Market Forces

Chapter 16: A Call From The Kalinin

 

I was up in the Sales Centre watching another auction. Some of the women that had taken longer in orientation were now ready for market. Brian was convinced that prices were starting to rise. I still wasn’t convinced. I looked around the room; it didn’t look like there were too many buyers to me.

 

I saw that the first lot onto the platform was to be Julia. I’d seen her, after she’d got over the punishments for her escape attempt, being trained to play her part in the auction. Brian was evidently keen to show that he could drive up the prices by getting the girls to pitch themselves better. This time he’d set up a big video projection screen at the back of the stage.

 

I watched from the side of the platform as she came on stage, teetering in high heels, bottom swaying in a very short tight skirt and her ample tits straining to burst out of a crisply starched white blouse. With a brown manila folder in her hand, her long hair pulled tight back from her face into a pony tail and a pair of glasses perched on her nose she looked the archetypal secretary.

 

A murmur ran around the buyers. It was as much, I thought, surprise at the fact that, while she wore the collar that marked her out as sale stock, she was neither shackled nor gagged. I guess it could have been appreciation.

 

“Welcome lot number 06/086,” Brian said in an oily tone. “I understand that you wish to apply for the job of personal secretary to one of our audience today. I see that you’ve brought you application folder.”

 

“That’s right, Sir,” Julia responded. “I’d make a very good, very personal, secretary.”

 

“Well, please take a seat. And face the camera, won’t you? I’d like everyone to be able to see exactly what you have to offer.”

 

Julia sat herself down on a high stool in the centre of the stage. The screen flickered into life and her face was projected up on it. The image was six feet high or more, you could almost see the individual grains of mascara on her eye lashes as she batted them at the camera. She crossed her legs and then gave a giggle as she tugged ineffectually at the hem of her skirt in an attempt to keep it some sort of order. I could see some of the buyers in the audience leaning forward with interest.

 

“Now,” said Brian, beginning what was evidently a pre-rehearsed interview, “I’m sure you like to tell us about your capabilities. Your office skills and so forth. What are you like behind a desk?”

 

“I’m very efficient, Sir, always happy to put in long hours and make sure my boss is happy,” she smiled directly at the camera.

 

“And how about on top of one?”

 

Julia appeared embarrassed, “Well Sir, I am sure that I have never had any complaints in that direction either.”

 

“How about your typing skills?”  

 

“I’m quite proficient.”

 

“And you find you can manage to see the key board underneath those tits of yours?”

 

“Really, Sir. I’m not sure that’s the sort of question I anticipated at this interview.” Her prim response was greeted with a quiet ripple of laughter form the audience.

 

“You understand I must have the answers to these questions though,” Brian said sternly. “Now let’s talk about time management. Very important for a secretary you’ll agree?”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“Well perhaps you’d tell me how much of your working week you routinely spend fucking with your boss.”

 

“Goodness. What sort of question is that?” Jules appeared to become flustered. She fanned herself with her application form. She licked her lips as the camera zooms in on her mouth and reached behind her head to free her hair from its pony tail. She shook it loose. A vaguely appreciative grunt could be heard from the audience. I had the impression that while they were amused by the display, some of them felt it was all going on a bit too long. Julia looked up at the camera and gave it a knowing smile. “Well,” she said, “I’ve never refused if my boss asked me to take a few things down.”

 

Brian continued with his patter. “I see,” he said. “And the quality of your work?”

 

Well,” Julia said, “of course I make mistakes the same as anyone else. But I’ve always felt that the best policy is to make a clean breast of it.” With that she quickly unbuttoned her blouse and her bra and took both of them off, continuing to sit perched on the stool with her tits naked for the whole audience to see. There were some grunts of approval and a few coughs. The bidders were clearly appreciative but somehow it all seemed to have fallen a bit flat, though you could hardly say that for Julia’s chest.

 

“There you are gentlemen,” Brian concluded. “Let’s hear your bids for this piece. Can I suggest $80,000?” The room fell quiet. No one responded. “$70,000 then? $60?”

 

“40,” came a call from one side of the room.

 

“45,” responded another. The room was quiet again.

 

“Surely we can do better than that?” Brian chided. “Excellent secretarial skills and other useful attributes as you’ve heard. Any more? Is that really all?” He looked almost irritated with the bidders sitting in the hall. I could see that they didn’t like that. “Very well then. At $45,000 – it’s you sir, in the corner. No more? At $45,000 then. For the final time. $45,000 in the room. Sold!” He brought his gavel down with an abrupt tap. 

 

Jules looked disappointed as two guards came on to remove her from the platform. Brian did nothing to hide his sense that she hadn’t reached her potential price. Julia looked upset and confused as she was hustled from the stage. The audience simply returned to studying their sales catalogues. “Funny idea, that,” I overheard one of them saying to a colleague. “I mean quite amusing and all but it didn’t seem to have much to do with why we are all here.”

 

Immediately after Julia came Caroline, the girl I had seen being abducted on video when I’d first visited the Prep Centre. “Lot number 05/209,” called Brian to the audience. He seemed to sense their impatience and was now trying move things ahead. “I have several commission bids for this lot….”  I looked at the catalogue. Sarah wasn’t on the list. Brian had been adamant that she’d have to be fully prepped before he’d even thing of including her. I think Freddie thought he was being a bit ungrateful given that he’d just been trying to help him out. I wasn’t bothered; it just gave me a bit more time to think of an excuse to hang on to her for Harry. 

 

All Spice had been through Orientation swiftly. The Kalinin had asked us to “leave the rough edges on, that way my son will learn the quicker what it is to manage his wives”. Rick had shipped them up to the Kalinin after only five days. A week later I picked up a call from the Kalinin on my mobile. “Mr Lawrence,” he said. “I wanted to tell you how pleased I was with the merchandise that you supplied recently. It certainly conforms to my expectations.”

 

I made some remark about being pleased to have been able to help and hoping that his son was pleased. The Kalinin enthused some more and then went on, “I think I mentioned that I had some other business that I thought you might be able to help me with. I was wondering if you could stop by at a convenient point. Give my PA a call, Clegg’s got her number.”

 

I called Clegg. “I thought you’d like to know the Kalinin of Kushtia wants to talk about some further acquisitions.”

 

“Good,” said Clegg, briskly. “Maybe your ideas are working out.” He gave me the number I wanted. “Those five singers were a good piece of work,” he said. “The snatch squad said it all went very smoothly.”

 

“Well, the Kalinin says he is pleased anyway.”

 

“Yes, he called me. His little lad is happy as a pig in shit and the Kalinin reckons he’ll be so busy with the five of them that he won’t have time for some of his other, more expensive, hobbies. Oh, by the way,” I knew now that these throw away lines from Clegg were usually anything but, ”how’s the video coming on?”

 

‘The video’ was intended to give Clegg’s clients a briefing on our new direction. “We start scripting next week.”

 

“So, not actually started yet?”

 

“Well sort of. We know who the script writer will be at least. In fact I’m just going over to sort out a meeting with her now. Just to make sure that she gets her mind around the idea of working for us.”

 

“Ah,” said Clegg, perceptively. “Not actually a willing participant.”

 

“Not entirely, no. Well, not at all.” I said, thinking of the pick up we had planned.

 

“Good, good. I can’t stand the idea of paying writers. Sounds like you’re on the right track. Keep me up to date, won’t you?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. Then remembering I’d agreed to try to keep Sarah out of the auction catalogue, I thought I’d broach the subject with Clegg. “Oh, one other thing, I need a red head for the video, I think. Can I use the one you saw in Harry’s office? It would just save picking up another one. I don’t want to increase stock for the sake of it.”

 

“No, fair enough,” said Clegg. “It might be worth hanging on to her anyway if the Kalinin’s son has a taste for that sort of thing and Brian’s not getting such good prices at the moment. You’d better have her earning her keep, though. She might as well go back to Harry’s office, if he still needs someone.”

 

“Fine,” I said. Harry would be happy that we wouldn’t have to let Sarah go for a while at least.  

 

I called the Kalinin from the cab as I headed up to Euston for the train north and the meeting with our script writer. The Kalinin’s PA suggested we got together on the Friday. That was fine by me. She gave me a location in North Wales. For the time being I had other things to do, I had a writer to recruit. 

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

From one of the organisation’s white vans, I watched the video feed from the flat. It was great the way that the snatch teams could get surveillance stuff in place now. I could tell Rachel Kernow was thrilled. For the first time in her life, she was thinking, there was a chance that she would get some recognition for what she did. Actually she probably felt it was really recognition just to be nominated. “Best TV or Video Script by a New Author”; even being on the list was a step in the right direction. And you could see that she really thought she had a chance of winning and even if she seemed determined to have a fantastic evening.

 

She looked in the mirror checking out the dress and the shoes that I reckoned must have cost her a small fortune. You could guess that she was saying to herself, “Hey, a girl has to make an effort, and that’s not a bad effort. Not Scarlett Johansson, maybe, but pretty good nonetheless.” She smoothed the purple silk of the long gown down over her hips, happy that it made the best of her figure. The matching purple long evening gloves that she wore as well added to the elegance of the outfit.

 

It was then that her door bell rang. She opened it to a woman in a chauffeur’s uniform. It was Tricia. The chauffeuse tipped her cap. “Miss Kernow?” she asked. “It’s your car. For the ceremony.”

 

“Terrific,” said Rachel. “I’ve been expecting you. I’ll just get my bag.”  She snatched up her evening bag, checked that it held the essentials – a credit card, the notes for her acceptance speech, and a handkerchief to blot away any tear of delight or, perish the thought, disappointment, and followed the chauffeuse out of her flat.

 

I was watching outside as she got into the limo. The car was enormous, big and white with blacked out windows. “Is this all for me?” she giggled as her driver held open the door and she slid onto the vast leather covered back seat

 

I guessed that by now Tricia was into her routine, “It should have been Miss Kernow, but I have to pick up another passenger if that’s all right. There was a problem with one of the other cars.”

 

“Oh, that’s fine,” Rachel would be saying, “No problem at all.” All the research said she was a helpful sort of girl.

 

“Good,” Tricia would reply. “Please help yourself to a drink, there’s some champagne in the bar cabinet to your right.” I watched as she stepped around to the driver’s seat and got in. The car pulled away. I followed in my own car as the limo meandered through the suburbs, heading towards town. It pulled off of the main road and onto a small housing estate. The car stopped. Tricia, the chauffeuse, got out of the car.

 

I imagined Rachel in the back of the limo, sipping some more champagne and watching as she walked up the drive. I was watching myself. “That’s quite a kinky uniform,” I thought, “boots, tight trousers, buttons, cap and gloves. Those boots look a bit tight though from the way she’s walking.”

 

The reason for Tricia’s tight boots was helplessly struggling in the boot of the limousine. Eileen Donald, the real driver of the car had been ready to leave for the evening’s work when she opened the door to the garage to find herself staring at a determined looking woman, pointing a gun directly at her. Forced to strip to her underwear at gun point, Eileen had been pushed down on the floor of the garage while the woman wound tape around her wrists and ankles. The woman had wasted little effort in securing her captive but in moments she was helpless and could only look on as the woman pulled on the shirt, tie, trousers, jacket, cap and gloves that Eileen had just taken off. And the boots – the only problem was they were half a size too small.

 

Eileen had been bouncing around in the boot of the limousine. Well bouncing probably wasn’t the word – the rest of the limo may have been enormous but the boot was tiny, she was wedged in. Now she would be aware that they had stopped. No doubt she was listening for what would happen next.

 

I watched as the new passenger, sharply dressed in a black velvet trouser suit, joined Rachel in the back of the limousine and the car moved off. Tricia told me how it went afterwards.

 

“Hi,” said Rachel and introduced herself, “I’m Rachel. What award are you up for? Have some champagne.”

 

The newcomer smiled and took a glass from Rachel. “Hi,” she said. “I’m up for the ‘Best Author of a True Crime’ award.”

 

“Scary stuff,” said Rachel, “what sort of thing?”

 

“Well,” she said, reaching into the black velvet bag she was carrying, “it’s a bit of a coincidence, really. It’s all about a girl that is kidnapped on her way to a book award ceremony.”

 

“What?” said Rachel. “That’s silly … Oh!” She found herself staring at a gun in her companion’s hand.

 

“Please don’t make a fuss,” the woman with the gun said. “Just put that glass down.”

 

Rachel did as she was told. “Why are you doing this? Is it to stop me getting to the award ceremony? Who has paid you to do this? It’s ridiculous.”

 

“Do be quiet, Miss Kernow,” the woman was reaching into her bag again. “Please put this in your mouth and fasten it tightly behind your head.” She passed Rachel a bright red ball threaded on a leather strap. Rachel complied, choking as she pushed the ball into place and staring, wide-eyed, back at the gun. “Very good,” said the woman.

 

“GMmng,” whimpered Rachel in response as the car drove on.

 

“And now chain your wrists behind your back with these please.” She passed Rachel a pair of handcuffs. Even through her gloves, the steel of the handcuffs felt cold and hard about her wrists as they locked in place. The woman put down her gun.

 

Their driver called back, “You two all right back there?”

 

“Hmmmmph,” grunted Rachel.

 

“Yes, all under control,” said the other woman. “Just one more thing.” She took the black velvet bag that had held the gun, gag and cuffs. “While I’m sure you are interested in where we are going, I think you’ll understand why we’re not keen for you to see,” she said, pulling the bag over Rachel’s head and drawing the neck of the bag tight around her throat.

 

Rachel, blinded by the bag, gagged and cuffed, could do nothing as the car sped through the night.

 

I was already at the safe house when the limo arrived and watched as Rachel was pulled out of the car with the bag still over her head. Tricia went to the back of the car and pulled Eileen out of the boot. The two of them were struggling against their captors. Eileen looked the worse for her experience, streaked with grease from where she had been forced to the floor of the garage. She had cut her head in the back of the car in her efforts to escape. Tricia ignored her efforts to break free for a while but finally lost patience and slapped her face with a leather gloved hand. “Stop struggling or there will be more of that,” she warned. She hustled her captive away.

 

I was pleased with Rachel what I could see of her. We’d picked her for her writing skills but I’d thought when we’d looked at the surveillance material that she’d be easy on the eye as well and the evidence so far confirmed that. Of course I couldn’t see her face but her figure looked pretty good in the dress she was wearing and the view of her legs through the slit in her skirt wasn’t bad either. “Take her through,” I said. “I’ll have a chat with her.”

 

They put Rachel in one of the rooms that opened off the basement garage. By the time I got there she had already been sitting in the room for half an hour or so, tied to a solid wooden chair. She was still blinded by the bag but she turned her head towards me as I opened the door. She started struggling and grunting into her gag, I assumed to demonstrate that she wasn’t happy with how she had been treated.

 

I pulled the bag from her head and she blinked in the unaccustomed light. I checked her handcuffs. Her gloves looked creased from where she had obviously tried to free herself but it didn’t look like she was having any success. I unfastened the strap of the gag and eased the ball from her mouth. She coughed and groaned. “Please, why are you doing this?”

 

“You’re going to work for me,” I said. “I need a script written.”

 

“You must be joking,” Rachel responded. “You don’t have to kidnap writers. You just hire them. Anyway, I’ll be missed. Have you any idea how many people there were going to be at that awards ceremony? Don’t you think they’ll have noticed that I didn’t turn up? They’ll be looking for me.”

 

“Oh, you’ve been missed all right. The White Head people were very disappointed that you weren’t there to collect your award. You did win, by the way.”

 

“Bastard!” Rachel spat. Pulling against the ropes that held her to the chair.

 

“I think the press will have a real field-day with the story. ‘Award Winning Writer Vanishes’ something like that – lots of coverage along the lines of ‘Was the pressure all too much? Has Rachel Kernow followed in the footsteps of Agatha Christie, disappearing in response to the strain?’ Actually my money’s on a story headlined ‘Winning Author Skips Awards With Gay Lover’ or something similar.”

 

“What?” Rachel said. “What sort of stupid nonsense is that?”

 

“The sort that the newspapers will cook up when they find the passionate letters between you and Eileen Donald.” I had to confess I was enjoying myself.

 

“Who the hell is Eileen Donald?” 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course, you didn’t meet. Eileen was the driver that was supposed to pick you up but got picked up herself instead. Look, don’t worry. All you need to know is that no one is coming looking for you so it’s probably easier if you go along with what we want.”

 

“You must think I’m stupid.”

 

“No, but for a writer you’re certainly working your way through the clichés. Why don’t you try ‘you’ll never get away with this’?” Rachel simply glowered back at me. I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with her until she’d spent a little time in Orientation. There wasn’t any point in trying to rush things. I gave a sigh and jammed the ball gag back in her mouth. She wriggled and grunted as I tightened the strap. The snatch team came back in. “She doesn’t want to play,” I said. “Ship her up to the Prep Centre and I’ll talk to her again in a few days.”

 

Rachel’s chauffeuse smiled, “Can we play with her? My partner’s driving the next bit and I do like a girl in evening dress.”  Rachel looked even more distressed as the girl eased the strap of her gown off one shoulder. Rachel looked across at me with wide, pleading eyes.

 

“Sure, I said. Normal rules apply.” I turned back to Rachel. “Best get used to it,” I said. “You’ll do what we want in the end.” She shook her head vigorously and the snatch team laughed. I was quite surprised at myself. It was proving easier to be a villain than I’d thought.