The Virus Episode Ten: The Price
of Love
“Capitalists profess that there is a price tag for
everything. What, then, is the price of love?”- Frederick Wolfenburg, Hessian
activist, 1974 editorial
November 8, 2015
11:25 local time,
The Docks,
Helene, Borneo, Birea
“Greetings, Roger,” said
billionaire Derek Glengarry in his thick Glaswegian accent, bowing his head to
his visitor, as he docked his yacht on the harbour.
“Greetings Derek,” said Roger
Milton, a distant descendant from Aberdeen, returning the bow from his perch on
the harbour. He came with his henchmen, bringing Glengarry a large crate kept
closed with a large metal padlock.
“Open it up,” Glengarry barked,
who wanted to waste no time to inspect his latest purchase. Upon orders, Milton
started the process of opening up the box, as Glengarry watched with baited
breath.
“Wow,” said Glengarry,
smiling with glee. “That is a wonderful
speciman.” He then docked his boat and climbed up on to the dock to further
inspect his new product- an 18-year-old girl, Anna Nyquist, kidnapped from the
streets of Stockholm seven months ago. She was a nubile blonde with her hair in
a ponytail and stood in the crate naked, attached to the box in chains loose
enough to allow some movement, with a ball gag affixed to her mouth.
Glengarry, 36, started to run
his hands on her body. Nyquist started to squirm before Glengarry slapped her
violently in the face, which caused her to stop. By this stage, Nyquist knew
better, as Milton beat her regularly to obtain her obedience and it wasn’t the
first time she had been examined by a prospective buyer, though it didn’t
change the fact that she was still being violated. Glengarry, though, had soft
hands, which made the violation easier to take but not by much.
“Her breasts are nice and
firm,” said Glengarry, examining the body. He then put his mouth to her breasts
and started playing with her nipples. “I really love her nipples...so nice and
hard. Mmmmnnn.” He then put his hand to her genitals and rubbed her clitoris,
which caused Nyquist to squirm once more.
“Enough!” Glengarry said,
slapping her. “You’re going to enjoy this whether you like it or not!” Nyquist
wanted to cry, but she knew it would be no use, so she just hung her head and
let Glengarry do as he pleased. As she complied, he kept rubbing her genitals,
noticing how quickly she got wet. He then put a few hands inside Nyquist’s
vagina and wiggled them around.
“Ooohh...nice,” said
Glengarry with a smile. “Nice and tight.”
“She’s a virgin,” said
Milton.
“Just the way I like it,”
replied Glengarry with a grin.
He then felt his way through
her arms and legs, noticing how strong she was. Nyquist was a swimmer and
worked part-time as a handywoman, so despite her slender physique, she was
well-built, something Glengarry was truly impressed with.
The last thing Glengarry did
was extend his arms out and wrap them around Nyquist, giving her a warm
embrace. At first, Nyquist wanted to squirm, but although she still met the
menacing eyes of her slave owners, she felt genuine warmth from Glengarry, making
her start to reciprocate the hug even more. Glengarry enjoyed the hug, holding
on to her longer than he usually did.
“Such a warm, warm person,”
said Glengarry, holding Nyquist tight. As they embraced, Nyquist began to cry,
overcome with the emotions of her situation, and, although overall the
situation still registered as a nightmare for her, the way Glengarry held her,
it gave Nyquist a brief sense of genuine compassion and love, something she
hadn’t experienced since she was kidnapped. Although Milton did enough to keep
up her shape by feeding her well and allowing- and sometimes forcing- her to
exercise, he still treated her very callously, never failing to remind her who
was her slave boss. Glengarry, though, seemed like he wanted to treat her well,
even though she knew she would still be his slave.
“I think I’ve seen enough,”
said Glengarry, satisfied. “You were right, Roger, about having a top quality
girl and she is TOP quality. What’s your price?”
“£70,000,” said Milton, with
slight hesitation.
Glengarry scoffed. “No no
no...I’d only pay that if there was a middleman...come on...don’t play games
with me.”
“Okay fine...£65,000.”
Glengarry was curt in his
response. “£45,000.”
“£55,000, but that’s it.”
“Deal!” Glengarry then pulled
out his chequebook and wrote Milton the cheque for Nyquist, as well as an
additional £8,250 in tips and another £200 to cover the shipping fees for a
total price of £63,450. A cleric was on hand to officially wed the couple, although
Glengarry planned a more formal gathering at a later date.
The two men then bowed and
said their goodbyes, each satisfied they completed the deal. Nyquist was then
grabbed by two henchmen who held her as they released her bonds and applied
handcuffs to her wrists behind her back, before pushing her towards Glengarry,
who led her into his boat. Glengarry hastily ushered her into her new bedroom,
putting her into a new set of chains that made her lay spread-eagle on the bed.
Glengarry took another glance at Nyquist’s naked body, admiring what he saw.
“You know what I’m going to
call you?” said Glengarry with a smile. “Kiki. Do you want to know why?” He
then adopted a playful tone before continuing. “Because you’re so kinky!” He then chuckled as he
removed his fez and began undoing his shirt.
Nyquist, realizing what was
about to happen, lost her composure on the bed, beginning to whimper and cry.
Glengarry noticed Nyquist’s
tears and took pity on her. “Oh…Kiki…don’t cry,” he said, softly. “It’s going
to be fun, I promise. I know…your first time…it’s a little scary but I’m going
to make sure you enjoy every minute of it.” Nyquist, though, quickly realized
how fruitless it would be to undo her bonds, so she took a deep breath and
decided to make the most of the most unfortunate way for her to lose her
virginity. With Nyquist calmed, Glengarry decided to take off his pants and his
underwear, and proceeded to start having sex with her.
November 8, 2015,
13:09 local time,
Market Square,
Helene, Birea
“Come on Carter,” said Angus
McNaughton to his friend, Carter Downey. “Everyone is doing it...there’s no
other way to get a girl now.”
“It doesn’t matter, Angus,” said Carter, as he grimaced from the sunburn his pale skin received on this hot day. “You don’t buy people…that isn’t love. It’s fake...you didn’t earn it. Besides, what does it say about our people if the only way our men can obtain love is by buying it?”
“Carter, Carter, Carter.” Angus sighed and grimacing slightly. “It’s noble of you to want to do the honourable thing...but one day, you’ll realize that reality isn’t noble.”
“Perhaps...perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I’m just naive and see the world in rose-coloured glasses where doing the right thing always gets you what you want...but, you know what? I’d rather die alone than know that I gained something that compromised my morals.”
“It doesn’t matter, Angus,” said Carter, as he grimaced from the sunburn his pale skin received on this hot day. “You don’t buy people…that isn’t love. It’s fake...you didn’t earn it. Besides, what does it say about our people if the only way our men can obtain love is by buying it?”
“Carter, Carter, Carter.” Angus sighed and grimacing slightly. “It’s noble of you to want to do the honourable thing...but one day, you’ll realize that reality isn’t noble.”
“Perhaps...perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I’m just naive and see the world in rose-coloured glasses where doing the right thing always gets you what you want...but, you know what? I’d rather die alone than know that I gained something that compromised my morals.”
Angus then put his hand on
Carter’s shoulder and sighed. He had recently bought his wife and found so much
happiness afterward that it pained him to see his best friend so downtrodden
because he was alone. “Sometimes I worry about you buddy…I don’t want to see a
nice, kind, religious man like yourself die alone. Many women would kill to have a guy like you, and you
know there are many men who have gotten married that don’t deserve it. You know
this buddy…so why deny it? Plus you’ve heard the statistics.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know- 15
million Birean men are going to be unable to find a wife if they stay in
Birea…”
“There you go…you know ‘the
normal way’ will not work.”
Carter sighed, thinking that Angus had a point, but decided against arguing further. Carter then left his friend and continued his shopping through the marketplace. He was 51, never married, though he had two brief girlfriends in his past. Debates like these enraged him, because he hated thinking about the lack of romance in his life, even though everywhere in Birea he would be reminded of it. Every second billboard he would pass would advertise some kind of matchmaking service, and it seemed like everywhere he turned there was a man offering him a chance to meet a beautiful wife. The pursuit of love in Birea had become ubiquitous, and with the addition of each new service to procure a wife, Carter often wondered how many of them were legitimate and how many were scam artists looking to exploit a lonely man like him.
Carter sighed, thinking that Angus had a point, but decided against arguing further. Carter then left his friend and continued his shopping through the marketplace. He was 51, never married, though he had two brief girlfriends in his past. Debates like these enraged him, because he hated thinking about the lack of romance in his life, even though everywhere in Birea he would be reminded of it. Every second billboard he would pass would advertise some kind of matchmaking service, and it seemed like everywhere he turned there was a man offering him a chance to meet a beautiful wife. The pursuit of love in Birea had become ubiquitous, and with the addition of each new service to procure a wife, Carter often wondered how many of them were legitimate and how many were scam artists looking to exploit a lonely man like him.
At this stage of his life, he’d
been through the gamut of dating agencies and practices, and, having failed to
secure love each time, he started to wonder if his pursuit really was worth it.
In recent years, he began to realize that his many friends- including Angus-
had provided him the companionship a romance would have provided him anyway.
Still, he wasn’t getting any younger, and women did seem much harder to find in
Birea, confirming the statistics. It was here that a shop billboard caught his
eye- and perhaps changed his ideas for good.
November 8, 2015
20:39 local time,
Encinitas Beach
Encinitas, California
Regina Goldman loved the
waves. At 21 and a graduate of History at nearby San Diego State University,
Goldman decided that before she settled down to enter the dreaded “9-to-5”
working fray, she needed to have some quality time to herself and her
surfboard. After all, once she started working her days of surfing could be
numbered, and she was still on the cusp of her prime physical years.
Right now, though, the wavy,
slender brunette sat on the beach, clad in a flower-printed bikini, sunglasses
and wearing her trusty bracelet, an embroidered one she made herself featuring
one smiley face giving the other a side hug. She sat there, feeling the sea
breeze, and felt at peace.
November 8, 2015
20:44 local time,
Eternal
Sunshine Resort,
Encinitas,
California
Down the street from Goldman
was a beachside restaurant connected to the luxurious Eternal Sunshine resort.
Staying there was the family of Mark Sanderson, the CEO of auto giant British
Leyland, who came traveling with some friends, mostly other workers from BL. At
this hour, Sanderson was having a late dinner with his wife, Marta, and five of
his friends, and, remembering that he had put to bed his kids- five-year-old
Heidi, a blonde girl whose left eye had a mark called “coloboma”, and
three-year-old twins George and Robert- a little over an hour and a half ago,
he excused himself to check up on his kids.
Upon arriving to his suite,
he opened the door and found nothing out of the ordinary- the kids were sound
asleep, the windows were shuttered and everything was in its place. He then
noticed one of his suitcases seemed a little off kilter, but he attributed that
to the wind that sometimes howled in when the windows were open and thought
nothing of it. Satisfied with the appearance of the suite, Sanderson left to
rejoin his family at the dinner table.
November 8, 2015
21:23 local time,
Encinitas Beach,
Encinitas, California
It was at this time Goldman
decided to head for her car so that she could go home. A teenaged boy with a
thick Aberdeen accent, a tan and swimming shorts pulled up past his belly
button noticed Goldman and tried to strike up a conversation with her.
“How are you doing lassie?”
The teen asked, flashing a warm smile.
“I’m doing good,” said
Goldman, who returned the smile but kept her pace walking to her car. The teen,
not caring that Goldman paid him no heed, started to follow her as well.
“What’s your name?”
“Listen, I’d love to stay and
chat, but it’s late and I really need to get home.”
“I really need a favour from
you...my car’s broke down and I need some help.”
Goldman felt something was
off about the teen. “Well, I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do about that.”
The teen then grabbed her,
and pleaded again.
Goldman angrily ripped his
hands off of her. “Listen, punk, if you don’t leave me alone you will leave me no choice but to call the police!”
“I’d really like to know how
you can do that when your cell phone doesn’t work.” The teen then pulled out
his cell phone jammer, and, almost instantly, ten other men had come from
Goldman’s car and surrounded her.
Goldman wasn’t fazed though,
adopting a battle stance. She was a trained fighter, although eleven athletic
men was something she never faced before. She still welcomed the challenge,
knowing she had to- she was literally fighting for her life.
“You guys know I won’t go
quietly,” said Goldman.
“Come on lassie,” said the
teen as one of the attackers drew a gun. “You don’t want to play games with us.
If you play along and come with us, you’ll make it out alive.”
“Oh yeah? So you want me to
be submissive, so you can rape me and beat me and then possibly kill me after
luring me into a trap. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
“We can make a lot of money
together.”
Though the last statement
struck Goldman as odd, she decided there was no point reasoning with these men.
Seeing an opening, she kicked the man holding the gun in the jaw, making him
drop his gun and sending him to the ground. Goldman then tried to run, but one
of the other men caught her and threw her back into the circle.
It was here the fight really
began. Once back in the circle, one of the men jumped on her back, causing her
to grab the man’s arm and flip him over top of her and onto the ground, hitting
two other assailants to the turf in the process. Goldman was lucky, as the
flipped man had pulled out a syringe and was ready to use it if Goldman didn’t
act quickly enough. The syringe flew well away from the melee and got
forgotten, and Goldman never realized it was even there. After the flip, she
then got kicked in the back of the head, sending her to the ground, but she
instinctively swung her leg behind her tripping the man that just levelled her.
She then backflipped herself back upright, facing a man who attempted a punch
that Goldman managed to block. Goldman, though, then got grabbed from behind
with her arms incapacitated, allowing the man whose punch she blocked to get a
few hits to her face. Goldman then flung her head at the attacker that was
behind her, headbutting him, before delivering a roundhouse kick that levelled
the man who had been getting free shots at her.
A few more waves of fighting-
with Goldman holding her own- followed, eventually reducing the fracas to just
herself, the teen and another man, the rest having been knocked unconscious.
The man remembered the gun that had been drawn but lost in the melee, and
picked it up, pointing it at Goldman. He decided he didn’t want to mess around,
and cocked the gun in preparation to shoot Goldman. Goldman realized what was
happening, so as soon as she saw the man brandish the gun at her she found a
nearby rock and chucked it at his head, knocking him to the ground and forcing
him to drop the gun again. This left just Goldman and the teen, who picked up
the gun.
“You’re a resilient one, aren’t
you lassie?” The teen said, holding the gun and pointing it at Goldman. “Don’t
play around now...I may just be 15 but I received first place at the Birean
Youth Marksmanship Academy. Now...this is your last chance...come with me or
you will get hurt.”
“You’re 15, eh?” said Goldman
with a smirk.
“Yeah…are you mocking me?”
“No…I just think you’re
pretty cute.” Goldman then flashed a playful smile, which caused the teen to
get redfaced.
The teen, not expecting the
compliments, began to stutter and loosen the grip on the gun. “Well…uh…wow…um…thanks.”
He then hung his head, sheepishly, while babbling incoherently, smitten by
Goldman’s comment. The distraction was all Goldman needed, delivering a
roundhouse kick to the teen’s head, knocking him out cold. She then made a
beeline to her car, and, after inspecting it to make sure it was safe, drove
off as fast as she could, finding a safe spot where she called police about the
incident.
November 8, 2015
22:15 local time,
Eternal Sunshine Resort,
Encinitas, California
At the restaurant, the
Sandersons were thoroughly enjoying their night. Time seemed to flow just like
the wine did, and what had once been a strict regimen of going back to the room
to check on their kids became a “once-in-a-while” thing before the parents, in
their drunken stupor, had forgotten to do it completely.
By 22:30, the Sandersons’
forgetfulness irked Ira Bushell, the only member of the group who wasn’t
drinking. She decided that if the Sandersons weren’t going to care for their
children, she had to, so she went up to the Sandersons’ suite to check up on
the children. As she walked up, she thought she saw a middle aged man with a
fez carrying what appeared to be a blonde girl in pajamas fast asleep in his
arms, but, since she couldn’t get a good look at the girl, she dismissed the
find.
Immediately alarm bells went
off. The door to the Sandersons’ suite was open, and, immediately after she
opened it, Bushell saw that the door to Heidi’s room was open as well. A draft
also appeared to be coming into the suite, felt strongest at Heidi’s room.
Bushell, sensing something was wrong, walked to Heidi’s room and opened the
door.
She gasped in terror. “Oh my…”
Heidi’s bed had been
disturbed, with her covers completely removed. The child was nowhere to be
found, with a note that simply said “Thank You!” put in the bed in Heidi’s
place. There were footprints coming from her bedroom window- which was wide
open- with the prints belonging to an adult. There were also skid marks found
on the floor, most noticeable by Heidi’s closet. Scared at the sight, Bushell
ran from the room to the restaurant, yelling “Heidi is missing!” Immediately
she was confronted by a security guard, Rodrigo Fernandez, as her yelling
disturbed and confused many of the guests.
“Ma’am, calm down please,”
said Fernandez, whose sunny demeanour and large frame evoked a “teddy bear”
sense to him.
Bushell babbled incoherently,
too distraught to properly form a reply.
Fernandez spoke softly. “Take
a deep breath.” After Bushell did so and regained a bit of her composure, the
guard continued. “Now, tell me what happened.”
Bushell spoke with a
noticeable quiver, although she was coherent this time. “Okay, so I’m here with
some friends, among them is Mark Sanderson and his wife…we were all having a
great dinner but at varying points in the evening we all agreed to check up on
his kids at regular intervals…however, everyone got drunk except me, because I hate beer. Anyway, I went up to check up
on the kids and I noticed the door to the Sandersons’ room was open…and there
was a draft…and the window to Heidi’s room was open…and…” Bushell by this point
couldn’t keep her composure and buried her head in her hands, starting to cry
uncontrollably.
Fernandez realized that he
couldn’t get any more information out of Bushell so he looked for Sanderson,
eventually spotting his table. To Fernandez’s consternation, Sanderson and his
group were beyond sanity, laughing and guffawing uncontrollably because of
their intoxication.
“Lightweights…” muttered
Fernandez before deciding he had to talk to the Sandersons anyway.
He walked imposingly to
Sanderson, which caught the drunkard’s attention, but not in the way he had
hoped.
“Hey It’s Mr. Burly Man!”
shouted Sanderson, who got up and put his arm around Fernandez, who let out a
loud groan. “What’s up Mr. Burly Man?” Sanderson then patted Fernandez’s
noticeable gut. “Say, when are you due Mr. Burly Man? You seem quite far along.”
Fernandez snapped, grabbing
Sanderson’s arm and twisting it behind his back, making Sanderson let out a
loud yelp. Fernandez kept his grip, allowing the pain in Sanderson’s arm to
throb uncomfortably all over his body.
“Listen,” said Fernandez,
menacingly, “I don’t care who you are
or what you can do to me…your child
is missing and, for once, I want you to give one wit about her!”
“My child is wha?” said
Sanderson, slurring his speech and still grimacing from the pain Fernandez was
putting him under.
“Your child is not where she
is supposed to be.”
“Huh?”
Fernandez was exasperated. “She’s
gone…vanished…disappeared…gosh, do I need to spell it out for you?”
“Well, maybee if yaw dint
crush maw shoulder blade I migh be abil to understan wha’s gon on.”
Fernandez, realizing that
Sanderson was being genuine, released his grip, causing Sanderson to fall over
and clutch his shoulder in pain.
After about a minute
Sanderson got up and started to stumble towards his room, drawing a crowd. As
he opened the door to his suite, Fernandez walked right behind him, allowing
the members of his party into the room but stopping other people in the crowd
from coming in behind.
Instinctively, the Sandersons
began milling about their room, looking for Heidi even though both were stumbling
badly through it.
“Waw…dis wine sure iz strong,”
slurred Mark. “It can make kids disappear!” Fernandez buried his face in his
hands and shook his head at the statement, as Marta made an important
discovery.
“Markie,” she said from the
twins’ bedroom, also slurring. “The twins are missing too!”
Mark bolted from inspecting
Heidi’s bedroom to meet Marta. “Wha?” he said, confused. “The twins weren’t
part of the-” He stopped when Marta gave him a look, a look that Fernandez took
notice of.
“I saw a man,” said Bushell,
joining the group in the twins’ bedroom. “He was carrying a little girl in
pajamas that looked a lot like Heidi…it was before I entered the room to check
on Heidi…he was too far away for me to get a better look…oh gosh, I’m sorry.” Overcome
with grief, Bushell began to cry again, as the Sandersons collapsed to the
floor and just fell into a deep sleep. Fernandez let out a deep, frustrated
sigh and left with the rest of the group and organized a search party. It would
last well into the night, but none of the kids would be found.
November 9, 2015
11:58 local time,
Encinitas Police Headquarters,
Encinitas, California
“I can’t believe how stupid
you are man!” yelled Constable Ming “Tyler” Luo Kuang, to his boss, Captain
Harvey Monroe, Tyler’s eyes wide with anger.
“For the last time,” said the burly, clean-shaven Monroe, waving his
hands by each other, frustrated. “We are not
bringing in the Sandersons. End of discussion!”
“Sir,” said Tyler’s partner, Ernest
“Reefer” Madnis, softly but sternly, “the Sandersons’ stories just don’t hold
up…there are a lot of inconsistencies and abnormalities…I think they qualify
for a further round of questioning.”
“I’m sorry,” said Monroe,
exasperated, waving his arms wildly. “Who’s
leading this investigation? You puny rookies…or me?”
“With all due respect sir,”
said Reefer, his thick Surinamese accent in full display, “but your views are
short-sighted. Are you afraid of the Sandersons?”
“No,” said Monroe, scoffing
at the suggestion. “If they were viable suspects, then I would bring them
in…but they’re not, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Okay then,” said Tyler,
putting his hands on his hips. “Who is
the suspect then? You’ve spent the whole day telling us who isn’t a suspect…tell us who is!”
“Exactly,” said Reefer,
calmly. “I don’t know how you can dismiss the guy with the fez…I mean, the
child he was carrying was a dead ringer for Heidi.”
“Fez guy,” said Monroe in a
sardonic tone, “wasn’t carrying three
kids…remember, three kids are
missing, not one. Three.”
Tyler waved his hand at
Monroe while replying. “Who’s kid could that possibly be then?” he said, frustrated.
“I don’t know,” said Monroe
waving both of his forefingers across the air, “but it ain’t Heidi.”
Reefer let out a sigh as Tyler
shook his head at the suggestion. Monroe thought for a second before
continuing.
“Okay,” he said, “you know
who I think did it? The cleaner. The only one who could have access to the room
without needing a key. Besides, the cleaner went into the room after Mark
Sanderson checked it but before Ira Bushell checked it.”
“Seriously,” said Tyler,
deadpanning sarcastically. “You’re telling us the butler did it? What are we, some terrible mystery novel?”
“Not the butler, the cleaner,” said Monroe, incredulous.
“What difference does it make!”
said Reefer, angrily.
“Whatever,” said Monroe, “this
ain’t a novel to begin with this is real life…if the butler actually did it, then we’re bringing him
in. No questions asked.”
“I can’t believe you man!”
said Tyler, throwing his hands up in frustration and beginning to walk away. Reefer
also gave Monroe a look and shook his head.
“You know what?” said Monroe, indignant. “I’m
suspending you both. Don’t come back
until tomorrow!”
“Fine then!” said Reefer,
angrily, as both he and Tyler left in a huff.
Just before they got to their
lockers, they met Goldman, turning in a form to reception. Tyler, as was his
style, couldn’t help but be taken by the fair-skinned brunette, clad in a
camouflage-style tank top and green Capri pants, much to Reefer’s chagrin.
“Hey pretty lady,” said
Tyler, casually strolling up to her and leaning against the desk, flashing a
smile when he got there.
Goldman gave him a
disapproving look, scoffing at his advance.
“Oh come on,” said Tyler, tapping
his chest before outstretching his arms. “Don’t you love a man in uniform?”
“Yeah I find police officers
sexy,” said Goldman with wry smile. “When they please the greater good. Not
when they just try to please themselves.”
Reefer chuckled behind Tyler,
though Tyler pressed on. “Oh come on,” scoffed Tyler. “Today I helped looked
for a missing child.” Tyler then smiled, believing his deed was righteous
enough for Goldman to be impressed by it.
“Great!” said Goldman, giving
a mocking clap. “You did your job! Do you want a gold star or something?”
“Now I was on an important investigation that could
change the world,” said Tyler, smirking. “Gotta give me some credit for that!”
“So you think that because
you went on some grand investigation it makes you a worthy person,” said
Goldman sardonically, “and you don’t seem to think that’s the slightest bit
narcissistic about yourself?”
Tyler stuttered, trying to
figure out an effective comeback.
“Do you know how many times I’ve
said that to him?” said Reefer, jumping in. “He never gets it that women aren’t
impressed by what you’ve done but
rather what you can do for them. He
never understands that.”
“Oh yeah?” said Tyler,
scoffing. “What do you know about picking up women? You’re gay.”
“I sure know more than you
do,” said Reefer, “besides, haven’t you forgotten- gay guys get all the chicks.”
Goldman laughed at Reefer’s
remark, as Tyler conceded the point.
“Well,” said Goldman,
flashing a smile with a hint of awkwardness. “I probably should get going. It
was nice talking to you both.”
“Wait,” said Reefer, sensing
some distress in Goldman. “What brings you to the station?”
“Oh last night I was attacked
by eleven men,” said Goldman. “I’m not quite sure what they wanted out of me
but I had to kick all of their asses in order to get home last night.”
“Wait,” said Tyler,
surprised. “You took on eleven men
and won with barely a scratch?”
“My jaw got it good,” said
Goldman, “and I’ve got some bruising on my gut, but…yeah, I beat up eleven
guys.”
“Damn girl!” said Tyler,
excitedly.
“I grew up with all boys,”
said Goldman. “Plus I had a boyfriend in high school who tried to rape me, and
the principal did nothing about it…so I had to learn how to fight to get by.”
“I’m impressed,” said Reefer.
“Yeah,” said Goldman. “Today
I had to write a deposition…the police didn’t do much at the scene, and the
officers I reported to today didn’t seem all that interested…everyone seems to
want to talk about that Sanderson kid, when I think there’s something much
bigger going on. I can’t be the only one that’s noticed how many Californian
girls have gone missing lately? With reports of them being last seen with
Birean nationals? That can’t be coincidence.”
“We were just on the
Sanderson case actually,” said Tyler. “We just got suspended by our boss
because he dismissed our observations- one of which was a Birean holding who we
think was Heidi.”
“You guys got suspended for that?” said Goldman,
shocked.
“Yup,” said Reefer,
frustrated.
“I’m Regina Goldman,” said
Goldman, shaking hands with Reefer and Tyler.
“I’m Ernest Madnis,” said
Reefer, “but,” he said, pointing to his hair before continuing, “because of my
dreads, I go by ‘Reefer’, even though I don’t touch any of that stuff. It started in high school.”
“I’m Ming Luo Kuang,” said
Tyler, “but you can just call me Tyler.”
“There’s a Jimmy Cochrane’s
down the road,” said Goldman. “We should talk about this…I think we’re on to
something.”
November 27, 2015
00:02 local time,
Cargo Holding Quarters, Cargo Ship,
102 nautical miles en route to Port Moresby, New
Guinea, Birea
“I’m cold,” said Heidi
Sanderson, waking up from inside her crate. Alongside her, in other crates,
were 334 women, all between 12 and 32 years old, along with 51 girls aged from
4 to 11. Everyone was unclothed, aside from the blankets they were periodically
given which helped a little in combating the cold, damp conditions of their
confinement. They were in the cargo den of a cargo ship, destined for a
converted prison in Padang that held other slaves like Heidi, slaves that would
be sold to eligible Birean bachelors hoping to land a wife.
“Hey there little fella,”
said Paige Hutton, 22, in the crate across from Heidi, with a small quiver she
tried to fight as she spoke. “Where are you coming from?”
“I was in California,” said
Heidi, “but I’m from Dover.”
Hutton chuckled warmly,
hoping it would ease the fears of Heidi. “Oh nice. I’m from Freemantle, in
Australia. My name is Paige.”
Heidi replied, thankful for a
warm soul like Hutton, although she was still scared at the ordeal. “I’m Heidi.
It’s nice to meet you. How did we get here?”
Hutton sighed. “Well, I was
walking home from my job at the bar when these guys came from behind me and stuck
a syringe in my neck…next thing I know, I’m here in this crate, naked, with
some of my piercings removed, though they let me keep my nose stud and my
bellybutton barbell. What about you? How did you get here?”
Heidi, still scared at her
surroundings, was quivering. “I was sleeping…and I felt a needle…and then I
woke up here…and I don’t know why.” Heidi then began to cry, which shook
Hutton, though she tried her best to stay composed for Heidi.
“Aww…muffin…I wish I could
hold you right now. Truth is, we’re all scared. We don’t know where we’re
going. All I know is that we’re going to get sold.”
“Sold?”
“Yeah…some bad people, who
can’t find a mommy for their kids have to buy one.”
“Buy me? Mummy always told me
that I can’t be bought.”
“Good people know that…but
these aren’t good people. The good news is, I don’t think they want to hurt
us…they want to love us…but we can’t forget no matter how nice they are they’re
not good people.”
“I’m not old enough to be a
mommy though.”
“They probably won’t make you
a mommy right away. Whoever buys you will raise you to be a mommy when you are
old enough, where you’ll likely get sold off again. Me...I’ll likely be a mommy
right away.”
Heidi then began to cry
again, a realization striking her. “Am I going to see my mommy again?”
Hutton sighed with tears
welling in her eyes, but put on a brave face. “Yes you will. Yes you will. Always remember that, no matter how
tough things get.” Hutton couldn’t fight it anymore and cried, realizing the
significance of her own words. “Never forget her…she will be the one who will
get you through this.”
November 27, 2015,
00:02 local time,
Detention Room,
The Cargo Ship En Route to Port Moresby
“Explain it to me,” said
John, one of the cargo ship hands, helping another ship hand, Scott, bring a slender
but curvy blonde woman, 18-year-old Silke Dubois, onto a table. “What he’s
doing is very novel.”
“It basically works like
this,” said Scott, as they placed Dubois on the table spread-eagle, clamping
down her wrists and ankles and affixing a cleave gag to her mouth. “Before,
when women did this voluntarily, you had to pay the woman fair value before you
got her as a slave.”
“Shut up!” John said,
punching the frightened Dubois in the jaw, hoping it would stop her squirming.
He then took out a wire with clamps on both ends, affixing the clamps on her
nipples. The wire was then looped through a knot connecting it to a loose
strand of rope and another rope that was tied to a rope-like device at her
waist. The device had one loop that fit snugly around her waist, and another
loop that ran along the centre of her body, the loop just tight enough so that
it could be placed right inside her genitals and her butt crack and press inside against both, especially when it got tugged. Though
it officially had no name, informally they called it, “The Fixxer”.
“She really needs to learn
how to behave, doesn’t she?” Scott said with a wry chuckle.
“You always get a few ‘problems’,”
acknowledged John, as he added some oil to a large spindle right next to the
table. “That’s why we fix them.” He then looped the loose rope through a hook
on the ceiling and then threaded the loose rope through the spindle, making The
Fixxer tug at its strings and fit “just right” on the petrified woman.
“So anyhow,” continued Scott,
inspecting the rope as Dubois panted frantically in terror. “Obviously, to make
a profit in that case, you needed to charge the buyer something extra on top of
what you paid...and no one was going to tack on simply an extra dollar, since
you’d earn nothing.”
“So if a woman charged
£20,000 for her services as a slave,” said John, as Scott approved The Fixxer
for its torturous duties, “the slave trader would have to charge the buyer
£40,000 for the girl, to recoup his losses.”
“Exactly,” said Scott,
starting to turn the wheel pulling at the wire and the device, causing The
Fixxer to clamp down on her nipples, stretch out her breasts and start
penetrating into the openings of her genitals and butt crack. This made Dubois
scream in pain, screams the two men ignored.
“So this way,” said John, “we
only charge the £20,000, keeping the prices down.”
“Well, we still need to
charge a little extra,” said Scott, “because we are still breaking the
law...but, you are right, costs are not as high because we no longer need to
pay the woman.” He continued turning the wheel, pressing even further on Dubois’
sensitive spots, causing even more pain. “Of course, in some areas, we’ve
bribed government officials, allowing us to operate without worry, and bribes
are still cheaper than paying the woman. Especially when you can provide shares
in our budding venture.”
John then walked over to
Dubois, breathing frantically, her eyes wide in pain and in terror.
“Have you learned your
lesson?” John asked, rubbing the woman’s forehead. He then pulled down the gag,
which made her decide to spit in his face.
John then reapplied the gag
and wiped the spit off his face. He then twirled his hands in a clockwise
motion, signaling to Scott to turn the wheel some more, which he did. By this
point, the pressure applied to Dubois was so great that she was lifted off the
table, pressing her extremities right against the chains. The rope penetrated
into her vagina and anus as deep as it could go, and her breasts were stretched
as far as they could go, the clamps applying tremendous pressure onto her
nipples. Dubois screamed in pain right from the outset, and kept on screaming
the longer John and Scott kept her up.
“You know,” said John, as
both men paid no heed to Dubois’ distress. “I really get this venture...it’s
trailblazing. Seedy, but trailblazing.”
“You have to look at it this
way,” said Scott. “The Romans, the North Americans, the Europeans, Britain,
even our colonial fathers the Scots...heck, the rest of the world...they all
took from us. Stole from us. So we steal from them...and why not take their
most prized possession...their women?”
“Especially when we need
them,” acknowledged John.
“Exactly,” said Scott. “Besides,
the Romans still celebrate The Rape of the Sabines...so what we’re doing is all
fair game.”
By this point, they had
bothered to turn their attention to Dubois. John again rubbed her forehead.
“Have you learned your
lesson?” John said, as Dubois frantically shook her head “yes”. John then
tested it, pulling down her gag and kissing her, open mouthed. Dubois, despite
hating it, reciprocated, hoping it would make them take pity on her and release
her from The Fixxer, though John and Scott had no intention of that.
“I think I need a shot of
rum,” said John.
“I agree,” said Scott,
smiling.
The two men then departed,
leaving Dubois stretched out agonizingly, the pain getting more unbearable with
each passing minute. She fought the urge to faint, but she got close several
times. Ten minutes later- an eternity to Dubois- John and Scott came back to
lower her to relieve her pressure, but they didn’t take her off the table.
Eventually, she passed out on the table, upon which they released her from The
Fixxer and raped her, before contorting her still sleeping body into a small
box.
November 9, 2015,
12:19 local time,
Jimmy Cochrane’s Coffee Shop, beachside location,
Encinitas, California
“Okay,” said Goldman, joining
Reefer and Tyler with her coffee in hand. “So California typically sees about
2,000 women go missing each year.”
“Yeah,” said Tyler. “A good
number of those are runaways and absent-minded seniors...only a fraction are ‘stranger
abductions’.”
“So what do we know about
Birea?” asked Reefer. “I think we need to figure that out before we go further.”
“Right,” concurred Goldman, “we
need to know our enemies.” Goldman then pulled out her cell phone, a
jerry-rigged Blackberry Q10 that also had the Android and Apple software
available to it.
“Hey,” said Reefer with a
look of suspicion “is that phone legal?”
“Designed it myself,” said
Goldman. “In fact, I’ve fool-proofed it so that all my software is technically
legal…took me about a month to do…lot of long nights. It’s worth it- I can
access any database that I want.”
“Oh man, that definitely is illegal,” said Reefer.
“…but so useful,” said Tyler, nodding his head in appreciation, to which
Reefer eventually agreed.
“Anyway,” said Goldman,
without looking at her phone. “In 1707, England, Wales and Scotland were united
as the ‘Kingdom of Great Britain’ via an act of Parliament. The Scots
begrudgingly accepted this, since by that point their economy was in shambles
and the English could actually help them.”
“…but, at the first chance,”
said Tyler, “in 1779 they left Britain.”
“Yeah,” said Goldman. “The
British, in the middle of the American Revolution, were in no capacity to be
able to defend against that secession, so Scotland, rejuvenated, formed its own
powerful kingdom.”
“The French helped them out
too,” said Tyler, “let’s not forget that.”
“Right,” acknowledged
Goldman. “Two years later they establish a colony in Africa at Malabo in
Equatorial Guinea, but that wasn’t when the fun started.”
“The Coffee War,” said Tyler
with a smirk, “Lot of fun on both sides…Scotland won the East Indies, or
Indonesia, from the Dutch in 1787 after replacing Javanese coffee shipments
with Scottish tea. Although by that point Scotland had turned the tide and
started to win the war, it was only after the Scots replaced the coffee with
the tea the Dutch hated that the Netherlands eventually relented.”
“…and so began the Scottish
East Indies,” said Goldman.
“Now,” said Reefer, listening
with keen interest, “as I understand, the Nathanites were essentially rewarded
the East Indies for their loyalty to the Scottish Crown.”
“Yeah, basically,” said
Tyler. “The Nathanites were initially English, but were expelled from England
after the Spanish Armada was defeated since the Nathanites were spies for the
Spanish. Scotland saw their usefulness and allowed them to come to the kingdom
as refugees, but repeated incursions by England meant the Scots had to find a
new home for them. They found one in Florida- where the Nathanites eventually
influenced other Christian sects and evolved into the ‘Nequissimi’- but
Nathanism didn’t really take off until the East Indies were captured by
Scotland, as it gave them substantial territory in which to settle.”
“…and they called his country
‘Birea’,” said Goldman.
“After a misunderstanding of
a local word for ‘unity’,” said Reefer.
“Anyhow,” said Tyler,
continuing the discussion, “the Bireans, as they came to be called, became
known as the ‘Crown Jewel of the Scottish Empire’, and they were a willing
colony for over 200 years, although English subterfuge tried to undermine this,
since England realized they’d be good allies too. It was only after World War
II, when Scotland’s reserves were depleted fighting for the Allies, that the
Bireans gained their independence, although Scotland still tried to fight it.
The Romans were the ones that brokered the peace, allowing both countries to
co-exist and even co-operate nicely.”
“That was in 1952,” said
Goldman, “and, predictably, the Bireans were excited.”
“They were f***ing like
crazy,” said Tyler with a wry smirk causing Goldman to roll her eyes and shake
her head.
“So that’s why the Bireans
have their one-child policy,” said Reefer, “because they had too many babies
after independence.”
“Yeah,” said Goldman. “They
didn’t get around to it until 1974, which the population more or less followed
rigidly. Alarm bells were sounded almost as soon as the policy went into
effect, but they went unheeded…until now when we can actually see the effects
of it.”
“True,” said Reefer, nodding
his head. “Birean society, due to the restrictions placed on working, tends to
favour men over women, although not to an extreme degree. Add to that the fact
that Bireans are more apt than other Nathanites to have multiple wives, and you
have a recipe for disaster.”
“Birean emigration for a wife
is no secret,” said Goldman, looking at her phone. “It’s estimated that 34% of
eligible Birean bachelors went abroad to find a wife, although those were
voluntary wives.”
“Of course, with the
imbalance increasing,” analyzed Reefer, “it’s only a matter of time before
someone starts thinking about kidnapping a wife outright, especially if you’re
in your late 30s and desperate.”
“That’s what’s happening here
then,” said Tyler. “Women are getting kidnapped by Bireans to be married off.”
“This brings us back to the
number of missing women,” said Goldman. “I could quote the statistics, but we
all know some don’t get properly reported missing.”
“From what we’ve seen around
here,” said Reefer, “the number is higher than it usually is…but the government
doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it.”
“Looks like we’ll need to,”
said Goldman, firmly.
November 20, 2015,
17:08 local time,
Derek Glengarry’s house,
Thompsonville, Borneo, Birea
“Crap,” said Nyquist in
frustration, looking over a frying pan in the kitchen. After her first night
she was given clothes, and fitted with an ankle bracelet that had a tracker on
it. “No matter what I do it seems like it can never come out right.” She was
trying to make haggis for Glengarry for when he arrived, but the special
seasoning she applied to the potatoes just didn’t seem to simmer right, among
other things that went wrong that day. She angrily shut off the stove and placed
the potatoes with the turnips and the haggis anyway, before putting a cover on
it and putting it in the fridge to warm up later. She then walked to the couch
and slumped onto it, crying, with all the frustration of her failed cooking
experiment boiling over.
A few minutes later,
Glengarry, a stock broker, arrived home with a large box and a bouquet of
flowers. As soon as he heard Nyquist crying, he hurried to the couch.
“Kiki,” said Glengarry,
putting his arm around her and pulling her close. “What’s wrong?”
Nyquist didn’t respond and
just reciprocated Glengarry’s action, wrapping her other arm around him so that
she could be hugged and cry on his shoulder.
“Aww,” said Glengarry,
kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay...did you have a long day?”
Nyquist nodded “yes” on his
shoulder before speaking. “I was trying to cook you dinner,” she said, “but
nothing I did seemed to come out right.”
“Kiki,” said Glengarry
softly, looking into her eyes and wiping away tears, “I’m sure it came out
fine...besides, what matters to me is that you’re okay...as long as I have you,
then I don’t care if you make a mistake on the stove. It happens.” He then
spoke with a wide smile, excitedly. “I got you flowers...and I remember you
told me you love the XBox, so I got you one with all the fixins and your
favourite game.”
Nyquist then got up, putting
her hands to her face, still crying and wiping away tears.
“Why?” Nyquist said, still
bawling. “Why are you so nice to me? I’m just a slave...I really mean nothing
to you. I’m from Stockholm...I know all about the Stockholm Syndrome...you just
want to control me by making me like you.”
“No,” said Glengarry,
protesting. “No...why would I want to do that? I love you. I really do. Every
minute that I’ve known you I have grown that much more fond of you.”
Nyquist reacted angrily. “Then
why did you make me wear an ankle bracelet? Are you that afraid that I will
run?”
“Your slave masters suggested
I do it so I was just following procedure but you don’t have to wear it, Kiki.”
Nyquist got even more upset. “My
name isn’t Kiki. It’s Anna. I wish you would know that.”
Glengarry patted the air,
trying to signal to Nyquist to calm down, understanding the importance of the
situation. “Okay...okay...I’ll call you Anna then. I’m sorry...I should have
asked for your name.”
“One other thing.”
“Anna...anything. I would
give you the Moon if I could.”
“We need to start over...have
our first date...fall in love like we’re supposed to.”
Glengarry had a look of worry
on his face, afraid of what this might mean for him.
Nyquist caught the look. “Look
Derek, if you can’t trust me that I’m doing all that I will to make this
work...then I’ll know who you really are, that you’re someone who doesn’t
actually love me and just wants to control me. If your feelings are true...you
must trust me.”
Glengarry sighed and pressed
his tongue to his cheek, concerned. He thought about it for a moment before
responding. “Very well then,” he said. “I’ll leave the guest house for
you...and we’ll do this the right way. When can we have our first date?”
“Tomorrow evening. I’m
exhausted right now.”
“As you wish.” Glengarry then
spent the rest of the night setting up the guest house for Nyquist, even giving
her a set of keys all for herself. In the back of his head, he hated
acquiescing like he did, but he wanted Nyquist to be happy, so he accepted the
turn of events.
The date went ahead as
planned, with the two going out for dinner at a fancy beachside resort. The jasmine
tea flowed freely, although the conversation did not. The date was a classic
example of why Glengarry had been single for so long in the first place- a
crippling fear of rejection that stopped him from making any kind of move or
stumbling in his sentences. Still, Nyquist was endeared to him, and they saw
each other for a few more dates.
After the fourth date,
Nyquist and Glengarry found themselves strolling along the Mahakam River, after
attending Church together. Nyquist, in her favourite blue keybaya, and
Glengarry, in his fez and a batik shirt and pants, were walking side by side
each other but were careful not to display too many signs of affection, lest a
jealous man jump Glengarry and try to steal Nyquist from him. Glengarry,
knowing the area well, found a little nook in the buildings and walked Nyquist
down it, so the two could be secluded.
“Thank you for this, Anna,”
said Glengarry, giving Nyquist a hug.
“No, thank you,” said
Nyquist, reciprocating and rubbing his back. The two of them then parted a
little so they could look in each other’s eyes and hold each other at the
waist.
“Anna,” said Glengarry
wistfully, looking down.
“What’s wrong Derek?” asked
Nyquist, concerned.
“I was such a disaster…and
yet you kept coming back to me. Why?”
“Because I know who you
really are…I knew, deep down inside, you are a great person that any woman
would be lucky to have. You just let your insecurities get the better of
you…you’re so scared of screwing up that you aren’t yourself, and that’s why
you failed with all these women. I knew you needed some time to get you out of
your shell, and I was right- and the results have been fabulous.”
“I’m sorry I put you through
all that…I wish I didn’t have to buy you.”
“I understand…you did what
you needed to do.” Nyquist then brushed Glengarry’s hair with her hand. “I didn’t
like how this started either, but I knew, deep down inside, that you were a
good man.”
“You just wanted me to prove
it.” Glengarry lifted his head and flashed a warm smile.
“Prove it you did…and I
couldn’t be happier for it.” The two then locked lips and began a romantic
kiss, their first genuine one, leading them to kiss well into the night.
November 27, 2015,
16:08 local time,
The Muirhead Household,
New Ayr, Celebes Province, Birea
“Hey buddy,” said Alan
Muirhead, to his son Alex.
“Hey,” said the 14-year-old
Alex, excitedly.
“I’ve got something for you,”
Alan said with a smile, using his finger to tell Alex to come with him. The
birthday boy followed, his mouth agape like Pavlov’s dog.
At sea level of their seaside
hut sat Alan’s yacht, with a large crate inside it. Alex’s eyes widened more
with excitement as Alan took his time (on purpose) to open the padlock.
“Oh that’s so awesome!” Alex
said excitedly. Chained and gagged inside the box was Dubois, her body still
showing the scars of her torture even though her handlers took great care to
fix up her health and beauty. Alex took no time to walk up to her and start
feeling around.
“Wow,” said Alex, feeling her
up, “she’s a real girl!” He continued
groping and feeling, giddy like a schoolboy with his new toy. “She’s all mine?”
Alex asked, disbelief at his new treasure seeping in.
“Yes, yes,” reassured Alan,
his face bearing the widest smile. “She’s all yours.”
“Awesome,” said the still
wide-eyed Alex. “Does that mean I get to punch her in the gut?”
Alan smiled, not hesitating
one bit. “Of course.”
Alex responded by laying a
haymaker right into Dubois’ stomach. “Oh man, that was awesome! I need to do it
again.” Alex, giddy over his newfound possession, punched her a few more times
in the stomach, causing her to cry. “Hey b****!” Alex called out to her,
punching her in the face a few more times, “you’re my toy now! My toys don’t
cry!” He then punched and slapped her a few more times before Alan, chuckling
at his excitement and happy for his son, stopped him.
“Now now, son, you don’t want
to hurt her too much...she will be your wife when you’re old enough. So don’t
treat her too badly.”
Alex acknowledged the point,
his giddiness still not subsided. “Okay daddy.” A thought then came to Alex. “I
can have sex with her, right?”
“As many times as you like.
We’ve given her a bed in your room with chains on it so you can restrain her
there and f*** her as many times as you like.”
“Awesome! This is the best
birthday ever!” Alex gave his father a big hug as the two of them closed the
crate and moved Dubois (after Alex again punched her in the gut) to her new
spot in Alex’s room- a spot whose terror she wouldn’t be able to begin to
imagine.
November 27, 2015
13:21 local time,
Jakarta District,
Warricksville, Java, Birea
“We
charge an average of £150 a month and £50 a week,” said Martin Riggs, manager
of the Warricksville Dating Services shop in downtown Warricksville, to Gary Strudwick, who wanted an “attraction” for a heavy metal-themed nightclub he had just opened.
“We usually have around 50 women for you to choose from, and, if you decide you
want to marry the woman you’re renting, you’ll be required to purchase her at
cost, which is 20 years’ worth of rentals minus what you’ve already spent.”
“Interesting,”
said Strudwick, standing in front of the service desk. “Do I get a test drive,
though?”
“We
allow you to communicate with her for one hour before deciding on a rental. You
are free to do whatever you like with her provided you are not violent and
cause her physical harm. This includes sex with the woman, if you’d like,
unless the woman is a virgin where we ask that you respect that and restrain
your activities to everything that does not require vaginal penetration.”
Strudwick was perplexed. “Some of your women aren’t virgins?”
Riggs
did not skip a beat. “Not everyone around the world follows the Birean way of
life. However, I assure you sex is not forbidden...the clerics have been more
understanding of our societies ‘troubles’ and thus knows that finding a woman
is much harder these days than it used to...so it allows these ‘test drives’
just to make sure that a man is not stuck with a wife he does not desire.
Furthermore, once the woman is rented, a cleric is on hand to grant a temporary
marriage, which becomes permanent should you decide to purchase the woman.”
“If
a man can have sex with a woman without renting her...it sounds an awful lot
like prostitution.”
“Well,
we can’t control what our customers come in for, but we do charge £100 if all
the customer does is have sex. We also forbid customers from having sex with
the woman again unless he decides to rent her, and we charge for additional ‘test
drives’ anyway. Believe me, we have gone through great pains to make sure we
are not a brothel.”
Strudwick nodded in approval. “All right...give me a tour.”
Riggs
showed Strudwick around. At the moment, Riggs had 55 women for the customer to
choose from, all of which were kept in cells that were furnished like a small
bachelor pad. The women were all naked, kept with a chain attached to their
necks that started at the wall overlooking the bed, loose enough so that they
could walk around somewhat freely in their cell. The women were forced, on a
rotating basis, to work at Riggs’ other establishments, Warricksville’s chain
of luxurious Crescent Hotels and its upscale restaurants, where they could be
observed in their more ‘traditional’ roles of cooking and cleaning.
As
Strudwick looked around, he saw many that caught his eye, but only one piqued his
interest.
“Interesting,”
said Strudwick, noticing a woman. “When did you get Lolita?”
“Oh
she’s one of our best,” said Riggs, acknowledging the customer’s interest in Paige
Hutton. “Don’t let all the tattoos and piercings fool you...she’s an excellent
cook and cleans up very nicely. She’s also as sweet as jasmine tea...thus, we
charge top dollar for her.”
Strudwick had a ploy to reduce her price. “All those piercings are not proper...they’re forbidden.
She may be nice but she should not modify what God gave her.”
“All
my other customers love her piercings though.”
Strudwick liked them too, but decided to continue the charade. “I find it interesting
that she hasn’t been sold...if the piercings were that good, then someone would
have paid ‘top dollar’ for them, would they not?”
“Yes,
but not everyone has ‘top dollar’.”
“So
all of your top women have troubles being rented, right? Eventually, if they
stay here long enough, people are going to start wondering about them.
Besides,” Strudwick paused to examine her body, “she’s not a virgin...that’s not
top dollar right there. Any true Birean knows that.”
Riggs
grimaced, letting out a sigh without offering a response.
“I’ll
tell you what...I’ll give you £200 a month for her. No questions asked.”
“Deal.”
Riggs agreed reluctantly, hoping she could fetch £400 for her, but had to
concede that the customer was right. He arranged for the cleric to come with
traditional marriage clothes for Hutton, as she was officially married to Strudwick in a hasty ceremony before being spirited off with him.
November 27, 2015,
14:09 local time,
Encinitas Police Headquarters,
Encinitas, California
“Do we really need to lead this interrogation?” Tyler asked Monroe,
frustrated.
Monroe was curt. “May I
remind you who is paying your salary,
Tyler?” Monroe said. “The butler did it...now go in there and get it out of him.”
Tyler took a deep breath
before going into the interrogation room with Reefer, reluctantly.
As they were in the
interrogation, Monroe fielded a phone call.
“Yes, they’re in there,” said
Monroe on the phone. “We got the butler...now we’re working on getting that
confession. You’ve got a child’s remains with Heidi’s and the butler’s DNA on
it? Nice lab work. That should do the trick...we got this guy dead and
buried...what’s that? Well, what more do you want? I’m getting a phony
confession with planted evidence and a diversion away from the Sandersons...oh
okay, I’m sorry, thanks for that. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Monroe then closed
his phone. After an hour, Tyler and Reefer emerged from the interrogation,
satisfied.
“We got it,” said Tyler to
Monroe.
“Good,” said Monroe, flashing
a wide smile. “See, you should never doubt your captain…it’s why I got the job.”
“We’re going to get this
transcribed,” said Reefer. “He told us he had some help but couldn’t remember
the details so we’ll need to talk to him later.”
“That’s fine.” Monroe’s smile
was wider than the Pacific. The captain stood triumphantly basking in his glow
as Tyler and Reefer left to write out the tape. Before they did, they fielded a
call to Goldman, who made another call.
“Hi,” said Claudia, picking
up her phone. “This is Agent Galla Claudia. Who’s
calling?”
“Listen,” said Goldman, “I know
this is weird...my name is Regina Goldman...I
live in Encinitas, California, just outside of San Diego. I’ve been working
with the Encinitas Police on an investigation that I believe you have ties to,
so I found your number and gave you a call.”
Claudia was still perplexed. “Okay...so
you illegally obtained my phone number. You do realize I can turn you in to
your own police and have you jailed, right?”
“Oh they’ll probably jail me
and my co-investigators if they found out what we were doing.”
Claudia was intrigued despite her confusion. “What are you doing?”
“We’re investigating the
Heidi Sanderson abduction...we believe there are a few irregularities that
Encinitas Police are covering up, so myself and two Encinitas Police officers
are investigating covertly. We’ve interrogated a suspect and it led us to you.
Can you help us out?”
“Absolutely. I’ll pull some
strings…we seem to have the same goals.”
“Thank you Agent Claudia.”
“You can call me Galla if you’d like.”
“...and I’m Regina.”
“We’ll touch base soon. Bye
for now.”
November 27, 2015,
23:19 local time,
Warricksville Riding Services,
Warricksville, Java, Birea
“Hush, little baby, don’t say
a word,” sang Paige Hutton quietly to herself. “Hmpf! Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.” Hutton took in a gulp,
starting to feel a pain inside her that commenced with her being rocked back
and forth.
“And if that mockingbird won’t
sing,” she continued, before wincing in pain once more, “Mama’s gonna buy you a
diamond ring. Ouch! Ooooh...ah...”
She panted heavily several times before catching her breath and continuing the
song.
“And if that diamond ring
turns brass,” Hutton sang, a quiver entering her voice, “Mama’s gonna buy you a
looking glass.” Hutton then let out a loud scream. Oh dear, she thought to herself, trying to recover from the pain, please let this be over soon. The man on
top of her wouldn’t relent, though.
“And if that looking glass
gets broke,” she sang before screaming again, “Mama’s gonna buy you a billy
goat,” she sang, with tears now starting to come out of her eyes. As she
breathed to help her relax, the man’s actions renewed her fear. Oh no, she thought, doing her best not
to recoil at the horrors of the man’s hands rubbing themselves all over her
breasts, he’s so filthy...what did I get
myself into?
“And if that billy goat don’t
pull,” she continued her song, quivering and tearing, with deep breaths so she
could endure the ordeal, “Mama’s gonna buy you a cart and bull.”
“And if that cart and bull
turn over,” she sang before letting out another yelp, “Mama’s gonna buy you a
dog named Rover.”
“And if that dog named Rover
won’t bark,” she sang, before starting to pant heavily again, letting out many
short breaths, as the man’s movements became more intense. “Mama’s gonna buy
you a horse and cart,” she continued, before the feelings inside her body
started to overwhelm her. Oh no, oh no,
oh no! Hutton thought, with her moans starting to get progressively louder
before reaching a crescendo with a loud scream that shook the entire house.
She took a deep breath before
the man got up from on top of her, wearing an extremely satisfied grin. After
the man left the room, Hutton curled up in her bed and finished the lullaby her
mother always sang to her after she had a nightmare.
“And if that horse and cart
fall down,” she sang, crying uncontrollably, with the singing by now reduced to
a barely audible whisper, “You’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town.”
Hutton continued her crying, angrily punching her pillow several times and
kicking her feet up and down, before getting so tired from the emotional
distress that she fell sound asleep.
“Love is the only thing in life that nourishes us and
strengthens us. It is also the only thing in life that can deplete us and weaken
us at the exact same time. Yet, no matter how many times it lets us down, we
keep coming back for more.” -Isla Broderick, “The Quest for Companionship” (1936)
