by Don Winslow
Mallory felt her pulse racing, as she raised her binoculars to scan the deck and superstructure. A couple of radar dishes, and quite a rack of antennas. No signs of a crew, but they’d have to get closer to be sure. They could join the little fishing boats; just a little boat that bobbed about out on the bay, drift closer, and keep the big boat under surveillance. They needed a closer look. They needed to watch and wait, and to be very, very careful.
Mallory took the wheel as Kip jumped down to slip the noose from the dock. The engine started easily, and settled into a smooth purr. Mallory was impressed. She had done a bit of sailing when she lived in Hyannis with Keith, and she was confident that she could handle the small runabout. The bay was spacious but calm; sheltered on almost all of three sides. The wind was light, the weather, perfect. The kid at the boat shop had warned them to stay well clear of the shoals just outside the harbor to the south, but they had no intention of going in that direction. Mallory had set her eyes on the gleaming white prize.
As they wove their way through the small craft in the inner harbor, Mallory eased back on the throttle, so that the engine was just turning over as the boat edged close to Big Wizz. Both women were scanning the deck; there was still no sign of life.
They began taking pictures, snapping off tourist shots of each other posing with the bay in the background, and occasionally, panning the camera so that the Big Wizz was “inadvertently” included in the frame. Mallory’s plan was to scout out the scene; if it looked suspicious, or there as the chance they would meet really serious opposition, they would head in to shore and call for backup. If, on the other hand, it looked as if they could handle it themselves, she certainly meant to try. If they were incredibly lucky, there would be no one aboard. Then it was a quick dash in, a search of the vessel, and back out, with no one the wiser.
In order to buy themselves more time, the girls decided to loll away a few hours sunning themselves on the rear deck lying side by side in such a way that they could keep their eyes on the yacht. Neither woman had brought a swimsuit, but Mallory was not loathe to make it more realistic by stripping off her T-shirt to expose herself to the sun in nothing but her shorts and a light mesh bra through which her pink nipples were dimly visible.
Kip shrugged and followed suit, nonchalantly peeling off her tank top even though she hadn’t bothered with a bra. She gave her companion a mildly embarrassed smile, but it felt nice to go around bare-breasted. Her nipples tightened with their sudden exposure to the salt air. Mallory noticed that the girl’s small-mounded tits were taut, high-set, with thick nipples, slightly up-tilted. As she reached down to lay out the blanket, her shifting breasts melded into two neat handfuls beneath her bent torso. Mallory looked away.
Mallory was lying back, lulled by the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze, she had closed her eyes for a few minutes, when an abrupt poke in the ribs brought her to instant attention. “Look!” Kip hissed. Raising herself halfway up, she saw a man emerge from below decks, a thick, stocky guy with a shaved head. Mallory watched him from behind her sunglasses. He was dressed in work clothes; he turned to say something to someone below him. A second man emerged: tall and rangy. He needed a shave, and his thick blond hair was windblown, but he was good looking, in a rugged sort of way. His muscles rippled under his light T-shirt.
The two men went aft, threw over a rope ladder, and climbed down into a skiff that rode alongside at the stern. The abrupt roar of a small engine came across the water and the skiff pushed off, curved wide, and turned towards shore, and following a course that would pass the two agents at too close a distance. Both girls quickly turned over on the blanket to lie on their bellies and flatten out against the deck as the skiff roared by and headed in to shore, its wake leaving them rocking gently.
Mallory waited, her gaze on the high riding yacht; checked her watch. She had originally decided to let a full hour pass, but once the crewmen had left, they could detect no other signs of life. The afternoon was well along, They would have to make their move, or go back to shore and call in. The two agents talked it over. They would be taking a chance without a warrant, but they felt the tip gave them “probable cause” to investigate the scene. Mallory knew Kip would agree with whatever decision she made, but she sensed the young girl’s eagerness, even rashness. She had to be cautious, yet she too felt the heady stir of excitement, and that hint of danger, that licked through her like a knife. This was real police work! “Let’s do it!” she said.
The sudden growl of their engine startled them, shattering the quiet air with a roar that would get anyone’s attention. Mallory quickly throttled back and spun the wheel to angle in towards the big boat, heading for the still hanging ladder near the stern. As they neared, she neatly cut the engine and let the runabout drift in until so that Kip could grab the ladder. It was done with the precision of a born seaman. Hurriedly, the boat was tied to the ladder.
Kip slipped on her T-shirt and grabbed for her gun in one quick motion. She paused to look quizzically at Mallory. The senior Agent nodded her consent. Like many of the female agents the girls preferred the snub nosed .38 to the bulkier and heavier 9-mm that now was standard issue. The .38 didn’t have the stopping power of the bigger gun, but it fit more neatly into a smaller hand. Plus, it was accurate, and just as effective at close range. Mallory slid her weapon into the big pocket of her shorts; her ID billfold into the other. Kip stuck her weapon down the front of her waistband, feeling like a pirate about to board an enemy vessel. Thus armed, they felt as ready as they would ever be. They gave each other encouraging smiles, and the two agents scurried up the ladder.
For a second, the two of them stood there, perfectly still, feet planted wide on the gently rocking deck. The tide was kicking up, but the big boat took it in stride, swaying only slightly. Except for the gentle lapping of waves, the only sounds were the screech of seagulls circling far overhead. Cautiously, with gun drawn, Mallory began to creep forward. They would announce their presence, flash their ID’s, and try to bluff anyone they met into letting them look around, even though they didn’t have a warrant.
Mallory nodded to her partner, and called out a crisp ‘hello’. There was no answer. She tried again, louder this time. Again, only the eerie silence; the faint screech of seagulls. She took two steps down the staircase that led to the cabins below. Again, she shouted out. They waited. No response. Emboldened, the two agents crept down the stairs, guns at the ready, walking stealthily on crepe-soled sneakers.
At the bottom of the stairs they found a spacious hallway, paneled with rich teakwood gleaming in the subdued lighting. The handrails of gleaming silver made it look like the passageway on a well-appointed ocean liner. From somewhere far off an air conditioner hummed, the only noise in the strangely silent boat. They quickly inspected a row of staterooms, all plush but overdone with opulent furnishings, as through the place had been designed by the same folks who did gaudy Vegas casinos. The rooms were thickly carpeted, draped in red velvet, with spacious beds covered in golden satin, and heavy, gilt edged mirrors everywhere they looked. The phrase ‘sailing whorehouse’ went through Mallory’s mind.
The soft moan that they heard, froze them in place. The two women exchanged looks, and Mallory pointed with her gun towards the end of the hallway from which the sound had come. Kip nodded, and dropped back a few feet taking her partner’s flank in standard operating procedure.
Mallory heard the grunt just as something hit her from behind like a ton of bricks, sweeping her off her feet and sending her splayed body to the carpet with a hard, decisive thud. The impact sent the agent’s gun scuttling along the hallway away from her outstretched fingers. From somewhere she heard Kip screech; sounds of scuffling behind her. She shook herself and started to rise to her knees. But a split second later a massive weight fell on her, knocking the breath out of her, and crushing her sprawling figure into the thick carpet. Mallory squirmed instinctively, desperate to throw off the dead weight of the grunting man who was grinding her
face into the thick rug. She struggled to turn over, to bring into play hands and fingernails, and knees, as she had been trained to do. But though she flailed wildly with arms and legs, the man’s weight kept her firmly in place, pinned to the floor, her cheek pressed to the carpet, struggling for breath.
“That’s enough, baby,” she heard him say, and twisting back she saw Kip in the grip of a skinny guy with a thin, ferret-like face who was now holding a knife at the girl’s arched throat. Kip ceased her struggling and went limp in his embrace. Mallory closed her eyes and groaned as the man on top of her clamped her wrists and drew her arms up high over her head so she was held helpless and flattened against the floor. The man weighed a ton, it seemed; he brought his face was close to her ear.
“You too, bitch. Just shut up and settle down, and no one’ll get hurt.”
She could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck; his heavy breathing evening out. The smell of him came to her nostrils, male sweat mingled with breath that stank of whiskey. He moved up so he lay completely on her outstretched body, no doubt enjoying the cheap thrill he got from lewdly rubbing his groin against her womanly ass as Mallory’s hips wiggled beneath his solid weight
“Take that one into the playpen. Then come back here. This one ain’t goin’ no place.”
She watched Kip being dragged through the large, double-sized door at the far end of the hall.
“Let me uuup, you pig. I’m a Federal Agent.” Mallory blurted out.
“Well, now whadda ya know about that! You know babe, I seen a few Feds from time to time, but I ain’t never seen one with such a sweet ass.”
With that he shifted his weight to jam a hand down between their bodies so as to copiously feel the object of his admiration.
The momentary diversion gave Mallory the opportunity she was waiting for. With a mighty heave, she twisted over and brought her right knee up sharply. But the man reacted quickly, sliding a leg up to protect himself from the attempted knee in the groin. Frustrated she lay back, breathing heavily, seething with anger. Now she could see her attacker’s face: rugged features; dark eyes deep set in a seamed and craggy face. He was bearded; thick lips curled in a vacuous grin. And he kept leering down at her as he reached for her, and without a word, clutched a fistful of hair, and yanked her up off the floor. Mallory screamed, her eyes tearing as she was unceremoniously hauled to her feet.
“Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you how to behave, bitch,” he growled, twisting his fist and pulling her by the hair, until he had her stumbling towards the double doors.
The ferret came out just in time to help, a pair of handcuffs in his hands. In a moment, Mallory wrists were cuffed in front of her, and the two of them roughly dragged the helpless, squirming woman into the room the big guy had called “the playpen”.
Chapter Three
The heavy doors closed behind her, and she found herself in a spacious cabin. Ornately furnished and well lit, it spanned the entire width of the boat. Video cameras were mounted in strategic positions to scan the room. A circular bed dominated the far end; fluted white columns running from floor to ceiling formed a semi-circle before it. Full-length mirrors adorned the walls. And in those mirrors, repeated to infinity, one could see the reflected forms of two girls who had been hung from the ceiling, suspended by their wrists from a latticework of sturdy crossbars.
Mallory was stunned to find her young partner, her hands strung up high over her head. The position forced Kip up on the tiptoes of her sneakers, her lithe body stretched so that a considerable gap had opened between the bottom of the little tank top and the shorts that rode low on her slight hips - a gap that revealed her elongated midriff and tautly stretched belly. A hard rubber ballgag had been jammed between Kip’s teeth; over the gag, the big brown eyes that met Mallory’s were wide with fear.
A few feet away hung a beautiful girl, whose white-blonde hair tumbled in a mass of pale soft curls to lightly caress her bare shoulders. Her slender body was lushly tanned, with fulsome breasts the same gorgeous tan except for ghostly curving triangles of white flesh centered on those mounds, the lasting imprint of the skimpy bikini worn on some California beach. From the waist up, all she had on was a thin choker - a strip of black velvet banding her throat, with a small tag attached. From her hips hung a pleated mini-skirt, made of some sort of satiny fabric, lace-edged, like a short half-slip. The hem rode at mid-thigh, revealing most of the splendid lengths of a pair of gorgeous, shapely legs sheathed in black stockings. The blonde’s stockinged feet were strapped into a pair of high heeled sandals, which gave her just enough extra height so that she could stand with arms bent a little, and was thus able to relieve the strain. Still, the demanding position must have taken its toll, for she moaned once again — it was the same moan they had heard in the hallway.
She twisted around to regard Mallory with an imploring look in her anxious eyes. Despite the fact that her pretty features were distorted by the gag, Mallory recognized the well-built blonde immediately: they had found Meghan Dillon.
***
“You guys are in lot of trouble...” she began.
The ferret, which had a hold of one arm spun her around, and the big guy delivered a short jab to her solar plexus. An “Oooomph,” of breath was expelled as Mallory bent in half from the sucker punch, and fell to her knees, gasping for air. Once again the gorilla curled his fingers in her hair, grabbed a fistful and yanked her straight up so that she knelt erect at his feet, her shoulders heaving. He held her by the hair, pulling back her head so she was forced to look up at him with tearing, pain-filled eyes.
“Ya still don’t get it, do ya? When I tell you to shut up, you shut up!”
The gorilla hauled her to her feet and shoved her along, as the ferret dragged her by the wrists to a place under the crossbars where a third rope hung down, waiting. In a business-like manner, her upraised wrists were secured by a spring clip, then attached to the dangling line. She saw the gorilla coming at her with a menacing grin and a ballgag in his hands.
“No...wait!” she hollered, before clamping her teeth defiantly shut.
But the ferret who was standing behind her, merely reached around and pinched her nose and when she opened to gasp for air, the hard rubber ball was rudely shoved in her mouth, the binding strap competently buckled in place.
Now the two thugs stepped back to look at the result of their handiwork: Three women captives hanging in a row: the two new ones, helpless and fighting their growing fear; the blonde, by now having given up all hope, hanging limp in despair.
“What’ll we do with them now?” The ferret asked, breathing hard.
“He’ll be back in an hour or so; he’ll know what to do. ‘Til then, we keep ‘em in storage”
“Well,” said the ferret in a sly, oily tone, “It couldn’t hurt to have a little fun while we’re waiting.”
“I dunno. You know how the Captain feels about fresh pussy — likes to start them off right; HIS way.”
“You don’t think he’ll want to take these two on the trip with... 8?” The ferret seemed incredulous.
“Why not? They’re not bad looking. And you can never tell what he’s thinking. We’d better wait.”
But the captive women intrigued the ferret, and he couldn’t just sit there, knowing three attractive women were so easily available to him, and (unlike most of the women he had known), these were in no position to say “no”.
“I don’t suppose he’d mind if I just copped a little feel, do you?”
The gorilla looked at him doubtfully.
But the ferret didn’t wait for an answer. He moved in to within a few inches of Kip, grinning into the young agent’s terrified eyes, before letting his eyes fall greedily to her young upraised chest. He reached for her firm jutting breasts as she twisted her shoulders, drawing back from him as far as she could in a futile gesture to escape his touch. His hand closed on her left breast, and he rolled it in his palm.
“Oooh, yeah...nice..real nice. Y
ou got nice, little titties,” he purred, squeezing and fondling the small hard tit he fingered in his right hand, while his victim grunted into her gag and shook her shoulders in muted protest.
The ferret now brought both hands into play, firmly massaging both jellied mounds, moving them in slow circles, happily toying with Kip Palazzi’s vulnerable breasts through the thin tank top she wore, while blithely ignoring the girl’s feeble protests.
“You know what, Yasir? I can feel her nipples! I’m telling you, man: this chick’s hot! No bra! And them nipples of hers stickin’ out a mile. They’re hard, man, real hard. This chick wants it; you can tell! I gotta see ‘em. Let’s take a peek, whadda ya say?”
“Ahhh, Okay. Why not?” the big guy grunted, moving closer to the hanging girl.
Mallory could do nothing but watch as the ferret’s raised hand caused her partner to flinch and turn away from his touch, but he only grinned more broadly and followed her averted face to run his fingers down her cheek and neck, and onto her naked shoulder.
“Just hold real still now. I wouldn’t want to have to cut that pretty face of yours,” he hissed, plucking the shoulder strap and bringing his knife into play. A quick flick of the knife, immediately repeated on the other shoulder strap, sent the tank top slithering down, exposing the girl’s tautly-stretched torso, until it got hung up, bunched around her boyish hips.
“Well now, ain’t that the cutest pair of tits you ever did see?” The ferret was clearly enjoying himself, as he eyed that nubile torso and the jaunty twin curves of Kip’s sexy tits: each mounded disk precisely defined, dusky aureoles widened and taut; brash nipples protruding out expectantly.
