by John Ringo
"Very nice," was what he said.
"Strip," Santa Claus ordered the girl.
"Please," she whimpered. "I just want to go home..."
"Strip, stupid whore..." Santa Claus snarled, drawing his hand back.
"No marks!" Mike snapped, standing up and walking over. "Girl, I must see what I'm buying. Take off your clothes."
"Please, no..." the girl begged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.
"This is how you do it without marks," Mike said, sighing and gripping the back of the girl's head with his thumb and forefinger. He applied pressure, hard, and received a gasp as the girl's knees buckled at the pain. "Take off your clothes you stupid slut."
The girl looked at the three hard-faced men and then closed her eyes and began removing her clothing.
When she was fully stripped, Mike walked around her, shaking his head. She had welts on her back, ass and budding breasts.
"You hit her on the breasts?" Mike asked, angrily. "With what?"
"My belt, of course," Santa Claus snarled. "What do you expect me to do? She needs to be trained but I'm hardly up to it anymore!"
"Christ on a crutch," Mike muttered in English then continued in Russian. "These damned bruises will take weeks to fade! I'm planning on being in Montenegro the end of next week; she won't be presentable by then!"
"She's untouched," Santa Claus snapped. "She's a virgin. That is worth something."
"She's bruised," Mike snarled. "Two hundred."
"Forget it!" the slaver replied. "Put your clothes on, bitch."
"Wait, wait," Pasha said. "We are friends here. Let us sit and drink tea and talk."
The girl had quickly scooped up her dress and underthings in her hands but Pasha shook his head.
"No," he said to her, pulling the clothes out of unresisting hands. "Stand by the chairs, there is much to discuss."
Pasha poured green tea and laid out a service on the table as the girl stood by, shivering in the cold of the room. Mike ignored her as did the others.
"You have at least a week of travel, if you are staying off the major roads," Pasha said, sipping his tea. "This will give most of the bruises time to fade."
"Not all of them," Mike said, poking the girl on the ass. "This one cut the skin for that matter. She'll scar."
"A virgin," Pasha noted.
"No proof of that," Mike pointed out. "She was probably raped by her uncle who sold him to this guy."
"I took her from an arcade," Santa Claus replied with a shrug. "These young girls, they trust me because I look like Saint Niklaus. And I did not rape her. Even with the Viagra, sticking it in young pussy like this is too hard. I use the older hookers who are looser."
The girl had put her face in her hands and was quietly crying when Mike stood up.
"Lie on the bed," Mike said, pushing her to the bed.
"If you take her here you must pay for..." Pasha said.
"I'm checking," Mike snapped. "Lie on the bed, on your back, with your knees up in the air."
"Please," the girl whimpered through the tears.
"Shut up and do what I said, slut, or you'll be hurt again," Mike said, sternly.
When the girl was on the bed he stuck his fingers in her pussy and spread it as wide as he could. Even with the dim light in the room he could see the hymen and it was unbreached.
"Virgin all right," he admitted grumpily. "Get up and put your clothes on, bitch."
"There, a virgin," Pasha said, happily. "For that, two hundred is much too little. Fifteen hundred euros."
"You're crazy," Mike said, shaking his head. "No more than three. So, Santa, you ever go over to Romania?"
"No, only the Ukraine," Santa Claus replied as the girl finished dressing. "Little slut, sit on my new friend's lap and show him how biddable you can be."
Mike let the girl sit in his lap and ran his hands over her stomach as she quivered in fear. He was careful to try to skip the bruised areas but she still was quaking which didn't help much. He had a very real problem with being the sort of son-of-a-bitch he was playing and the entire scene was turning him on more than he liked. He knew the girl could feel a very solid erection under her pert little ass and he knew that made him not only a Class A son-of-a-bitch but a pervert. Unfortunately, short of castration he wasn't sure what to do about his little problem. Other than killing bastards who actually let their demons out. Such as the two other males in the room.
They chatted about the bad roads, the problems with weather and the unreliability of finding virgins as they sipped green tea. From time to time one or another would make an offer. Mike almost walked when they balked at thirteen hundred euros until he realized that would be leaving this poor kid in their hands. He finally dickered them down to nine hundred euros but not a penny less. He only got the hundred euros off because of the bruises and actually getting up and walking half way to the door.
He pulled out the cash and forked it over with a grim face then slapped the girl on the back of the head.
"If you think that you have had it bad so far, try to run away from me," Mike growled in her ear. "I will do terrible things to you. Terrible terrible things. Are you going to try to run?"
"No," the girl said, resignation in her voice.
"You could run from the old man, maybe," Mike pointed out. "But I can outrun you. And if I have to even hurry, not only will you not be a virgin by tomorrow, but I will sell you to the worst whorehouse in Istanbul for seamen to fuck all day long. And the reason I will sell you there, is because you will be too messed up for anyone else to buy you. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," the girl replied, her head down.
"Let us go," Mike said, nodding at Pasha and the still unnamed Santa Claus. "If you can get more like this, we can do business in the long term. But no marks!"
"I'll see what I can do," Santa Claus said, smiling and standing up. "It was good doing business with you."
"The same," Mike said, graciously, taking the girl by the wrist and leading her to the door.
His rooms were a flight up and down the hallway. When he got to the command center room he paused.
"I'm glad you didn't run," he said, quietly. "The reason is, I'm not a slaver and I would not want to have to hurt you. But you must not talk about what you see in here, do you understand?"
"No," the girl said, fearfully.
"You will," Mike replied, knocking on the door.
One of the Keldara girls answered the knock and looked in surprise at the girl Mike still had by the wrist.
"Graznya," Mike said, thankfully. "Just the lady I needed. Come on, girl. What's your name, anyway?"
"Oksana," the girl said, quietly, her eyes widening as she saw the computers and electronics set up around the room.
"This is Graznya, Oksana," Mike said, gently pushing her further into the room. "She's not a slave, not a whore. She works for me. We're doing something here and it's necessary that I act like a slaver. I'm sorry that you were put through that, but you are safe, now."
"Really?" Oksana asked, panting.
"Really, really," Graznya said, smiling. "This is the Kildar. He is a renowned fighter and he does not harm women."
"Unless I have to," Mike pointed out. "Sorry about what happened in there. But that fat bastard was about to smack you one across the face. Again."
"Come in," Graznya said, sighing. "We know something of what you have been going through and we are very sorry. Where are you from?"
"The Ukraine," Oksana said. "Near Kremenchug."
"Well, we have much to do," Graznya said, pulling her further into the room and settling her in a chair. "But we will see if there is a way to get you back there. You have family?"
"No," Oksana replied, quietly. "I was raised in orphanage. They had sent me out only the day before. I was at a fair when the man, Hadeon, approached me. He offered to buy me lunch and I was very hungry. Then he said he could get me a good job in Italy."
"Which is one of the places you might have en
ded up," Mike said, sighing. "I won't speak as to the quality of the job, since that's rather obvious. I'm sorry, Oksana, but that story is very common. This is how many girls end up in places like this." He paused and looked around the room at the monitors. "Well, not like this."
"What is this?" Oksana asked, finally settling down. "What are you doing?"
"We're tracking a girl who was kidnapped, as you were," Graznya replied. "We know she came as far as here. We are trying to find out where she went."
"Why?" Oksana asked, suddenly tearing up again. "Why do you look for her when nobody cared about me!"
"Because her father is rich and has powerful friends," Mike said, bluntly. "You have neither a rich father nor powerful friends. Well, you didn't." He looked at her and cocked his head on the side. "I'm not sure what we're going to do with you. I needed to buy you because it made our cover stronger, but I'm not sure what to do with you, now. I'd hoped you'd have a family to go home to."
"So you could get more money?" the girl asked, unhappily.
"No, I have plenty of that," Mike said, waving his hand around the room. "This isn't cheap. No, you were going to be returned gratis. But with nobody to go home to... Well, that presents me with a problem. I'll think about it."
* * *
When Mike had left the room, Oksana looked at Graznya with wide eyes.
"He is very strange," the girl whispered. "He frightens me."
"Well, you don't have to be frightened of him any more," Graznya replied. "And as for the being strange...you get used to it."
* * *
"We got anything different?" Mike asked as he wandered next door. Vanner had moved the data analysis section to the adjoining room since the other one was both crowded and busy.
"Very straightforward," Vanner said. "We haven't really had a lot of time to pin down his movements, but it looks like he mostly is a repeater."
"So we have a choice of taking him down at the café or at his house or in movement. And he's got, effectively, hostages, at each point."
"He didn't bring a girl back with him in the morning," Vanner pointed out. "If he doesn't tomorrow..."
"Works. I'll send Adams out to find a quiet spot."
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
"Bravo team in position."
Mike looked back at the van full of Keldara and nodded to Yevgeni.
"Alpha in position."
"Target is moving. Target is unaccompanied, repeat unaccompanied."
"Roll the op up," Mike said, quietly.
"Roll up," Yevgeni repeated.
"Roll up confirmed," Vanner replied. "We are out of here in one five minutes. Team Charlie is in place to recover telltales."
"Don't forget to pay the bill," Mike muttered. "Don't send that."
"Roger," Yevgeni replied. They were both in civilian clothes with body armor underneath. The team in the back was in full battle rig. Smegnoff was a hard worker and it was just after dawn. He'd been heading back to the café to get some paperwork done. He also apparently counted down his cash in the back room. That was where the majority of his "associates" were located and his main base for farming his girls and doing deals.
"Target is repeating, repeating. Kramor Prospect so far."
"Get ready," Mike said, turning his head. "It looks like us. Close up."
"Close up," Yevgeni said as he started the van. "Close up."
Santos Street was two lane with cars parked along both sides. The van for Alpha team was parked in an alley half way down the block.
"Closed up," the following team called. "Target is turning on Santos. One, two...Go! Go! Go!"
Yevgeni threw the van into drive while hammering the accelerator. The lightly loaded van jerked out into the road in a cloud of blue smoke and immediately began disgorging fighters in full battle dress, MP-5s and silenced SPRs pointed at the oncoming Ladia.
Smegnoff was a survivor of numerous street battles and he had quick reactions. He didn't bother to come to a full stop before throwing the Ladia into reverse and hitting the accelerator. The problem being that the four year old Ladia following him slammed into him from the rear and then went to full power, turning his car sideways across the street.
It was less than ten meters to the car and before he could try to drive out of the ambush the lead Keldara had smashed in his driver side window. The second in line dropped his MP-5, drew a taser from his holster and fired it into the slaver.
In no more than seven seconds the slaver was in the back of the van, wrapped in rigger's tape, leaving only two smoking Ladias for the police to try to explain.
* * *
"Good morning, Yuri," Mike said, pleasantly, as the man's eyes flew open from the ammonia capsule. "Did you have a good rest? I'm sure you recognize the after-effects of chloroform; you've used it a time or two."
"Muh-wugfuh?" the man said through the rigger's tape on his mouth.
"Oh, sorry," Mike said, reaching up and ripping the tape off the man's face.
Yuri Smegnoff was taped to a chair which was firmly bolted into the middle of an abandoned factory floor. It had probably been a supervisor's chair when the factory had been in operation. Now it served Mike's uses perfectly. He had to give Adams a bonus for scrounging up the facility on such short notice. Another note to make, they needed to do more ground work at each stop. This wasn't the last such interrogation that they'd have to do.
"Ow! What the fuck is this? I don't know who you are but..."
"Yuri, Yuri," Mike said, kindly. "All I am is an honest businessman trying to do a job. Now that job is for people who view you and me as no more than insects. In your case, one to be stepped upon. You've made some very powerful people very angry, Yuri. Now, this can go easy, or it can go hard. Let's make it easy, shall we?" He drew out a folder and pulled out a picture, flipping it in front of the man's face.
"Now, I know you see a lot of young women," Mike said, nicely. "But I'm really hoping, for your sake, that you recognize this one. Because if you don't, I'm going to have to improve your memory."
"I...I do," Yuri said, licking his lips. "Yes, I remember her."
"Ah, good," Mike said. "Now, Yuri, there's a thing about my friends here," Mike said, gesturing at the Keldara standing behind the chair. Yuri hadn't even noticed them and when he turned around his eyes flew open. Mike had chosen two of the larger shooters and they were both holding MP-5s at port arms and wearing full battle armor. "They're really simple farmers from the back hills. And they're simple people. They have a very strong code of honor. So they really don't like lies. Not a bit. And since I'm their leader, I need to uphold that tradition. So, please, Yuri, let's not be lying as we go on. You do remember her, yes?"
"Yes," Yuri said, licking his lips again. "One of my catchers picked her up near the town square. She said she was Ukrainian, that she was looking for work."
"Go on," Mike said.
"Can I have some water?" Yuri asked, carefully. "I am very parched."
"It's an effect of fear," Mike pointed out. "It comes from the adrenaline. I'm sure that many of your little girls had very dry mouths. Did you give them water, Yuri? No, I thought not. So, you picked her up near the town square. And you brought her to your townhouse?"
"Yes," Yuri said, starting to breath hard.
"And you settled her, there, I'd think," Mike said, raising an eyebrow. "We're men of the world; we know what that means. You dipped your wick and that of a couple of your guards. You beat her around and told her she belonged to you, now. All the rest of that sort of thing. Yes, Yuri?"
"Yes," the slaver said, quietly. "But this is who you look for? She had no friends!"
"We'll get to that later," Mike said, smiling. "So, you settled her down and then what, Yuri? She's not walking the street for you. We've checked rather carefully. So, where'd she go, Yuri?"
"I did what I always do," the slaver said with false bravado. "I sold her. I don't remember to who."
"Ah, Yuri, Yuri," Mike said, reaching back an
d accepting a large sledge hammer from the Keldara. "Bad answer."
"No, look, I can try..." the man said as Mike moved the hammer back and then forward into his left knee.
When the screams died down, Mike leaned forward to the man's ear.
"Yuri, Yuri, my friend. We are friends, right? Yuri, that was a bad answer. Do you know why that was a bad answer, Yuri?"
"I need to remember..." Yuri whispered.
"It's because we've had your house and coffee shop bugged for the last day and a half," Mike replied. "You talked about how you keep careful records. You sold two girls yesterday, Ionna and Sofiya, to a man named Markov. We've got rather good pictures of all three of them. Sofiya is a lovely lady, isn't she? And you got seven hundred euros for her, as I recall. And you told Markov that you kept all of your information to hand, in your PDA. So, Yuri, why didn't you mention your PDA to me, please?"
"No names," Yuri gasped. "No names."
"Why, Yuri?" Mike asked, straightening up. "Because the men you sold her to are very dangerous? Yuri, I eat people like you, and the bad men you work with, for lunch. And is there something they can do to you that I'm not going to, Yuri, my friend, my buddy? So, who did you sell her to? Actually, what's the password for you PDA? My little geek friend would very much like to know. He says he's having trouble hacking it."
"Hey!" Vanner said from the back of the room. "These things aren't easy. He's used at least a ten point encryption and you can't just hammer them on the ground and pull out the info!"
"No, but I suppose that's possible with you, isn't it, Yuri?" Mike asked, smiling in his most friendly manner. "So, Yuri, password, please?"
"No names," the man gasped again then shrieked when Mike lightly kicked his knee.
"Yuri, Yuri, I grow tired of this," Mike said, picking up the sledge again.
"Please," Yuri said, eyeing the heavy hammer. "Please. I can't give you names."
