Cruise (29 page)

“Well, too bad and tough shit for you and her, dear sister. We’ll sell her as he wants. No one has to know that the fruit has been picked already,” Oberly added, giggling.

“Sure, and when this Mohammad guy finds out she is somewhat damaged goods, he’ll send a cruise missile up our ass…after he gets his money back.”

“I’ll fill him in,” Oberly offered. “He’s already seen the videos. He probably knows most of the truth anyway. What he wants here is this sweet thing with the pony tail and the horse tail and the cute mane and no idea whatsoever of what fucking is even about. That’s what he wants. I’ll bet he has plenty of boys for fucking anyway.”

“Right. So she’s off limits, agreed?” offered the sister twin.

“Agreed, dear sister. Agreed.”

“We’ll have his bank transfer by twenty three hundred hours, so let’s get her out of here and on the next flight. He can be flogging her ass by lunch time Friday.”

“I don’t want to take her back ashore. The island is getting a little too active for us, I think. Let’s take her over to the airport at Ultima. They get commercial jets in there daily and we will then have time to package her correctly and safely.”

“Agreed, agreed. If we time it right, the Sheik will most likely just send one of his jets over to get her. That’s easy and a lot less hassle for everyone. Besides, I would enjoy seeing the little bitch squirming on the double dildoes imbedded in the Elite Passenger Seat.”

“The EPS?”

“None other. Remember the description we got from the guards that loaded the blond…ah, what was her name?”

“Frannie? Francine? The nasty chick from Chicago?”

“Yeah. Her. The boys said that she got slammed down on the double dicks with her hands and feet all taped up and she made a major fuss, bouncing back up out of the seat and breaking Gustavo’s nose.”

“Yeah. Yeah. And he sure had a big nose.”

“Right. They unscrewed the standard pricks and fitted the seat out with two that were big enough for use on a hippo…which she definitely was not.”

Chapter Thirty

Recon

The recon operation on Insula Del Norte began at exactly 0330, with less than two hours until daylight. Bibi’s initial strategy was to get in and get out before anyone knew what had happened. Like all carefully made plans, this one had its flaws and these soon became evident as the two RIBs from Altuna rounded the point that guarded the small inlet on the eastern shore. From the shore, a brilliant Xenon spotlight suddenly burst into sun-like illumination and found the lead boat almost immediately.

“Attention, attention,” a voice from an unseen loudspeaker ashore blared out over the water. “You are trespassing on private waterways and will be fired upon unless you leave immediately.”

“Take the wheel,” Bibi shouted to Jenna. “Try to keep it steady, but once I fire, kill the throttle and zigzag hard.”

Bibi pulled the .308 M1A rifle from the waterproof bag at her feet, pulled back the charging lever and let the heavy bolt slam forward, chambering a round. She brought the heavy, long rifle up into action in a single move, flipped up the covers on the scope and took a steady bead on the searchlight, flexing her knees to compensate for the boat’s movement and squeezing of three rounds that came so fast they sounded like one long, single explosion. The boat stopped suddenly and veered to port at the same time that the spotlight disintegrated and went out.

“Go for the beach now,” Bibi shouted, setting the safety on the rifle and moving to the stern, still keeping the Leopold scope’s reticle fixed in the general area where the light had been. She hoped that Jenna and Karla remembered the plan as the twin motors roared back into life and more lights shot out from the point. But by now, the guards had lost their edge and their weaker beams probed the off shore darkness futilely as both raiders were now inside the harbor and charging at high speed for the beach.

As the depth indicators sounded that they were in shallow water, Bibi signaled Jenna to start her turn and slow the boat. When the beach and fixed range lights further inland lined up correctly, Jenna stopped the launch and Bibi went over the side with her waterproof duffel and gear. Jenna watched her go and then decoyed the shore parties by zigzagging towards two moored sailing yachts, then taking off at high speed for the harbor exit.

Karla executed a smooth departure similar to Bibi’s from her RIB and swam for the beach, towing her floating gear bag and spotting Bibi only a few yards away on her left. They hit the beach, pulled the instant releases on their fins and brought the HK MP-5s machine pistols out of the gear bags simultaneously as they lay on the darkened beach, the sand still warm from the day’s heat. Bibi took a few minutes to check the thin, waterproof package strapped to her upper left arm. She checked the five syrettes of instantly disabling drugs, put them back into an arm pack and looked at Karla whose faint shadow was only a few feet away. Both women wore black Lycra skin suits, a common one piece coverall favored by divers as a thin protection against sharp shells and other marine debris. Their heads were covered by snug hoods of the same non-reflective fabric with small cut-outs for their ears to improve hearing. Their faces blackened and streaked with camo paint.

They exchanged thumbs-up signs, slipped the back packs on and moved up the beach towards town, watching their flanks and stopping periodically to listen to the continuing commotion on the breakwater and around the sailing yachts where Jenna and Myra had thrown the timed flash bangs before racing out of the harbor.

The timing went better than they planned. As the explosions lit up the wharf, both RIBs cleared the point and disappeared into the night, leaving the guards in disarray but convinced that they had foiled an attack by unknown parties. Three patrol boats, berthed at the long wharf, finally got under way and took off in pursuit, but their displacement hulls could not match the planning speed of the RIBs and they soon returned to the harbor.

On shore, Bibi and Karla easily made their way into the tiny town, moving quickly and silently until they were at the casino’s back entrance. Their movements were easily covered by the roaring of the exhaust fans from the kitchen and the air conditioning units arrayed along the cement block wall. They crouched on either side of the kitchen door and had to wait only a minute before a cook opened the door and stepped out onto the small porch, lighting a cigarette and leaving the door slightly ajar. From inside, the noise of a kitchen cleaning staff carrying out their late night regimen could be heard.

Bibi nodded at Karla and on the third nod, they swooped down on the unsuspecting cook, slipped the first of many ready hypos into his butt and held him as he instantly slumped to the floor. They stashed him in the nearby dumpster and entered the kitchen, seeking the door Jenna told them would lead to the cellars. No one stopped them as they moved through the empty prep area and they saw and heard the cleaning crew working on the ovens and appliances in the adjoining room, a boom box on one counter blaring reggae and making any other noises superfluous.

Karla pointed her weapon and turned on the brilliant flashlight mounted on the top rail. The solid white light beam focused on a door that had a single wine bottle in profile on the small sign. Bibi tried the door and it was locked, but the titanium wrecking bar from her pack helped her to force the lock and they entered, closed the door behind them and started down the illuminated stairway into the silent wine cellar, both using their weapon’s LED flash lights. They quickly found that all of the cells in the areas were empty, but a few showed signs that they had been recently occupied. Chains attached to manacles and shackles remained on the walls. The cells were remarkably clean and smelled reasonably good considering their use and location.

“We’re out of here,” Bibi said to Karla, her voice indicating their mutual disappointment. As they headed back for the stairs, someone entered and started down. Bibi and Karla waited until the black man in a dashiki got to the bottom of the flight and then they took him down. They quickly questioned him with Karla’s hand over his mouth, her double-edged knife at his throat and Bibi standing off with her weapon leveled at the man’s stomach, the silencer looking like a black, hollow pipe that she was ready to jam into the man’s fat paunch.

“Not a sound,” said Bibi. The man frantically nodded, twisting his head around in an attempt to better see his captors. Karla cautiously took her hand away from the man’s mouth, but kept her knee in his back, holding him to the rough planked flooring.

Bibi stood to one side, her MP-5 also targeted on the man. “I will ask this only once,” Bibi said harshly. “Fail to answer and you die here, on this cellar floor. You part of this slaver gang?”

“Yass, m’am. I is,” said the man, nodding his head vigorously. “But I gots a wife and three kids so I goot to support dem somehow. Dis is jest a job, ya know.”

“Where are the girls that were here?”

“Dey gone,” the man quickly replied. “Cept for the newest ones.”

“Newest?” Bibi said.

“Da ones that ain’t been treated yet.”

“Treated?” asked Karla, itching to blow this slime ball away.

“Day aas gots to get pierced, ringed, permanently plugged front and rear, ya know. All dat stuff takes time and we don’t have time right now, so they gets stashed in the boxes and sent to the ship in the morning.”

“What boxes?’ Karla asked with her knee still on the man’s spine.

“In da coffins,” the man said, his whole body shaking with fear and his eyes never leaving the dark muzzle of the weapon in Bibi’s hands.

“Coffins? Shit, man. Where have the rest gone?” Karla added.

“Gone to ship,” the man said quietly, trying to keep himself under control, given his situation.

“What ship?”

“Dee freighter. Off shore.”

“And the coffins?” Bibi pressed.

“Dere,” the man pointed to the stone wall behind the women.

“Behind that wall?” Karla asked, scanning the unmarked stone face of the opposite wall. Nodding to Bibi, Karla got up and began feeling with her fingertips for some sort of crease or crack in the wall’s apparently solid surface.

“Da lamp, over dere,” the man said, his voice now more controlled. He pointed to one of the lamps mounted on the wall. “You gots ta pull it,” he said.

Karla pulled the wrought iron lamp and a nearly invisible crack opened up in the wall, then spread as the entire panel rotated inward.

The interior of the chamber was pitch dark. As their eyes became accustomed to the darkness and they swept the room with their lights, both Karla and Bibi momentarily had their backs turned towards the black man and he made a sudden dash for the stairs. Hearing the soft rustle of his dashiki, Bibi turned and fired twice, catching the man first in the left leg and then in the middle of his back. He screamed and tumbled backwards off the first three stairs, then lay still.

Bibi looked at Karla and they advanced slowly into the darkness of the stone room, suppressed weapons ready. As they entered, sensors activated overhead lights and suddenly they were in a well lit room with several heavy wooden and metal coffins lying on the floor and propped against the walls. All were closed and locked.

“What have we here?” Bibi said mostly to herself as she slipped the MP-5 over her shoulder and broke the lock on the lid on the first casket with the crowbar. Inside, they found the compact, mummified figure of a woman, bound in chain, wrapped around a white fabric shroud. Over the area where the face would be, was a wire mesh panel.

The encapsulated figure moved slightly and a soft sound came from behind the mesh screen.

“How do we get her out of this?” Bibi asked, poking carefully at the enshrouded figure. Karla was opening another coffin and discovered a similar body inside.

“We need the bolt cutters,” Bibi said, reaching once again into her pack.

***

Each of the seven sealed coffins yielded a nearly comatose young woman, cocooned and bound in layers of straps, chains and rope. The restraints were more than merely a method of keeping them immobile because the carefully executed layers of rope, leather and chain comprised a redundant system of pressure and confinement intended to constantly remind the captive that there was no escape from the bonds or from the suffering they would endure.

“I can’t believe they went to all this trouble just to keep a few women captive,” Karla said as she cut through the chains on one of the prisoners. “Right,” said Bibi. “This is not a restraint job, this is well executed and sadistic bondage intended to keep them aroused and ready. Haven’t seen anything like this since the greenhouse in Prague.”

“I heard about that one,” Karla said, still working on ropes and straps.

“From Groff?” Bibi asked.

“Yes, she told me about that case. That guy got what he deserved, from what I heard.”

“Agreed. Now let’s get moving on this. The day is getting old and we still haven’t found anyone we want to find.”

Once the chains were cut and the shrouds removed, the elaborate net web of rope was more clearly revealed, enclosing the naked bodies. Under the ropes, a series of locked leather straps secured ankles, legs above and below the knees, a wider strap around their upper thighs and a belt arrangement around their waist with a narrow strap through the triangle between their legs. Similar straps encircled their chest, squeezing their breasts into shiny, stressed mounds with the nipples taut and rigidly pointing outward. A few of the captives had rings or small metal barbells in their nipples and others wore a sort of wire harness that compressed the breast base and created bright red, pear-shaped turrets with blood filled nipples pointing straight outward. Their heads were enclosed in identical leather hoods with massive inflatable gags, their eyes blind and ears packed with wax, making them nearly deaf.

As Karla and Bibi worked to free them, the girls slowly came alive, weeping and moaning as the crotch bands were cut and the impaling rubber or metal prods were carefully removed from their anal and vaginal passages. Slowly, the gags were deflated and extracted from their stretched mouths and the many restraining straps and chains cut away. Nearly an hour later, all were settled against the wall of the underground chamber, wrapped in the same shrouds they had been held in, because there were no other clothes or even blankets available. In talking with those who were more articulate about what happened to them, Bibi learned that these women were unfortunate foreign tourists, taken either the night before in the local clubs or from their hotel rooms by the same gang that Bibi’s crew pursued.