SLAVES OF HOLLYWOOD 2 (3 page)

CHAPTER SIX – FIVE DAYS TO CAPTURE

Variety was no help. There had been advertisements for more than twenty cattle calls in the six months prior to the surfacing of Kelly’s DVD—despite that, the daily’s staff had no idea who had placed any of the ads. It turned out that Variety, after being forced to downsize in the 1990’s, now maintained only enough filing space to hold one month’s worth of paper records. The rest was kept in a computer program which wasn’t indexed in any way. Once an advertisement was run and paid for, the only record in Variety’s keeping was an electronic invoice that was marked as PAID!

At best, it was very sloppy record keeping—at worst, it meant they were hiding information—but without a Court Order, impossible to get at this point—Fanelli and Kelly had no way to access those computer records. They could take the time to go through back issues of the Daily Variety and note which of the advertised casting calls might have attracted the aspiring actresses they were looking for—but even then, they wouldn’t be able to follow up the lead without the billing data.

Agent Kelly was fuming as they left the paper’s tiny offices. Fanelli had convinced her to check out the Hollywood Reporter before doing anything else—they might have more luck there and not have to resort to a lengthy search through back issues.

“I can’t believe that their record-keeping is that poor by accident!” Kelly shook her head as Fanelli guided their car across the Pass on his way to Hollywood proper. “I mean, it’s obvious that they sell hundreds of ads a month! Who tracks the taxes due on all of them? How many companies are deducting fees that are never paid?”

She reached for her cell phone. “Maybe I should call someone at the IRS to check this out…”

“Why should you?” Fanelli hit the horn warning a van about to move into his lane that he was too close to allow the merge. “The IRS never, ever gives us any help on anything! Why should you do any legwork for them?”

“But it’s
wrong
!” Kelly glared at him. “People and companies have to be forced to pay their fair share of taxes—if they don’t…”

“Yeah,” Fanelli blasted past a tourist staring at the new Disneyland Ad alongside the One-Oh-One exit. “Chaos and no more freebie government programs for the poor and illegals—and that’s a bad thing?”

“That’s not for us to say.” Kelly’s nose rose as she answered. “Our job is to investigate anyone who breaks a Federal statute. That means we need access to any information that might help us—no matter who has that information”

“Dream on, lady.” Fanelli turned onto Cahuenga and slowed down. “Dream on!”

The Reporter worked out of a tiny office on Hollywood Blvd—just above a cheap souvenir shop specializing in paper-thin T-Shirts made in China. The automatic lock on the outside door was broken so Fanelli just pushed through the door that led to the narrow staircase leading to the second floor—and held it to allow Agent Kelly to go first.

It wasn’t a gentlemanly impulse on his part—he was about ready to kill the arrogant Washingtonian and needed the extra time to get his breathing—and his temper--under control.

Breathe in, breathe out!
She walked past him, accepting his deference as her due, and started up the stairs.
This too will pass!

Fanelli followed, letting the door slam behind him. He soon discovered that his new position had one advantage—the Agent-in-Charge had a very nice ass—and it moved quite energetically as she climbed the stairs.
Too bad she’s such a bitch
, he shook his head as he eyed her hip action.
She might be worth getting to know a little better otherwise.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It took nearly two hours for Megan Kelly’s head to begin slumping onto her shoulders. Mike knew that she was very near complete exhaustion from a combination of things: the beating, the lack of food and the continued stimulation of the vibrator in her cunt. In reality, he was surprised it had taken this long to begin to sag—his own estimates had her passing out in an hour or less.
Better not underestimate her strength of will
, he told himself, taking a bite of the light supper had had asked his assistant to bring to the office.
That would be a big mistake.

He wasn’t going to allow himself to make any mistakes with this one.

He took a last sip of his coffee, stood up, and headed back to the training room—
I think it’s time!
His assistant trotted along behind, holding the new devices Mike planned to use now.

The girl’s head was still slumped bonelessly on her shoulder as he came silently through the training room door.
Yep, she’s sleeping. Now…

“I didn’t tell you it was sleep time, bitch!” Mike punctuated the words with a sharp slap across the girl’s belly with the riding crop he had picked up in the control room. Her head snapped upright with an audible sound and Mike could see her whole body start to shiver at the pain his slap had caused.

“Slaves don’t sleep until they’re given permission to do so.” He stepped closer, ran his hand down over her bush, watching the muscles of her thighs and legs knot as his movement caused the still-buzzing vibrator to shift inside her vagina. “And I definitely did not give you permission!” He ran his hand upwards, heard her breathing change as he touched the base of her right breast.
Sensitive around the breasts
, he smiled and motioned to his assistant.
Good!

“If you can’t stay awake on your own,” Mike softly stroked the tip of her right breast and watched as the nipple quickly grew erect. “I’ll have to give you a little reminder to do so…” He reached out, took the little metal clip from his assistant and snapped it on her nipple, watching the visible parts of her face as the teeth bit in. She didn’t like that! Her groan, quickly suppressed, made that obvious.

“I see you don’t like my little reminder.” He reached for her other nipple, smiling as she tried, unsuccessfully, to pull the top half of her body back. “Let’s add another, shall we?”

When this set of teeth bit into her tender skin, she did groan, moving her head from side to side in silent torment.

“I have your attention now.” He snapped another on the side of her right breast, smiling widely as her groan grew deeper, her head movement more violent. A third joined its brothers on the right breast—then a fourth—and a fifth.

He stopped then, watched as her fists clasped and unclasped--then moved to the left breast.

By the time he was done, both her breasts were bristling with metal clips. Her groans of pain were constant now—and far louder than the continuing buzz of her vibrator. Mike stood in front of her, took one last clip from his assistant…

“I think I’ve made my point. You don’t sleep until I say so. And to make sure you don’t…” He took her cunt lip between the fingers of his left hand and allowed the last clip to close there with a snap.

He patted her cheek and left the room smiling as Kelly’s groans turned to whines of pain. He planned to leave her like this for a few hours, then remove the clips and give her another whipping.
Might as well make her first night here an interesting one.

Mike headed back to the office—he wanted another cup of coffee—and perhaps a little pie.
There’s a little time to kill
.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Megan Kelly struggled to keep herself from total panic. She had always been confident of her courage and ability to control herself under any circumstances.

No, she had come face-to-face with her weaknesses. Somehow, some way, she had ended up here, pinned like a bug in absolute darkness, a huge something vibrating in her most private area, causing her to feel things she had never felt before…

Megan had been frightened when she found herself tied and helpless—but her fright had turned to horror when the man’s voice first spoke to her—and when he beat her so horribly.

She had gone through her courage after only a very few blows—and had to keep telling herself that she had to hold out—had to stay strong until help could reach her.

Help.

She knew that the other agents in the LA office didn’t care for her or her method of investigation.
They’ll still come after me
, she told herself as firmly as she could.
They have to—they can’t leave me—not like this!

She was sure these were the same people she had seen working in that damned movie. She knew that they were perfectly capable of torturing her in all kinds of ways—and that what she had already endured was nothing at all in the greater scheme of things.

I can take it!
She kept repeating the words to herself.
I can hold on!

Then the man’s voice came again—and the terrible bite of something metallic tore into her nipple—and she screamed into the gag that kept all the sound tightly inside her.

She screamed—and screamed again—over and over as the endless night wore on.

CHAPTER NINE – FOUR DAYS TO CAPTURE

“So you did advertise a cattle call that week.” Agent Kelly was pointing at a full-page advertisement clearly visible in the microfiche copy of the Hollywood Reporter that Fanelli had been able to find. “Who paid for this?”

The rather hefty female clerk had been happy to co-operate once Kelly flashed her badge. Fanelli knew immediately that there was more than obedience to the law in that co-operation.
That one’s a dyke—and she’s measuring Kelly up as a potential partner
. He shook his head silently.
I don’t think she’s got a chance in hell—Kelly doesn’t like girls
. He raised an eyebrow at the thought.
Come to think of it, I’m not entirely convinced she likes men either.
He watched the agent from Washington pick up the fiche cartridges.
In fact, I’m not sure she really likes anyone—except herself.
Fanelli took the cartridge and fed it into the machine in front of him.
I hope I’m wrong.
He turned it on.
But somehow, I don’t think I am
. He turned to study the pages that came up on the screen.
Pity.

It had taken less than thirty minutes for Fanelli to find the ad they were looking for—Kelly spent those minutes chatting with the clerk—she was obviously too important to do any of the dirty work in this place. Still, if they found what they wanted...

“I remember that particular cattle call,” the clerk pulled out a ledger, flipped through some pages. “It was someone famous—someone everybody in Hollywood knows. His office called and…” She stopped, pointed at a page. “Here it is—the call came from Harry Winston.”

Fanelli whistled. “Harry Winston!” He leaned forward, trying to read the upside-down page of the ledger. “Are you sure?”

The clerk nodded. “Yeah, his office sets these up all the time—usually for mid-budget action films or the like.” She bent over to take a better look at the ledger. “This was supposed to be a slasher film—they wanted a lot of young women to play victims.”

“And you’re absolutely sure it was Winston?”

“That’s what it says.” The clerk put a thick finger on the page. “I never saw him—he didn’t came to the office—he never does—but it was his office, I’m completely positive about that.”

“Crap.” Fanelli pulled out his notebook, wrote down the date and issue number of the Reporter in question, then copied the info from the ledger—
best to have it all in writing—in case this blows up in our faces
. “Thank you for your help, Ma’am—perhaps we can get a couple of copies of the issue in question?”

“No problem—I’ll pull them right away.” The clerk turned away from Fanelli, gave all her attention to Kelly. “Will that be all, Agent Kelly?”

Kelly nodded her head slowly. “For the moment—but the Government appreciates your help in this matter.” She waited while the young woman pulled the copies Fanelli had requested, then turned toward the door and the staircase beyond when they arrived. “We
would
appreciate it if you refrained from discussing this with anyone else for the moment.”

“Right.” The clerk tried a simpering smile and leaned on the counter, displaying yards of cleavage. “I’ll just keep it between me and…” The smile widened. “You.”

Kelly was both unimpressed and, as far as Fanelli could tell, unaware of the clerk’s interest. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.” She waited for Fanelli to open the door, then stepped quickly through, motioning the other agent to follow. “Thanks again for your help.”

Fanelli shrugged at the clerk whose smile had frozen in place and went down the stairs in the other Agent’s wake.

Kelly stopped right outside the door and turned to Fanelli. “Who is this Harry Winston she mentioned?”

Fanelli shook his head in frustration. “Damn, you
are
clueless, aren’t you?” He pushed past Kelly and headed for the car, briefing her as he went. “Winston is the premier agent in this town. His agency represents some of the biggest stars in the world. I don’t know what he’d be doing working on a small-time slasher film, but I do know that I’m not looking forward to asking him about it.”

“Why not?”

Fanelli stopped and turned toward the woman, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “Harry Winston has more friends in this town--and is owed more favors by more bigshots than anyone I know. If he wants us off your little investigation, we’ll be off. If he wants us out of the Bureau, we’ll be out!”

“The Deputy Director…”

“Your Deputy Director is about two steps down the food chain from Winston’s friends.” He looked her in the eye. “Now, you tell me, do you want to interrogate him about this? Are you willing to take the risk?”

Kelly frowned a bit, as if the question had no meaning to her. “Of course we have to question him.” She stepped past Fanelli, heading for the car. “It’s our duty.”

“Duty be damned.” He stepped out into the street, headed for the driver’s side of the car. “We’re going back to the office—if Evans agrees with you, we’re gonna make an appointment to see Mr. Winston.”

“An appointment!” Agent Kelly frowned. “But that will take time…”

Fanelli shrugged. “We got nothin’ but time—there’s no real rush on any of this.”

“Those girls…”

“Have already gone through Hell—and we can’t turn back the clock and avoid that—but we can make sure we don’t screw up and lose any chance of finding them.” Fanelli pulled the car into traffic, headed for the freeway to go downtown. “First we…
I
cover my ass, then we see about talking to Winston.”

Kelly turned toward the window, too angry to argue the issue any further.