by Paul Blades
The clerk who was behind the counter when Martinez came in was a short, balding man, about thirty-five. His hair was thinning and he wore thick wire rimmed glasses. Martinez wasn't surprised to see the pocket protector and a row of pens in his shirt pocket.
The man was actually the owner and his knowledge about his stock in trade was encyclopedic.
"Sure," he said. "I remember selling that part. It was about three months back."
Martinez was surprised at the fellow's amiability. He thought all these nerdish guys were like Irving, pointy headed wise asses. "Do you remember the guy who bought it?
"Absolutely. He bought two last year."
"Really?" Martinez said stupidly.
"Nah, I'm just telling you that for fun," the man said.
"Maybe I was right the first time," Martinez thought. He ignored the jibe. "It would mean a lot to some friends of mine to get a good description of the guy who bought those things," Martinez told the clerk. "If it's straight dope, there'll be a reward."
"Reward, scheward," the man said caustically.
Martinez explained about the suspected kidnapping and the believed involvement of the Raytheon receiver.
"Jeeze," the counterman said. "Hey, I'm sorry for giving you a hard time. I didn't know. Sure, I can give you a description of the guy."
"How come you remember this guy so good?" Martinez asked.
"Well, when he first came in I thought he was one of those model airplane guys. This is the cream of receivers, and guys with big planes, real diehards, usually use them. I get a couple a year. When I asked this guy what kind of plane he was flying he looked at me like I was a jerk and told me to mind my own fuckin' business. So I took his picture."
"You what?"
"I took his picture. See that camera up there?" The clerk pointed out a small hole in the wall above him. "I control it from down here." He pointed to a switch under the counter. "I take a picture of people I think are assholes. This way I can remember them if they ever come in again and ask for a favor. Here, take a look."
Martinez came around the counter. On the wall, out of the view of customers was a wall of photographs.
"That's the guy, right there," the clerk said.
That was four days ago. Jake had copies of the photo made for everybody and the search began along the ten mile strip of the Callamuchie River for the man in the photo. Jake didn't want to spook the guy, so they had to be discrete about it. They would have to carefully monitor all the local stores and gas stations until the guy came in. There was still some uncertainty in Jake's mind. There was still the possibility the mud that had defined their search area had been picked up by some other guy while he was traveling through the area who had bought a receiver somewhere else. But it was the only real lead that they had.
It was Martinez who spotted him. Herman had been out scouting talent and was coming home after a long day on the road. He had stayed in the Tallahassee area for about a week and had some good leads. He stopped at the Duck and Run for some cigarettes and a six pack before he arrived home. Martinez had pulled into the single store parking lot for about the twentieth time in four days. He made Herman as he was walking out of the store.
Martinez pushed the button on his intercom phone. Jake picked up. "I've got him," Martinez told him.
"Are you sure?" Jake asked.
"As if it was my own brother," Martinez answered.
"Don't lose him," Jake instructed.
"Fuck you," Martinez answered, miffed by his employer's lack of faith.
When Herman pulled his battered old green pick up from the parking lot of the Duck and Run, Martinez eased his rented Lumina behind him. There was only one main road and Martinez was able to keep a good distance between himself and Herman's pickup. About three miles down the road, Martinez saw the truck make a left into a weed obscured, dirt driveway. "Bingo!" he said.
* * * *
Maddy had cried herself out by the time one of the men came by to feed her dinner. He was pushing a large cart down the center aisle of the building, stopping at each stall, ladling out a bowl of stew. When he came to Maddy, he undid her gag, and, toying with one of her breasts said, "No talk. Eat."
Maddy understood very well what the man meant. She had nothing to say to any other of the miserable women there anyway. What could they say to one another to allay their fears? She didn't want to know what her fate would be. It was hard enough to deal with her present, never mind the future.
She believed the man would untie her hands from behind her back to eat, but this was not to be. He merely placed the bowl of stew on the floor just inside the entrance to her stall. When Maddy looked up at him, dismayed, he smiled.
Maddy was famished and in no mood to equivocate. She knew her despair was worsened by being hungry and tired. Who knew when the next chance to eat would be? Due to her long legs and tall frame, it was a difficult maneuver for Maddy to lower her face sufficiently to eat out of the bowl without tipping over. She had to spread her legs as wide as they would go. As she did so, she looked up and saw the girl in the stall opposite her, a small blonde girl with tiny, pointed tits, with her face buried in her bowl. As the girl came up for air to chew, she saw Maddy looking over at her. She looked forlornly at Maddy, ashamed of her debasement. Maddy gave her a look of commiseration and lowered her own mouth to the bowl.
It was only a few minutes later that the man came back with the cart. Maddy was finishing the last vestiges of the stew. Lamb, she thought it was, spicy and fatty. There were a few soggy carrots and some potatoes too. The man picked up the bowl and threw it on the cart. He had a wet cloth and used it to wash Maddy's face. She had just swallowed the last mouthful when he jammed the gag back into her mouth.
Shortly after the food man left, a somewhat more well dressed, middle aged man appeared. He had a dark face, eyes that were almost black. He sported a long, thick, black moustache. He was fit, hard. He stepped into the stall and Maddy shrank away from him. She had been sitting on the bench, naked, her arms still tied behind her, trying to block out all thought about what tomorrow would bring. When the man entered, she retreated to the corner. As he stepped closer, she began to tremble.
"Stand up!" the man ordered.
Frightened, Maddy slowly rose to her feet. The man pulled her to the middle of the stall, directly under the dimly lit bulb which was overhead. His gaze flowed over Maddy's breasts and belly, knowingly. He circled her breasts with his hands, flicking the nipples with his thumbs. In spite of herself, Maddy felt her nipples tighten. There was a heavy expectancy in her loins. The man smiled. He took from his pocket a long piece of red cloth. He knotted its end on the ring at the front of Maddy's collar, then patted her on the head.
"No fucking tonight," he said, amused. The man turned and left Maddy's stall only to cross to the stall of the petite blond girl across the way. She was sitting on her bench and she, too, rose when the man entered. At first, he paid her no mind. He stripped off his black t-shirt to reveal his taut, muscled chest, then removed his shoes and pants.
The blond girl seemed to have no doubt as to what was in store for her. Maddy saw her face cringe as she tried to hide in the corner of the stall. When the man had completed disrobing, he grabbed the chain that led to the girl's collar and reigned her in. When she resisted, his hand flashed out like lightening, striking her twice across the breasts. Maddy heard the girl's muffled cry.
Maddy watched the man force the girl to bend over and rest her forehead on the bench. He kicked her legs apart so her sex was available to him. He ran his hand over the girl's buttocks then between her legs. Maddy watched as he manipulated her sex. She knew the blond girl was about to be raped. It was like watching a train wreck. She was repelled by what she saw, but she couldn't turn away.
When the man was satisfied the blond girl was sufficiently lubricated, he placed his body behind her. His bulk made the girl's body all but disappear. The girl moaned through her gag as the man thrust his cock home. The man began to roc
k into her, his hands on her hips. While he was fucking her, two more men came by and stopped at the stall to watch. Like most of the men were unkempt and bearded. They exchanged words and laughed as they watched the buttocks of the girl's assailant pound at her flesh. The man let out a loud groan as he came. When he was done, he backed away from the girl. The two other men began to undress to take advantage of the already primed victim.
All through the night, Maddy could hear the ongoing assaults throughout the barracks-like building. She could hear women moaning and crying, the sound of men taking their pleasure. Once or twice she heard the plea of a recalcitrant young woman followed by the sound of flesh striking flesh. There would be a cry then the sound of a woman moaning. Twice, men came into Maddy's cell, only to be disappointed by the red flag she wore attached to her collar. The flag may have spared her from being raped, but it didn't spare her from the molestations of the men as they sampled her inviting breasts or stroked her sex into responsiveness.
The young girl was happy to be spared an invasion of her body, but she was frightened at what it meant. Why was she being singled out? Why was she being treated differently than all the other women? She lay on her pallet and tried to suppress the noises of the callous and casual rapes going on all around her. Eventually, the activity died down and Maddy was able to find fitful sleep on her thin, cotton bedding.
She was awakened by the shrill call of whistles being blown. She saw two men walk past her stall, plastic whistles in their mouths. Although she didn't know what routine she was expected to follow, she guessed that at the very least, she was required to be up and on her feet. She took a few moments to use the bucket in the corner to relieve herself. The men with the whistles returned. One of them had a long cane and pointed to the floor just inside Maddy's stall and barked strange, harsh words at her. She took this to mean she was to stand by the entrance to her stall and await developments.
A few moments later one of the men came in and released her collar from its chain, removing the red cloth. She was pulled into the hallway where she saw the other women lining up. When all the women were outside their stalls, the line began to move forward. When she got close to the other end of the long building, she could see that the women were being led out into the courtyard. Once outside, she saw the sun had not yet fully risen. There was still a sharp chill in the air. The women, about thirty-five of them in all, were snaked around the courtyard. When the last woman was outside, another whistle blew and the leader began to run, each woman following in her turn. When the woman in front of Maddy started to run, Maddy followed her unquestioningly.
Thirty-five naked women, gagged and hands tied behind their backs, sprinted around the circumference of the courtyard. Puffs of cloudy vapor steamed out of their noses as if they were dragons. The cobblestones were cold and wet from a light rain from the night before. They were slippery, and more than one woman went down, bouncing and skidding on the stones. A man would be on her immediately, lashing at her with a whip until she rose to her feet and began running again.
Maddy considered herself in good shape, but it was difficult to draw enough air through her nose to stop from hyperventilating. Her chest felt ready to burst as the line completed lap after lap. Men were standing around drinking coffee from steaming mugs, laughing and jesting at the display of naked breasts bobbing and weaving as the women fearfully kept up the punishing pace. Maddy lost count of the laps, but finally, the whistle blew and the leaders of the line of women slowed down and came to a stop.
Maddy's muscles ached and she was straining to catch her breath. Many of the women doubled over, and some fell to their knees. The men patiently waited while the women recovered from their exertions. After some time, the whistles blew again and the line was escorted to a door in one of the other buildings. The door led to a huge bathroom with showerheads along one wall and sinks and toilets along the other. As each woman entered, her gag and bindings were removed. There were ten shower heads and the women took quick turns wetting their bodies and rubbing themselves down with soap. There was shampoo for their hair and large, coarse towels to dry off with. On the sinks were toothbrushes and hairbrushes.
All the while in the bathroom, the women were urged along by the men yelling and shouting. The women hurriedly, but silently, performed their ablutions. Maddy was grateful to use the toilet. She was brushing out her long, brown hair when the whistles sounded again. The women lined up obediently and were marched outside and back into the barracks. As they entered the building, their gags were reaffixed and their hands rebound behind their backs.
There seemed to be no special order for the women, and Maddy found herself in a different stall from before. Opposite her was a shapely, tall brunette girl, with shoulder length hair. Maddy followed the woman's example and stood at her stall's entrance. HHHHhhhhher collar had been rechained to the wall. The food cart came by and Maddy was forced to eat from the floor as before. After the bowls were collected and her gag reinstalled, Maddy forlornly resumed her perch on the wooden bench. She heard the door to the barracks slam shut then an almost ghostly silence of gagged and helpless women.
* * *
CHAPTER NINE
Jake turned his room in the local Motel Six into a war room. There were aerial shots of the small, downtrodden house and barn. Surveillance gear was strewn around the room. A large map of the area was pinned to the wall. Tucker, Martinez and the new arrivals, Leon and Curley, were sitting around the room waiting for instructions.
They had been watching the little dirt road off of Route 286 for three days. The green pickup had come out two or three times during that period. It was too risky to tail it all the time, so Jake had a beeper installed under the bumper when the truck stopped at the local Piggly Wiggly. Earlier that day, a van had pulled out of the small road and headed south. The man was driving and an older woman sat in the passenger's seat. Martinez followed them as far as the Interstate then had given up the chase.
"We need to know when they're coming back," Jake said. "I want to case the farmhouse and barn from top to bottom."
Leon, a slim, boney kind of guy, tall with a mop of curly brown hair, spoke up. "Let Curley and me sit at the Interstate and watch for them coming back."
"What makes you think they'll come back the same way?" asked Jake. "If they're doing what we think they're doing, they'll probably be too careful to take the same route all the time."
"There's only two ways into the farmhouse driveway," Martinez offered. "They have to come either north or south on 286. We could station a lookout at each end, a couple of miles away."
"Okay," Jake agreed. "Martinez and Tucker, you take the north end. What's the nearest crossroads?"
"Dawes Road," answered Martinez. "It's about five miles up."
"Shit," Jake cursed. "That'll give me all of ten minutes warning when they come back." He paused, thinking. "That'll have to do, but you guys'll have to stay awake and alert. I don't want them to come rolling in when I'm checking out the basement."
"Don't worry, Jake. We'll take care of it," Martinez answered.
"The Interstate is about fifteen miles south of the driveway. At least there I'll have a little more warning," Jake observed. He looked at his watch. It was two P.M. "I don't want to wait until dark. I might miss something." To Martinez he said, "Drop me off now. Come back around six. I'll be done by then."
The meeting broke up and the men moved on to their tasks. It was decided that Irving would accompany Jake since he had the best eye for detail. Martinez pulled the car over about thirty feet from the entrance to the driveway and Jake and Irving got out. They waited until they were sure no cars were coming in either direction and they dove into the woods. Martinez and Tucker left to take up their post.
Jake and Irving walked carefully through the woods. Although the man had left with a woman, there still might be someone at the house. Jake didn't want to be discovered prematurely. He would close in when he knew what was what.
It took the men abo
ut twenty minutes to creep the mile or so through the woods up to the house. At the edge of the woods, Jake lay down and eyed the building with a small pair of binoculars. He would look and wait at least a half-hour before moving in. Hopefully, if there were someone there, they would make themselves known during that time period.
Having seen no movement, Jake nudged Irving and the two men crept slowly toward the house. Jake had his Beretta out. Irving carried a small .38. Silently, Jake climbed the porch and peered in the window. Still nothing. He opened the screen door carefully and tested the front door. It was locked. He motioned Irving to circle the building to the left and he took off to the right. They met at the back of the house. The back door was also locked, but Jake felt more comfortable jimmying the lock back there where, if a car pulled up, they wouldn't be seen.
The door sprung open and the men tiptoed inside. The first order of business was making sure the house was indeed empty. Quickly and efficiently, the men searched all the rooms. When they were satisfied, they began looking around in earnest.
Irving made the first important discovery. In a chest in the bedroom, he found a pile of chains and handcuffs. There were several leather gags and hoods which he showed to Jake. "Looks like we've come to the right place," he said.
Jake nodded. Under a floorboard in a closet in the back hall, he found several bankbooks, all from banks outside the country. They amounted all together over two million dollars. "A nice little nest egg," he thought. "Who would live in a shithole like this if they had two million dollars?"
Irving called out to Jake, who was searching the living room. In the larder, off the kitchen, there were several cases of franks and beans. "So?" Jake commented when Irving showed them to him.
