The StarSight Project

by S. P. Perone

  “No disrespect, Tony, but I don’t trust you with a high-powered rifle. As far as my scaling the cliff, I do that around here all the time just for recreation…carrying much more than a rifle.

  “So, let’s not argue about it. I know what I’m doing. Let’s focus on how we’re going to get you through the perimeter fencing.”

  With that, she laid out a plan for Shane. Fortunately, the trunk of the Fiat had been stocked with supplies that they would be able to use. That was standard procedure for Salomé; she had made arrangements for the Fiat to be placed at the rendezvous point, just in case something unexpected might happen…as it often did.

  Before heading off on their separate paths, Shane turned to Salomé and asked, “I had one last question. Your name…Salomé…is that your real name? I mean, when you first met Sharif, you weren’t called Salomé, were you?”

  “No. I was not.”

  “Well, what was your name?”

  With a smile, she looked back at Shane, and paused for a second. “You, know, Tony. That was another person…a long time ago. Salomé isme , now.”

  Returning to Sarah’s room after about forty-five minutes, dressed in a set of gold-trimmed red silk pajamas, Sharif went directly to the Jacuzzi, unlocked the cuff holding her captive to that spot, and re-attached it to her free wrist. Then, he began drawing hot water into the Jacuzzi.

  Without a word, he guided Sarah to the dressing table. There, he instructed her to sit down on the bench, and turn around to face him, the mirror behind her. Sarah was still clothed as she had been at the Pre-Thanksgiving dinner, that she had attended in Livermore nearly a day and a half earlier. Her top was a tight-fitting red jersey with a scoop neck. A long gray wool skirt with a side slit cut above the knee, off-black pantyhose, and high-heeled leather boots, completed her outfit. It was Sharif’s purpose to remove as much of her garb as possible, without releasing her from the handcuffs.

  Apprehensively, Sarah watched as Sharif knelt down in front of her, grabbed one of her boots, and began to unzip it. At first, she thought he was doing this to help her get comfortable. Then, feeling his hand caressing her calf and ankle as he removed the first boot, she realized he had another purpose.

  Panicking, she pulled back her foot. When he persisted in grabbing her leg and moving his hands up to her thighs, she used her other booted foot to shove him away.

  Falling back on his buttocks from the thrust of her kick, his pajama bottoms slid partly down over his hips, briefly exposing to Sarah his aroused manhood. Then, she saw the look on his face. Stunned at first from her act of resistance, the expression on his face turned dark and menacing. His dark eyes narrowed. Regaining composure, and rising to his feet, Sharif stood over her, pulled his right hand back, balled it into a fist, and whipped it across her face. As her head snapped to one side, and a sharp cry escaped, she felt burning pain and a growing welt from the solid blow delivered to her cheekbone. Snapping her head back to the front, she was slammed across her right cheek by the back of the same hand that had just delivered the blow to her left cheekbone. Again, she cried out, as the pain compounded. She refused to rotate her head back again…anticipating yet another blow. She remained with her head turned to her left side, tears streaming down her cheeks, burning as they passed over the fresh contusions on either side of her face.

  Without any words, Sharif then resumed the removal of her boots, unzipping the one on her right foot. Again, as he removed the boot, he fondled her calf, and moved his hands together up her leg to the middle of her thigh, slowly bringing them back down and extending her lower leg out, one hand beneath her calf, and one hand caressing her foot. Afraid that he might become even more angry and violent, Sarah did not protest.

  Through her tears, Sarah began thinking what she could do to deter Sharif from following through with what she anticipated would be a savage sexual attack. She had never been in such a situation before. Women talked about these things. What had she heard? Some had said,Just let them do what they want. If you fight them, they’ll kill you . Others had said, Scream your head off. Fight. Scratch. Try to get away, because they’ll kill you anyway.What was the right thing to do?

  It was then that Salomé’s words returned to her:trust me. Everything will be OK.

  Then, it became clear what she had to do. If Salomé and Tony were, at this moment, trying to find and rescue her, she needed to give them as much time as possible. Fighting Sharif…assuming she did not escape…would only precipitate a rapid and final end to this ordeal. Salomé and Tony would not even have a chance to find her. But…if she could drag this ordeal out…somehow endure whatever Sharif had in mind…she would at least give them a fighting chance to rescue her. Gritting her teeth, Sarah resolved to go along with whatever might come…praying she would have the strength.

  After Salomé had taken off in the Fiat, Shane tucked the 45 in his belt, took the bag of tools Salomé had recommended, and headed across the road. While Salomé headed down to a beach access road, he was scouting the wall along the perimeter of the estate. Salomé knew that the estate had been vacant since Gunther Leitz’s death this past year, and was sure there were no resident security staff. Because she had shown an interest, Leitz had given Salomé a tour of the security center in his home. Leitz had told her that alarms from the motion sensors would sound only at the central control. It was unlikely that Sharif would be monitoring these alarms; she knew he would be otherwise occupied. So, she advised Shane to penetrate the fences in any way that he could, and not worry about detection. They both knew there was a chance her assessment was wrong. But, it was worth the risk.

  Keeping in the shadows, Shane walked to the left along the entire length of the outer brick wall all the way to where it ended at the sea cliff. Looking down, with the moonlight reflecting from the churning sea nearly eighty feet below, Shane could not see how Salomé would be able to scale the sheer rocky wall, especially in the dark. Peering around the edge of the perimeter brick wall, he found that a tall, heavy chain link fence with razor ribbon topping connected the outer and inner fences. The ends of the chain link fence were embedded in cement molded to the inner corner of the outer brick fence. As Salomé had suggested, someone might be able to use a hand hold on the connector fence, swing out over the edge of the cliff, traverse the distance between the two fences by moving the hands, and then climb up on the other side. Unfortunately, she hadn’t known that the connector fence had been laced with razor ribbon from ground to top, preventing anyone from getting a hand hold.

  Shane pondered the situation. He expected that an inspection to the right of the perimeter would yield the same result, but it might be worth a look, just in case. His second option was to scale the wall, and look for any breaks in the internal fencing. He had wire cutters in the tool kit, but nothing heavy duty enough to get through the heavy gauge wire used in the internal chain link fence. Deciding against an inspection of the right side of the perimeter, he pulled out a rope with a trident hook fixed to the end. Although he had never done any climbing, he recognized the tool, and knew vaguely how to use it.

  Letting out a short length of the rope with the hook at the end, he swung it around a couple times and flung it over the top of the wall. The first couple of tries did not result in a secure latching, but the third was successful.

  Testing the rope with all of his weight, he decided it would hold. He hooked the tool bag around his waist, and began to scale the wall. Placing his feet against the side, he pulled himself slowly up the wall. Reaching out, he pulled himself up on top. Dropping the rope over to the other side, and anchoring the hook on the outside, he let himself down slowly into the grassy area between the two fences. Shaking the anchor free, he pulled the rope down after him, and tucked it back into the tool bag.

  Walking over to the inner fence, he used a flashlight to begin inspecting the integrity of that barrier between himself and the estate grounds. The first thing he found was that the fencing was buried into the ground. Digging a trench to bu
rrow under the fence was not outside the realm of possibility. He had a small portable shovel in his bag. But, he did not know how deeply the fence was buried. Even digging a shallow trench would take a very long time with the small shovel.

  Figuring that if he could find a damaged portion, or a section under repair, that would provide him the quickest entrance, Shane moved quickly along the internal fence, searching hopefully for the defect he needed.

  Working her way along the rocky surf just below the cliff where Sharif’s villa was located, Salomé searched vigilantly for an obvious pathway to the top. Although she had scaled the sea walls along these beaches many times, she had never done so at night. Successful scaling depended crucially on selecting the right pathway from the outset. And, that required a thorough visual survey of the options. These facts she had failed to mention to Shane, she reflected wryly.

  Finally deciding on a path that looked promising…at least for the first thirty or forty feet that she could see reasonably clearly in the moonlight…she began her climb. She wished she had her climbing gear. The boots she was wearing were not the right type for this activity, but they were sturdy, flexible, and had good grips molded into the heels and soles. She could have been worse off.

  Carrying the rifle strapped across her back, and a long rope fitted with a trident hook, she began her climb. She might be able to flip a rope over the terrace wall, and pull herself up the last few feet, but most of the climb would be traversed by finding hand-and footholds along the way. It would be tediously slow. One false move and she could fall to her death on the rocks below.

  After removing her boots, Sharif had asked Sarah to stand up. He then proceeded to unzip her skirt, and let it drop down around her ankles. With his hands, he lifted her feet free of the skirt, one at a time, and flipped it away. Next, he hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of her panty hose, and slowly began to slide them down over her hips. Feeling herself begin to tremble, Sarah closed her eyes, and bit her lip. But, she did not resist.

  Peeling the pantyhose down to her ankles, he pulled her feet out one at a time, and tossed them over on the floor with her skirt. Sarah tensed in anticipation of the probing she was sure would follow. But, instead, Sharif stood, pulled a key from the pocket of his robe and unlocked one side of the handcuffs. In one quick movement, he pulled her top up, trapping her head and arms as though she was still bound. After pulling the top over her head, he released the sleeves one at a time, pulling the second one off over the dangling handcuffs, while clamping her other wrist with his hand. Then, turning her around, he unsnapped her bra, slipped it off her shoulders, and tossed it in the pile with the rest of her clothes.

  Reaching around her from behind, Sharif grabbed her two hands and pulled them behind her so that he could re-attach the handcuffs. It was then that he grabbed her by the shoulders and twirled her around to face him. With her eyes still tightly shut, Sarah trembled and waited for him to act. She did not have to wait long.

  She felt his hands behind her head, fingers tangled in her hair, and then felt his lips pressed against hers. Although she would not respond, he spread his lips and roamed all over her face, making strange slurping sounds as he tasted her from forehead to throat and ear to ear. She thought she would be ill, but held on.

  Suddenly, she felt his hand groping between her legs, pushing her thighs apart and roughly grabbing at her crotch. She buckled at the knees, but he held her up with his other arm, continuing the harsh probing of her body. Next, she felt his face move down to her breasts, and cringed as he began to abuse her nipples with his mouth. With one hand behind her back, and one between her legs, he bent her backwards with the force of his attack on her breasts.

  Finally, despite her commitment to remaining passive, she found herself opening her eyes and crying out at the pain and humiliation she was feeling. Unfortunately, she found that this response only aroused him further, and it increased the rhythm and fury of his probing. She bit her lip, hard, feeling the salty taste of blood in her mouth, and summoned all her strength to resist crying out further.

  It seemed to work, as Sharif slowed, and finally stopped his groping. His face came up from her breasts, and he stood up straight, looking at her face. The blood on her lip brought a crooked smile to his face, as he bent over and licked the corner of her mouth.

  “Sarah…Sarah…Sarah,” he said with decreasing emphasis. You don’t seem to be enjoying this very much. What can we do to increase your pleasure?

  “I know. You’re getting tired standing up. Let’s bring you over to the bed.”

  “Please,” she said. “Please…I think I’m going to be sick. Can I use the bathroom?”

  Stepping back, and looking her over, Sharif considered her request for a few moments. Then, he said, “OK, Sarah. Let’s walk over to the bathroom. Perhaps you need a moment to freshen up. But, we’ll have to take some precautions.”

  He guided her over to one of the dressers. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a set of leg shackles like she had been wearing in the car. After hooking them to her ankles, he removed her handcuffs. Then, he allowed her to shuffle into the bathroom.

  “Go ahead, Sarah. Freshen up; take a shower. I’ll be right here sitting at the door. There’s no need for modesty now. Now that we’ve become so well acquainted.”

  Shane had discovered that he could not pass over to the other side of the estate by following along the inner fence. At the main entry gate, the two fences were connected just as they were at the cliff line. Razor ribbon, along the top of the outer wall nearest the high entry gates, prevented access around the gate from the wall. Not having found any defects in the fence, Shane decided to try the digging option. Moving about fifty yards away from the gate, he got out the short fold-up spade from his tool bag and began to dig. The luminous dial on his wristwatch told him that Sarah and Sharif had now been in the house for nearly half an hour. He had no idea how Salomé was doing, but he was afraid to think of how much damage and pain Sharif might inflict on Sarah before one of them reached her.

  After digging straight down for about five minutes, Shane believed he had found the bottom of the fence. It was buried about half a foot below the ground. To get himself under the fence, he would have to dig a trench about six feet long by at least a foot wide. It would have to be deep enough for him to get below the fence and bend it back. He could then slide under and emerge on the other side. There would be precious time wasted. But, the ground was soft, and he thought he could finish in half an hour. Without hesitation, he resumed digging with a fury.

  Frustrated by the occasional clouds obscuring the moonlight, Salomé had made slower progress than she had hoped. She was about half way up the rocky face of the cliff, but it had taken the better part of an hour. The hand-and footholds had been there so far. She prayed that she would continue to find a path up to the top.

  As the moon emerged again, she was able to look above, and see where she needed to go. It looked like there was a clear path for the next twenty or thirty feet. Beyond that, she couldn’t tell.

  Removing her right foot from its perch, she lifted it up another foot, and gathered a firm toehold. Raising her right hand away from the rock it had held, she found another rock a foot above. Pulling herself up, she slid her left foot up to a new ledge, and rested it there. Finally, she moved the left hand up to a higher rock, allowing herself to place more weight on her left foot.

  Suddenly, Salomé felt her left foot sliding off the new support she had selected. Grabbing tightly with both hands, she shifted her weight to her right foot, just as the left foot slipped free. Her heart pounding, Salomé stayed still and recovered her strength, as her left foot remained unsecured. Then, tentatively, she placed it back on the same ledge. She knew the ledge was a good foothold. The problem, she discovered, was that the night dampness was leaving the cliff face treacherously wet in spots. So, now, in addition to finding solid purchases on the rocky face, she had to beware of slippery surfaces. She had to accept that her progress w
as going to be very slow from now on…or there might not be any progress at all.

  After using the bathroom facilities and treating herself to a long shower…trying desperately to scrub herself clean…Sarah wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped out onto the tile floor. Not seeing her captor at the doorway, she poked around in the bathroom. After examining in the mirror the welts and contusions on both sides of her face, she peered into the medicine cabinet behind, finding it empty. As she began to open the cabinet under the sink, she heard Sharif behind her, clearing his throat. Whirling around, she found him standing in the doorway, holding a diaphanous pink dressing gown, obviously intended for her to put on. Behind him, she saw that the door of one of the armoires was open. Inside, she could see several other flimsy feminine articles of apparel. She was disturbed to see also some leather items whose purpose could only be to inflict pain and degradation. Involuntarily, she shivered at the thought of what other horrors she would have to endure.

  “Ah. My dear, you have freshened yourself for me. How nice. Now you can put on this gown, and be with me.”

  Joining her in the large bathroom, Sharif stood before Sarah and removed the towel she was wearing. Then, he helped her slip into the dressing gown. Gathering the gown together in front, he grasped the ends of the delicate silken belt and tied the ends together. Reaching into one pocket of his pajamas, he pulled out a large solid black kerchief, and folded it over several times. Moving behind her, he pulled the folded kerchief over her head, covering her eyes, and tying it tightly behind.

  The sudden blackness was frightening. She stood there helplessly awaiting his next move; anticipating with dread the feel of his hands on her body…at unexpected times…in unexpected places.