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Harry turned out a small team to go hunting
Lauren. He’d been trying to bring on a new set of “cadets” as he called them.
All girls under twenty, Harry thought they’d be helpful for collecting the
increasing number of eighteen to twenty year olds we were being asked to find.
Four of them were sent off with a list of
some of the places that the Emir knew Lauren used; a couple of photographs and
Sarah’s description of the way that Lauren was dressed. Harry told them just to
report in when they’d found her but I could tell he wasn’t confident that they
wouldn’t try to pick her up themselves.
I was with Harry when he got the phone call saying they’d found her. We hopped into his Land Rover and headed off through the Worcestershire countryside, following the directions from Harry’s team.
We turned off the main road into a car park
beside a large metal framed building. “The Music Barn”
the sign said. At
A teenage girl, one of Harry’s team I assumed, skate boarded towards us across the car park. She skidded to a halt inches from the car, stood on the tail of her board and flipped it up to catch it in her hands as she dismounted. Harry opened the window on his door. “Yo!” she announced in greeting. Suddenly I was finding it difficult to remember that I was only about 10 year’s older than she was.
“So you found her?”
“Yepp.”
The new arrival obviously had as broad a vocabulary as her quarry.
“You wanna tell me about it? Or are we just going to applaud the skateboarding?”
She looked sulky. “She’s around the back.”
“OK, what do we need to do to pick her up?”
“Nah, don’t bother. We done that.”
“Jaycee, I said just find her. I said don’t touch her.”
“She’d have sussed us, the time you took. We took her easy. That’s what we’re supposed to be for isn’t it?”
“When I say so. Not just when you feel like it.”
“Whatever.”
She must be getting on famously with Lauren, I thought. Harry looked pensive. “OK, let’s talk about it later. Do we go with you or are you gonna bring her out here?”
Jaycee sucked on her teeth and looked back towards the building. She gestured with her head towards the side of the building, got back on her skateboard and headed off. We followed in the Land Rover. Beside the building was a overgrown track and at the back of that was a derelict brick hut, its windows without glass, its door hanging loosely from one hinge. Jaycee disappeared inside. Harry backed the Land Rover up to the hut and we followed her inside.
Jaycee was waiting for us with two of her pals. Sitting in the floor, wrists and ankles bound and with a rucksack pulled down over her head as a hood was a girl I assumed to be Lauren. She was only wearing one of her two trainers. Harry pointed down at Lauren’s bare foot. “Loose ends,” he said to Jaycee and her pals. “I’ve told you about that. We don’t leave loose ends. Where’s the other shoe?”
Jaycee laughed and pulled the rucksack clear of Lauren’s head, showing the other trainer jammed toe first into the poor girl’s mouth and tied there as a gag. Lauren shook her head trying to dislodge the shoe but without effect. Her complaints became progressively more excited and animal like as Harry grinned and congratulated Jaycee and the others.
Harry and I pulled Lauren to her feet. Together we picked her up and pushed her into the back of the Land Rover before wrapping her in a tarpaulin. “Thanks, Jaycee,” said Harry. “Good job.”
“Fair ‘nuff,” said the girl, evidently pleased by the compliment. “Hey is it true we snatched Hettie Van Voom?”
“Yeah, sure. Part of the same job.”
“Excellent!” said Jaycee. “Sorry I missed that one. She is just sooo cool. Do we get to prep her?”
“Sorry, Jaycee, she’s being delivered today.” Jaycee looked disappointed. Comparing her pale, spotty, complexion, ratted hair, ripped jeans and cropped t-top with Hettie’s immaculate appearance she seemed like an unlikely admirer but this business throws up some strange people. Jaycee and her pals grabbed their skateboards and piled into the back of the Land Rover around the helpless Lauren. We dropped them off at the railway station and headed off with Lauren towards the castle.
As we drove the Land Rover back, with Lauren secure in the back under a tarpaulin, I chatted with Harry about Sarah and her problems. As I suspected he wasn’t interested in doing anything for her, Cindy was proving to be just as useful. I asked him about Tricia. She’d been bending my ear about taking a lead role on a collection. Harry was blunt. “She’ll get to go lead when I think she’s ready. You wouldn’t want any different would you?”
“Nuhuh,” I said. “Your call is good enough for me.” And it was. If Harry didn’t think she was ready then it wouldn’t be good for the collection and it wouldn’t be good for Tricia either. Anyway I wasn’t about to put my neck out for her with Harry.
Lauren started to kick up a fuss in the back. The trainer gag kept the noise down but it was still irritating. “Fancy some music?” said Harry. I nodded. He pushed the on switch on the Land Rover’s CD player. Lead Zeppelin poured out of the speakers. It drowned out Lauren’s grunting but that was about all that could be said for it. My taste goes more for Northern Soul.
We drove up to the Emir’s place. He was waiting at the door. Harry and I carried Lauren, helpless, kicking and wrapped in the tarpaulin, inside.
Brad helped us to get her untied. Even after we took the gag off her she stayed silent.
“Lauren, we need to discuss this,” said Brad. Lauren took no notice. He snipped through the plastic ties around her ankles and her wrists. Lauren sat on the floor hunched up and scowling at her father. “Come on,” Brad said, gripping Lauren’s arm and helping her to her feet. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.” He turned to Harry and me. “Thanks guys,” he said. “Lauren and I need to chat. Why don’t you get yourselves a beer, Freddie and Kushnati are in the bar.”
I spent about half an hour with Kushnati, Clegg, and Harry but it was soon obvious that Kushnati was getting restless waiting for the return of his fiancée to be. I agreed to look for Brad and Lauren.
I bumped into one of Brad’s guards in the corridor. He said they were down in the dungeon but Brad didn’t want to be interrupted. I slipped into a gallery that looked down into the dungeon to wait for an opportunity to get them to come back to the bar. Lauren was over at one side, swinging her legs under the chair she was sitting on. Brad was dividing his attention between talking to his daughter and tightening straps that were holding Femke onto the rack. Alongside them Greetje had been tied to the rim of the great wooden wheel. Both Femke and Greetje were moaning in fear.
“Why wouldn’t you talk to me?” Brad was asking his daughter.
“He’s gross. He’s old and he’s gross. How could you think I’ll marry him?”
“Lauren, sometimes it’s a good idea to take a little bit of pain for a greater good.” Brad turned his attentions to Greetje, tightening her straps. “Like these ladies are going to discover for tormenting Sarah.”
“I won’t do it, Dad.”
“Think about it. You’ll be the wife of a council member; practically royalty. OK, Kolin isn’t the greatest place on the planet but you can still get MTV there. You’d have your own slaves; a councillor’s wife wouldn’t be expected to lift a finger. Beside’s how long can he live?” Brad tugged on the bar that started to stretch Femke on the rack. “You shouldn’t have been quite so willing to amuse Mr Koresh, Femke dear,” he said. “I think you should have come to find me.” Femke gasped as the rack began to pull against her arms and legs. Brad turned back to Lauren. “But if you won’t go…”
Lauren watched fascinated as Femke tried to pull against the effects of the rack. Brad went across to Greetje and started to winch the wheel she was tied to clear of the floor. Her squeals became louder with each creak of the winch and clank of the chain. As her belly lifted from the floor and she took the weight of her body on the straps around her wrists and ankles she gave out a deep groan.
“My own slaves?” Lauren asked. “Couldn’t I do that here? I mean I’m old enough to have my own and you’ve let me use Sarah.”
“It’s different here, Lauren. Or back in the States. There’s too many people who think that sort of thing is primitive and – what did you call Kushnati – gross. I can only do it because of my diplomatic immunity and a lot of money and help from Clegg. Even then, I’m not sure we’re going to be able to keep it going. Sure you could go on borrowing slaves but it would be a long time before you could really have your own here.” Femke and Greetje were both groaning. Lauren got up from the seat and wandered across to look at them more closely.
“But he is gross. I mean the smell. And, well, in bed?”
“From what I hear the Emir won’t be bothering you much in the bedroom. You could probably persuade him to let you have one of the young tribesmen to keep you amused. He’s happy with the occasional grope and plenty of beer. And if you had your own slave to divert him….”
“You’d let me have one? As my own for real slave? Really Dad?”
Brad leant on the lever of Femke’s rack again, she yelled. Lauren’s eyes were brighter than ever. “Why not? If it would help. Not Sarah, though, she’s going back to Clegg. Have one of the others.” Greetje groaned and wriggled setting the wheel swinging on its supporting chain.
“Oh Dad!” Lauren exclaimed and ran forward, throwing her arms around his neck. She gave him one kiss after another.
“Hey,” he said. “Am I forgiven then?”
“I’ll do it,” said Lauren.
“Kushnati wanted to go through the formalities today, you know.”
“Yeah, I guessed,” said Lauren. “Well, why not? Unless you want to play with these some more?” She gestured at Femke and Greetje. “Ooo, I couldn’t have these two could I?”
“Why not?” said Brad. Lauren clapped her hands in delight. “I’ll get one of the guards to let them down.” Femke and Greetje moaned begging to be freed but still dreading their fate at the hands of Sarah.
“Let me get dressed, though,” said Lauren. “I want to do it properly. I’ve looked it up. I’m supposed to wear a chanoosh. I intend to be a proper Kushtian councillor’s wife.”
“That’s wonderful, Lauren,” Brad said.
“No problem,” Lauren said with a giggle. “Have you any idea what some of those ladies get up to?”
I headed back to the bar without bothering Brad. It was obvious that they’d be along shortly. We just had time to get Kushnati’s present for Brad off of the van and stowed in the next room before Brad reappeared, leading his daughter by the hand. Clad in her chanoosh, she presented a perfect picture of Kushtian submissive womanhood with her eyes cast to the floor and her hands clasped modestly in front of her.
“Mr Koresh,” Brad said. “I believe you have something to say.”
Kushnati got to his feet unsteadily. He’d been drinking consistently for quite a while. He belched. He spoke carefully, evidently having memorised the English words. “Emir, I wish to take your daughter as my wife.”
“Head Koresh,” Brad responded with equal formality. He brought out a set of ceremonial manacles joined by a heavy chain. From where I was standing they looked as though they were made of gold. I later found out that they were. “Take my daughter as your wife,” he said as he fastened first Laurens’ left wrist and then her right. “Care for her as your favourite horse or hawk.” He took Laurens hand and brought it together with Kushnati’s gnarled fingers. “Let everyone here witness that this girl gives no word against this match.” Lauren could have been gagged beneath the veil of the chanoosh but in fact she wasn’t.
She hugged her father and then hugged Kushnati, saying, “I look forward to becoming your wife, Head Koresh.”
Kushnati grunted his appreciation. “Your daughter, my wife,” he said. He turned to Brad. “Emir, please accept this gift as a token of my esteem for your daughter.” He clapped his hands. Two of Brad’s guards emerged from the next room pushing a large white box on a trolley. The box was tied with a huge purple satin ribbon and bow. Brad spoke his thanks to Kushnati and tugged at the ribbon. It fell loose. Lifting the lid of the box, Brad saw immediately what was inside. Laid out, full length, and wedged onto the box by cream, silk-covered, packing was Hettie Van Voom.
Brad was evidently delighted. “Head Koresh,” he said. “I’m overwhelmed. A remarkable gift indeed. Thaknarish. Thank you. Thaknarish.” The two guards helped get Hettie from the box.
Kushnati smiled. “Arrgn,” he said. “Please enjoy this. Think of it not as losing a daughter but gaining a woman.”
Hettie was drugged. Not unconscious but with only limited awareness of her surroundings. She presented a perfect, fetishised, female image. She wore a purple silk corset that exactly matched the ribbon of the box, long silk gloves that stretched over her elbows, stilt heeled platform soled shoes in a glossy patent leather, a narrow velvet band around her throat and a large ball gag in her mouth; all in the same purple. As she was helped to her feet, Brad was visibly delighted by what he saw. The corset cinched her waist, the combination of her well developed breasts and the engineering of the bra she wore gave her a cleavage that invited close inspection. Her legs, clad in the finest silk stockings, were made more shapely by the height of her heels.
Freddie, impressed as ever by the technologies developed by Rick’s team, stepped forward. “Brad,” he said, “you’ll like this.” He held up a small phial of liquid.” This allows you to use your new slave as a doll. When she is dosed with this, you can simply position her as you wish and she will stay in place.” He walked up to Hettie, carefully repositioning her, bending her at the knees and so her backside stuck out. He moved her arms so that one was above her head apparently waving while the other pressed a finger to her pursed lips. She stood motionless, holding the position.
“Fantastic,” said Brad, “Better & better.”
From the ways that Hettie’s eyes were flickering it was clear that she was aware of what was happening but had no control over her movements.
Sarah was watching the proceedings from the back of the room. She’d been brought in wearing the same costume that she had worn to dance for Kushnati. “Isn’t it romantic,” she said to me. “I would never have thought that Lauren would agree to this but it just goes to show.”
I grunted in a noncommittal way.
“I can’t imagine what persuaded her to go through with this and to go to Kushtia. But I’ll be honest,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “I’m not sorry to see her go. I’m not sure who was worse, her or Kushnati.”
I didn’t say anything. I was pretty sure we’d have something disagreeable lined up for her as soon as the engagement ceremony was finished.
The Emir and Kushnati were embracing. Lauren was standing quietly by. She leant across to her father and whispered something to him. He listened and then beckoned Sarah to join them. As she reached them he took her wrists and clipped her shackles to her collar. Unable to use her hands she was helpless to prevent Lauren pulling aside her Sarah’s veil to allow her to push one of Harry’s gel gags into her mouth. In a moment the expanding gel had silenced her. I saw Brad explaining something to Kushnati as Lauren clipped a leash to Femke and Greetje’s collars. Brad and Kushnati walked towards me together with Lauren dragging her newly acquired slaves. As they passed me they gave me a pleading look and a gagged moan. Brad beckoned me to follow.
At the back of the house, the transport crates was waiting for Femke and Toos. Beside it there were a pair of small wooden trestles. As we reached it, Brad took Femke and bent her forward over the first wooden trestle, clipping a short length of chain to her collar so that she was held, head down, her backside in the air. He walked behind her and fastened her ankle cuffs to the legs of the trestle, fixing her helpless and exposed.
With Femke fixed in place, Greetje was treated the same way. Sarah emerged from the house carrying a small metal bucket on a tripod stand. I recognised it from the dungeon. From the care she took and the way the air was shimmering above the bucket, it was obviously hot. As she walked by me I could see that the bucket contained red hot coals. She put it down beside Femke and went back into the house. “Kushnati,” Brad was saying. “I know that these girls are to be my wife’s slaves but of course they must carry your mark as part of your household.”
Lauren tried to interrupt. “Shouldn’t they have a mark for me?” Femke was trying to struggle free from the trestle.
Kushnati laughed, evidently amused by the girl’s naivety. “No,” said her father. “It’s all rather complicated, Kushtian laws of property and all that. Don’t worry about it.”
Sarah retuned carrying a velvet cushion. As she got to the group, Brad reached out and picked a long handled device from the cushion. He plunged the end of it into the bucket of hot coals. The two Dutch girls, guessing what was about to happen became still more animated in their attempts to free themselves.
The gag was not sufficient to silence the piercing scream as Brad pressed the red hot iron against Femke’s left buttock. It was loud enough to throw a crowd of rooks into the sky from a nearby line of trees, cawing in response. The hiss of scorching flesh could still be heard as the noise of the rooks and Femke’s gagged whimperings fell away. Brad pulled the brand away causing Femke to scream again and leaving the raw pattern of two interlocked K’s, for Kushnati Koresh, etched into her buttock. The whole thing was repeated with Greetje. At the end the smell of burnt flesh and the gagged screams of the girls filled the air around them. Brad tossed the brand back into the bucket of coals and reached forward to shake Kushnati’s hand.
“Arrgn” the chief said in acceptance and unfastened the two from their trestles to lead them staggering in pain towards the transport crate. Kushnati, Lauren, Femke and Greetje were ready for their journey to Kushtia. For Femke and Greetje, at least the sedative they were given for their journey would have eased the pain of their brands.
Elly took Sarah to one side. “You’re coming back to the Prep Centre,” she said. In spite of her gag Sarah’s gratitude was plain.
“I’d wait until you get there before you are too effusive in your thanks,” she said. “We’ve got some interesting programmes to put you through.” I wasn’t sure how well Sarah would respond but Elly, Freddy and I had agreed that it was probably the best step for her.
Brad caught up with me before I left.
“Well, that all seemed to work out,” I said.
“Yes, fine, Brad responded. “Thanks.”
“You said you wanted to talk about the National Geographic article.”
“Oh, yes. Look, you were right with your advice, like I said. The fuss died away pretty quickly. There was some sensational coverage in the press but like you said, they’ve got bored and moved on. The odd thing is that some other people haven’t. Here.” He turned to his desk and pulled a wad of papers from it. “These are copies of some of them,” he said. “The originals have gone back to the Foreign Office in Kolin. There are more. All pretty much the same.”
I looked at the papers. Letters, perhaps twenty or thirty, all of them from women all saying pretty much the same thing. Kushtia sounded like an ideal society, one in which women were valued as women. Was there any opportunity for a woman to come and live in Kushtia as a Kushtian woman? How could a woman become a Kushtian bride? Was it possible to work in Kushtia?
I looked at the addresses;
“It looks like you’ll be able to have your pick,” I said. “You won’t be needing us to pick up slaves if they are volunteering.”
“Not the same thing, Larry as well you know. But we are going to work on some of this. We’re thinking about running a sort of cultural experience programme – you know ‘learn something of this very different society’. Just the sort of thing for gap year students.” Brad gave a leer that would have been worthy of his new son in law. “I thought you ought to know though, just in case you heard about it and thought someone else was pooping in your patch.”
“Thanks Brad,” I said. “I’m sure there’s no problem from our side. Let us know if you need any help.”
“I will, Larry, don’t worry,” he said and I left him.
I was chatting to Clegg later on. I told
him about the “cultural experience programme”. He looked a bit disbelieving at
first and then seemed to think about it. He didn’t say anything that gave away
his views on it. “Plus I over heard Brad
say something that might interest you,” I said. “He seemed to think there might
be some problems with keeping his operation here in the
Clegg gave a quiet smile. “I wondered how
long it would take for it to get back to him,” he said. I’ve been having some
words with the
“How come now?”
“Well, normally it wouldn’t be a problem; there’d be a few folk for the Kushtian’s to pay off and no one would be bothered. It’s just that some of Elly’s contacts suggest that the police and security services are getting a bit more concerned lately about the trafficking of women for sex. Planning some sort of crack down.”
“That’ll be more of a problem for us than Brad, won’t it”
Freddie shook his head. “No, it’s not our side of it that they are interested in. They don’t believe there’s any sort of export traffic, they think it’s all the other way. They’re much more concerned about imports.”
“The Treasury worried about the balance of trade deficit again?” I joked.
Freddie smiled. “No, no. It’s much more the fact that Johnny Foreigner might be disrupting the status quo in the sex industry. Might even be exposing the lower classes to it and that would never do! Tsk, tsk!” He was grinning. I’d come to understand that Freddie didn’t much care for the way the British establishment kept its pleasures to itself. “So they’re out looking for foreign interests that might be part of a sex slave trafficking network.”
“And the castle would fall into that category?”
“Mmm,” said Freddie. “I think it might. Too conspicuous. And in the wrong place. Out in the countryside like that, attracts too much attention. If you want to run something like that you need to put it where no one will notice. Somewhere busy, somewhere crowded.”
“Like the Prep Centre?”
“Exactly. Anyway the
I finally managed to talk to Freddie about my idea for a “voluntary slave” operation. I’d been thinking about it for a while. The experiences with Kelly had given me the idea in the first place and the Kushtian experience following the article in National Geographic seemed to indicate that there might be something in it.
Freddie looked as though he was taking it on board but it’s always hard to tell with him. He said he’d think about it. I reckoned that meant I hadn’t made a good enough case.
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