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As it happened my visit to the Prep Centre
coincided with when the girl I had helped to snatch turned up.
The Prep Centre was a big shed –
‘Distribution Depot’ it said over the outside – sitting like a great white shoe
box on the edge of a small airfield. A truck pulled up and backed on to one of
three loading docks at the right hand end of the shed. “F.C. Meat Products” it
said in large lettering across both doors and beneath it in smaller script,
“Prime Quality – Farm Fresh – Organic”, a telephone number and the web site
address “www.FC_Meat.co.uk”.
The doors at the back of the truck swung
open with a loud clang as they slapped back against the sides of the truck.
Inside there were four girls, taped up and gagged, strapped to the back wall of
the truck. They were all looking startled and scared.
I watched as each of the girls was loaded onto a four wheel trolley. A hook
from the frame held them up on tip toe by the tape or rope that joined their
elbows behind their backs. The trolleys were rolled off the truck, passing us
and off into the depot. Jackie was rolled off first; startled to see Harry and
me standing at the end of the truck’s ramp.
“Don’t we need masks?” I said to Harry.
“Oh no,” he said shaking his head as Jackie
was pushed away. “No masks except on operations, and
only then if there’s a risk that someone other than the target will see us. The
boss doesn’t like them. Says they encourage sloppiness – this way it keeps
people’s minds on the need to make sure our young ladies don’t wander off. We
don’t blindfold them either once they’re here, for the same reason.” Jackie was
squeaking quietly into her gag as she was wheeled away.
Next off was a girl in a long, electric
blue, strapless evening gown. She was still wearing her jewellery – pearls and
diamonds so big they had to be fakes, though I guess they might just have been
real. “Hope she enjoyed her party,” Harry grinned. Just like Jackie, her mouth
was taped shut, cheeks bulging like an over-fed hamster. “The lads did a good
job when they picked this one up. With her mouth stuffed like that there’s no
risk of her making a noise. It’s no good just taping over their lips – they’re
likely to push the tape off with their tongues if you leave them for long.”
The other two girls looked like they’d been
snatched off a tennis court. One in shorts, a blonde, the
other, mousey haired, in a short pleated skirt, both in white, both wearing
short sleeved tops and trainers. They’d used one trolley for the two of
them. Harry leant forward as the trolley came by. He reached out and groped the
blonde’s breasts. “These are nice,” he said, squeezing and pinching as the girl
tried to struggle away from him. “Not too big, nice and firm. I might get
together with you later on.” She looked at him, her eyes wide in terror, as the
trolley rolled her away.
“Don’t you have to leave the girls alone,
then?” I asked. “I mean, shop-soiled merchandise and
all that.”
“Nah,” said Harry. “We’re encouraged to. It
lets the girls know what they are in for from day one.”
“That’s it - look cute and be ready for
pain ‘Chic and Ow’, we call it –,” said a voice from
behind me.
“Bloody hell, Rick, your jokes don’t get
any better,” said Harry, turning round “This is Rick, he runs the place. Rick,
meet
I put my hand out to shake his.
“Great,” he said, with a grin. “When Harry
met Larry.”
“Whatever,” responded Harry, “Mr C, thought
he should have a look around. Can I leave him with you? I thought I might take
up some tennis lessons. See you later, Larry” Without waiting for Rick to
reply, he stalked off in pursuit of the trolleys.
Rick gave a snort as he watched him go and
then pointed to a door at the other end of the loading dock. “Come on through,”
he said, “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Through the door lay a corridor with a
series of doors leading off it. “What’s through here?” I asked. “Cells? Weapons rooms?”
Rick looked almost embarrassed and opened a
door revealing a few desks, some computers and two large filing cabinets. “Nothing so exciting along here. Just offices, I’m afraid.
All this stuff takes a load of admin. You’ve no idea how much effort we have to
put in just to keep track of where the girls are.”
“Uh, huh, I grunted. I wasn’t hard to be
unimpressed.
“This, though,” he went to open another
door, “is more interesting.” The room
inside was a dark corridor. From it viewing panels looked into a series of
rooms each of which seemed to hold a captive woman. “Come on in – these are one
way mirrors in the cells, the girls can’t see us. Not that it would matter
anyway, I guess.”
We stood beside the panel looking into the
room that held the party girl. Under the panel was a frame which held a card
with a number – 06/034 – and a name - Vivienne - after it in brackets. She’d been stripped of her blue, silk, dress
but she was still wearing the underwear she had put on that evening, no doubt
in hopes of an intimate encounter different from that which she could soon now
expect. She had been left in her silk basque and
knickers, together with her stockings and shoes. The tape had been taken off
her wrists, elbows and ankles and now all that held her was a chain padlocked
to the wall at one end and her ankle at the other. The gag had gone as well but
I could see the red rash where they had pulled the tape from her face. The
screwed up tape and a wad of cloth lay on the floor beside her. Her cheeks were
tear streaked with mascara. Her hair was a mess - she
had put her long brown hair up but some of it had come loose in her struggles
and now tumbled across her naked shoulder. The room was empty apart from a
single, naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling and a small metal bucket.
“OK,” said Rick, “this is how it starts. We
bring them in here and keep them in one of these rooms for a couple of days.
Mostly they think they’re being held for ransom fro some reason. Two days -
three days on their own; then they start to get a bit
twitchy. The cells are all wired and video monitored so we can keep an eye on
them. Let’s have a look in the next one.” We took a few steps along the
corridor. “This one’s been here for a week.”
The girl in the cell looked less than
twenty years old but a haunted look in her eyes suggested that she had seen
more in the last week than in the rest of her young life. ‘06/022 (Anya)’ the
label on the frame said. She was completely naked apart from a collar around
her neck with a small metal tag hanging from it. Her head had been shaved. She
wore the same chain as the girl in the cell next door.
“Watch this,” said Rick pressing a button
on a panel below the viewing panel. A buzzer could be heard sounding in the
cell. Almost at once the girl got to her feet and turned to face the wall we
were looking through, she put her hands on her head and looked blankly towards
us. “That’s pretty good. After a week they’re already conditioned to respond to
simple instructions like that. It’s all part of encouraging them to get used to
doing as they are told. When they leave here, they are ready to be trained for
whatever specific role they are going to take up. We don’t do anything more
than get them set up for it.”
The girl was standing only a foot from the
viewing panel. Red wheals were clearly visible across her breasts. “Do they
need much ‘encouragement’ in the early stages,” I asked pointing at the marks.
“That’s quite mild,” Rick said. “We haven’t
asked her to do anything difficult yet. She’ll still be in the state where she
thinks she can go along with some things but hold on to some control herself.
She’ll learn. Of course it’s difficult to strike a balance – enough
encouragement to get them to comply, not so much that they end up damaged.” He
pushed the button again, another buzz. She dropped her hands to her sides and
then sat down again on the floor. “Each little buzz, each piece of obedience
helps reinforce things. We don’t mind if it takes a while.”
The room alongside held the girl that Harry
had gone off in search of. ‘06/038
(Carol)’ her label said. As we walked by she was being manhandled, still bound
and gagged, into the cell. Harry followed her into the cell. “Put her ankle
chain on,” I heard him say, “and then I’ll see what
those titties are like close up.” He turned to the
girl. “Don’t be upset little cunt,” he said, almost
affectionately as he reached out a hand and cupped one of her breasts, “you’ll
have plenty of gentlemen callers while you’re here.” She tried to pull away from him, earning a
slap on the face. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her back against the
wall of the cell. Pushing her sports top up over her breasts he started to
pinch and squeeze her tits.
“That’s pretty much the shape of things
here - sex and violence,” said Rick as we walked on. By the time we send them
on they’re ready for what they’ll have to cope with.”
We walked on passing five or six more
cells, all occupied by naked, chained, prisoners. At
the end of the corridor a door opened out into a brightly lit lobby area. At a
desk to one side, next to what was evidently the door to a parallel corridor
serving the cells themselves, a bored guard sat, working away at a cross-word
puzzle. Manilla folders were piled up on the desk in
three trays, Incoming, Outgoing, Storage. Rick walked across to the desk and
picked up one of the folders from the tray marked Storage. “Here you go,” he
said, passing it to me, “these are the sort of records we keep.”
It was the file for the girl I had helped
capture. On the front the word “collected” had been stamped in red. Inside the
front cover was a full face photo and a form listing a
set of basic data; name, age, height and weight, vital statistics, home
address, work place. There was space for details of medical conditions,
educational qualifications, close associates. In the rest of the file were a
series of what seemed to be surveillance reports. There were more photos of
Jackie – her in a coffee shop chatting into her mobile phone, emerging from a
clothes shop clutching a large carrier bag and wearing a big smile, skipping up
the steps of the university library. The final document in the file was a short
memo which said. “Subject authorised for collection for internal use. Not for
re-sale. FC.” I
handed it back.
“You see, we try to run a professional
operation.”
“Sure,” I said, “why
wouldn’t you?”
Rick showed me through another door. “These
are the research facilities,” he said. It looked just like another room full of
computers to me. “We do some from here, most of the major stuff is done
elsewhere but if we’ve got an opportunity for a pick up we can carry out the
basic checks – make sure they won’t be missed too quickly, that sort of
thing.”
“Harry said you use video surveillance in
research,”
“Oh sure, we keep any thing for the current
projects on a video server farm – we can call up anything we’ve got at one of
these work stations. Use it for planning or briefing the snatch squad as we
need to. Here, look,” he scrolled down a list of numbers,
until he picked out “05/209 (Caroline)”. A tap on the keyboard brought
up a further list, dates, times, locations. “These are all cross referenced as
we collect them. Some of the footage is from intercepted public systems,
sometimes it’s our own concealed cameras. Another tap on the button and the
file started to play. It was a bar. Sitting at it staring at a half empty glass
was a man. From the back it could have been anyone. “That’s Harry,” said my
host. He always likes at least one chance to get up close to the target. Say’s
you can’t really judge weight, agility, stuff like that, from video.
A girl came into the bar,
the camera lens zoomed in on her, out of focus for a moment. She was a blonde,
wearing a v-neck sweater that clung tightly to a pair of tits as round as
grapefruit. She walked passed the camera and it panned back, following her
across the bar. Her arse was as nicely rounded as her tits. The bar was empty
but she stood right next to Harry. He looked up as she reached the bar. There
was no sign of the barman. She turned to Harry, “Can I get a drink here?” she
asked.
“I guess,” Harry replied. “I got this in
living memory. You don’t look like the kind of girl anyone would let go short
of a drink for long.”
“Well, thank you kind sir,” Caroline
answered. She was twisting a lock of her hair in her fingers as she talked,
looking straight at Harry. The barman came into shot. She didn’t notice him;
she was just looking at Harry. They talked some more. She was flirting, he was
flirting back.
He looked at his watch and apologised.
“Sorry, I have to go,” he said.
“I may still be here later,” she said.
“That would be great, I’ll maybe get back.”
He left her. She turned to the barman and ordered a vodka and tonic. He served
her. The video stopped.
“And then?” I said. Rick picks another file
further down the list. The video started up again. This time it was dark, out
of doors. Harry was standing at the back of a large saloon car. He lifted up
the lid of the boot. The camera zoomed in. It was Caroline. She was unconscious; gagged with silver tape
that reflects the lights from the video camera. The same tape was wound around
her chest and arms, just below her tits, it dragged
her sweater tight across her breasts making them look even fuller and firmer
than they did before. Harry smiled at the camera and dropped the lid of the
boot. The video stops.
“Its not just video though,” Rick says
selecting another file. It was Caroline voice again. This time she sounded like
she was on the phone. She’s talking to an answering machine
“Hey,” she said. “I thought I’d call you. Just popped back to the room. I met this cute guy and … well
you know me….let’s see how it goes. Wish me luck.” The phone went dead.
“Phone tap?” I said.
“Uhhuh,” says
Rick. “Phone taps, bugs, anything really to get the background or limit the
risks. With that one we could hack the machine and wipe the message. Harry
doesn’t like leaving loose ends.” He smiled. “The other thing we do is to
record all the debriefing sessions we do here. Here, watch this…” He clicked on
a file labelled “05/224 (Jane)”. The video had been shot in a small room with a
single chair. Behind the chair was a door. It opened and two men pushed a tall
blonde girl into the room. She was wearing a white blouse and a straight black
skirt. She was wearing heels – they made her stand taller than the two men. Her
hair was quite short, cut close to her head giving her a curiously punkish look that contrasted with her conservative clothes.
She was gagged. They sat her on the chair and tied her to it. They took off her
gag and left the room. She was looking around to left and right. A disembodied
voice said, “Hello, Jane.” She looked startled, staring around herself, looking
for the source of the voice.
“Where are you?” she sad. “Why am I here?
You’ve got to let me go. There must be some mistake.”
The voice seems to sympathise with her. “Don’t
worry, Jane,” it said, “There are mistakes sometimes. I’m sure if there’s any
mistake we can soon sort it out. Perhaps you can help me?”
“Oh,” Jane said, puzzled. “Help you? Why
should I help you? Why don’t you let me go?”
“Well, Jane, I could but then if there
hadn’t been a mistake – then that wouldn’t be right would it?”
Jane seemed confused. “Err, no, I guess not
but you can’t have meant to kidnap me.”
“As I say, it’s possible that a mistake has
been made. Let me ask you some questions. In your office, tell me, are you the
only senior secretary?”
“Oh no, there’s four of us.”
“Ah, perhaps that’s the problem. Tell me
about the others.”
“The others. Ah – there’s Angie. Actually she looks a bit like me, blonde too
but a bit shorter. Her parents are quite wealthy. They’ve got a yacht, she goes
off for long weekends, we never know whether she’s coming back on Mondays but
she doesn’t’ seem to care – says she doesn’t really need the money. You must
have meant to kidnap her. Or, Louise. Oh, no I shouldn’t
be telling you this.”
“It’s all right. You’re just helping me
out. We have to correct any mistakes, don’t we?”
“I, I guess so, well, Louise she’s …..”
Rick turned down the volume. “Will you look
at that,” he says. “She’s falling over herself to find something that will let
her get free. We’ll get enough information to pick up two of her three friends
over the next couple of weeks. You get that sometimes. If they don’t resist
then often they’ll be really cooperative. Makes our job easy but, hah,” He
flicked the video off in disgust. “I’m glad I haven’t got friends like that.
Anyway, where have we got to?” He scratched his head and thought for a moment.
OK let’s see. You’ve seen research, the reception cells, a little bit on
debriefing, something about the records and admin. I guess you should see
something of the processing that goes on after arrival.”
“OK,” I said, “lead on.”
Rick lead the way back out into the lobby.
Alongside the desk that guarded the entrance to the cells were three other doors,
each labelled with clear signs, Evaluation, Orientation, Despatch.
As we got back to the desk Jackie, now naked but still bound, was hustled
through the door from the cells. “Ah, here’s your little friend,” Rick said,
picking up her file. “Why don’t we go watch as some of the blank spaces in her
profile get filled in.”
Jackie was kicking and struggling against
the two men holding her as she was half pulled, half thrown through the door
marked “Evaluation”. We followed her. Beyond the door was a small doctor’s
surgery. As we came in one of the men called, “Hey, Rick, since you’ve got her
file can you note the scores down?”
“Sure,” Rick replied. Jackie was squealing
as they pushed her onto a pair of scales in one corner of the surgery.
“Stop struggling, cunt,”
barked the man, cuffing her and sending her reeling against the wall. Dazed,
she stood as still as she could on the scales. “115lbs,” he called out to Rick.
He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back against a height scale on the
wall. “5 feet four.”
The other man picked up a tape measure from
the desk and pulled it around her chest, waist and hips. “34, 22, 32,” he
called out to Rick. “Looks like a B cup to me.”
Rick was noting down the details as a
blonde woman in a white coat came in. “Another one?” she asked. “Where’s the
file?”
“Here you go, Doc” said Rick passing it to
her. He gestured towards me. “This is …” he began.
“I know. Well don’t get in the way either
of you.” She turned towards Jackie, “Put her on the couch,” she said and then
walked across to stand beside her. “Now, young lady” she said quietly. “I need
a blood sample and a urine sample. You can either help me or you can be
difficult but you won’t like how I take the urine sample if it comes to that.
OK?”
Jackie looked around at the two men, the
doctor, Rick and myself. She nodded slowly and grunted
an mmphed acceptance through the tape of her gag. The
doctor rolled her onto her face and stuck a hypodermic into her arm, She drew off a sample of blood into a small tube. She
tossed a stainless steel bedpan onto the couch alongside the girl. The two men
knew the drill and lifted the helpless Jackie onto it. “Let’s have it,” said
the doctor. Jackie whimpered and looked around again. The doctor slapped her. “Do it, or I’ll get a catheter,” she snarled.
Jackie whimpered again as the ringing sound
of her pee hitting the steel of the pan confirmed her compliance. “Why the
urine sample?” I asked.
“Pregnancy test,” the doctor replied as
Jackie was pulled off from the pan. “We don’t get many but it complicates
things if we don’t know early on.” She
reached for a small jar on her desk and pulled a pair of disposable rubber
gloves from a box and wiped off Jackie with a wad of tissue. “On the other hand,”
she went on, “you’d be surprised how often I find little trophies hidden in the
most unusual places. Take her gag off.”
One of the men pulled the tape from her
mouth, she cried out as the tape ripped away from her skin. He prised out the
wad of sponge that had been filling her mouth. She barely had the chance to
squeal before the doctor crammed a Whitehead gag into
her mouth, ratcheting it open to force her jaws
apart. Picking up a torch she peered into Jackie’s mouth, running her fingers
inside. Apparently satisfied, she turned her attention elsewhere, pushing
Jackie back onto the couch and plunging her fingers into the girl’s vagina.
Jackie groaned as the doctor’s fingers probed inside her. The doctor ignored
her complaints and rolled her over once again, this time probing with her fingers
inside the girl’s anus. More gagged whimpers accompanied the doctor’s actions.
The doctor stood up and snapped off her latex gloves. She turned to the two
men. “Any sign of medication?”
“No, nothing we could see in her handbag,”
one of them replied. “A half used pack of contraceptive pills and some headache
tablets was all she had that looked medical.”
“Fine,” she noted down some comments in the
file and handed it back to Jackie’s guards. “I’ll add the test results later.
You can put her back in the cells now.” Jackie was pulled from the couch and
hustled away.
“Thanks, Doc,” Rick said. “That’ll do us
for now, I think. You OK with that Larry?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, although it wasn’t
clear how this was helping yet.
“OK,” said Rick, “let’s go look at
Orientation and Despatch.”
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