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Chapter 66 : Room Service
“The London Garrick,
I’d spent half an hour wandering around the
public areas and worked out a plan for a bit of fun. It wasn’t a big place, there was the usual lobby, stairs up, lifts, a couple
of phone booths. Off to the right, a small bar. I sat in a coffee shop across
the road and watched her arrive, trundling her case in through the front door.
I gave her time to check in.
“Meet you for a drink?” I
texted. “
“Fine,” she came back. “CU. Sounds tame
though!!”
I looked at my watch. It was only five. I
had plenty of time to pick up some things. I flagged down a cab. “
I got back to the hotel just after
“If you’ll hold on, I’ll find her for you,”
the receptionist said helpfully.
A few moments later I heard a voice saying,
“The courtesy phones are over their Miss Rollins, I’ll put the call through on
the far one.” Very convenient, I thought. I heard Kelly’s voice as she picked
up the courtesy phone. “Hello?” she said. “Who’s there?”
“Go to the lift,” I said quietly but
insistently. “Don’t look around.” I
heard her gulp as she put down the phone.
As she walked up to the lift I put my bag
over my shoulder and stepped up close behind her. I had a knife hidden in the
palm of my hand. I let her feel it prick against her back. She gave a whimper.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said, quietly. I let her call the lift, standing close
behind her all the time. The doors slid open three
people got out and brushed past us, I let her feel the knife again, put my
other hand on her back and guided her forward into the empty lift. She pushed
the button for her floor. We rode up, her facing the doors, me close behind
her. The lift didn’t stop until we reached the fifth. Kelly led the way, still
at knife point along the corridor. We passed a service cart and a couple of
housemaids. I gave her a prick as we went by to remind her to behave.
We reached her room. She took out her key
card and slipped it into the slot. As the green light came on, I grabbed the
door handle, wrenched it open and pushed her through. She tripped on the door
sill as she went in and fell down, sprawling across the floor of the room.
“Stay down there,” I hissed, “and get on
your face. Put your hands behind your head. I grabbed the ‘do not disturb’ sign
from the door handle, hung it on the outside and pushed the door shut. I tipped
out my bag of toys onto the floor beside Kelly and started by pulling the ski
mask over my face. Of course she knew it was me but it seemed more fun like
that. Then came the gag, a thick rubber plug that I
pushed between her lips and past her teeth into her mouth. The plug was held on
a broad leather strap that covered almost the whole of the lower half of her
face. She grunted as I fastened the buckle to hold it in place, pushing the
plug deep into her mouth. I pulled her wrists down behind her, not being too gentle.
A pair of leather cuffs linked by a short chain served to keep them locked
together behind her back.
I rolled her over. I could see her eyes
were already bright with arousal. She was breathing heavily, through her nose, hmmphing softly behind the gag.
I took some time to look her over. I guess
she’d come straight from what ever she’d been doing - she looked like she was
dressed for work. She was wearing a fairly plain grey dress with a pattern of
small flowers on it. Some sort of silky material. I’m
no expert. Dark grey tights. Grey suede shoes. Low
heels, nothing flash. She was obviously enjoying me looking her over from
behind the mask, she grunted and wriggled trying her
wrists against the cuffs. I put out a hand to cup one of her breasts. She tried
to pull away, not keen to let her assailant take advantage of her.
I took that as a cue. There was a seam
running down the front of the dress. I grabbed either side of her v-neckline
and tugged. The stitches parted easily enough. She was squealing in distress
now. I guess I should have checked to see if she had another dress with her but
it was too late. It ripped clean through to the hem. I pushed aside the two
torn halves. She might have been mad but her nipples were perking up nicely
beneath the silk of her grey bra.
That was my next target. I took the knife
and sliced through the material between the two cups, exposing her breasts. I’d
bought a couple of nipple clamps and took this opportunity to clip them in
place. She whimpered as I tightened them.
I looked down at her knickers,
a damp stain was spreading from her crotch. I pulled down her tights, smiling
at the way her soaking cunt signalled her excitement.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the small vibrator I’d acquired. I pushed
it in, turned it on and pulled her pants and tights back up. She was wriggling
more than ever now. I ripped a strip of material from her dress, gripped her
ankles in one hand and tied them together. Now she was wriggling more than ever
before; grunting with pleasure and frustration into her gag.
“I fancy a drink,” I said. She gave a
squeal. I picked up the room’s key card and headed to the door. I pulled off my
mask before I went outside. I figured it wasn’t too smart to appear in the
corridor like that.
I didn’t take too long but I always think
it’s a shame to hurry a beer – especially at
As the two of us came, I was pleased that
she had the gag on. There’s such a thing as not disturbing the other guests, I
feel.
Afterwards we lay together, still coupled
but motionless; sweating but silent. She shook her head and grunted. I took it
that she’d like the gag taken off and obliged.
“Bastard, bastard, bastard,” she smiled.
“Where did you get that stuff? Or were you doing more at the Fetish Fair than
you owned up to?”
“Kelly, we’re less than a mile from the
kinkiest shops in
“Oh, yes. I was forgetting. In which case you were very restrained.”
“I thought you were the one that was
restrained,” I said with a smirk.
“Whips and chains are fine but lay off the
jokes!” she said laughing. “Now are you going to take these cuffs off me and
buy me a drink?”
“Sure, if you’ve got something else to
wear.” She nodded. I freed her and we each of us showered. She pulled on a
sweater and pair of slacks, not bothering with underwear.
“You’re going to have to take me shopping,”
she said, “you’re wrecking my wardrobe.”
“No problem,” I said, “I saw some very
fetching fashions in
“I was thinking something other than PVC, rubber or leather,” she said. “Now come on, are we going to have that drink?”
We headed on down to the bar. It was quiet. We were the only people there apart from a barman who seemed more interested in the football match going showing on the TV screen that hung down in one corner of the room. We got our drinks and made ourselves comfortable in one corner. Kelly curled up on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. She had a relaxed air about her, smiling, her hair loose, her V-necked sweater clinging precariously to one shoulder. I just about managed to keep my hands off her.
“This is a lot of fun, Larry,” she said. I
sensed there was a ‘but’ coming. “But.”
We had a long chat. It was clear that while
she enjoyed what we got up to, she didn’t like the way it was working; - the
two of us just fetching up occasionally as and when one or the other felt like
some pervy sex. She thought she was looking for
something more permanent; just as much oriented to the world of BDSM, but just
more permanent.
I could see ways in which I could make it
very permanent indeed for her, but I didn’t think that would be fair. Besides
with Sukie and Rachel to worry about I couldn’t see
how I could make a bigger commitment to Kelly, right now.
The evening ended up with one of those
tense, quiet, times. Each of us was staring into our drink. She had shredded a
paper napkin into tiny strips in the ashtray.
“I’m sorry, Kelly,” I started, “It’s not…”
“If you dare say, ‘its not you it’s me’
then I swear I will take you upstairs and use those cuffs and ball gag on you.”
She managed a grin and I smiled back.
“You’re right,” I said. “Look, I can’t step
up to what you need right now. Maybe in the future.
Who knows? I enjoy what we do. A lot. But I’m not ready to go any further right now. I’m
sorry if you think I’ve been unfair.”
She shook her head. “No,
Larry, no. I guess I’ve just had a few too many dishonest relationships
and the stuff we get up to; well, I’d just like to be doing that every night.
Still, one of the girls from the Munch wrote off to the Kushtian Embassy –
wants to go out there as a concubine, can you believe? I couldn’t do that. So I
can hardly complain, can I?”
I shrugged. I was puzzled by the reference
to the Kushtian’s but then I remembered the letters
that Brad had shown me. We were both looking glum.
She drained the last of her drink. “Oh,
come on,” she said. “I’m not leaving things like this.”
“I guess the convention is that I say, ‘we can still be friends, right?’ isn’t it?”
“Yepp. And I say, ‘of course, we’re both grown up’ don’t I?” There was a
sparkle in her eyes.
“We can still be friends, right?” I said.
She looked at me for a moment. “No,” she
said. I looked puzzled for a moment. “But you can still come around and fuck me
at gun point though.” She laughed.
“I’ve only got the knife, at the moment,” I
said smiling.
“That’ll do,” she said, getting to her feet. We both laughed and headed for the lift. If it was going to be the last time at least we would make the best of it.
Chapter 67 : Programme Development
When I got back to the Centre, Sukie was busy getting the evening meal ready. She said Rachel was down in the programme training room so I thought I’d go and see how she was getting on.
As I arrived, she was just finishing her session. Naked, she was sitting up on one of the two leather covered couches with a broad grin on her face.
Rachel waved as she saw me through the window of the treatment room and went back to disconnecting herself from the wires that both delivered the stimuli and monitored her response.
She hopped down from the couch a I went through the door. She ran across to me and threw her arms around me. “Mmm,” she said. “You came back. Can we play now?”
“Rachel, you just finished a programme session,” I said with a grin. “You should have had enough pleasure for now!”
“Enough?” she said with a smile on her face. “I’m not sure I know that word. What else can I do, then?”
I had a few projects in mind for her. We chatted about them for a while - she sat on the couch sucking provocatively on a pale lemon dildo; me standing by, still in my office suit. By the end of our talk she had at least been distracted from the dildo by the idea of pleasing me by getting some writing done. Mind you it had been a close run thing. It had been hard to keep my mind on what I wanted to get done watching her as she slid the yellow plastic dildo backwards and forwards between her lips as I talked through what I wanted. In the end we both laughed. She pulled on one of the loose smocks that she wore most of the time now, smiled and headed off in search of her lap top.
The Doc appeared just as Rachel was leaving. Rachel smiled at her and disappeared. “She seems OK,” I said to the Doc.
She nodded, cautiously. “Yes, she seems to have recovered. As long as she avoids the substances that trigger the attacks she should be all right. And she’s got back into the programme. Her responses are every bit as good as they were before the attack, about the same as the others too.”
“Is that what you’d expect? I mean isn’t there
a difference a willing participant and one that is – well – forced?”
“She’s doing fine. There is a difference although it’s not as much as you might think. Brian’s family were hardly leaping at the opportunity to take part but they all progressed at about the same rate as Rachel, the mother and sister especially. The two daughters took longer to get started but after the initial resistance they soon caught up. With Rachel she’s been getting on fine allowing for the time out.”
Harry put his head around the door. “Can I have a word?” he said. The Doc waved and went out.
“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”
“There’s a couple of things. Firstly, Sarah, I’m a bit worried that she got off lightly over the whole Cindy thing. I want to make sure she really doesn’t forget that she was out of order on that.”
“Of course. She’s finished with the current round of training sessions so it won’t hurt if you need to have access to her for a few weeks.”
“Great, thanks,” Harry said.
“What was the other thing?”
Harry looked a bit bashful. “Umm, you’re going to think this is a bit odd,” he said. “Do you and Kelly want to go out on a date?”
“A date?”
“Yeah. You remember that barmaid I’d picked up with?” I nodded. “Well she sort of says, ‘how come I never get to meet any of your friends, and….’ You know how it is.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I brought one of the girls from here? Tricia maybe,” then I remembered our last evening together, it hadn’t been a great pleasure for either of us, “Or Eva?”
“Maybe. I ‘d just thought Kelly sounded pretty normal from what you’d said and maybe it would work?”
“Well, I could have a word with her but its not really a ‘going on dates’ sort of relationship.” Harry looked puzzled. “Its more a ‘going in the bedroom and shagging ourselves stupid’ sort of relationship.”
“Oh,” said Harry. I guess I was a bit unfair. There wasn’t much else he could say.
“Look, I really don’t think it would be a good idea with Kelly. Let’s try and set something up with Tricia .She’s looking for a way to get into your good books, isn’t she?” Harry nodded. “She’s been nagging me about trying to get a lead on an operation, is I can’t imagine she hasn’t been trying to butter you up as well.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. Still she’s going to get her chance so maybe she’ll back off a bit. We could try that if you think it would work.”
“Sure Harry,“ I said. “Tricia will be fine about it.” Leastways, I hoped she would. “And I’ll send Sarah up to see you about the other stuff.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, “and don’t be too gentle with her. I want to make an impression.”
I went and found Sara. She was sitting in
one of the training rooms going through some of the material for the next
training programme. She looked up as I came in. “Hi, Larry,” she said brightly.
“Anything I can do?”
“Yes,” I said coldly. “You can remember
your position here. And you can get stripped off.”
“What?” she asked, puzzled by my manner.
“You heard,” I said. Evidently dismayed,
she started to strip off her blouse and skirt. I turned towards her. “Quicker than
that, #06.085,” I snapped using Sarah’s slave number.
Sarah looked startled. “Sorry, Sir,” she
said, quickly finishing her task.
“Right,” I said. “Over by
the wall. Hands on your head. Quick!” Sarah,
surprised by my brusqueness, complied. I picked up the phone, to call a guard.
“Can you come and take this one down to the cells, please. And you’d better
bring restraints.”
When they arrived, they were pretty rough
with her. Not realising quite what was happening, Sarah struggled at first as
they grabbed her arms, wrestling her to her knees.
“Please, you don’t need to do this!” she
was shaking her head as they dragged her arms down. She was forced into a heavy
canvas straight jacket, her arms crossed across her body and then strapped down
so that she couldn’t move. A strap passed down between her legs and up between
her buttocks to fasten to the back of the jacket. Sarah squealed as they jerked
the strap tight. One of the guards held a plug gag out towards me. I nodded.
“No!” yelped Sara. “Noooo ooughhgghm.” The
guard pushed the plug gag home, filling her mouth and fixing it in place with
straps behind her head. Sarah was shaking her head in confusion.
“Put her on a short chain in one of the
cells,” I said. I knew what that would mean – she wouldn’t be able to move for
more than a foot. “She’ll stay that way until her case is reviewed.” Sarah,
puzzled by her change of fortunes, was led away by the guards.
I was set to spend a very agreeable evening with Sukie and Rachel. Normally Sukie did most of the domestic stuff around the flat but after dinner, Rachel insisted that she was going to clear things away and told Sukie and me to go and relax.
By the time she came back, Sukie and I were sprawled on the couch, Sam Cooke on the stereo. Rachell was carrying a tray, she knelt down beside us. “I’m the help, tonight,” she said, passing a wine glass to Sukie and then to me. She opened the bottle and poured us each a glass. She sat back on her heels, smiling, as together we toasted her in thanks.
Our amusements were interrupted by a telephone call. It was Steve Glennis. “Larry,” he called. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
I grunted. “No problem, Steve,” I said.
He took the hint. “I’ll keep it short,” he
said. “I just wanted to say that this Lady M is one nice piece. You know what
it’s like here on the
“I guess she is,” I responded. “How’s the carriage driving?”
“First class. I’d have her over to Meadowlands for the Hambletonian if I could.”
“I’m sure she’d pass muster but there might be some comment about what was between the shafts,” I said, thinking back to the pony girls that Steve kept in his stables.
Even over the phone I could hear Steve’s wry chuckle. “Yes but she’s having a good effect on the stock. You should have seen her down in the training ring this morning putting one of them through her paces on the lunge rein.”
From what I’d seen of Lady M, the thought of her in tight jodhpurs and riding boots was an agreeable one. “I’d have liked to have seen that,” I said.
“Yeah. Well, you need to come over some time, see how the markets are developing over here, that sort of thing.”
“Uhhuh,” I said,
intrigued by where this might lead. “Let me think about when I could get over,
Steve,” I said.
“OK,” said Steve. “Don’t leave it too long
though.”
Chapter 68 : Russian Roulette
Steve’s idea sounded attractive. I could see that I could free up some time in a couple of weeks or so but I wasn’t sure whether I could justify the trip. I thought I’d talk to Freddie about it first.
If I had thought that Tricia getting her chance as a lead collector would improve her humour I was mistaken. She’d been as pleased as anything when she told me that Harry had said she could finally run lead on a collection. She’d been nagging him (and me) for what seemed like months. But now she seemed less than happy with the challenge.
“Look, just let me get on with it, will you?” Tricia wasn’t in the best of moods. I’d made the mistake of offering some unsolicited advice and I was getting my ears bent for my trouble. I knew she wanted to make a good showing but I’d thought it might help if we discussed it. Wrong, evidently.
“OK, OK,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interfere, I just….”
“Well, just don’t she growled and headed off to the other end of the office.
She was still simmering when I stopped by her desk later that afternoon. “Larry,” she said, “I’m doing this myself. I don’t need your help and I don’t want to talk about it. You stick to your account management and marketing and I’ll stick to what I’m good at. I don’t tell you how to run the clients so don’t tell me how to plan a pick up.”
“Sure,” I said, “Look I don’t want to argue about this. Why don’t we grab a drink later?”
She shook her head. “Nuh-uh,” she grunted turning back to her pile of research reports, “I’m going to be busy. I just don’t want to be distracted right now.”
Cindy came teetering over on heels high so sharp you wanted to keep your feet out of the way of hers and put another pile of reports down on Tricia’s desk. “See what I have to go through,” Tricia growled, to no one in particular, “and he wants to go for a drink.”
I left her to it feeling more than a bit aggrieved. As I went out I passed Sarah. Harry had decided that she needed a few weeks on menial tasks just to remind her of her real status. They’d put her in an ill fitting overall, shackles on her ankles and wrists, plug gag in her mouth. Dressed like that she was available for any dismal task hat was needed around the office. As I left she was on her knees with a scrubbing brush, cleaning up some spilled coffee under one of the desks. She sat back on her heels as I went by but suddenly realised she was supposed not to look up and cast her eyes down again. She set back to her scrubbing. Harry’s approach was obviously having an impact.
I didn’t see Tricia for a couple of days but I did bump into Eva in the canteen. “How did Tricia’s pick up going?” I asked her.
“OK, I guess for a first time. The target’s coming into reception just about now, do you want to see?”
Well, Tricia hadn’t asked me but I was interested so I thought I’d go look.
Tricia turned up driving a regular Clegg Meat Products truck. She had one of the other girls up front with her. The two of them were grinning as they climbed down from the truck’s cab. “Job done,” Tricia called out, more for Eva’s benefit than for mine, I felt. “One very talented mathematician to help out Sebastian’s team, cleanly lifted and stowed in the back. Brought her lap top along too, so no doubt there’s lots of useful research stuff on there she’ll be able to carry on working with.”
Eva opened up the back of the truck. Tricia’s target was in the back still unconscious. A pale skinned girl with dark hair, she was maybe twenty two or twenty three years old, I guessed. Black jeans and a pale muddy green top. She didn’t look anything special, but then I thought neither had Jackie, the girl I’d helped pick up on my very first mission with Harry. You couldn’t always tell much from looks, these days it was as likely she’d been snatched because of the college course she’d completed. “Come on Miss Oblumov,” Tricia smirked, “let’s get you settled in a nice comfy cell.”
One of the guards was carrying Tricia’s target off the truck, Tricia had grabbed her laptop case and was carrying it aloft like a trophy. Eva, bent down to pick up the captive’s handbag that had been tossed in beside her. “Didn’t you say this girl was Ukrainian?” she asked.
“Sure,” said Tricia, “straight out of
“Oh,” said Eva, “I just wondered why she
had a
“How should I know?” said Tricia aggressively, determined to let nothing detract from her triumph. “The Prep team can work that one out. I’ve done my job.” She grabbed the bag from Eva and stalked off after her captive.
Eva had felt there was something odd about things at that point. I was with Sebastian when he discovered what it was.
“Look,” he said. “Pointing
to the screen of the captive’s lap top. Here’s her email account, krysta.oblumov@lse.ac.uk,
plenty of correspondence on her research, plenty of emails back and forth to
friends in the
“Tell me I didn’t hear the name Kustenky just then.” It was Freddie’s voice. He was standing in the doorway.
Seb looked up. “Err, ‘fraid so, boss,” he said.
“Oh great.” I didn’t think he was being enthusiastic. “I want a summary of everything you’ve got on this pick up on my desk in thirty minutes and I want to see whoever responsible for this collection in my office at the same time.” He stormed off. Tricia looked puzzled.
She was looking abashed when I saw her an hour later.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Nothing I can’t fix,” she said scowling and stalked off.
She might have thought she could fix it but obviously Freddie didn’t. He called me in an hour later. “You’re the man for PR,” he said. “How do we sort this out?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “I don’t really understand the problem except this girl isn’t who we thought she was when we picked her up.”
“The problem isn’t who she isn’t, the problem is who she is. Or rather who her daddy is.”
“And daddy is?”
“Kustenky,” he said. I looked blank. “Anatoly Kustenky.”
“Ah,” I said, recognising the name finally. “Of football, oil and gas fame.”
“Football, oil, gas and one or two businesses not so different from our own in the general area of the old Russian Empire.”
“So we have inadvertently picked up his daughter.”
“Uh, huh”
“He’s not going to be pleased.”
“Almost certainly. And of course he wasn’t terribly happy with us before – Kushtia being really part of their old sphere of influence in his mind.”
“Ah.”
“Yes,” said Freddie. “Ah, it most certainly is.”
“Well my PR advice would be to seize the initiative, contact him directly and explain what happened. I’d get Alana out of her cell and into more comfortable accommodation and suggest that you and he get together so he can be reunited with her as soon as possible.”
“Well, it’s a start. I’m not sure he’ll respond to just an ‘I’m terribly sorry, old man,’ but I guess we can try. Mind you apologising isn’t really my style.”
“No,” I said. “That’s why he just might believe you.” Clegg just grunted and looked thoughtful.
I saw Tricia shortly afterwards. “You just had to stick your nose in didn’t you? You couldn’t just leave it to me to sort out?”
“Hang on,” I said. “Clegg called me in. What am I supposed to so? Tell him to get lost because you’re being precious about your first mission?”
“Precious! I am not being precious. This wasn’t my fault.”
“Nobody said it was, Trish. But if Freddie asks me to help then I have to help, don’t I?”
“Why can’t he trust me to sort it out?”
“Because it looks like you cocked it up.”
“Oh, great! So now you’re blaming me, too.”
“Trish, that’s not what I said.”
“Oh! Oh, just fuck off. Go and shag your little island girl. Or take a turn with the writer. Just stay away from me.” She grabbed her things and ran off. I didn’t feel inclined to follow her.
She didn’t look any the more pleased to see me when we turned up in Clegg’s office two days later to meet with Mr. Kustenky. His daughter was sitting in one of Clegg’s comfortable armchairs. They’d found her some clean clothes and she’d had a comfortable room in the area we usually used for entertaining customers. Clegg was sitting behind his desk, looking pensive as he asked the two of us to sit down. Elly was there too, looking as inscrutable as ever. Alana dealt Tricia a poisonous glance. Tricia at least had the grace to look embarrassed. She was wearing a dark blue trouser suit over a white top. I’d suggested to Clegg that something sober and professional would be best. She wasn’t talking to me. Moments later Kustenky was shown in.
“Anatoly,” Clegg beamed getting to his feet and proffering a hand.
The massive Russian looked at it and ignored it. “Clegg, Ms Grant,” he acknowledged. He took no notice of Tricia and myself but turned to his daughter. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Da,” she replied. Kustenky grunted and took a seat at Clegg’s suggestion.
“Mr Kustenky, I just wish to extend my most heartfelt apologies for the mix up over your daughter.” Kustenky looked unimpressed. I could see that Elly was watching him closely, “It was entirely our fault and we should of course have realised through our research that what we thought was a legitimate target was, in fact, off-limits. I can only seek to assure you that it was completely inadvertent. The person responsible is here,” he gestured towards Tricia, “and wishes to add her own apologies.”
I could imagine the conversation that had gone on between Tricia and Clegg but in fairness to her she managed to make it sound sincere. “Mr Kustenky,” she said, “this was completely my fault. I missed details in our original evaluation that would have led us to realise the identity of your daughter. I can only add my apologies to those of Mr Clegg. We have done everything to ensure your daughter’s comfort once we realised the situation, as I am sure she will confirm.”
Alana gave a short nod of agreement. Kustenky turned to Clegg. “Well,” he said. “That seems fair. I accept your apologies. No hard feelings as you British say.” Clegg smiled. Tricia looked relieved. Elly was still watching with an impassive stare. “There is however, the issue of compensation,” Kustenky went on.
“Compensation?” queried Clegg. Elly began to look concerned.
“Yes,” said Kustenky. “The disruption to my daughter’s education. The emotional stress. My own time in having to come here. Most inconvenient.”
“I see,” said Clegg, warily. “I can understand your point of view. What do you propose?”
“Well, Mr Clegg.” Kustenky leant forward across the desk and brought his hands together. “Your organisation is respected, well respected. You are known not to employ incompetents. You should not allow thet thought that might be the case to prosper. I suggest that I take this young lady here,” he pointed to Tricia, “as compensation. You will be seen to have acted decisively. The person responsible will be seen to have paid appropriately. I will have an asset that I can realise. I am prepared to take the risk on the financial implications.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Tricia getting to her feet, looking towards Clegg for support and then becoming increasingly concerned as she saw it was not there. Elly simply shook her head at Tricia.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Clegg, pulling a pistol from his desk drawer and pointing it straight at her. “It seems like a most reasonable arrangement to me. I know I’ve invested heavily in your training Tricia, dear, but sometimes you have to know not to let bad money follow good.” He turned towards me. “Be a good chap and put something around the girl’s wrists will you, Larry old boy,” he said.
“No, Larry,” Tricia begged, “you can’t.”
I was in a quandary. We’d had a good thing going for a while but after all it had been Trish that had been the one to back away. And I didn’t want to argue with Clegg or Kustenky. “Sorry Trish,” I said, reaching for the pair of handcuffs that sat on Clegg’s desk and snapped them around Tricia’s wrists. Elly seemed to relax.
Alana looked approving. “She grabbed me. That one. She used the drugs,” she said, gesturing at Tricia as she struggled against the cuffs. “Now she’ll see how it feels. Here,” she pulled a scarf from her handbag and tossed it to me. “For a gag. We won’t want to listen to her complaints on our way back.” I put a knot in the middle of the scarf and ignoring Tricia’s pleading looks jammed it into her mouth. She gasped and groaned, I suspected with both pain and betrayal, as I jerked the scarf tight to knot it behind her head. Alana got up and gripped Tricia by the arm.
Kustenky got to his feet. This time he extended his hand. “Freddie,” he said.
Clegg responded grasping the Russian’s hand in both of his. “Anatoly,” he replied.
“I’m pleased we settled this amicably,” Kustenky said. “Maybe we should talk more.”
“Of course,” said Clegg. “I’ll see this young lady is shipped on.” Alana looked disappointed that she wouldn’t be taking Tricia with her. “You’ll understand that we’ll want to hep her to lose any memories that she may have of her work here. There may be some other damage but nothing that will prevent you from using her as a sexual toy or a domestic. In fact the programme we have here will make her very suitable for the former if that’s something you can find a use for.” Tricia’s struggles became all the more acute.
“I understand, Clegg. You must protect your organisation and if this asset has proved unreliable she can only be used for menial tasks anyway. Honour is satisfied in any respect. We also need to talk, about other matters, I think. You are busy with some old friends of ours.”
“The Kushtians?” said Clegg. “They approached us, you know.”
“I’m sure. I’m sure. Our old colonies are perhaps more willing to look for new friends than to remember their old ones. I’m sure you have the same problems.”
“Anatoly, you are right. There are places, once pink on the map, that seem to have forgotten those that might be best able to help them.”
“I thought so. There are some parts of
Clegg looked towards Elly, evidently taking her deadpan look for support. “It could, Anatoly, it could. We’re more in the client specific markets these days anyway. Not so much in general sales, we’d be happy to talk about different ways of doing things..”
“Good. I’ll arrange a conversation between us and Constanza. She’s keen to be part of this too.”
“OK,” said Freddie, carefully. “Can you give us any tips on dealing with the Kushtians?”
Anatoly laughed as he got to his feet. “Sell to them if you want but don’t trust them and never try to work with them. Too greedy, too careless. They’ve lived in the past for too long. Maybe they’ll change or maybe the past will come around again but for those of us that must live in the present they don’t make good bedfellows.” Elly’s face betrayed a flicker of an ‘I told you so’ expression. “Oh and stay away from their women,” he said, “sell them all that you like but never take one for your own. Trust me, I know from experience.” Alana gave him a poisonous look. For some reason, it made me suspect that her mother might have been Kushtian.
At that, Anatoly left taking his daughter with him. Clegg called for one of the guards. He looked surprised to see Tricia struggling and grunting but he didn’t hesitate when Clegg told him to take her down to the cells. She whimpered as she was hustled away.
Clegg followed them out, leaving Elly and me behind. Elly sat down behind Clegg’s desk. As she did so she pulled a small automatic pistol from behind her where it had been tucked into the waistband of her trousers. She checked it, flicked the safety catch on, and put it down on the desk. “You made a good call,” she said, smiling at me.
“Call?” I said.
“Over Tricia. I wasn’t sure if you would. I thought there might be some sentimental attachment that might make things difficult.” I didn’t say anything. “I wonder if it would have been different if it had been Sukie or Rachel.”
“Perhaps,” I said slowly. “But, then, I feel responsible for them. They are here because of me. Tricia wasn’t. She chose this game.”
“And what do you think about this game? You chose it too, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I acknowledged. “But it’s different to how I thought it would turn out I guess.”
“You’re not the only one,” Elly said. “but I need to talk to Freddie about that.”
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