Barney fought. The dinosaur punched Baine in his lion snout. “Lemme go, you frigging asshole.”
Antonio came up behind Barney, wrapped a wolf paw around its neck, threw off his wolf head and hissed, fangs bared.
“You got him, bloodsucker?”
Baine picked up the discarded head and followed Antonio out of the house. He looked back once at the writhing, seething, squirming, yipping mass on the floor and shuddered.
They dragged kicking, cursing, fighting Barney to the Hummer. When they got to the vehicle, Baine snatched Barney’s head off and tossed it to the curb. The man inside was small and chunky, with limp filthy hair and three days’ growth of beard.
“We have some questions we want to ask you,” Baine said, shoving his badge in the man’s face. “Get in.”
Antonio just snarled and threw the man into the backseat.
“I haven’t done anything wrong. What you want me for?”
“You stink,” Antonio hissed.
“You guys aren’t plushies. What were you doing at the party?”
“Looking for you.”
The man whined, complained and protested the entire way to Baine’s cabin.
“We should have gone to my condo. It’s much closer.”
“What? You don’t like the woods?”
“I’m fine with woods. I was raised in the woods. I just prefer the refinements of the city.”
“Well, in the city people will hear Barney screaming, and they might complain.”
The plushie began crying. “What’d I do? Why you taking me out here in the woods?”
Antonio jerked the man out of the car. “We need to ask you some important questions, and we don’t have time to be nice.”
Baine led them to a shed behind his cabin. He unlocked the door and pushed plushie-boy inside. When he flicked on the lights, Antonio nodded. “This is great.”
“I bought this place from a hunter. He dressed his deer, elk, moose, bear, or whatever he killed in here.”
The plushie fell to his knees blubbering. Baine grabbed him by the wrists, slapped handcuffs on him and hooked the cuffs into a chain hanging from the ceiling above a concrete pad with a drain.
Baine hit a switch, and an electric winch slowly pulled the plushie toward the ceiling. When Barney was stretched, hands high over his head, toes barely touching the concrete, he turned off the winch.
“Now, tell us where the ship is going.”
“What ship?”
Baine grabbed a knife, slit the Barney suit in two places and yanked it off. Plushie boy was naked under it.
“That is very disturbing,” Antonio said. “Do you think all of them were naked under the costumes?”
“I’m sure of it,” Baine said.
“You know, there is no need for violence. I can probably hypnotize him, glamour him into telling us anything.”
Baine took the skinning knife and drew a line down the plushie’s chest, leaving a long red cut oozing blood. “Probably, but I like doing things the old-fashioned way.”
Antonio’s nostrils flared. “I will need to feed after this.”
“Let’s start with your name. What is it?” Baine waved the knife in front of their captive’s face.
“Charles, Charles Adderholt.” Tears ran down Charles’s face.
“Do your friends call you Charlie?”
“Most of my friends are plushies. They call me Barney.”
“Well, Barney, if you don’t tell us where the Russians took their cargo of slaves, I’m going to cut off all the protruding parts of your body, and then I’m going to allow Antonio, who is very hungry, to feed on you.”
Antonio growled and bared his fangs.
Baine struggled to keep his lion persona from emerging. He actually felt his face changing and had to look away to stop it.
Barney sobbed. “I’m not sure where they take them. Somewhere in Turkey, close to Istanbul.”
“Now, wasn’t that easy? What do they do with the women?’
“They sell them. There’s a huge market for white women. Well, any women in the Middle East.”
Baine unlocked Barney’s cuffs and allowed him to slump to the concrete. “Bon appetite, Antonio. He’s all yours.”
Baine heard Barney scream as he walked out of the shed smiling.
Chapter 10
Maksim Rukovskya’s heated gaze alit on the blonde in cabin two on the video feed. Drakor was in there with her. She was on her knees, naked, working on Drakor’s dick.
Maksim had his own organ in his hands and was stroking it rhythmically, his eyes never leaving the screen. When the door abruptly opened, he shoved his penis back in his pants and coughed to cover the action.
“What do you want?”
“I was just checking with you about the blonde,” the Turk, Ahmet Dilara, said. “You are sure she’s a virgin. Have you performed the examination?”
“No, I’ve been busy, but I have seen her medical records. According to them, Patricia Garven is a healthy female, nineteen years old and still a virgin. Drakor has strict orders to keep her that way. A hundred thousand dollars is nothing to play around with.”
“Is that really what the old sheikh said he’d pay?”
“I have half already. The full amount will be paid upon delivery.”
“You better check her, boss. I’d hate to find out she played a trick on us all and got laid the night before we snatched her.”
Maksim rubbed his crotch and crawled out of the swivel chair. “Let’s go do it.”
He grabbed a pair of latex gloves and a box containing a speculum and a flashlight out of the desk. Following the Turk, he walked through the narrow hallways and down two sets of metal stairs to the deck where his cabins were located. The crew also bunked down here. He made sure Nicholas and Drakor stayed close by to watch out for his cargo.
The two Russians took turns keeping an eye on the women in the hold. For a good price, the crew could purchase time with any one of them. That kept the men from bothering his special orders up here in the cabins.
They knocked first, aware that Drakor was in there instructing Patricia on the art of being a good little slave. Maksim didn’t worry about her training as much as he worried about the Eurasian woman. She was going to the harem of a very wealthy Saudi princess. She needed to be taught manners and the many ways of pleasuring a woman. Her days with men were over.
The door opened, and the big hairy Russian answered. Drakor’s shirt was off revealing his thick chest and shoulders covered with black hair. The blonde crawled into the bunk and huddled in a corner.
“Hold her down,” Maksim ordered.
Drakor grabbed the girl’s arms while the Turk grabbed her legs and pulled them apart. She started to scream, and Drakor shook his head. “We won’t hurt you. We just need to verify your virginity. The sale depends on it. If we can’t verify it, you go down in the hold with the rest of the women.”
“Please, not that.”
“Are you still a virgin?”
She nodded, her face chalky.
Maksim did his best not to allow his extreme excitement to show as he opened the box, took out the speculum and a tube of lubricating jelly. He lubricated the mouth of the speculum and stuck two fingers into the girl’s opening, smearing a generous amount inside the luscious pink vulva and on the lips.
Hands trembling, he slid the speculum into her sex. Drakor and the Turk stared, nostrils flared. When the scoop-shape instrument was inside her, he opened it. The girl gasped and moaned in fear as her sex was spread wide by the jaws of the speculum.
Maksim turned on the flashlight and shined the light inside her. The girl’s hundred-K hymen was there, still intact. Sighing with relief, he closed the instrument and slid it out.
“You can let her go. She was telling the truth.” He stripped off his gloves and then high-fived the Turk.
“I’m going into the hold to get me a woman. Want one?” Ahmet asked Maksim.
“No, I have too much
to do.”
Maksim trembled with excitement. His cock was hard as a rock. He raced to his office, shot inside and locked the door. He switched the video feed to the Eurasian woman’s cabin. Mina was in there. The two women were naked. Mina had the girl bent over her knees and was spanking her with a paddle.
The girl was crying and sobbing. Maksim pulled his cock out and sat down to watch. Mina quit smacking, ran her hand between the girl’s legs and began stroking her. The Eurasian’s sobs quickly turned into moans of pleasure. Mina stroked the girl as Maksim stroked himself. In seconds he was searching for a tissue as he shot his load into his hand.
About an hour later, Maksim was working out their schedule when someone knocked on the door. It was the Turk.
“Hey boss, I was wondering when we’ll arrive in Istanbul.”
“The trip takes fifteen days. We should hit Singapore in a week. We dock there for a day, and then head for the Suez Canal.”
“I thought we were going south through the Panama Canal. It’s faster.”
“I know that was the plan. But I have a package to pick up in Singapore.”
“What?”
“The leader of the Chen Wa Triad has three European women for sale. I’m picking them up.”
The Turk nodded. “What country are they from?”
Maksim smiled. “Norway.”
The Turk gasped. “Norwegian women bring a huge price in the Middle East. Tall, blonde, white-skinned, pink-nippled and even-tempered. Who could ask for more?”
Maksim’s grin grew even wider. “I know. I almost wet myself when the call came in from San Francisco. I already have offers for all three.”
The Turk sobered. “You don’t even know what they look like.”
“They’re in their twenties and my contact described them as ‘quite beautiful.’ I get to see them first. I don’t have to buy if they don’t meet my standards. But I have been assured they will.”
* * * *
Baine sat at the desk of his small office in downtown Seattle. He had several photos of all the players in the slave ring and was running them through federal computer databases to see if he could get any hits. When none of them popped up in the federal system, he tried Interpol. While he waited for results, he called a buddy who worked customs down at the dock.
Sam Dittemore’s family had lived in Washington State for over a hundred years. Baine had attended school with him in Mt. Vernon. Sam was a werewolf. They’d discovered each other as teens running the woods of Northern Washington on full-moon nights in their animal bodies.
“Sam, it’s Baine. How you been, man?”
“Same old, same old.” Sam’s voice sounded tired.
“Wishing you were back home?”
“Yeah, I miss the woods. Full moon is hell in the city.”
“Come up to my place next month. We’ll run together. Just like old times.”
Sam’s voice perked up. “I just might do that.”
“Listen, I really called on a business matter. I need to know how to track a ship, a Russian ship, the Volodarskiy.”
“Hang on a minute. Let me check something,” Sam said.
Baine whistled while he waited and listened to hold music. Sam came back on the line.
“I found their registration and their listed ports of call.”
Excitement built inside Baine. They were going to find Alex and save her. “Go ahead.”
“The Volodarskiy is slated to run south, pass through the Panama Canal two days from now and stop in Havana for one night. Then they’re going straight into the Mediterranean to Istanbul, Turkey. The information I have lists the owner as Seabright Coffee, Inc.”
“Thanks, Sam, you saved my life. Well, maybe not my life, but someone I care about.”
“No problem. Maybe I’ll give you a call the day before the next full moon.”
Baine checked his watch. Holy shit, the next full moon was in eight days. But he should have this matter wrapped up by then. “Great. I’ll look forward to running the woods with you again.”
Baine hung up and called Antonio. It was nine in the morning. The vampire might be sleeping. The phone rang only once before Antonio picked it up.
“Antonio, I know where they’re going.”
“That is wonderful to hear.”
“The Volodarskiy is scheduled to go through the Panama Canal in two days and then stop at Cuba. We need to fly out this evening.”
Antonio yawned. “I’ll make reservations. Then I will take a nap. Thank you for finding the ship, lion man. I will rest easier.”
Knowing where Alex would be in two days was a huge relief for Baine as well. When he checked his email, he had an answer from Interpol. The International Police Agency had a large file on Maksim Rukovskya for trafficking in drugs and weapons. They also wanted him on international kidnapping charges and charges of prostitution.
This was huge. Baine picked up the phone and called Interpol headquarters in Lyon, France. After speaking with the main desk, he was routed to Inspector Bruno Lefevre.
“Inspector, my name is Baine Tenbrook; I work for the U.S. Marshals office here in Seattle. I’m calling because I was told Maksim Rukovskya is wanted by Interpol and you’re handling his case. Is that correct?”
Lefevre spoke heavily accented English. Baine understood him because his acute hearing filtered out most of the superfluous noise.
“Yes, Mr. Tenbrook, he is a person of interest in several cases involving the selling of weapons to terrorists. We haven’t been able to figure out who his contacts are.”
“I have information regarding a shipment of slaves bound for the Middle East. There could also be guns on board. I believe Rukovskya owns the ship through his company, Seabright Coffee.”
Inspector Lefevre’s voice rose with excitement. “This is good news indeed. Do you know the destination port?”
“Yes sir, the ship is bound for Istanbul and scheduled to arrive two weeks from now.”
“Ooh la, la, such good news. What is the name of the ship? We must begin tracking it immediately. We may be able to intercept it.”
“The ship is the Volodarskiy. Someone from the local port authority told me it’s scheduled to pass through the Panama Canal in two days. I plan to be there.”
“Good, good, we will send men to intercept the ship. Of course, because of canal rules, we will have to wait until they emerge into international waters, but we will get them. I do advise you to stay clear of the ship while it is in the canal. Panama frowns on any interference, and they do consider the canal their personal province.”
“I also heard the ship plans to dock in Havana for one night. I don’t know what kind of deals you can work out with the Cubans, but that might be an option you want to consider.”
Baine hung up, his mind whirling with plans and possibilities. Inspector Lefevre was right about Panama. But then again, Panama had no experience dealing with a shifter and a vampire. He and Antonio would get on that ship, and they would save Alex and extract revenge for any harm that might have been done to her. The Panamanian officials need never know.
Chapter 11
“It has been four full days, cat boy, where is the ship?”
“I don’t know, Antonio, and I wish you’d call me Baine.”
“I will call you whatever I wish. You drag me here to this cesspool of a country, purchase rooms in a hotel infested with bedbugs and keep me awake when I need to be sleeping.”
“I let you take the night watch. It’s your deal sitting here with me all frigging day.”
“I’d rather sit in full sun and fry than sleep ever again in the Posada San Miguel.”
“Something must be wrong,” Baine said, tired of Antonio’s incessant whining.
“Can’t you call someone? How about the French inspector? I will speak with him. I speak perfect French…and Spanish, Greek, Norwegian, Russian, and Arabic, along with many other languages forgotten long ago.”
“Good idea. I’ll call Lefevre.” Baine
dialed Interpol, but Lefevre was out. He left a message.
The two of them sat on a small hill overlooking Gatun Lock, the last lock before ships exited the canal and headed into the Caribbean Sea. The lock was about thirty-four feet wide. They’d seen a hundred ships pass through it in the last four days, none of them the Volodarskiy. Even if the Russians had changed the ship’s name, Baine would recognize it.
The two sulked and watched as a freighter entered the locks from the Atlantic side. The deck was stacked high with cargo containers. Even though this ship was headed west through the fifty miles of canal, ships could still queue up in Lake Gatun waiting their turn to pass into the Caribbean.
Baine’s cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was an international call, maybe Lefevre.
“Baine here.”
“Hello Mr. Tenbrook. I am hoping you are not sitting in Panama waiting for the Volodarskiy to pass through the canal.”
“Too late, Lefevre, that’s exactly where we are. What’s going on?”
“Your Russian friends decided to go to China. They are currently docked in Singapore. I’m getting on a flight right now in hopes I will catch them.”
“If they’re in China, they must be going through the Suez Canal instead. How long to get from Singapore to the Gulf of Aden?”
“I was told five days. Are you flying to Egypt?”
“First flight I can get out of this dump.”
“Be careful hanging out near the Suez. Egyptians value their commodity. The Suez makes the Egyptian government more money than tourism.”
“No shit? Well, we can take care of ourselves, Inspector. Let me know if you intercept the Volodarskiy. My girlfriend is on that ship…as cargo.”
“I see. Well, take care and bon voyage.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Baine hung up. Antonio was seething. “First of all, Alexandra is not your girlfriend, she’s my girlfriend. And it’s all your fault we’ve been sitting here watching ships go by for four days. I am going into the miniscule town of Maria Chiquita to our flea-sack inn, find a bar and drink myself into oblivion. It will be good to visit Egypt, the land where my maker lives. Perhaps we can enlist her help on our mission.”
The Secret, the Shifter and the Sex- Slave Shanghai Page 7
