by J. A. Hailey
It had gone dark, and Esmeralda took them to a top-rated Michelin-starred restaurant, where she immediately ordered bottles of wine costing thousands of Euros apiece. “Too much price?” she asked, solicitously.
“Nothing is too much for his Highness,” the pimp piped up.
“Good,” said Esmeralda, nodding appreciatively. “These business associates whom I have called, our gang members, are all people who move in the highest circles of French nobility, obviously. Otherwise how would they get their hands on aristocratic children? They are used to very high standards, and there, of course, needs to be nothing said about the girls and boys themselves, who have been made to expect to live in the lap of luxury, despite money shortages. Selling property after property to stay afloat, French nobility; not truly wealthy, like your lordship. They have a lot of girl children, those nobles. Look at the fine aristocratic lines on this one’s face.’ Esmeralda tilted Martine’s head, to showcase her profile. “I wonder what it is that gives them so many pretty girls?
“If that, very pretty, absolutely under aged noble French girls, is what you seek, just do not make my friends feel that you are short of money. They are coming in now.”
And, one by one, the entire screenside group of friends, in their usual humans under management, came into the restaurant.
“You know, some Pakistani bank people, employees, put together the largest restaurant bill of all time,” said Jennifer. “They were celebrating a deal they had done. And they were not even anything more than mere employees of the bank. Here, we are with a billionaire sheikh himself, and we must break that record.”
“What is the record?” asked the pimp.
“Around two hundred thousand Euros,” answered Candice.
The pimp was also deeply into taking the excessively proud and haughty, pedophile Arab sheikh for a ride. “Only two hundred thousand Euros? My lord has much more than that, a million times more, and it is nothing for him to spend that much, or ten times that much, on a single roll of the dice in a casino.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Singh. “Let’s drink up. Ah, here is one at twelve thousand Euros for the bottle. Waiter, how many bottles of these Châteaux 1700 Blanc are in your cellar, and what Chateau Noir, earlier than 1800, do you people have? His Highness is paying. Bring them all, and better start serving us your most expensive, most delicious and most microscopic menu items. Do you follow Wise Old Man?”
“Everything for his Highness, give us more!” cried Maria. “He wishes to enjoy our services in future. Only fresh, only young and only aristocrats; true blue blood; that’s us. That’s what we offer, and that’s what we supply. He can do whatever he wants to these pre-teen girls, no restrictions.”
At that point, Martine began weeping. She had understood that she was being sold and handed over to the Arab fellow. “Don’t be afraid,” said Sabine, lifting the girl out of her chair, to make her sit on her lap, and giving her some kisses on her cheeks, while stroking her hair.
“This dirty man will do things to me; dirty things,” sobbed Martine. “My teacher has warned me about men like him.”
“Just stop worrying, Martine. Are you not feeling better in your head? Are you not feeling less confused? No one is taking you away anywhere. Just be quiet; don’t cry; and watch the fun.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Yes, cling to my neck. Watch the fun.”
The autistic young girl sobbed for another few seconds, and then shut her eyes.
“I told you, Highness, that this girl will be the best fun of all,” said the pimp. “She will cry and cry and cry while you are enjoying yourself.”
“So, your gang will continue delivering similar goods daily?” asked the sheikh.
“France is full of royalty; full of nobility; descendants of those who escaped the guillotine,” said Jennifer. “It is the reason we are in such a large group. If there were not enough pieces of meat, you would not find many of our type of business people. How to live on the odd piece of meat here and there?”
The Arab sheikh had become delirious at the thought of having this lovely little French noble girl, and rather grandly and offhandedly waved in new orders and new bottles of wine, as waiters lined up to serve the huge group.
Eventually, when satisfied that the bill had become large enough, Esmeralda said, “A bottle of wine each, to take away please, waiter. And make sure it is a good vintage. We are off to work in the palaces of now-poor nobility, to ensure that wealthy lords, like this gentleman here, are able to obtain the pleasures they seek. Come, Highness, as caretaker of this girl, Martine, I shall accompany. Payment up front, please.
“You, money-handler sidekick, how much cash do you have on you? Take it out, take it out and place it on the table to show me. That’s only one hundred and seventy-one thousand Euros. Empty your pockets of his lordship’s money; no holding back; he has an emergency that only this child can satisfy. This girl costs three times that much. She is illegally underage, absolutely pure, and as blue-blooded as they come.
“We can take that cash; here, waiter, I see a plastic bag peeping out of your pocket. Give it to me, and here’s a tip from his lordship’s loot. You, manager pimp, I am putting this money into the plastic bag and taking it with me. Remember the figure, don’t forget. Also remember that it is only an advance. Just make sure you remember the figure. The balance is due to me when I come to pick her up. How long do you want her for? All day tomorrow and tomorrow night, too? Okay, double price. We are stepping out, and we’ll be waiting on the road. You, manager pimp, we are stepping onto the road to wait outside, while you assist his Highness to handle the payment here.”
Martine had understood what was going on, at least the sex trade part of it, and was trembling uncontrollably, scarcely able to stand on her legs to walk out. Sabine clutched her tight to her side and said “See, Martine, what happens when little girls wear short skirts in front of Arab sheikhs. But don’t you worry, you are about to see what a big punishment we are going to give to those horrible fellows. Here, I’m switching on my phone, so that you can have a laugh. And stop trembling. I did not bring you from home to hand you to a monster like that. Watch the fun on my phone.”
The manager of the restaurant himself brought the bill, fawning in front of the great man. The amount had easily beaten the previous world record, and all diners in the crowded restaurant looked on in awe and wonder, as the moneybags waved the bill away, without so much as glancing at it, in the direction of his pimp, at the same time extracting a wallet from a pocket and throwing it disdainfully onto the table.
The pimp pulled out a card and handed it to the manager, who bowed his way back to the counter.
The audience of wealthy diners gasped in astonishment when the manager disappointedly shook his head and extracted the card from the machine. It had evidently been rejected!
What was far more shocking, as rejection could have been on many grounds, was what he said in the now-silent restaurant, when he returned to the table to hand back the card to the pimp. “No funds!”
This was the pimp’s opportunity to demonstrate his value to his master. “No funds?” he screamed, as the patrons of the restaurant looked on in dismay. “No funds? His Highness has enough on that card to buy this restaurant, no, ten restaurants like this, no, hundreds of restaurants like this, and you say no funds? It is your machine that is not working, or maybe your restaurant has been blacklisted by the credit card company, and they will not pay you. See? See?” He held open the wallet, to show a catalogue of cards. “What do you want? Which one? You select; you select.”
The pimp forced the manager to pick a card, and the manager, distraught at the display of temper, again bowed his way back to the counter. The patrons in the restaurant began chattering excitedly when the manager once again shook his head despondently, extracted the second card and made his way apologetically back to the table. He had carried the paper voucher from the machine,
and now handed it over to the pimp.
“No funds?” screamed the pimp, ripping the little voucher to shreds.
The moneybags Arab looked unconcerned, and pointed the pimp to go to the payment machine, with the wallet and its dozen cards. This was duly done.
And then, horror!
One after the other, the cards were steadily rejected. ‘No funds’ turned out to be quite a viable reason for rejection, as every single other card also showed up as having been reported stolen.
Now, at last, the moneybags Arab began getting agitated. Picking up a most-expensive, bejeweled phone that he had positioned on the table throughout dinner, he called, and was surprised to find that payment of the bill for the phone was long overdue, and that it was disconnected, meaning he would be unable to make any phone call at all.
The restaurant bill amount was a huge figure, and the manager now knew that he had been duped by fraudsters and credit card thieves. Waiters and kitchen staff swarmed out, ran to the table, and began the process of restraining the two men, which they did by using duct tape to bind arms of humans to arms of chairs, and human legs to chair legs. The outraged moneybags became abusive, at which point the outraged manager landed him three extremely sound slaps on his face. The pimp, in the meantime, was getting a lot of third-degree attention from some sturdy waiters and kitchen helpers.
Outside, on the street, Twixie laughed delightedly, and quickly said, using the virtuality, “Oh, Miss Esmeralda, you are such fun to be with. How will that pedophile get away?”
“In great shame and disgrace. We are going to allow the newspapers and television stations to get the story out into the international press. I am sure it’s going to be international; world-record bill for world-record moneybags. Bound to be global news. But we’re going to keep him out of action for at least another day or two. Won’t let anybody pay the bill on his account. Won’t let him access his own account. Won’t let him call anybody, even if he uses phones other than his own. And we are actually cancelling all his cards permanently. He has money, but he must first face the shame, and then start from scratch, getting cards and things, while postponing his quest for seriously underaged French noble girls.
“Here, Martine, you won’t have to open your legs, but let’s open your little bag. That’s a good little girl. Here, take this money, wrapped in its plastic bag, and when you get home, you give it all to your mother. Tell her it is meant to be used to buy some nice things for the family; or better, I’ll get Jane to tell her, because it is a huge amount of money. Move to the side; here comes the television station, and there come the cops. Let the pedophile have fun explaining to everyone. And I’ve got his card numbers, to let him pay a little of our future expenses, to do with the poor and deprived people of the world.”
The virtuals burst into laughter when Chang, speaking in the virtuality, said, “I have already tracked that pedophile backwards to his father, and I have transferred one billion US dollars from his account to our fund for deprived humans. Beyond that, I have taken every cent out of the pedo’s account, and am in the process of bouncing a number of checks he has issued, which are going through bank clearing. And that includes payment for his suite in the hotel. He’s going to have a nasty few penniless days.”
The group of friends split up thereafter, and Sabine went home with Martine. It was to Esmeralda’s house that they went, where Martine proudly showed everyone the huge amount of money she was carrying.
It was decided that Jane would walk the girl to her own house, and explain to her parents that a philanthropic billionaire had given the money to Martine in a shopping mall.
9
The day after the Arab pimp-pedophile incident, again at breakfast with the family and the two neighbor girls, Sabine said, “Martine, I notice that you shrink away from the wall, and behave like you are very frightened whenever we pass in front of Robert’s house, the one next door. Is it the dog?”
“Yes,” replied the girl.
“You know,” said Sabine, now addressing the entire family group. “One of the main things that gave me a massive confidence boost was when Esmeralda took me to play with that most dangerous dog, Caligula. It just changed my attitude out in the world, and took at least half my fear away. You know, doing whatever I wanted to do with him; holding him neck to neck, going nose to nose, making him dance by standing him on two legs, and later actually taking him out unleashed, and seeing him obeying my commands without question. Of course, that is his attitude until today.”
She looked intently into Martine’s eyes. “Martine, are you really very, very frightened of the dog?”
The autistic girl nodded, wide eyed, her mouth too full to speak.
“Want to make him your own doggie? He’ll really be your dog, and you can take him home for the night. You can do whatever you want with him, because he’ll become your dog. Yes?” The wide-eyed girl nodded, disbelievingly and fearfully.
Sabine stood up and took Martine by the hand. “Twixie, on full alert, please. Come along, then, Martine, and don’t eat that last piece of toast. Keep it as a treat for Caligula. When we come back in here, you can have more breakfast, if you’re still hungry.”
This particular therapy idea was a huge success. Caligula’s obedience to Martine’s commands, and his clear subservience, made her feel like she had conquered every single demon that she had ever had.
Twixie, too, was delighted. “I’ve got a very dangerous dog in Paris,” she boasted to her guardian, Rekha. “I’ll give him ice cream treats, and train him to bite men who want to do things with little girls.”
Martine later came back in, with the dog trailing her, for a little bit more omelet and croissant, and a glass of apple juice, and then actually took Caligula home, walking across the street with a hand on his head, causing her astonished mother to gasp in fear and wonder.
The eventual upshot of it all was that, because she was so much at home, Caligula became Martine’s dog for the next one year. Robert of course, raised no objection at all, for two very good reasons. One, Martine was like family in his girlfriend Diana’s house, and two, it would be very good for everyone, including the bored-to-death Caligula.
“So, what are the connections, similarities and differences, and what are the suggestions for treatment, that you guys have discovered about insanity and autism,” asked Professor Stephen Dawkins, when sitting with the huge group of seniors and friends, who had once again made the bus trip across from Paris to London.
It had now become a monthly pilgrimage, and they were working within a large number of routines that had become set for the journey – things like stopping at the same places for coffee, getting off the bus at the same point, to enter a very nice field for a walk to stretch their legs, and using restrooms in a petrol station that they were now very well known at.
Of course, the group was so large that they were able to always go by the same bus, and to always have the same driver too - a most willing Frenchman, who invariably ended up with a monster tip.
Maria pointed at Esmeralda, saying, “Esme’s the one who sometimes displaces Twixie, and so she is the one who might provide the most well researched and best answer, Professor.”
But Esmeralda indicated that BC would take it on.
“Professor Dawkins,” said BC. “I have discussed this matter in detail with Esme, and have come to these conclusions. Mental patients are always going to be far easier than autism cases, but with these riders.
“Fully grown cases of autism are going to be extremely difficult, possibly to the point of being impossible to make independent. It does not really matter, because if we take one on, we will manage that person for life, although it must surely be a very involving management, with the virtual in constant attendance, and could be counted more as policing than as curing.
“The reason is that autism commences in childhood, maybe from infancy, and generally means that very little learning has entered the mind of a grown up auti
stic person.
“Insanity is completely different, and a perfectly normal child, then teenager, and then adult, may have gone insane, at a stage of life after many other stages have been lived quite normally.
“Ah, yes,” said Dawkins, nodding in agreement. “Basic knowledge and coping systems will be in place inside an insane person, but non-existent in an autistic one. That, I suppose, means that in an autistic case, routing through your typical Epsilon system will not work, which system allows them to operate on their own, and also frees the virtual up, except as a minder in crisis conditions.”
“Yes, sir,” said BC. “With Epsilon, we are able to route the person’s mental processes past the garbling segments of the brain, and let instructions proceed to the action parts. In an autistic person, there may not be sufficient development to generate working instructions in many scenarios.”
“Martine should be okay, because of the other rider,” said Esmeralda. “We’ve got into her sufficiently early, and we can take her through much of the learning segments of life, including schooling, which means that later in life, besides the possibility of becoming cured, she will have sufficient information and abilities to work through Epsilon. It’ll be easy, like it is with mental cases.”
“I am no longer a mental case,” said Sabine.
“Wow!” exclaimed Dawkins. “Sabine’s in here, consciously, with us? You two really do work absolutely in tandem, in one body and one head, don’t you?”
“Yes, we’ve figured it out, sir, and Esme is not stupid enough to try to lock me out, drive me up the wall, and get told off.”
As everybody laughed, Esmeralda said, “You know, I have now understood what piece of mind means. Anyway, we have a working system for both of us to be active together.”
