The author of this damsel in distress story can be contacted at drake.fiction@gmail.com and would greatly welcome all comments and feedback. Martin Drake, October 2010.
"Hi! You must be Alison Douglas! Welcome to your first day at the Athena Agency! I’m Olivia Wilson. Let’s get you a cup of coffee and I’ll take you through to the briefing room!"
The barrage of chirpy statements left Ally’s head spinning. They had been delivered by a diminutive brunette clad in a frumpy tweed jacket complete with leather elbow patches, a matching skirt and the widest pair of thick-lensed glasses that Ally had ever seen. Despite her old-fashioned appearance, the girl couldn’t be much more than nineteen or twenty and had launched her greeting with a bright smile and enthusiastic handshake. It always took a while for Ally to get her bearings on a new assignment and the whirlwind manner of this latest transfer hadn’t helped. Stepping out of the elevator in a bewildered daze, she found herself having to hurry to keep pace as her new companion trotted briskly past glass-fronted offices and conference rooms, all the while continuing her rapid fire introduction.
"Your FBI field work assessment was outstanding! I’m sure you’re going to make an excellent addition to the agency’s line-up. I’m afraid that Athena, that’s our director’s callsign as well as our departmental designation, won’t be briefing you in person today due to prior commitments elsewhere in DC. It’s her responsibility to co-ordinate our operations with those of our sibling agencies: Hermes, Artemis, Apollo and so on. Each agency director reports regularly to the senior commanding director, Zeus, who, in turn, is answerable directly to the President. But you already know all that from your recruitment dossier."
"Um ... sure." They had paused at a small kitchen area where Olivia poured two cups of strongly flavoured coffee. Refusing an offer of cream, Ally tentatively raised the questions which hadn’t been covered by the background material, "Look, I understand that this is a government sanctioned initiative, but exactly what is our remit? Who do we go up against? Do we work alone or alongside conventional law enforcement? I served with the FBI for five years, but before this transfer came in I hadn’t even heard of your agency."
The brunette adjusted her glasses and shrugged with a vaguely dismissive gesture, "We do whatever needs to be done. Gathering information, investigating crimes, infiltrating criminal organisations. If there’s a threat to the security of the United States or our allies then we’re authorised to take any and all appropriate action. That said, we are a covert agency and discretion is paramount to our success. Our freedom to operate would be severely compromised if we became subject to the glare of public scrutiny."
"Right, I think I’m starting to get the picture. I have to say it all sounds pretty intense."
"It certainly can be, but I’m sure you’ll cope admirably. The director wouldn’t have requested your transfer if she didn’t think you were up to the challenge." Olivia’s coffee was downed in one long swallow. "Now come along, Agent Torres will be waiting for us."
Once again Ally found herself trailing in the petite girl’s wake. They strode through an open plan arrangement of desks dominated by a massive wall monitor. The display showed a global map overlaid with geo-political data and a constant stream of regional news feeds. Olivia ignored the inquisitive glances from grey-suited desk analysts, marched up to a secure door and punched in a four digit code to gain entrance.
"Agent Torres, Agent Douglas is here for her initiation briefing."
The room beyond the door was brightly lit and furnished with sleek-lined, ultra-modern décor. A tall Hispanic woman rose from the head of a chrome and glass table. She was strikingly beautiful with dark eyes, dusky skin and a wonderfully luxuriant mane of black hair which tumbled freely to half-way down her back. Full lips parted in a warm smile of welcome as she extended a hand and moved across the room.
"Hi! Please, call me Cristina. It’s Alison, isn’t it?"
"That’s right ... or Ally, if you prefer."
The two women shook hands. Agent Torres resumed her seat, indicated that Ally should join her and turned to where Olivia waited by the door, "Thanks, Owl. I’ve got it from here."
"Owl?" Ally smiled at the name, "Is that your callsign?"
Olivia flushed behind her wide glasses, "More of a nickname really. Most of my duties involve acting as Athena’s messenger and maintaining our intelligence archives. Certain agents," and here she glared pointedly at Cristina, "also think it an apt description of my appearance."
The Hispanic agent laughed fondly, "We only tease because you mean so much to us." She laughed again when her young colleague flounced out with another irritated glare and then turned back to Ally, "You’ll find we’re a pretty close-knit group. The occasional family squabble, but each one of us knows we can rely completely on the others. But enough banter, let’s get down to business. What do you know about this woman?"
A thin folder was pushed across the table. Ally opened it and scanned through the documents within, "Lady Caroline Longford? She’s a British noble of some sort. I recognise her picture from society gossip columns, but I don’t know much else. Didn’t her husband die recently?"
"That’s right, and under some fairly suspicious circumstances." Cristina’s gaze hardened as her tone turned serious, "Lady Longford has become a person of interest to us. She’s been keeping some very unusual company since inheriting her husband’s fortune. You and I are going to find out more."
Ally nodded, "OK. Where do you want me to start? I can do some digging into her bank accounts or maybe run a trace on her phone lines."
Cristina’s lips flashed a quick grin, "Actually, I was thinking of a more direct approach. Tell me, have you ever been to the UK?"
Less than twelve hours later, Ally was lying on her stomach in a damp field somewhere in rural England, cursing the cold drizzle which had been falling persistently since the company jet touched down at Heathrow. Cristina lay nearby, squinting through a pair of rugged binoculars. Both women were dressed in dark, snug-fitting jumpsuits buckled at the waist by wide belts and tucked into front-lacing knee boots. Cristina’s dark hair had been plaited into a thick braid tied-off with a thin piece of cord. Ally’s blonde locks were neatly tucked behind her ears, but otherwise left unbound.
They were positioned amid long grasses on the crest of a hill. Fields below them rolled down to the opulent country home at the heart of Longford Manor. The three-storey Georgian mansion was surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns, lush flower beds and a winding pebbled driveway. A few smaller outbuildings sat between the main lodgings and tall trees marking the boundary of a nearby forest. The girls had left their car some half-mile back and hiked across muddy terrain to gain this unobtrusive vantage point; an ideal location for spying upon their quarry’s comings and goings.
"It looks like her ladyship has visitors." Cristina passed the binoculars to Ally and frowned at the overcast sky. "Trust the British weather. There’s a gathering of some kind in that downstairs dining room, but I can’t see what’s happening through this blasted rain. Stay put. I’m going down for a closer look."
"Be careful. I’ll keep an eye on you from here."
Ally watched as her partner scampered towards a line of wild hawthorn bushes. The dense shrubbery provided perfect cover for a stealthy approach to the residential grounds. Magnified aid from the binoculars showed Cristina cross the front lawn and crouch behind the polished Mercedes parked at the end of the drive. She waited there for several minutes, peering intently at the nearest window, but then something seemed to catch the agent’s attention. Her head turned sharply to one side moments before she ducked low and cautiously started to edge her way around the side of the house.
"Damn it! Where are you going now?" Cristina’s movements were taking her beyond Ally’s line of sight. Not wanting to lose visual contact, the young blonde began crawling across the hilltop, manoeuvring for an unobscured view. A moss-covered log looked like it should afford a decent perspective. Hunkering down behind the cover, Ally had scarcely begun refocusing her binoculars when a loud thunk gave her the fright of her life. A heavy bolt had just slammed into the log, embedding itself mere inches from her head!
"Consider that a warning shot. Stand up slowly and turn around."
With her hands raised, Ally warily did as she was bid. A towering figure had emerged from a scattering of boulders and was calmly loading a second bolt into the stock of a powerfully sprung crossbow. The woman was at least six feet in height, wearing tight leather trousers, military style boots and a flannel hunting jacket. Her cropped hair was covered by a folded bandana while the dampness of her clothing indicated that she too had spent some hours in the rain.
"This is private property. Who are you and what are you doing here?" The question was barked with an impatient scowl and a menacing lift of the bow.
"Me?" Playing dumb seemed like the safest opening gambit. "I’m just a bird watcher. I heard that some rare species nested nearby."
The modern day amazon clearly wasn’t buying it. Her scowl turned even darker as she took a step closer, "A likely bloody story. But I’m not the one you’ll need to convince. Turn around again and cross your wrists behind your back."
Ally grimaced. What might have begun as an awkward confrontation was rapidly deteriorating into a genuinely dangerous encounter. But all was not yet lost. If this imposing harridan had the intention of restraining her then she would have to put aside the weapon. There was still a chance to turn the tables if Ally could pounce at the right moment.
Firm hands reached from behind and, as expected, took hold of her lower arms. Ally tensed then rolled her shoulder, throwing all of her weight to one side in an attempt to drag her opponent off-balance. However the brief skirmish didn’t go according to plan. The taller woman’s height gave her too much of an advantage. Both of Ally’s arms were wrenched high into the air. At the same time, a booted foot drove into the back of her knees. The poor girl was forced to the ground, crying out as agonising fire shot through her shoulders. Only when she was kneeling in the dirt, disoriented by pain and rendered immobile by her hoisted arms did she begin to feel a coil of rope circle her wrists. Harsh movements yanked the rope tight with a firm knot used to seal her hands against one another.
"Just so that you know ... I’m an expert marksman, proficient in a dozen martial arts and well versed with the science of pain. Try anything like that again and I’ll make sure you regret it."
Great, thought Ally, thanks for the warning. A strong hand gripped the collar of her jumpsuit and hauled her back to her feet. She stumbled somewhat clumsily, unused to such rough handling and unsteady with her hands tied. Exploratory tugs only confirmed the effectiveness of her bonds. It would take more than some simple struggling to work her way loose from the knotted rope. In the meantime, her captor had retrieved the crossbow and discarded binoculars. A threatening poke in the ribs directed Ally down the hillside.
"Get moving, bird watcher." The sneering tone was matched by a cruel smirk, "If you’re so keen to spy on our affairs then let’s give you a closer look."
At least it was dry indoors. Ally had been marched into one of the squat outbuildings at the edge of the Longford residence. There had been no sign of Cristina as they approached the mansion, for which Ally had been both relieved and disappointed; relieved that the Hispanic agent was presumably still undetected and therefore free to complete their mission, disappointed because even a glimpse of a friendly face would have been a welcome source of comfort.
"Hasn’t this gone far enough?" Ally gave another futile tug at her bound wrists. "If I’ve intruded on private property then I apologise, but you’ve got no right to treat me like this."
The building they had entered was the estate’s garage. Another expensive Mercedes was parked between a more practical Landrover and a turbocharged Suzuki motorcycle. The imposing bowman set aside her weapon before peeling the square of rain-soaked cloth from her hair, tossing it carelessly onto a cluttered workbench lining the rear wall. She dragged a rickety chair to the centre of the room’s concrete floor, shoved her protesting prisoner onto the seat then crossed back to the bench. When she finished rummaging through a large cardboard box, she returned to her captive’s side, a long tangle of cotton rope trailing from one hand.
"Oh, come on!" Ally wailed her growing dismay, "You can’t do this!"
"I can and I will. Restraining irritating pests is one of my few pleasures in life."
While Ally pondered this rather disturbing insight, the confused bundle of rope was patiently unravelled into three separate strands. The first piece was taken and used to tie Ally’s legs above the knees, the rope biting firmly through the leggings of her outfit. Her legs were bound even further by the addition of more rope around her ankles. Care was taken to leave no gaps between each deft turn, polished boots drawn tightly together then raised from the floor and tethered to a crossbar running between the chair legs. The longest length ensured that the trussed damsel would remain exactly where she was seated. Six passes around stomach and chair back kept Ally anchored in place with her arms hanging uselessly over the padded back support.
"What now?" The bound spy fumed with impotent frustration, "How long do you expect to keep this up? You’ll have to let me go eventually."
"We’ll see." The corners of the warrior’s mouth twitched in amusement. A fresh search through her battered box of supplies yielded a roll of silvery duct tape. "You can talk all you want when we start asking questions, but for now ... just shut up."
The terse command was enforced by a broad strip of tape. A second and third strip were torn off and layered over the first, reducing strenuous objections to a few plaintive moans. An air of dreamy contemplation seemed to soften the customary coldness of the predator’s eyes. She gazed at her prey’s helplessness with a faint smile of satisfied contentment. Supple fingers reached out to stroke the pretty face, thumbs tracing along the gag to seal it with greater effectiveness. The touch was almost caressing, gently smoothing sticky tape over soft lips and cheeks. Ally squirmed back as far as her bonds would allow, not at all comfortable with the lascivious undertone of this unusual petting.
"You know, I almost hope that you don’t answer our questions. I’d love a chance to play with you some more. You make such a cute little package now that you’re all tied up." An errant lock of blonde hair was brushed into place with absent-minded tenderness. Hungry eyes roamed the prisoner’s body, admiring the juxtaposition of tight ropes and feminine curves. Moments drifted by, but, in due course, the wistful expression faded with a rueful sigh. "It’s too bad, but I’m afraid I can’t keep you all to myself. Don’t go anywhere, will you? I’ll be right back."
Vey funny. Ally watched her captor exit through a side door. For the moment the captured agent was alone. Alone, but bound and gagged with thorough competence. She was in no danger of going anywhere. Anxious eyes flicked around the room, searching for a means of escape. Plenty of sharp tools lay on the nearby workbench. Any one of them would make short work of the ropes, but could she get to them? Her arms had some freedom of movement, but she was facing in the wrong direction. There was nothing behind her but bare wall, straining backwards with her arms would gain nothing. The tools she needed were just a few yards in front of her, but with boots bound to the chair’s crossbar and stomach bound to the chair’s back she had no way of stretching out. Her tethered feet were also suspended out of contact with the floor, providing no purchase with which to push herself closer to the tantalising promise of salvation.
So reaching the tools was out. There must be other options. The ropes which held her were strong and skilfully tied. No knots fell in range of Ally’s fluttering fingers. No slack was revealed when she twisted from side to side. Maybe the chair itself was a weak-point. It didn’t seem particularly sturdy. Ally bucked forward, heaving with her upper body and flexing her bound legs. Wooden struts creaked, but the chair remained solidly intact. If anything her ropes now bit all the more painfully and the hapless agent was left short of air, desperately drawing in breath through her nostrils. Ally slumped within her bonds and groaned weakly into the gag. She hadn’t anticipated spending the first day of her new assignment tied to chair half-way across the world. How on earth had she managed to wind up in such a predicament?
The sound of animated conversation dismissed further speculation. Two female voices were approaching. One was the growling timbre with which she was regrettably acquainted. The other speaker wasn’t familiar, her tones lighter and more refined.
"This is dashed inconvenient, Victoria. How long was she out there? Did she see the arrival of our associates?"
"I’m not sure, ma’am. I thought you might prefer to interrogate her yourself."
Victoria, Ally finally had a name for her nemesis, entered first, still clad in her leather trousers and heavy jacket. The woman who followed was more elegantly attired. A starched blouse was left open at the neck to show off an exquisite cameo necklace. Her narrow skirt stopped at the knees, revealing seamed stockings and high-heeled pumps. Rich chestnut hair was worn in a decorative twist, pinned at the back of the head. The much photographed features of Lady Longford were instantly recognisable, although, in all honesty, no picture had ever done full justice to her classic beauty.
Measured footsteps brought her to Ally’s side. The aristocrat carried herself with a haughty demeanour, idly scrutinising the bound girl as though such sights were commonplace. She stared down with almost bored disinterest, clearly unimpressed with what she saw, "So this is our intruder. Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
Ally winced as the tape was ripped from her mouth. There was no point changing her story at this stage. She drew in a breath, summoned her courage and stuck to the earlier denials, "This is all a terrible misunderstanding. I only came here to look at birds. I didn’t mean to trespass. There was no fence or even any warnings. Please! You’ve got to let me go!"
A delicate eyebrow arched at Ally’s accent, "An American? How marvellous! You’re certainly a long way from home, aren’t you, my dear?" The Lady turned to her underling, "Was she carrying identification?"
Victoria shrugged, "I haven’t checked yet, ma’am. As I said, I brought her in then came to fetch you."
"Well, I’m here now. Get on with it, for heaven’s sake."
Frowning at the reprimand, the tall warrior knelt in front of Ally and patted her way from bound ankles to restrained knees. Palms glided along thighs, over hips then circled down and around to squeeze between Ally’s buttocks and the chair seat. The lustful glint returned as Victoria slowly unzipped the front of Ally’s jumpsuit. Questing hands slipped inside, lingering near youthful breasts perhaps a little longer and much more intimately than was strictly necessary. The intrusive search was embarrassing to endure, but, unfortunately, it was ultimately successful. Victoria gave a sly grin of triumph when she plucked out not only the official ID tucked away in an inner pocket, but also the small-calibre pistol concealed in a discrete shoulder holster. Ally closed her eyes in resigned defeat. The game was well and truly up.
"Alison Douglas. Agent of Athena." Lady Longford quoted from the identification card. "So the Athena Agency has taken an interest in our activities. That could pose quite a nuisance."
Victoria’s reaction was less calm, "The Athena Agency? Shit! That spells all sorts of trouble. What do we do with this brat? She’ll have to disappear. Should I make arrangements for transport to Monsieur Renaud’s facility?"
"Actually, I think you should set her free immediately."
It was Cristina! She stood at the entrance to the garage, her own pistol already drawn and raised with a steady aim. Ally’s heart leapt with relief. The cavalry had arrived! She had hoped her partner would find her, but there had been no guarantees. Thank goodness for timely rescues.
"Another agent of Athena, I presume?" Somehow Lady Longford retained her aura of cool detachment. "Come for your little playmate, have you? Very well ... I’m in no mood for melodramatics. Victoria, be a dear and untie our guest."
Clearly unhappy, but faced with no real alternative, the woman who had tied Ally’s bonds was now forced to release them. When the ropes at her wrists and stomach had been removed, Ally bent to rapidly undo those at ankles and knees. She quickly reclaimed her confiscated belongings and moved beside her colleague.
"You’ve no idea how good it is to see you. Did you learn all you needed?"
Cristina flashed a warm smile, "We can catch up on the details later. Are you all right? Reckon you can make it back to the car?"
Ally nodded. Her arms felt slightly numb, but she wasn’t about to let that slow them down. The two agents backed off with pistols levelled. Once outside, they didn’t waste time hanging around. Both turned and sprinted at full speed towards the hillside with open fields and country roads beyond.
No longer facing the barrel of a gun, Victoria snatched up her crossbow and moved to pursue, "They’ll not get far. Cheeky little bitches! I’ll have them under lock and key by nightfall."
"No, no ... don’t bother." Lady Longford shook her head, watching the retreating figures complete their escape, "I suspect you’ll get another shot at them soon enough. Something tells me we haven’t seen the last of Miss Douglas and her friends."
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