choice."
"She was contracted out to Joseph Weskler, through an agent of his named Will Tanner-Hyde," the Collector said.
"Weskler?!" Iwana growled.
"You know something of this, Sergeant Binder?" Morrigan asked.
"Yeah... Weskler be the asshole who framed mah sistahgrrl Tai Anne Roper fo' the murder of thet bigshit McClintock!" She reached over and grabbed Michiko by the neck. "An' Ah jus' got real interested in you, grrl!"
"Please, not to hurt me!" Michiko said, pulling her lil miss innocent act again.
"Hey, hey! Let's try to keep this civil!" the Collector said. Iwana sighed and dropped the bound Michiko back into her seat.
"Why were you kidnappin' me fo' Weskler?" Iwana demanded.
Michiko coughed and shook her head. "If I betray a contract... I will be killed."
"Listen, Michiko," Morrigan's voice was gentle yet commanding. "According to the bylaws of the yakuza, you life is already forfeit by failing your mission and allowing yourself to be captured. True?"
She nodded. "Hai."
"I can offer you a new life as an agent of The Consortium. But only if you start cooperating. Right now."
She nodded. "I understand."
"So why did Tanner-Hyde have me kidnapped fo' Weskler?" Iwana asked.
"Because... he is kidnapping everyone who has taken the Jessica Cocktail!" Michiko answered.
"The what?" Morrigan and the Collector asked in stereo.
"Awwwwww... sheeeeeeit!!!" Iwana pounded the table. "Life done got mo' complicated!"
It took five minutes for Michiko to explain what she knew about Jessica McClintock and her miracle blood to the Collector and Morrigan, and another five minutes to get them to believe her.
Iwana went to get a Diet Coke. She wasn't wild about more people knowing Jessica's secret – especially a consortium of slavers – but she was also beginning to see the connection between the mess she was in and the mess her sistahgrrl was in. And when push came to shove, helping Tai Anne Roper was all she really cared about.
"I tend to believe
the story," the Collector finally said. "Iwana here blew through some
pretty severe restraints and then tossed me around like a ragdoll."
"Who else have you abducted who has had this 'Jessica Cocktail'?" Morrigan asked.
Michiko looked up as Iwana stood over her glowering. "A woman named Kunta Kintare... she was a bodyguard for Tai Anne Roper's employer, Paige Torne."
"An' you kidnapped her at the same time Tanner-Hyde kidnapped sistahgrrl to take the fall fo' McClintock's murder!" Iwana accused.
"Anybody else?" the Collector asked.
"No... just Iwana."
"And where was Kunta Kintare taken?" Iwana growled.
"I don't know!" Michiko shivered in her straps. "I took her to the same airport --the same hanger even-- I took you to! I don't know where that jet was heading."
"When I took off on this plane, I found a flight plan for a landing at the Four Corners Airport in northwest New Mexico," the Collector said.
"Thet means nuthin'," Iwana grumbled.
"I'll have my people look into it," Morrigan said. "But we do seem to be making some headway! We know why Weskler wants Sergeant Binder and why Valerie Corder wants Sergeant Binder."
"Nice t'be popular," Iwana groused.
"I'll be honest with you, Sergeant," Morrigan said. "If you want to just walk away from this plane upon landing thats up to you. But frankly I need your assistance in breaking the cabal that has formed between Scagnetti and Corder."
"And helping us take down Scagnetti takes that big price tag off your head," the Collector advised.
"True, but that ain't enuff," Iwana said. "Ah'll agree t'help you wit yo' jam against Scagnetti and this Corder bitch... if you agree to clear Tai Anne Roper's name, an' rescue her from this Weskler."
"That's a tall order, Sergeant," Morrigan finally said.
"Bullshit," Iwana replied. "Now that y'know 'bout the Jessica Cocktail, don't tell me you ain't been thinkin' 'bout it! You gonna be messin' wit Tanner-Hyde and Weskler anyways... I might as well git sumpin' outta it."
Morrigan chuckled. "You're a sharp cookie, aren't you Sergeant?"
"Mama Binder didn't raise no idjits," Iwana replied. "We gots a deal?"
"We have a deal," Morrigan replied. "From this moment forward, the three of you will be working together, protected from others --and yourselves-- by The Consortium. Are we agreed?"
"This is the Collector... agreed."
"Kazakami Michiko des... agreed."
"Iwana Binder... agreed."
"Excellent." Morrigan sighed "First things first. Sergeant Binder..."
"Jus' call me Iwana."
"Very well. Iwana; release your two associates at once. Rika; where were you going to land this plane?"
"Sikorsky Airport outside of Bridgeport, Connecticut," she replied. "I was going to be met by Corder's people. When I don't show up, she's gonna go ballistic."
"MMmmm... better go to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey. I have connections there. What's your flight designation."
"Give me ten minutes, then contact Newark ATC. They'll put you through without question. Once at Teterboro you'll be directed to a hanger. I'll meet you there."
"Roger... that." the Collector grunted as Iwana finished sawing through the straps holding her wrists and elbows with a tactical folding knive.
"Follow any orders the Collector or Iwana gives you. Understood?"
"Then I look forward to seeing you all quite soon... good day."
The phone clicked off as Iwana cut the straps to Michiko's armbinder.
The two women wiggled out of their leg restraints and finally all three women were standing, facing each other with the Taser pistol still on the table in front of them.
"Well this be th' moment of truth," Iwana said. "If somebody gonna fuck over somebody else, it's gonna be now."
The women looked each other over. Wheels were turning. Plans and schemes were calculated.
"But the truth is," Iwana continued. "Ah be willin' t'make this work. So lets give it a try."
Iwana held out her own fist before her. The Collector then grasped Iwana's hand with hers, followed by Michiko's tiny hand.
"So... what are you?" Iwana asked.
In the cockpit of the Gulfstream II, the Collector was back in the pilot's seat checking things out and finishing up with Newark ATC. Iwana was in the co-pilot's seat and Michiko at the Navigator's.
"What do you mean?" the Collector replied.
"Those tattoos, yore accent. You... one of 'em Aborigines... from Australia?"
"Heavens no. I'm Maori, from New Zealand."
"Yore mighty damn pretty too." Iwana licked her lips. "Exotic wimmen always gets me wet."
The Collector wiggled slightly in her seat. "I find you equally attractive."
"How much time we gots?"
"Newark is busy as hell," the Collector replied. "I had to decrease airspeed to hit our assigned slot. It'll be another two hours or so before we hit the Newark ATC nexus. Another thirty minutes to an hour to touchdown at Teterboro. Fuel should hold out."
"More'n enuff time to get better accquainted," Iwana said.
"Hai..." Michiko whispered, causing the other two women to look at her. "That is... if either of you desire me."
"Oh ah desire you, Gieshagrrl." Iwana stood up in front of her. "Only thang is... y'been major league naughty."
"And you know what happens to naughty girls," the Collector husked.
"Hai..." Michiko groaned and slipped to her knees before Iwana. She them gently kissed Iwana's leathered cunt.
"Well awwwwwwrighty..." Iwana picked up Michiko by her hair and twirled her about. "Time's a wastin'."
"There's a small but luxurious bedroom in the back," the Collector said as she got up from the seat and kissed Iwana deeply. "Shall we?"
Not, sadly, to be continued. At least not by the original author. Thanks, Nicole, for everything. The place just ain't the same without you.