Treason

by Valerie J. Long

  Okay. The ceasefire was over. I could bear almost anything, but an open murder attempt before witnesses was too much! Even some of the other guards showed open dismay—I only wasn’t sure whether it was about their partner’s misdoing, or my obvious invulnerability?

  Their moment of shock gave me the time to overcome the pain that the hit of the bullet against my nano armor had caused anyway. This was much more unpleasant than a shower massage!

  My chest throbbed heavily when I rose. My nanos worked hard to repair the damage to my skin as quickly as possible. With few skips, I covered the yard, and then I jumped up to the balcony—twelve meters in one leap! During my landing, I tore the rifle out of the guard’s hands, and then I served him an appropriately firm blow to his solar plexus.

  Before the other guards could order me to please put the rifle down and raise my hands, I already had tossed the weapon away and jumped down into the yard—right at Cassie’s feet.

  “That was no smart move of you,” I declared with feigned happiness. Inside, I felt mightily pissed off.

  Cassie wasn’t able to speak. The bad smell of the puddle between her feet revealed her assessment of the situation.

  My anger faded. She was a poor sod, trapped in her little world of revenge and violence, not worth my attention. I simply left her standing there and challengingly ambled to the yard’s center.

  What were the guards on the other watchtowers doing? Indecisively, they clung to their rifle barrels, waiting for the start of the prisoner revolt, which didn’t happen. Obviously, they didn’t dare to take me on, but only looked back and forth between me and their merely baton-armed teammates in the yard.

  Just as questioningly, many of the women looked at me. Whatever their crimes had been, they hadn’t deserved a treatment like in this jail.

  Basically, the guards in this jail weren’t any better than the corrupt Syndicate cops in New York. I had taken up arms against the injustice there, but I had ignored the injustice here, simply hadn’t fought it. That’s what I should feel guilty for, not for the criminals I had taken out!

  Only—if I now showed them a sign of resistance, there would be a massacre. Because then, the guards would have to fight for their survival, and their fear of me wouldn’t prevent that.

  So I simply stood and waited for the first tension to fade.

  The guards looked at each other, looked at me, and waited as well.

  “There won’t be war today,” I finally declared aloud. “It’s not about the occasional pat with the baton. One of you went too far. That was an attempted murder before witnesses, and the case will be appropriately dealt with at court. I have no doubt about the conviction. Surely the situation in this facility will be voiced in this trial, too. I assume that this shop has to be closed down.”

  “Except if there are no witnesses,” Buck chimed in and approached me from out of the shadows.

  I gave him a sweet smile. “Only if you kill every single prisoner. Darn hard to explain, and who’d you shag then? Moreover, I’m darn hard to kill, Buck.”

  “How do you envisage proceeding, then?”

  “Well, you won’t take us back to our cells. We’ll stay here in the yard or in the dining hall or the showers until the investigation commission that you’ll call arrives. All together, we won’t do stupid things. If you can’t stand the pressure, you’ll have to jerk off on your own, because sex has come to an end. And I’ll advocate for a general pardon for your victims, because the events here have irreparably shattered our trust in fair justice.”

  “You’re dreaming.”

  “I’ve also dreamt of the Cartel’s end. Admitted, it took a few years until I could make that dream come true.”

  “You?”

  “Velvet.”

  “You are Velvet?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Hello, Johanna.” The President nodded at me and pointed at the opposite chair. It was the same visitor cell as every time, only this time no guard had to escort me.

  “Nicholas.”

  “What’s going on here? What did you bring onto yourself this time?”

  “You’re lucky to find me alive. One of the guards tried to shoot me down.” I showed the hole in my tunic, right over my heart. “He hit well.”

  “Damn—but you’re alive.”

  “I’m alive, but you don’t get the credit. I’ve tried to quietly bear the maltreatments and not kick back. You’ve allowed the situation to get out of hand. You remember, during your first visit, I advised you of what goes on here. During your second visit, I asked you what you’d done about it. You did nothing, and that encouraged the guard to try to kill me before the eyes of all prisoners. After this event, no one in this facility could return to daily routine.”

  “I thought you’d be less girlish. They can’t hurt you, so why this show?”

  “Don’t play the fool. The women here are free game. Each day, the guards pick some of them to rape them. Every day!”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes, oh. After my display—inevitably every woman here understood that I could take out the guards anytime if I wanted to—it was completely out of the question to allow that to continue. If you remember—no, you don’t remember. You’re a master in repressing unpleasant facts. Shut up and listen. I’ve never been interested in organized crime. I’m no cop. Massive abuse of women, not least the torture chambers under the Inferno, were my reason to have a go after the Cartel. Public torture, rape, and executions were the cause for my actions in New York. These things can’t happen. And even if it took me some time to notice—what’s been going on in this jail was not any better. So. Like in Las Vegas and in New York—if I clean up, I start at the top. So, are you a part of the problem or do you bring the solution?”

  He considered it for a while, and then placed his fingertips together. “As I said last time, this isn’t America. I have no say here.”

  “Bullshit!” He flinched upon my outburst. “You bring people here—for example, me—and you can get them out. The women here are American. The guards are Americans from different states, as you can tell by their accents. Whatever’s going on here, it’s under your control. You’re responsible.”

  “I didn’t build this jail.”

  “No, and you didn’t build the White House, either. Nevertheless, you’re living there—or will do so soon. No, probably everything here was started by the Cartel. But now it’s yours, so you’re to blame if you know about it and let it happen. Guilty by association.”

  He dropped his hands in resignation. “And what should I do in your opinion?”

  “Pardon all prisoners. After all they’ve gone through, every week counts like a year. And considering how the American justice—under your lead—failed to guarantee them a humane prison stay, they can’t be expected to ever be locked up again. Don’t ask how many women scuffle around here with broken gaze and broken will. Mental wrecks, beyond help from any psychologist. And then you shut this shop down.”

  “And the guards?”

  “My goodness, do I have to spoon-feed you every bit? That’s your job, you’re the President.”

  “I thought you might have specific demands.”

  “Revenge? Aw, no. I’m beyond that.” Which I had realized, to my own surprise, during the last three days. The guards had made every effort to avoid me—no wonder after all they had done to me—but I hadn’t felt inclined to give them a shower massage or a little beating. First, I had told myself, no, Jo, you must set a good example, because if you start dealing with the guards, all women will freak out, and then there will be the feared massacre. Then I had found out—I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be like them. I didn’t want to use my power to torture other people. I wanted—yes, what was it actually?

  “But yes, I’ve got one wish.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want a regular trial at a regular court for them all, with all the women as witnesses who’d like to testify.
I want us to show to the world that the USA is on its way to truly follow the rules of law, where the old rules of power of the strongest no longer apply.”

  “Difficult, after I’ve sent you here.”

  “Mm. Did you bring the papers we’ve talked about?”

  “Everything as you wanted. First class acquittal on all items. I hope we can find an agreement about compensation.”

  “Give that money to the women who need a brain doctor.”

  “Okay, gladly. But that won’t help us here.”

  “Oh, but sure it does. I’ve given you the best cover story ever. Why’s the New York heroine been imprisoned first and then released? Because her sentence had to be absolutely believable—nobody knew that you’d wrangled me in here as undercover agent to unveil the atrocities in this jail. With this story, you’re the bright White Knight.”

  That enticed a half-hearted smile. “Indeed. Although I didn’t deserve it.”

  “I very much hope that you’ll earn it. You have something to make good for.”

  “Well—where should I start?”

  I plucked at the hole in my tunic. “You should start to put me in a good mood toward your next wishes. What about a suite with Jacuzzi, soft bed, and decent food?”

  Part Two—Departed

  Chapter Ten

  There was a knocking at my suite’s door.

  “It’s open!” I called aloud.

  “Hello, Johanna?”

  “Come in, Nicholas.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the bathroom.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait here, right? Boys, get comfortable.”

  “Oh, come in. You’re safe with me.”

  “I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

  “Have you never seen a nude woman in the bathtub? In any case, I won’t come out now. Haven’t had it this nice for a long while.”

  “Well, okay.” He peeked through the bathroom door and barely managed to hide his disappointment over the large amount of foam on the surface. There was nothing to see of me but my head.

  “It’s marvelous. Come in, that’ll relax you.”

  “With you into the tub? Do you want to corrupt me?”

  “Yes. I’m already corrupted, too. This whirlpool is great—no idea how I have survived without it for so long.”

  I could see him struggling inside. Could an American President just climb into a bathtub with a strange woman, even if the tub was as large as this?

  “Nicholas, I know you’re married and have children. I won’t intrude on your marriage. But I’m very discreet.”

  “That almost sounds as if you were experienced with spouses.”

  “No word about my clients, but yes, I was a prostitute. Do you know of Eva Keller’s wellness centers?”

  He hesitated. “I’ve heard about them.”

  “You’ve tried it, admit it. I was the best.”

  “Mmm—sure? I once heard of an employee who pleased several clients after running a marathon. But that was somewhere in Europe.”

  “That was in Frankfurt, Germany, and it was an Ironman—bicycling, swimming, and marathon in one. Rank six.”

  “Cool. I’d liked to learn to know her more closely.”

  “You can have that. Undress and come in.”

  “You?”

  I only smiled at him. After a few breaths, he made a decision and undressed. “I’ll regret this.”

  “Surely not, Nick. Until now, no one has regretted entering the tub with me. You won’t be the first.”

  “I don’t fear the now, but the later. When I have to leave.”

  “Nicely put, but don’t worry about it. We’ve always known how to make spouses better partners. To alienate them from their families isn’t the goal.”

  “Oh.”

  At last, his briefs fell. He tried in vain to hide his erection and hurried to get under the foam cover. I granted him a moment to relax in the warm water before my toes searched for his hard cock. The more I teased him, the more I felt my own desire for having sex again—without the threat of violence, but only because I wanted it, and in a pleasant setting, as fitting Eva’s idea!

  That of anyone, the American President fell prey to me was pure chance. With the same delight I’d have savored the next room waiter—well, let’s say, I’d have pleased him.

  “Actually, I’m here for a reason.” Nick tried once again to escape his fate.

  “Hush. You must relax. After, we’ll talk.”

  I changed to a kneeling position and thus showed him my breasts, from which I first removed the foam. Then I placed one hand on his cock under water, the other on his shoulder, leaned forward and gave him a long French kiss.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I believe that I have to thank you,” Nick began. With his left arm he rested on the sheet, and his right index finger played with my left nipple. “I wouldn’t have thought this to be possible.”

  “I must thank you,” I objected. “You’ve got me out of jail.”

  “I don’t deserve gratitude for that. Shame on me, that I’d brought you there at all. You don’t belong into jail.”

  “I can’t say I’d long to return there—or to any other jail. But murderers must be imprisoned, that’s what we had agreed on before.”

  “I had to find out that you neglected to mention some important details about your New York mission.”

  “So?”

  “Even today, I still don’t know what exactly was going on at Times Square. I’ve seen photos of the—hum—installations there, and those relay rather unpleasant associations to the watcher. And until a few days ago I knew almost nothing of the show in Central Park.”

  His fingers retreated—sadly. In his features, I read concern. So he could do different? Not just the cynical, calculating head of state?

  “You surely knew that the Syndicate had placed cameras all around. Those had been feeding the big screens—but they also transmitted the events to their headquarters, and above all, they’ve kept recordings, as we’ve learned a few days ago. When I learned about it—briefly after having picked you up—I acquired these recordings and watched them.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “From beginning to end, in every detail, from every camera perspective. The camera work and direction were first-class. The storyline, on the other hand—basically there are no words to express my disgust. Nevertheless, I stuck with it to the end—I felt I owed that to the main actress. I’ve realized that there can’t be any excuse or any appropriate compensation for these atrocities. It wasn’t far from voluntarily submitting to a Jelly treatment, was it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you weren’t Dragon, this act would have qualified you as Paladin of the Order of the Dying Lioness. At the same time, this prevents any idea of murder—if it wasn’t self-defense, then it was done in the heat of the moment, and after such torture, it’s a miracle that there were still survivors of that crime gang. In any case, I now understand why many people in New York ask for a monument—they will get it.”

  “A monument?”

  “A memorial for the liberator of New York—a reminder about what moral courage can achieve. Well, and then—the end of the show was interesting again. Fireworks, so to say—first the pyrotechnical effects backstage, next your unchaining—and then you disappeared from the camera field of vision.”

  Good. There were a few things about me that the world didn’t have to know about.

  “What I really wanted to say—I’d like to personally thank you for all you’ve burdened yourself with for the people in this country, and especially in New York. I will express this gratitude publicly again, and the American people will make clear that we understand what we owe you.”

  He told me such things while we were reclining on the bed all nude side-by-side? Oh, damned Jelly poo!

  I was about to turn away, but instead he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close.
So he received the full load of my tears—at this moment, I could no longer suppress them.

  For this, I hated myself—for showing my weakness to the one man of all who’d been responsible for my last months’ ordeal, the one man who’d unhesitatingly send me to the next hell with a friendly smile—and because I still felt way too much like the pro to unveil my most intimate feelings to a John.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Excuse me,” I finally said, unwound myself from his caress and rose. “You had come to talk to me about something.”

  “Yes, I’ve been distracted somehow.” He gave me a friendly smile. “I’m not sorry about having taken the time.”

  To put me in a better mood, is that what you mean? However, I kept this thought to myself.

  “I’m sorry that I’ve shaken you so. And I’m sorry that I must get down to business now, but I still have a country to rule.”

  You’re not sorry, because it’s helping your negotiation strategy. “Let’s talk then.”

  He rose as well. “I’d prefer not to discuss this topic in bed.”

  “Then we’ll sit down at the table.” I pointed at the passage to the living room, where a comfy couch set waited for us—and maybe one of his bodyguards, if they hadn’t discreetly retreated.

  He looked around and finally found his clothes in the bathroom. “Would you please dress in something, too? You look marvelous standing there nude, but it slightly distracts me.”

  “But only because the bathrobes are so fluffy here.”

  The suite’s luxurious equipment even let me choose between an almost ankle-length bathrobe and a short one that only reached halfway down the upper leg. I took the short one.

  Nicholas took note with resignation, and then didn’t take the opposite chair but the one to my side, as my bathrobe naturally didn’t remain decently closed when I sat down.

  “Well?”

  “Well,” he began. “We won’t get anywhere without you.”