Mastering the Virgin Box Set Five: A BDSM Ménage Erotic Romance novel Chapter 43

“How many?”

“Thirty-eight, sir. Twelve adult males, twenty-three adult females and the remainder are minors, but some of the ones we can speak to, that is, those who speak English, are reporting that there should be others….”

“Others?”

“Family connections mainly. Several report being separated from spouses and children. None of the children here appear to be children of any of these adults.”

Stanton rubs a palm across the back of his neck. “One of the oldest tactics in the book. Divide and conquer. Separate from friends and family. Isolate and weaken. And anyone who thinks of rebelling knows they have loved ones in a hostage situation.”

He looks down the long aisle to a small girl, perhaps seven or eight years old, her skin black as polished onyx and with huge liquid brown eyes. Now with a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she is shaky and crying and has an open sore running around an ankle from where a steel manacle was recently removed. She’s crying but tries to talk in god-knows-what language to the female cop who is offering her soup.

Next to her, a woman, almond-eyed and golden-skinned, jabbers at the op cutting through her ankle cuffs. Desperation in her voice, tears in her eyes, she is frantically trying to communicate something….

Husband? Child?

Cardelli follows his gaze. “We’re trying to figure out what language she’s speaking, sir. So far as we can tell, we have people from at least a dozen different countries and that’s before we’ve identified place of origin of a lot of them.”

*****

Bech

Sitting at his desk, he reads the reports coming in, fury eating at him….

Fuck….

Another day and they’d have been shipped out….

Better be moving the others along before they get any more search teams down there….

A tap on his shoulder. “C’mon. It’s all leave cancelled. Every spare hand’s being called in to trawl those old tunnels. And don’t expect to be going home early for the next week”

“I was going to finish the report on the Vanderhoof robbery. I’ve still got a couple of hours before I’m done.”

“That’ll wait. Get your jacket.”

Fuck….

*****

The pressure doesn’t ease.

“When do you plan to retrieve them, Bech? The two women?”

“Unless you feel strongly otherwise sir, I was intending to give it some days. The police, the search teams…. They’ve even called in the military to help. They’re going through the underground of the City with a fine tooth comb.”

Klempner snarls. “So, what do you….?”

Bech keeps his voice level. “Everything and everybody is on high alert right now, including the women. If we wait a few days, let them think they’re safe, let the police turn their focus away, they’ll grow careless.”

“True enough.” Klempner pauses, pressing fingers to his forehead. “It’s a fucking mess, Bech. Still…. At least we haven’t lost any of the other shipments.”

He pauses as his captain stiffens. Slit-eyed, “Bech, do you have more bad news for me?”

“Sir….”

“Yes…?” he drawls.

“Sir, the search teams located one of the shipments while I was in the process of having them moved from the old underground station. The Haswell woman must have told them enough to….”

“Fuck! How many?”

“Thirty-eight sir.”

*****

Five Years Ago

There is a knock at the door and Jenny turns from stirring the soup she is making. But without waiting for a reply, the door bursts open and Mrs Bennett strides into the kitchen, her face red.

“Why is my son sleeping on the couch?” she demands.

Jenny colours up.

“And how long has this being going on?” continues the furious woman. “It’s been months since the wedding. I was worried about you. There I was wondering if perhaps we should have the doctor look at you, and I come in early to find Chad sleeping downstairs.”

“I….” Jenny’s eyes are swimming.

But Mrs Bennett keeps talking. “And when I took a look around….” She slams open a side drawer which contains underclothes, a washbag and a towel. “…. All his things are down here. He is quite clearly not sleeping upstairs. What is it with you, Jennifer?” The woman stalks forward. “Still got all those ideas about university and books? Can’t you bring yourself to be a proper wife to my son? I’m not having it!”

She raises her hand, advancing. “You hear me? You are not….”

A silhouette appears at the door, Mrs Collier. “What’s going on here? I heard the shouting from right across the yard.”

Mrs Bennett stabs a finger at Jenny. “This young woman that you brought into your house and who married my son, is making him sleep on the couch.”

Mrs Collier speaks briskly. “Now come on. All couples have the occasional spat and it often ends up with one of them on the settee for a night or two. It really isn’t….”

“It isn’t a night or two. It’s all the time,” spits Mrs Bennett. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.” She tosses her head at where Jenny, shaking and tearful stands, still with her wooden spoon in hand.

“I’m sure it’s not true,” says Mrs Collier soothingly. “Is it Jenny?”

Jenny hangs her head.