by Smith, Bryan
But Ms. Wickman shook her head. “No, Helga. All of it. Every last stitch. The stupid fucking hat, too.”
Helga frowned, taken aback by the warden’s harsh tone and phrasing. “But--”
“Do it!” Ms. Wickman roared at her underling, raw fury roiling inside her. “Do it now or pay the fucking price!”
In fact, the warden had already decided the vice-warden was about to face a harsh punishment. Something had changed since last night. Something significant. Something she was trying to hide.
And Ms. Wickman meant to find out what it was.
Helga glanced over her shoulder at the closed door.
“Help won’t be coming,” the warden snapped as she took a gun from the top drawer of the desk and pointed it at Helga. “Go for that sidearm and you’re dead. Understand?”
Helga’s 9mm pistol was in its holster on the floor, set atop the pile of discarded clothes. It was effectively out of reach. For the first time, she was starting to look scared. At last she managed to put forth some semblance of composure and said, “I don’t understand what’s happening here, but I’ll do as you say.”
Ms. Wickman sneered. “Like hell you don’t understand.”
Helga said nothing further as she stepped out of her shoes and peeled off the stockings. She tossed the hat on the chair and stood completely naked before the warden.
Ms. Wickman smiled. “Good. Now close your eyes.”
Helga frowned. “But--”
“Do it.”
Her icy tone brooked no defiance. Sighing in resignation, Helga closed her eyes.
Ms. Wickman went to a cabinet against the wall to her right and opened it, removing a long whip from a hook. She closed the cabinet and moved closer to Helga, taking a moment to kick the holstered 9mm farther out of the way, under her desk.
Helga was trembling. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but--”
“Shut up.”
The first lash of the whip caught her across the breasts. Helga’s eyes came open and she screamed as the pain ripped through her. The force of the lash hadn’t been sufficient to open her flesh. Ms. Wickman’s fury was considerable, but she didn’t yet want to ruin her vice-warden’s perfect body. A part of her was still holding out hope of bringing her back into line and taking her with her when the time came to flee this place.
Another part of her, however, understood how futile a hope this was. Whatever she was hiding almost certainly meant Helga was already lost to her. The realization added fuel to her rage as she lashed Helga with the whip several more times. The restraint she’d employed initially was soon abandoned as she wielded the whip with increasing force. Bloody lines in her flesh appeared in several places where the whip hit her.
It wasn’t long before Helga, overwhelmed by the savagery of the assault, collapsed to the floor. She remained right there, sobbing and trembling, as the warden continued to lash her back and the backs of her legs with the whip.
When the fury had at last drained out of her, Ms. Wickman returned the whip to the cabinet and stared for a time at the twitching, blood-smeared form of Helga Von Trammpe. The woman looked pitiful. In no way did she resemble her usual, supremely confident self.
Now that she’d purged some of her rage, the warden felt a twinge of regret. But only a twinge. Helga looked bad right now, but none of the damage was anything like life-threatening. And her goddess-like face had escaped the attack unmarred. She would be okay.
Eventually. Maybe.
If she allowed it.
Ms. Wickman smiled. “There. Hopefully you’ve learned from this. Never keep anything from me, Helga. Never. You won’t in the future…will you?”
Helga sniffled. “N-n-n…no…”
“Good. Now tell me everything you know. If I’m satisfied that you’re telling the truth—the whole truth—I’ll allow you to clean up and get dressed. How does that sound?”
Another sniffle. “G-g…good.”
“Excellent. Start talking.”
Helga talked. She told the truth.
When she had finished, Ms. Wickman spent some time thinking about it. Based on what she now knew, she couldn’t allow Helga to leave. She would immediately report this incident to Ms. Ludmire and that would not be good news, to say the least, for Ms. Wickman, who hadn’t even known the shadow council liaison was on the premises. That fact alone told her how sharply her stock had abruptly fallen with the Order of the Dragon. The woman must be the visiting VIP the council had told her to expect, only they’d opted not to inform the warden of her arrival. It was also quite chilling that no one on her staff had told her about it.
After dragging the semi-conscious Helga into her living quarters and securing her there, she returned to her office and made a call. When it was answered, she said, “Have Jessica Sloan brought to my office.”
27.
With Lucy and Shonda out of the picture, Alice Kincaid’s black market operation was in need of some new muscle at the top. Naming Jessica as her new number two only partly filled the void. Given how powerful and brazen the Frauenschaft had become in so short a time, selecting additional capable replacements was essential.
However, based on what she was seeing so far, Alice was thinking she’d possibly acted too hastily in eliminating women as tough, smart, and motivated as Shonda and Lucy. A short while ago, she’d summoned two young women to her cell. Their names were Stacy and Anna. Stacy was rail-thin and had long honey-blonde hair that reached the middle of her back. Anna had short black hair and a septum piercing. She also had a scar along her chin that made her look tougher than she probably was.
Both women had served in her organization as low-level distributors for several months. Most inmates their age were relative newcomers to Prison 13, but these girls were exceptions to that rule. Stacy had arrived the day after her eighteenth birthday, two years ago. Anna had been at the prison almost as long. They therefore had some level of prison savvy and had no known ties to other gangs. Also, Alice’s former lieutenants had vouched for them in the past.
Unfortunately, now that she’d had a chance to speak to them at length, it was clear they didn’t belong anywhere near the top of the gang’s power structure. Describing them as “dumb” wouldn’t be quite accurate, but they didn’t have anything like the kind of mental sharpness the job required. Their answers to her questions were slow and halting, filled with too many “ums” and “uhs”.
Another thing that bothered Alice was their looks. They weren’t ugly. Not at all. However, neither girl possessed the kind of knockout hotness of her former top girls. Having Lucy and Shonda accompanying her at all times had projected an image and message she liked, one that said, “We’re better than the rest of you and don’t you ever forget it.” It’d made her feel like a Hollywood star strutting around with her entourage.
Okay, so she was in a situation where strength and tactical considerations were more important than image, but she again couldn’t help lamenting what she’d lost.
She sent the girls away with a promise to get back to them soon. Once they were gone, she pulled the privacy sheet back into place and had a talk with Jessica, who’d sat in as an observer during the interview.
“So what do you think?”
Jessica was leaning against the wall near the steamer trunk. “I think you need to keep looking. Chicks like that are okay as ground-level grunts, but you can’t entrust them with the complicated shit.”
Alice frowned. “You’re right. I know. The problem is I don’t know if there are any better candidates. These were two of the best, according to…well, you know.”
Jessica pushed away from the wall and stretched, letting out a groan as she allowed her arms to fall back to her sides. “You’re in a tough spot. You need new muscle around you fast. Those girls may not be the sharpest tools in the box, but they’re seasoned inmates. You may want to keep them close until you can find better people.”
Alice grunted. “If I
find better people, you mean.”
Jessica nodded. “Right.”
“Because if what we’re hearing is right, things are gonna blow up around here sooner rather than later.”
Jessica shrugged. “All the more reason to bring these girls in temporarily. You’re a target, especially with things so unsettled here.”
Alice rose from the futon and approached Jessica. “Good advice. I’ve maybe made some mistakes over the last twenty-four hours, but bringing you into my thing here wasn’t one of them. You’re better than Lucy and Shonda combined.”
Jessica smiled. “Thank you.”
“Which is why I’m gonna want you by my side from here on out.”
“I’ll have to go back to my cell at lights out.”
Alice shook her head. “No, you won’t. You’ll stay here from now on. I’ll have Sam take care of the official side of it.”
“And how is he able to do that?’
“By accessing the prison’s database and changing the cell assignment.”
“As simple as that?”
Alice nodded. “Yep.”
Jessica grunted. “Allowing a guard that kind of records access seems kind of slipshod from a security standpoint. It may be a symptom of a larger systemic flaw.”
Alice laughed. “Yeah, and maybe that’s got something to do with the so-called ‘big change’ coming.”
“Possible.” Jessica pursed her lips a moment, thinking about it. “Listen, this guard friend of yours, how far does his access extend?”
“What do you mean?”
Jessica glanced at the privacy curtain, as if worried about possible eavesdroppers. Her gaze shifted back to Alice as she said, “Somewhere on the grounds of this place is the means to leave and travel to the outside world. A heliport or runway strip. Something. Do you think Sam could get us to that place? You told me last night you thought he might eventually be your ticket out of here.”
Alice frowned. “Yeah, I did, but I don’t know. I’ve asked him about shit like that a bunch of times, but he’s always been pretty tight-lipped about it. I can manipulate the hell out of him about most things, but so far that’s been the one way he’s held the line as far as duty goes. But maybe, if he’s afraid enough of whatever’s about to happen, I can work on him again and change all that.”
Jessica nodded. “Good. Because if you can make that happen, I can get us out of here. All we have to do is get to that heliport or air strip.”
“You can fly a helicopter?”
“Yes,” Jessica said, nodding again. “And a plane.”
“So you were, what, a pilot out in the real world?”
Jessica shook her head. “Not by profession. These were things I learned in the military.”
“You were a soldier?”
“At first, but I was eventually recruited into a black ops outfit.”
Alice frowned. “Black ops?”
“I traveled around the world killing people the US government considered inconvenient.”
On the surface, this sounded like the kind of boastful bullshit Alice heard from other inmates on a daily basis. They all claimed to be something a little more special than what they actually were. Lucy, for instance, had insisted she was the illegitimate daughter of a has-been rock and roll singer named Kyle Bile. Maybe it was true and maybe it wasn’t. Alice had her doubts. But she didn’t have those doubts in this case. There was an air of authenticity about Jessica that was hard to fake.
She smiled. “Even more reason to keep you by my side at all times.”
Jessica looked like she was about to say something else, but that was when they heard heavy footsteps approaching on the landing outside. There was a jackboot quality to the sound, a precision that made Alice think of soldiers marching in lockstep rather than guards.
The sound came to an abrupt stop right outside the cell. When that happened, a knot of dread formed in Alice’s stomach. Something bad was about to happen. A sense that it was something she was unprepared for gripped her, stoking her fear.
This impression was verified as the privacy curtain was swept aside and she saw a trio of men in black SS uniforms standing outside the cell. Two of the men carried machine guns with straps slung over their shoulders. These men stood to the rear of the third man, who wore the insignia of an officer.
The officer cast a fleeting glance at Alice before focusing on Jessica. “You are Jessica Sloan.”
A statement, not a question.
Jessica nodded. Strangely, she did not seem rattled by this development. Not outwardly, anyway. Despite her fear, Alice was in awe. The woman had ice flowing in her veins.
“You’re to come with us.”
“Okay.”
As simple as that, no inflection of fear at all in her tone. She remained outwardly calm as she walked out of the cell and joined the men on the landing. On the way out, she directed a seemingly casual glance in Alice’s direction. Her expression was blank, but Alice thought she read a message in the woman’s eyes.
Stay calm, that message said. I’ll be back as soon as I can.
For her own sake, Alice hoped that was true.
28.
Despite projecting her standard outward appearance of perfect calm, Jessica Sloan felt a substantial level of trepidation as she was admitted to the warden’s office. The last time she’d been in the woman’s presence, she had endured repeated sexual assaults while being choked to the point of near-unconsciousness several times. This time, however, there was no sign of Helga, the warden’s long-legged assistant, the one who’d done most of the dirty work on that occasion.
After she was ushered into the office, the warden asked the man dressed as an SS officer—and the men with him—to wait outside in the hallway until her meeting with the inmate was finished.
The officer acknowledged this with a curt nod. “Of course, madam. We shall await your instructions.”
“Thank you.”
And then the men were gone and Jessica heard a click as the warden triggered a locking mechanism with a hidden button. The woman was sitting behind her big desk. As before, her hair was gathered in a bun at the back of her head, lending her not-unattractive features a somewhat severe aspect. Clad in a surprisingly conservative-looking black dress, Jessica thought she looked like the sinister headmistress of a haunted Catholic boarding school.
Jessica couldn’t resist sharing the impression. “You look like the headmistress of a haunted Catholic boarding school.”
The warden smiled thinly. “How unusually insightful. In fact, I have been that very thing at a distant point in the past. Perhaps you are the reincarnation of one of my girls from that time.”
Jessica stared evenly back at the woman, trying to gauge whether she was joking.
Didn’t seem like it.
The warden indicated the empty chair in front of the desk with the wave of a hand. “Please. Sit.”
Before she sat, Jessica couldn’t help noticing the blood stains on the floor. Given the nature of this institution, the possibility that other women had been tortured and perhaps even killed in this room came as no surprise. But these stains looked fresh, despite a hurried and imperfect attempt to scrub them away.
After lowering herself into the chair, she asked, “So where’s that fucking Ilsa wannabe from last time?”
The warden’s thin smile faded. “She’s…indisposed.”
There was something in the way the woman said that last word that aroused Jessica’s suspicions. Her inflection was the same as if she’d said, “She’s dead.” Maybe the hidden meaning wasn’t quite that dire, but Jessica had no doubt there was a hidden meaning of some kind. Also, she was trying to hide it, but something was off about the woman’s overall demeanor. She was trying maybe a little too hard to convey a sense of normal officiousness, of having things perfectly under control, when the truth was probably the opposite of that.
This was an interesting thing to see. It wasn
’t exactly confirmation of the rumored “big change” on the horizon, but it did lend the idea extra credence.
Jessica cleared her throat. “I see. So why am I here?”
The woman stared back at her a moment longer, not saying anything. An internal struggle of some kind was going on behind those cold, dark eyes. At last, opting against an immediate verbal response, the warden rose from her chair and approached a cabinet. She opened it and took down a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Instead of returning to the high-backed leather chair behind her desk, she leaned against the front of the desk and set the glasses on its surface.
“I feel like you and I got off on the wrong foot, Jessica Sloan.”
Jessica grunted, watching as the warden poured a generous measure of whiskey into each glass. “That’s one way of putting it.”
The warden offered one of the glasses to Jessica, who leaned forward to accept it.
“You were treated roughly,” the warden said, still leaning against the desk. “You were brutalized, admittedly.” She shrugged. “It’s the way of things here. I don’t expect you to forgive me, nor am I seeking your forgiveness.” Here she paused to take a big gulp of whiskey. “However, if you are able to set aside any raw feelings caused by the way we dealt with you initially, I have a proposal for you, one potentially of considerable mutual benefit.”
Jessica took a small sip of whiskey. “I’m listening.”
The warden hesitated another moment before replying, chewing her bottom lip as she appeared to weigh her next words. Jessica had the feeling the woman’s internal debate regarding whether to even say what was on her mind continued right up until the moment she actually said it.
The warden cleared her throat and shifted her ass against the edge of the desk, everything in her manner now conveying nervousness. She heaved a breath and said, “How would you like to get out of here?”
“Out of here?”
