Kidnap
Lunch bell rang. Mina Hartley and her friends surged across the street from their high school. The little string of shops braced for impact.
"Damn it, how do you do it?" Deb asked, as she fought her hair into a tail.
"Do what?"
"You know what. I swear, you just towel your hair off after gym class and it looks magnificent."
"I do not!" But Mina was pleased by the remark. Time she didn't spend on her appearance was time she could spend on studying or friends. And now that Randy had turned out to be a jerk, she had even more time for both.
In a dark-colored van at the convenience store, five Galactor agents waited. The driver consulted a photograph. "There she is," he said. "The hottie."
"She doesn't look fifteen." The speaker licked his lips. "Think the Captain will let us have her first? Given the risk?"
"I don't think he's into jailbait."
A third said, "If they're big enough, they're old enough." Behind the red lenses of his mask visor, his pupils dilated.
"Watch it, Barlow. We can't do anything to her until we get to base and show her to the Captain," the driver warned.
"We can't do anything, but that doesn't mean we can't say anything," the second man replied. "We don't have to watch where we put our hands."
"Keep them outside her clothes."
The students invaded the stores, making it quick. If they were late coming back, the privilege of leaving school grounds during lunch would be revoked.
Mina made her purchases and went outside. From the video place, Deb waved.
It happened fast. A dark shape bulked, a door shot open, hands grabbed her and pulled her inside.
"Get her down!"
"Cover her mouth!" Instead of a hand, a rough mouth. She gagged as he shoved his tongue down her throat. Laughing, he rose and clamped a gloved hand over her face. "She tastes as good as she looks, fellas!"
Mina tried to kick, but two men grabbed her legs. They weren't careful about it. Another leaned over and held her arms, leered into her face upside-down. "Hey, sweet thing."
Who are these guys? Some kind of cult? They had to be, with those green cat-masks.
The one who covered her mouth felt her breasts. "Am I your first?" he asked.
Oh, no, oh God, oh Jesus, please not that, anything but that….
One of the men on her legs pulled a piece off a roll of duct tape. "Here. Why should your hand have all the fun?" He handed it to the monster who'd kissed her.
"Don't worry, babe," said the one holding her arms. "Nothing's going to happen to you. Yet."
They taped her legs, then her wrists, turned her so she couldn't see the tinted windows.
She lost track of the turns and twists. There were times when she thought the van was flying.
After an eternity, the van stopped. They hauled her out and cut the tape around her legs, making certain to grab her as much as possible. "Come on, babe. We'll show you Galactor hospitality."
They jerked her around until she stumbled, yanked her to her feet, and jerked her until she stumbled again. Every time, their hands groped her legs, her breasts, her buttocks. Every time, she expected to be held down and raped.
She was fifteen, but knew rape existed. Until now, she had not come close to comprehending the horror of the crime.
"We're coming up on the Captain's quarters," one of them said. "You get to walk the rest of the way, hot stuff. Be nice, and we might not be too rough on you."
Walk? She wasn't sure she could even stand. Rather than be yanked more, she made herself walk.
Hallway, turn, hallway, turn, flight of stairs, hallway - A tall figure in purple.
"Lord Katse!" Her captors squeaked in unison.
Squeaked.
She understood why.
She couldn't take her eyes off his masked face. Purple-blue mask, with long ears like horns, blue lenses over the eyeholes, full red lips pressed into a thin, angry line.
"What. Is this?" A voice as harsh as the mask.
"Mina Hartley, sir."
A ridiculous little man dressed like a demented elf stood beside Lord Katse. He licked his lips nervously and said, "Here she is."
"I can see that." Lord Katse pulled the tape off her mouth. "What are you doing with her?"
"Bringing her here," one of her captors said. "Just as you ordered." He didn't sound so bold, now.
"Let me go, please," Mina said. "We're not rich. We aren't worth it."
Lord Katse leaned close and took her chin in his hand. "Be quiet. You're my insurance for your father's behavior. Do you understand?"
Teeth clamped over a whimper, Mina nodded. He read her quickly. More than raw fear made her tremble. Even terrified, she was looking and listening. And these idiots had violated protocol.
"Take her away and lock her up." He caught the quickly-concealed smirk on one man's face. "Make sure she's safe." As they hustled the girl out, he said to his PA, Hanson, "Make certain she remains unharmed."
"Sir?"
"Go."
Away from the intimidating Katse, the men made coarse jokes and manhandled her again. Lingering fear made them rougher than before.
"Hands off!" Hanson snapped.
The men jerked to attention.
"I don't know what's been going on here," he continued, "but this is not how we operate. There was no wink and nudge in your orders. When he said she was to stay safe, he meant it."
They looked unconvinced.
"That was Lord Katse's order. You know what happens to those who disobey orders."
Grumbling, the men took her down to the cells.
Hanson returned to Katse. He didn't have to say anything to him.
Lord Katse knew. He always knew.
More idiots, Katse thought, sitting at the desk in the quarters he had commandeered from the fool captain.
A blind Victorian virgin nun could figure out what they wanted. These fools, thinking this girl would be murdered anyway, had disobeyed the kidnap procedures. They had thought he would throw her to them for their amusement. She had seen their uniforms, heard his name and title, and for all he knew, had heard the name Galactor.
The organization had not spread its influence around the world, yet remained undetected, through stupidity. That meant covering their tracks. No theatrics or grand, dramatic gestures that would tell authorities they had a new enemy. No murders unless absolutely necessary. Make the bombing look like the work of any one of a hundred other troublemaking groups.
This was a simple kidnap-extortion plan. Kidnap the spouse, child, parent, or lover, and make demands. When the plans went well, none of the victims knew enough to tell the police anything useful, making Galactor's acts indistinguishable from those of other organizations' crimes.
No gang-raping the kidnap victim. This girl's father would cooperate with them because of the promise that she would be returned unharmed in exchange for a few research notes. If he even suspected that she was hurt, he would run to the police. He was a father: he would know if she was crying from stress and fear, or from pain and torture.
He drummed his fingers on the desk. If they had expected his permission to harm her, what (or who) else had they done?
He flicked a switch. A monitor screen showed him the harshly-lit cell block, and the door to the girl's cell. The sound came through clearly.
Mina curled up on the cot in her too-bright cell. Her skin crawled: they had put their hands on her, they had intended to - to - She wanted to cry. Thank God that man had come from Katse!
They wanted something from Daddy. If he gave it to them or did what they wanted, they'd send her back to him.
A rattle at the door. "Hey, sweetheart. We have a date. One of these days." Mocking laughter.
Katse shut off the monitor. He could use this situation. The girl was terrified. If she thought of him as a protector, she would be more cooperative. He might even be able to make use of her for Galactor.
The guard, unaware of the surveillance, leaned against the cell door. She was a cute number. Everyone knew that if they were big enough, they were old enough. She looked eighteen. Probably still a virgin.
Well, he didn't dare do anything right now. Lord Katse was still here, and his lackey would probably make a surprise visit. Give it a few days, let her stew. Hell, they were always better after they'd had a few days to work themselves into a panic.
What was Katse's problem, anyway? Everyone knew she'd be killed, so what did it matter if they had some fun?
Did he want her for himself?
Oh, hell, if that was the case, no-one else would get any.
Still, he hadn't heard so much as rumors about Lord Katse's habits. Was he that discreet? Or was he one of those guys who stored it up and let it out in one big blowout?
Either way, Katse couldn't deny a man a bit of fun.
He grinned, and told the girl exactly what he intended to do to her at the earliest opportunity. In detail. Repeatedly.
The name-plate in the trash can, and the box of personal items outside the door, told the captain more than he wanted to know. He was evicted. Okay, so she saw us. She'll never get a chance to tell anyone.
Nervously, he entered his former quarters.
Oh, shit.
Lord Katse made the cheap, discount-store chair look like a throne. On either side of him stood the two known (not to Katse's face) as his 'entourage', his aide, Hanson, and Sergeant Geary. Other soldiers stood at strategic spots around the room. Unlike his men, these were ramrod-straight, with a hint of purple in the blue portions of their uniforms.
He glanced at Geary. She gazed impassively at him. If he could raise her mask, he was certain that her eyes would be as expressionless as her mouth. Of course, if he tried to raise her mask, she would rip his intestines out through his nose. She was the third most frightening person in Galactor, after Berg Katse and that weird female captain, Maddox.
I can't speak man-to-man with a woman in the room.
He could not meet Lord Katse's gaze. That mask looked like an evil Japanese mask-maker's contribution to Carnival.
With a gesture, Katse dismissed everyone from the room.
When he heard the door shut, the captain dropped to one knee. "What is your wish, my lord?"
"Just what have you and your men been up to out here?"
"Not much. We're too far away from any town to really do anything. The men get bored and stir-crazy."
Then they would head for the road some five miles away and look for stranded motorists, or search the countryside for hikers and campers.
"And then what? How many people have they murdered just this year?"
"Sir?"
"You heard me."
"I – I think five."
"Five."
Five sounded about right. There was that kid who wanted to see the country before starting college, and that long-haul trucker, and those hikers who had spotted the surface structures of the base, and was there another one or two?
"In six months."
Oh. Oh. Oh, that was not good. Not good at all. If this was at all typical of the kill rate, that meant - I'm in deep trouble.
"You're a captain in Galactor. You should be able to keep your people occupied and in line. Instead, I find a live-action remake of some ridiculous grindhouse movie."
"You're right, sir. I was lax."
"You were more than that. This was a simple plan, one Galactor agents have executed hundreds of times before this. And your men managed to screw it up."
"Yes, sir." Keep agreeing. Don't object. You might see another birthday.
"I shall investigate this, and mete out punishment according to culpability."
"Yes, sir."
"You, and your men, are barred from this section of the base. Two men will show you to your new quarters. You had best pray that I can salvage something from your mess."
"Yes, sir."
Lord Katse was angry at him. There were stories of what happened to those who pissed off the Lord of Galactor.
Hanson and Geary rejoined him after the captain left. "What's your plan, sir?"
"I'm working on it." Katse turned on the sound. The guard was still at it. Quite a disgusting imagination. Under the mask, his eyebrows rose. Was that even physiologically possible? He lowered the volume.
The girl's backpack sat on the former captain's desk. At least the idiots had searched it properly. Amerisian parents tended to put more tracking devices on their children than naturalists put on migrating animals. Except for her cell phone (now concealed in plain sight two blocks from the kidnap site), nothing. What would her textbooks and personal possessions tell him?
Notebook computer. Loose-leaf notebook. Didn't see many of those anymore. The pages were close-covered with notes from her classes. Not many doodles. CDs for textbooks. That had always seemed wrong. There was something about a printed book that he liked. So far, nothing extraordinary.
He drew out a much-read paperback of Bertrand Russell's selected writings. No school ink-stamps or other identifiers. He opened it to the print dates. This one was a year old. "There's more to this girl than meets the eye."
The plan came together. "Rearrange this room. Make up an arrangement off to the side where friends might sit and talk. Set a table for supper. She may be too upset to eat, but she will appreciate the gesture. When I tell you, Geary, go down to the cell block and rescue her. Be her mother, big sister, and best friend. Just don't kill that idiot tormenting her."
"Yes, sir."
"Hanson."
"Sir?"
"You won't have much to do except play the butler. Turn on that fatherly vibe. We are her best friends in the whole wide world until she goes home."
"Yes, sir."
"After you get this room ready, prepare quarters for her. Set the lock."
"I understand, sir."
He went to his mecha to think over his approach to Mina Hartley and let the two work.
She was an intelligent girl. Few adults bothered to read more than a dictionary definition of a given philosophical position, and she read Bertrand Russell until the pages were dog-eared on all corners. A printed book, not an e-book. Her notebook computer had an interesting selection of young adult titles. Thought-provoking, even the escapist titles. One by an author affiliated with Galactor. It also had an edition of a teen magazine, and again, it wasn't devoted to the boy-celebrity-of-the-month or the latest fashions.
Intelligent, but innocent and inexperienced. Fifteen, with the body of eighteen. All her friends were envious, jealous, or confused by this change in her. If she had a little boyfriend, he was probably scared to death of his feelings and of her seeming maturity.
She wanted a protector because she was a prisoner and threatened with rape. She wanted someone to talk to her as if she were an adult, instead of patronizing her for reading beyond her age level. She wanted someone to treat her as if she were a person, not a set of breasts.
He would presume that she was observing everything. Eventually, she would not feel fear, either because she was numb, or there was nothing to fear. Then, she might start putting her observations together. When she talked to police (and she would), she might say something that would start investigators on the right track.
They couldn't keep her afraid. No intense emotion can be maintained indefinitely. Her body would stop pumping out neuro-chemicals and she would become emotionally numb. The stimulus had to vary in intensity or type. Or both.
She was fifteen years old, and scared to death. Afraid she would never see her family and friends again. Afraid of being raped and beaten, and, perverse as it seemed, sexually aroused by that fear. Emotionally vulnerable to a few kind words, a bit of compassion, and the promise of protection. He would be able to persuade her that she should not readily cooperate with the police, that he worked in secret because no-one would understand his purpose.
No sexual contact at all. The whole idea was to protect her from harm and return her to her father.
Not that he would, even if she were either the class slut or of legal age. That sort of thing did not interest him the same way it interested humans. All the plumbing worked: he just was not concerned about it.
Introspection was not a habit with either of Berg Katse's personae. Both were relieved that sex did not dominate life and thought.
At sixteen, both personae had been curious about the female form's physiological reactions to threats. Was it because Katse switched sexes yearly? Or did regular human females respond the same way?
For whatever reason, even though Berg Katse was in training to become a leader in Galactor, a trip to the Hontwarl base library never came to mind. Instead, while female, she decided that a proper test required a human female. She even knew which one to pick.
Inge wasn't one of her classmates. She was the queen bee in the public school he attended. A grade-year separated them, so they never met. Most people thought he was dating Helen Geary, if they thought about him at all.
In the week before he was due to change sex to female, he moved out of town (as usual). He returned to kidnap Inge and take her to an abandoned building he had chosen. Naturally, he had worn a disguise. Without laying a hand on her, merely describing what he could do to her, he had terrified and aroused her. When he had untied her, she offered herself to him and seemed disappointed when he handed over her clothes.
Not two weeks later, while female and in the 'special classes' for Galactor recruits, she had received a memory card with copies of the relevant research.
The next year, he noted that Inge was no longer so overtly sexual, and no longer had the coterie of male admirers. Instead, she was the unhappy girlfriend of an over-muscled and under-brained transfer student from Ameris.
Helen Geary was gone. Her mother had gotten the divorce and taken her to England. He didn't see her again until he had become lord of Galactor and she was assigned to his staff.
Mina's brain began to stir. Her guard, not nearly as clever as he thought himself, had overdone the threats, innuendoes and suggestions. She had been frozen with terror. Repetition had released her mind. Now convinced that these men would hurt her, she wracked her brain for ways to escape, or to find that assistant to Katse, or even Katse himself. Lord Katse was terrifying, but he was preferable to the bastard outside her cell.
A woman's voice snapped, "What are you doing?"
The guard squawked, yawped, then, "Sergeant!"
Mina stifled a giggle.
"Unlock that door and get over to that corner."
"Yes, Sergeant." The sound of a key in a lock, then hurried footsteps.
With a high-pitched, low-volume squeal, the door opened. Mina uncurled, prepared to run, too scared to try.
"It's all right," the woman said. Her tone was purely professional. "Come on out. Lord Katse wants to see you."
Her uniform wasn't the same as the others. Instead of forest green with blue areas on chest, arms and legs, hers was yellow with purple-blue.
"Hey, come on. It's okay." The woman's tone softened. "I know how you feel. Lord Katse is waiting."
Right. Him. She shouldn't make her captor angry. Looked like the guard would catch hell.
Mina stood. Her legs froze in place. Try as she might, she could not move.
After a quick, frowning glare to one side, the woman entered the cell. "You poor thing," she murmured. "Take my arm. It's okay. That's right. Take a step. Sometimes, you only need one to get started. Good. Good." Coaxing, mixing sympathy with well-placed sharpness, she walked Mina across the cell, out of the cell-block, and up the stairs.
Of course, stairs. Wasn't that a requirement or something? If there's a dungeon, there must be stairs.
But no stone or brick for the walls. Smooth walls. Not wood. Drywall? Good God, did they build a dungeon out of drywall? This time, she had difficulty stopping the giggles.
Nice color, though. A pale version of the green of their uniforms.
She stumbled, fell against the wall. No drywall thump. Hard. Plaster, maybe? Was this one of those old houses that remains standing while the modern ones on either side fall apart in a stiff rain?
The protective apathy fell away. Reaction crushed her.
"Oh, no. Easy. Easy." The woman helped her up, then held her up. "Come on. Come with me. You don't want them to see you." Whispering encouragement, she guided Mina out into corridors.
"He - s-said things to me," Mina whispered.
"Ssh. Oh, dear. Forget Katse for a bit. My quarters are right over here. You need to collect yourself."
She opened the door to a room half the size of a motel room. A bed and a chair were the sole furnishings. "Sit here."
Mina dug in her nails. Swallowing, swallowing to hold off tears or hysterics, she said, "He wouldn't stop. Would - wouldn't stop - telling me - what he'd do - to - me. Said I'd want it. That he would do them - could do them - Lord K-Katse couldn't be everywhere at once…."
"You don't have to worry about that, now." The woman put an arm around her. "I'll call Lord Katse and tell him that you need a few minutes to calm down. He won't be angry at you. He's not such a bad guy. He's harsh, but fair."
She soothed until Mina relaxed and let go. "There's the bathroom over there. I didn't bring much with me, but you can borrow whatever you need."
"Th-thank you." Mina wobbled into the tiny room.
I think the bathroom off our kitchen is larger than this. And it didn't have a shower.
All-metal fixtures. Functional.
She heard a murmur of voices in the main room. Right: he wants to see me. Had Daddy come through?
With still-trembling hands, she turned on the cold water and splashed her face. You can do this. You smiled right at Randy and made him think you were happy when you wanted to cry. This Lord Katse guy doesn't even know you.
Except that Randy had broken up with her by introducing his new girl. That was a world away from kidnapping and hours of rape fantasies and threats.
Her stomach heaved. She crouched over the commode just in time. The remains of lunch splattered into the water, and gave way to dry heaves.
"Oh, dear." The woman was beside her, damp washcloth in hand, a towel at the ready. "I didn't realize you were sick."
"It just - it just happened." She wiped her mouth. "I need to rinse."
The woman helped her up and filled a glass with water. "Here."
It took two glasses of water and a travel size mouthwash to remove the bile taste. When Mina looked in the mirror, she almost groaned. I look the way I feel: washed out and wrung out.
She washed her face and hands, and did her best with comb and brush. Being a captive didn't mean she had to look like lawn trimmings. "I – I think I'm okay."
"Are you sure?"
"No, but I think he will be angry if there's any more delay."
The fluorescent lights lit every inch of the corridors. They passed one armed man. No pictures on the walls, nothing to give any hint of where she might be. For all she knew, she was a few miles from her father, or across the country.
They stopped at a door. A faint rectangle of slightly darker paint marked it out. Her escort knocked, and Katse's aide answered. After a polite half-bow, he turned and said, "Ms. Hartley is here, sir." He stood aside and opened the door for her.
Lord Katse diverted her attention from the bland décor of the room. The harsh fluorescent lighting splashed purple, blue, and red into her eyes, yet his high-collared, dark purple cloak did not look the least bit ridiculous or tawdry. She had a photo-sharp memory of his masked face, but only now saw the rest of him clearly.
He was not as tall as she remembered, but lean and rangy. The long, sharp 'ears' on his mask, and the long lines of his face and body had made him seem NBA-huge. A gold-looking chain and fasteners held the red-lined cloak at his throat, and she saw that it was cut away to reveal thigh-length burgundy boots.
Debs would so want those.
"Welcome, Ms. Hartley," he said, gracefully flipping the cloak back from his shoulders and pulling a chair away from a small table. "Would you care to sit down?" He wore long gloves that matched his boots.
Tearing her eyes from him, she saw that the table was set for dinner: institutional tableware on an institutional tablecloth. It could have come from her high school. "Uh - yes. Sure."
He held the chair for her and made certain she was seated before he took his own. "I should apologize for earlier," he said. "Those dunderheads made me angry, and I took some of it out on you."
Unsure what to say, she nodded.
"Those cells are for dangerous prisoners, not someone as intelligent and cooperative as you are. You are our leverage on your father; there's no reason for you to be uncomfortable."
She nodded again. She could not see enough of him to judge his true mood.
"I had planned on a civilized meal. This place was built for function, rather than comfort, but the kitchen staff swore they could prepare a decent supper on request." He looked closely at her face. "My sergeant told me that the guard had threatened you until you became sick. I understand if you don't feel you can eat anything right now."
"I – feel better." What was he doing? Why was he being nice to her? "I could try a little something."
"Excellent." He sounded relieved. "I only hope that fool guard hasn't cost us an enjoyable evening - Well, as pleasant an evening as can be had under the circumstances." He motioned, and his aide leaned over an intercom microphone.
This man is old enough to be my father. What is this? Another part encouraged her to enjoy it while she could.
This room was perhaps the size of a motel room, without a bed in the middle of it. She saw a door in one wall, shut. Bedroom? A slight quiver passed through her at the thought. Get a grip. If he wanted that, he'd be taking it right now.
Two men, masked like all the others she had seen so far, wearing cook's aprons, wheeled in a steam table. Working a little too quickly, they removed several covered dishes and placed them on the dining table. She saw their hands tremble.
One of the men displayed two reasonably-sized steaks. They did not look overdone or dry to her.
"They look good," Katse allowed.
"Thank you, sir."
They're afraid of him. No: they're terrified. Who are these people?
With silent efficiency, the men dished out the steaks, a substance resembling instant mashed potatoes, another resembling brown gravy, and the mixed vegetables she had seen a thousand times before on her lunch tray. Just like school. Except for the steaks.
At a word, the two men beat a retreat.
The aide approached with a water carafe.
"Our beverage selection is water," Katse said. "You are under age. Even if you were of age, I could not honestly offer anything stronger. The captain's taste in alcohol would offend your classmates."
That bad, huh?
The aide poured. Katse murmured in his ear, and he went out.
She tried the steak. Not up to Cousin Wally's standards (whose could be?), closer to Waffle House, and much better than she had expected.
Her host made a non-committal noise.
With all that had happened, supper had been the last thing on her mind. As she ate, her appetite came back.
Hunger did not keep her from observing Lord Katse. About all she could tell about him as a person was that he was northern European (to judge by his coloring), and not round-headed. There seemed a hint of an accent, which she couldn't place. He had plainly learned etiquette from a master. Grace and elegance marked every gesture and movement. Were this a movie, he would be an exiled prince or something.
And really, she had to be impressed: the nose of his mask extended one or two inches past his own nose (or so she estimated), yet he drank without difficulty from his glass.
He had a great tailor. The blue-purple mask fit him almost like one in a comic book. She could barely see any wobble in the 'ears'. His blue-purple - shirt? tunic? - defined 'fit like a glove', and he had the build to carry it off without looking like an overstuffed sausage.
"How do you feel?"
The sudden question, and the concern in his voice, derailed her train of thought. She hid her confusion behind a drink of water. "Better." To her surprise.
"You do look better than you did when you came in here."
Of course he's concerned! I'm leverage. She took another long drink. He's good. "Thank you."
He raised his glass in salute.
He knows. I won't even try to match wits with him. He can read me like a picture book, and he has decades of experience. And really, what would a game of wits get her? All she had to do was wait. Dad would get them whatever they wanted, and she could go home.
She declined dessert, and he pressed a device on his belt.
Not going there. Nope. Even if she wanted to try an escape, she had no idea what that device did. She could find herself aiming a pager at a door.
He sat back in his chair. Was he about to pounce, or would they have something resembling 'a pleasant evening'?
"Despite your experience, we are professionals. In a few days, a week at the most, your father shall bring us what we want, and we shall return you to him. It is in our best interests to keep you safe."
Does he mean that?
"I do mean it. We did not get where we are by behaving like television characters. The men here were not properly led."
For all of a minute, she tried to read him, then gave up. "What will you do to them?"
"Investigate. Like any organization, we demand a certain amount of discipline and self-control from our members. Members who cannot, or will not, control themselves endanger their fellows and the organization itself. We have goals, Ms. Hartley, and we cannot achieve them if half the members are too selfish to participate."
"But, what will you do to them?"
"We are not hobbled by fear of public opinion or internal hypocrisy. The worst offenders, the ones who are a threat to us, will die. The ones who simply 'went along to get along' will be sent where they cannot get into trouble, and watched to ensure that they stay out of it. I assure you that we can outperform a Supermax prison when necessary."
Her chin burned where he'd gripped it a few hours before.
"I don't have to explain to you the importance of discipline and self-control. You understand why we have to be harsh."
I go to high school. I see the need for discipline and self-control every day.
"I ordered quarters prepared for you. None of the current base personnel will dare disturb you as long as you remain in designated areas. You watched those two from the kitchen. What did you think?"
"That they were afraid of you."
"They feared me because of what their comrades had done. I take my responsibilities seriously. Quite likely, they never did anything wrong, except by negligence. Most of the men here won't dare try anything, now. A few are mean-spirited, vindictive, or foolish enough to attack you because I am here, and I forbade them from harming you."
She clenched one hand. He can't be everywhere at once. It would only take a few minutes for them to take me somewhere. Only a few. He could be on the phone with Daddy, and I could be -
"I must apologize again," he said. He reached tentatively across the table, touched her clenched fingers. "I should not have said that." He wrapped his hand around hers. "There was no need for it. I didn't think."
Her other hand trembled with the effort to keep from clasping his. It's okay. Everything's fine. He'll protect me. I'm an investment. Besides, they couldn't be so foolish. Or would the threat of death make them reckless?
His aide silently entered the room. Katse squeezed her hand and let go, looking for all the world as if he did this every day.
Slowly, she unclenched her fist. Her skin tingled where he'd touched her. "It's – it's all right." She could still feel his hand on hers.
Silently, he rose from his seat and offered his arm. Old-fashioned manners.
She could feel wiry muscle beneath the layers of sleeve and glove.
He steered her towards a rather ordinary arrangement of cheap chairs and sofa around a coffee table near one wall. He settled her in one of the chairs, then went back to the dining table and returned with their glasses and the carafe of water.
"I've sent for replacements for this base," he said, refilling her glass. "I should have told you that, first."
She doubted a convoy would arrive in the morning.
"Men are not automobile parts. We cannot simply collect all that we need and put the base up on blocks for a day. I can move those identified as the most dangerous. That's happening as we talk."
"But," she said, almost whispering, "you have to rely on someone else to tell you who's bad."
"The captain wants to save himself. He has been very cooperative."
All it would take was one.
He tilted her head so that he could look into her eyes. "They will not escape and find you. I give you my word that I shall protect you."
What color were the eyes behind the blue lenses?
Embarrassed by the thought, she turned her head. Her book was on the coffee table.
"We searched your pack." He picked up the book and gave it to her.
Yes, they would. Looking for weapons, or another phone, or some small possession they could send Dad as proof they had her. "Are you - are you familiar with Bertrand Russell?"
"Somewhat."
Hanson loaded the dish-cart. All utensils accounted for, including both steak knives. The girl was either smarter than he thought, or Katse was that good.
He glanced over at the pair. His lord said something to make the girl laugh.
Katse was that good.
In the hallway, he handed Geary a ten. "You win."
"I was young, once."
"I still thought she'd be too afraid."
"Tia's crush on him was the usual sort. That girl spent hours listening to a freak describe raping her in every orifice and doing to her everything she could possibly imagine and a few things I'm sure couldn't be managed even with Galactor technology and free-fall. All she had during that time was the memory of Lord Katse sending you to get them off her. He was right about everything." Geary patted his arm. "Lord Katse knows what he's doing."
"I hope so. Yet, every time he does something like this, I wonder if that will be the time he miscalculates. I'm one of the escorts for the ones on his list. He asked me to keep Barlow alive for a while. After we trade the girl, the local news will carry the picture of a dead man. She'll see that picture."
"And we have a new recruit, or at least an ally." Before he could speak, she said, "He's not blowing smoke, here. These guys are a real danger to Galactor. Do you know what trips up regular serial criminals?"
"What?"
"They get cocky. Police don't find them, so they start thinking they're invulnerable. They leave evidence behind, or people see them, or they do something that points police their way. I don't think it's much different for a group of murderous idiots."
2230 hours. Geary was summoned to escort a jazzed, yet exhausted, Mina to her new quarters.
She took one look at the girl's dilated pupils and slightly flushed cheeks and thought, Welcome to a select company. Choosing a bantering tone, she asked, "Is this the ghost I coaxed up here not" - she pretended surprise at the time - "five hours ago?"
"It didn't seem like five hours. We talked about all sorts of things, and he listened to me. He didn't talk down to me or treat me like a little kid.
"I'm not stupid, I know he's not Mr. Nice Guy, but he's not a jerk, either. He does what he has to do. Nothing personal. Like with Dad's work. It could have been someone else they grabbed.
"They could have grabbed Deb, which would have been awful for everyone. Deb thinks she knows it all because her family used to move around a lot. Guys fall all over her, and she thinks she's so smart with them."
Genuine amusement filled Geary. She chuckled. "I think you're up past your bedtime."
"I am. It's my fault. He won't have a lot of time to spare tomorrow and I wanted to get all I could out of it. He knows stuff. I can't find that many adults who even know who Kant and Schopenhauer are, never mind talk about them."
"I know we're getting in some new blood, tomorrow. You may have to settle for an 18-year-old who's off duty." Geary smiled. "I think Lord Katse may have been surprised to find such a well-educated product of the Ameris public school system in his grasp."
"Oh, snap!"
"Here we are. This is your room. It's right next to mine." Not normal procedure. Her place was with her lord. "We set the lock so that only you, me, and Lord Katse can unlock it." Loading on the resigned disappointment (not entirely feigned), she said, "And Lord Katse is a gentleman, so you're perfectly safe."
With a blush and a squeal, Mina disappeared into her room.
Geary kept her face straight until she returned to Berg Katse. "Did you have fun, Lord Katse?" Only she could get away with the mocking tone of the question.
He turned and hung an arm over the back of the chair. "I did, but not entirely in the way you mean."
"Oh?"
"She's inexperienced, young, and innocent, but not all that naïve. She knew I was manipulating her, but she didn't know how or when. She made a few good attempts to match me, and knew enough to quit when she couldn't." No hint of mockery in his chuckle. "We both know people twice or thrice her age who aren't that self-aware. I was spared the tedium of playing to a fool's ego."
"She said you treated her like an adult."
"She's at that age. I remember you wanted the same thing at her age."
I wanted a lot more than that from you.
"I could see that she'd read that book to pieces. When we began talking about it, I found that she understood more of it than I anticipated. It was quite an interesting discussion."
"So it wasn't all a con."
"The best cons always have a little truth to them."
And he was good at keeping the distinction. "What will you do with her?"
"She has a first-rate mind. The longer she's here, the more she will see and hear.
"She also has a growing body. I can use that to distract her."
"Blond, brunet, or black hair?" she asked, each syllable bringing her closer to him. "Whichever you choose, make yourself look younger than, say, 18. I've no doubt her schoolmates give her hell because she looks older."
A few inches separated their faces. Long-smoldering desire held her in place, self-induced torture years in the making.
He stroked her jawline from her ear to the point of her chin. "Someone who finally understands," he said, ignoring her shuddering inhalation.
Why do I do this to myself? "Yes. A bit awkward. Nice. Not you." You beautiful bastard.
Geary curled up on the hard bed, cursing herself. Why did she torture herself this way? Why did she insist on getting close enough to invite intimacy when she knew nothing would ever come of it except mockery? Was she like those abused women who stay in a relationship for the sake of the few times it's great? Or was it to assure herself that, in a warped way, he still cared about her?
She had to be the only person in Galactor who had known Berg Katse when he was Sean Treil. They had attended the same school in Hontwarl, when he would disappear every other year, yet never have to catch up on his classes. Based on reasoning she could no longer remember, around the age of 11 or 12, she had decided she would marry him when they grew up. She was the only long-term friend he had. When others were old enough to start their first fumbling explorations, she had yet to even kiss his cheek, and learned to lie convincingly. He had disappeared again, in the same year her mother hauled her to England.
Someone returned the letters she wrote, and she eventually stopped writing. She finished university with a degree in criminology, just in time for a job crunch. She lost her virginity to a rape she could not even remember.
Two years later, a Galactor recruiter found her working two jobs to support a child she could not love. She turned the girl over to them for placement.
And then the day Leader X announced Lord Berg Katse as his voice and right arm. She had seen still pictures of Katse, but when she saw him on the video monitor and heard him speak, she recognized him.
Then, in the normal course of things, she was assigned to his staff. He knew her right away, of course, while she pretended she didn't recognize him. It had been one thing to deceive confused, nervous classmates. He hadn't been fooled for even a half second.
Four weeks into her assignment, he had told her that exactly three people knew of their prior relationship. The number could always be reduced. It would be a shame for Galactor to lose her skills and talents.
If there had ever been a chance for them, it had gone long ago. She understood his meaning, and resigned herself to being close enough to touch him, but never to have or hold him. He belonged to Galactor.
Just stay at arm's length, you silly cow. Stay away from him after hours. Don't give him the chance to hurt you anymore.
Great advice. Just what she would tell a little sister, or a friend, or a daughter.
The good thing was that he never threw anything back at her. He mocked her, ignored her, and tormented her, but he never, ever used her confidences against her.
She envied the Hartley girl. Once away from here, among friends and family, with a few nights' sleep in a decent bed, her feelings would change. Mina wouldn't shake with unresolved passion every time she thought of her captor. In a few years, she would understand the reasons for her feelings, and laugh at herself.
O200. Mina jerked awake, eyeing the darkness. "Hello?"
She fumbled for the light switch, hoping/fearing for a strong hand to take hold of hers, to hear a certain harsh voice whisper in her ear.
Light flooded the tiny room. Empty.
Feeling at once relieved and disappointed, she turned out the light. She rearranged the blankets and wriggled around on the uncomfortable mattress.
I must have fallen asleep as soon as I hit the pillow. She'd thought she couldn't sleep. She had intended to rest a bit, then take a shower.
Was this normal? Shouldn't she be more afraid?
She didn't have to be. Lord Katse told her she was safe.
Lord Katse. Unlike any man she had ever met, which didn't mean much. How many men did a girl her age meet? Elegant and dangerous. Intelligent. Ruthless. Willing and able to do and say whatever was required to accomplish his goals.
Who was under the mask? How much of his behavior had been an act?
Their philosophy discussion was real. No amount of Cliff's Notes would have given Katse the knowledge he needed to carry his end. He had read Russell, Kant, and the other philosophers, thought about them, and argued about them before. Unlike other adults, he hadn't found her interest 'cute' or unnerving. He had listened to what she had to say, and made his own points.
He lied. She knew that. Probably half of what he told her was a lie. Not about discipline or professionalism. His concern and sympathy for her was an act. It had to be. He was concerned for his organization and its goals. If protecting her helped him, he would protect her.
She'd kissed Randy, and they'd petted a little. Over the clothes. But she had never felt - well, like this. She hadn't ached for his touch.
Yes, I'd give it up to Lord Katse. Am I a fool, or what?
Her thoughts drifted as sleep stole up on her.
0900. She woke more slowly. Her earlier awakening seemed a dream.
She felt sticky. Not much of a surprise. She'd slept in her clothes. Time to shower. That would help a little.
Cold water. She wanted to wake up.
Cheap soap and shampoo in the tiny bathroom. She giggled at an image of green-clad, armed men shopping at the dollar store, or bidding for used institutional fixtures and tableware. And Lord Katse yearning to bid on the Biltmore Estate while kicking around in a double-wide.
Oh, you had to do that. She opened up the cold water tap.
When she stepped out, she inspected her face. A couple of zits were making an appearance. She had pretty good luck with acne. Unlike most of her friends, she didn't regard it as a sure road to perdition. It happened, you bought the right medicine if you needed it, it went away.
Her hair usually needed no care. But not today. The shower water must be hard as a rock. She did what she could with comb and towel. Someone had left rubber bands in the medicine cabinet. A ponytail was better than nothing.
She shook out her clothes and dressed. Not much chance they'd have anything she could wear.
Her stomach growled. Breakfast time.
Cautiously, she opened the door. Beside the door was a box, with a note that read, 'Breakfast.'
She glanced up and down the hall. Except for an armed man at each end, empty.
Before she took in the box, she studied the armed men. Had they come with Lord Katse, or had they arrived early this morning? She noticed the blue portions of their uniforms had a hint of purple.
She set the box on the tiny fold-down table she discovered beside her bed. Inside she found a bagel, an assortment of spreads, and in an insulated compartment a single-serve carton each of orange juice and milk, still cold.
Feeling sportive, she cut the bagel and spread cream cheese on one half and strawberry jam on the other, and ate with alternating bites. When she finished, she put the trash in the box and opened the door to set it out in the corridor.
A young man jumped back from the door. "Sorry!" he said, holding up empty hands. He was all of sixteen, if his chin and mouth were any indication. "I, uh, came to get that. The box."
Oh, no. They sent the company virgin to her? "I just finished. I must have gotten up late compared to you guys."
"Uh, well, I was told to knock. If you'd finished, I was to go away and let you put the box out, then come for it after you closed the door." He brightened. "You're that girl. The hostage." He winced and blushed.
"Well, yes, I am. Don't be shy." She held it out to him. "I opened the door on you, so I think it's okay for you to take it from my hands."
He tried to run a nervous hand through his hair, but his mask got in the way. "There's usually a reason for our orders."
And he didn't want to get into trouble, and she didn't want to cause him any trouble. "Well, then, go around the corner and I'll put the box out."
The woman from the previous night opened her door. "It's all right, Private. For this once, you can take the box from her."
"Yes, Sergeant." He half-snatched it and scurried away.
Mina giggled. "Is he one of the new men?"
"He arrived early this morning, along with those two and several others." She pointed to the men on guard. "I think a certain aide decided you needed someone closer to your own age to talk to."
"No girls?"
"Not available in your age."
"Um, what should I do for my meals?"
"He'll bring them and pick them up. We'd prefer that you not wander around too much. Fewer things we have to hide from you that way."
Oh, God. "I bet there's no library."
"Not of the sort of books you like to read."
Ooh. Right. "Same with games?"
"There's a television behind a wall panel. No local stations. All the cable channels, including the disgusting ones. We did figure out how to block them on yours. There's a rec room around here, somewhere. I'm not sure I want to see what they put on the walls."
Television. Better than nothing.
"Wait. God, I still have morning brain and I've been up for hours." The woman ducked back into her room and brought out Mina's backpack. "You could always do your homework."
Nice touch, lady. "Thank you. That should occupy this morning."
"I came up here to catch a few winks before my real day begins. I have to go, now, but let me show you a few things about your room."
The television, and a call panel. "If you want anything, tell the operator what you want. This button will connect directly to me. We don't expect trouble from any source, but I'd hate to find out you choked to death on a chicken bone or something."
"Okay. Thank you. Uh, can I see that young man at other times?"
"Under the circumstances, only in common areas. I think you understand."
"Can't have people saying Lord Katse plays Cupid, huh?"
"Close enough."
She figured a really resentful Galactor agent might make a few phone calls after the trade, or start spreading stories. If people were intimidated by Katse, they might choose to believe the stories. Then there would be discipline problems all through the organization.
Should I tell them that I heard that name, 'Galactor'? She didn't want to seem sneaky or uncooperative. She wanted to go home.
Homework did take up the morning. The young man left lunch, this time a hot roast beef sandwich with several condiment packets, French fries, and a can of soda.
She turned on the television, and found a movie channel. The movie being shown looked like one of those whacked-out Asian films that made her wonder what drugs the crew used. She couldn't follow the plot, so channel-surfed all the way around.
"Crap."
She stepped out into the hallway. The guards tensed. "I'm getting a bit stir-crazy. I'm going to take a little walk."
"We've marked the safe area for you, per Lord Katse's orders." The speaker looked a bit older, more around Uncle Brad's age than her father's.
"Thank you." She wasn't going to get too close to that border. No use tempting fate.
Aside from a few arrows and signs, there were no decorations on the walls. Whoever had designed this place hadn't thought about the people in it, she thought. No wonder they'd turned into monsters.
Stop thinking about it.
She paid attention to her route. Doors lined the corridors, all identical, with little holders in the center. The 'locked' icon glowed on each one.
They acted fast. Which meant Lord Katse had not been tricking her about some things. Too many locked, unlabelled, rooms for a show. And guards at each major intersection.
Up a flight of stairs, and she found the game room. Four soldiers hastily shoved magazines out of sight, and two at the pool table cleared their throats as if they had been caught cursing.
"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Just looking around."
"You must be our guest," said another woman, seated just out of sight. She stood up and waved to her comrades. "Come on, honey. Some of us gals are rehabilitating another room."
Mina waved her fingers at the other soldiers. One grinned reassuringly at her.
"He's okay. They're all okay."
Down the hall, she stopped. "Maybe I shouldn't. I mean, I don't want to see too much for you to let me go."
"You're taking smart too far. Trust me, anything you can tell the police will be outdated two seconds after you leave here. We've been doing this for a while."
The other room also had a pool table, but no hurried magazine-stashing. One woman was cleaning out her opponent at cards, and two at the pool table were locked in a game. Another couple glared at a chess board.
"You play?" her escort asked.
"A little. You did mean chess?"
"Any of these."
"Never played pool. What's that card game?"
"Poker."
"Never played that."
"Well, let your corruption begin." The woman unwrapped a pack of cards.
Two hours later: "You're sure you don't play?"
"Never."
"You're a natural."
Mom and Dad will be scandalized. "Thank you, I think."
The woman checked her watch. "I have duty. Let me take you back to your room. It's on the way."
As they approached her room, she spotted the young soldier. He carried a shrink-wrapped bundle.
"Nice ass," her companion said. "Too bad he's so young. Bye."
Were all women soldiers so direct? Still, he did have a nice, tight, butt. Oh, God, now I'm doing it! She hoped he hadn't heard. "Hello."
He turned. Pink flushed his cheeks. "I heard that."
She felt her face grow hot.
"It would have been different if you'd said it. It's sort of creepy from adults."
He looked so uncomfortable that she changed the subject: "What's that?" She pointed at the bundle.
"For you. I mean, your room. Bed linens."
"You were going to knock and leave them?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I can take them right now."
He hesitated.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want to screw up. Lord Katse is here. I've heard stories about him."
"Okay. Just leave them at my door. Then, could you show me around?"
"I'm still on duty. But in a couple of hours, if you could be in the hallway -?"
"Sure."
Geary's intercom buzzed. "Yes?"
"Thomas, ma'am. The Hartley girl found her way to the rec room. She plays a mean game of poker."
"Poker?"
"Of course, she was playing me. If she played that cute little number in the hallway, she'd lose big-time."
Cute little number?
"Are we recruiting out of junior high school?"
"Oh, that guy. He's eighteen. He just looks young."
"Lock up your daughters."
Geary chuckled. "Carry on, Thomas."
After the other signed off, she locked the door and laughed out loud. Lord Katse a 'cute little number'?
He's probably laughing his ass off over whatever she did say about him. Mostly over how she would react if she found out who she'd teased.
"You're eighteen! No way!" Mina exclaimed. She stared across the dining room table. "You look my age."
"Huh?" He matched her stare. "What?"
Right. He didn't know. "I'm only fifteen."
"Oh, damn. And here I'd been hoping I might be able to find you after all this and" -– he lowered his voice -– "ask you out."
"Excuse me?"
"You're cute. And nice. I could find you in a couple of years. I don't think you'd call the cops on me."
This was nuts. She had to be blushing up a storm. He was a crook! How could she not call the police if he called her?
"Well, in a couple of years, you'll be eighteen."
"Oh, please."
"A man can hope, right?"
She trembled despite herself. This was too much. Even though she knew Lord Katse was lying to her, she still burned at the memory of his touch. And now this guy said he liked her.
"Oh, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." He slapped his forehead. "I always say the wrong thing."
"Well, I thought you knew. I mean, Lord Katse told me that he was moving people in because of what happened."
"Wait, what? You said that - You met Lord Katse? In person? He spoke to you?" She imagined that his eyes must be as huge and round as saucers.
"Last night. He was mad about the way I'd been treated. It wasn't professional."
He whistled. "I've heard there are men who never even hear his voice. He doesn't talk to hostages except to tell them what he wants." He leaned forward. "What was he like?"
"I was scared. Of the men who'd kidnapped me, and of him. Sort of. I mean - Oh, I can't explain it." Not to a guy.
"I did it again. Said the wrong thing. Stupid me. You're still scared, and I go saying all this dumb stuff. I'm sorry." He stood. "I'll take you back to your room before I really put my foot in it."
"Is she shaken, or stirred, sir?" Geary asked, when Katse walked through the door of his quarters.
"Shaken," he said, his voice at odds with the young face. He entered the bedroom.
"Do you plan to do this all week?"
"I don't think the men can keep straight faces that long. One of them had to hide behind his gun when Thomas complimented my 'nice ass.' I think, tomorrow or the day after, our young stud will be panic-stricken. Lord Katse will come across him reading a porn magazine."
"Nice young man, curious about that sort of thing," Geary said, "finds a magazine and a quiet spot, and next thing he knows, the boss walks in." She crossed to the bedroom doorway. "And she'll be sympathetic, because she's a good-hearted girl and he was - ?"
Berg Katse, in full dress, filled the doorway. "Nice. Not me." He lifted her chin.
No one is you. "Then what do we do with her?"
"Her father is to call tomorrow, so that we can show him that she's safe. I will be properly sympathetic towards her reaction to that. That will keep her off-balance. She will see her young admirer, at least for another day. Then he will be transferred to another part of the base, leaving her with short, tantalizing visits. If her father comes through in the next day or so, that much may not be necessary."
"And then we blindfold her and drop her off."
"And keep an eye on her."
"What for?"
"If I'm right about her, she could make an excellent agent."
Breakfast. This time, a single-serving box of cereal with a bowl, a bagel and spreads, milk, and orange juice. She found a decent movie, a Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes, and settled in for the rest of the morning.
A knock at the door. "It's me," said the woman who worked for Katse. "Your father is due to call in fifteen minutes."
Daddy? Mina shot into the bathroom and fussed with her hair until she realized it was no use. Another rubber band.
The yellow-clad woman walked her to a different room. "There will be a delay on the signal, so don't panic if he doesn't react right away when you talk."
"You're bouncing it around so the cops can't trace it, right? I watch TV."
"Or we have a cheap connection. There will be a screen behind you." She gripped Mina's upper arm. "We really don't want to harm you, so don't say or do anything that could seem like a signal. Some of the men are a bit nervous about those things."
"Okay. But I couldn't tell them anything, anyway." She wanted to go home. She wasn't about to mess it up.
"I know, but I had to tell you that." She hesitated a beat. "Lord Katse will be there, also."
Oh, God. You can do this.
Another small room, this time with a webcam-equipped laptop in front of a photographic backdrop of the Alps. Lord Katse, elegant as she remembered, stood to one side of a non-descript chair. "Welcome, Ms. Hartley. Right on time."
"Yes, sir."
"Sit. We want your father to see you at ease, or at least not fidgeting in your seat."
She obeyed, feeling the familiar tingle of mixed fear and desire.
The laptop started, and her father's nervous face appeared. For a few too many seconds, he peered anxiously without speaking, then: "Mina? Are you all right?"
"Yes, Dad. I'm fine."
Katse leaned over beside her. "Mr. Hartley, do you have what I requested?"
Too many seconds.
Her father stared at them. "What are you supposed to be?"
Katse's mouth twisted in a snarl. "Answer me!"
"Daddy, please. Give them what they want."
More time dragged. "I'm sorry. I almost have it. It's not as easy as I thought."
"We won't wait forever."
"Tomorrow, the day after at the latest. Mina, you're sure you're okay? They haven't hurt you?"
"I'm just fine, Daddy. I want to go home." She blinked back tears and swallowed a sob.
"You have until Friday," Katse warned, and hit the switch.
Mina wrapped her arms around herself. Two more days, not counting today. If anything went wrong, they would have to hurt her.
Katse put a hand on her shoulder. "I believe your father will succeed," he said gently.
"I – I know he will. I'm just afraid something will happen that he didn't count on." Then they'd have to kill her.
"Come along," Katse urged, offering his arm. "You shouldn't stay here."
She went with him, fighting back tears. It was real again, not an adventure. Instinctively, she clung to his arm, wanting the comfort of the contact.
Katse handed her off to his female assistant. "Take care of her." He touched the side of her face. "I'm certain everything will be all right for you."
"Th-thank you."
"Come on, honey," the woman coaxed. "Everything will be fine."
She cried for a couple of hours in her quarters. When she was cried out, she opened the door and found a boxed lunch. Cold fried chicken, cole slaw, and enough soda to drown her sorrows. Afterwards, she surfed to a comedy channel. What the hell was Monty Python's Flying Circus?
Insane enough to make her laugh.
Suppertime came and went. Roast beef, real potatoes, corn on the cob. Rich chocolate cake. Comfort food.
Next morning, she felt a little better. Daddy would come through. He always did.
She decided to go to the dining room for breakfast. Maybe there would be something hot, like eggs or sausage.
Not many people in there. She picked out scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, and sat in a far corner.
This day would last forever, she thought.
I can't stay in my room. Maybe they'll let me in on a game of pool.
She went up to the women's recreation room. One of the pool sharks offered to teach her the game. "Guys don't expect us to know how to play," she said, racking the balls. "Hold the cue this way."
Even though this woman would kill her on orders, Mina forgot her troubles for a few hours.
Her stomach reminded her of lunch. As she entered the dining room, she spotted the young man. He saw her and looked embarrassed and stricken.
"What's wrong?" She sat across from him.
"No. It's too dumb."
"You can tell me. I won't laugh."
After hemming and hawing, he said, "I found one of those magazines. The kind my dad has and I never get to look at. You know. The girly ones."
"Not really." She could barely guess. Naked women, but what else?
"Anyway, I had it, and I thought I was in a safe spot, and I was looking at it. Next thing I knew, Lord Katse was standing over me."
Oh, no. "What happened?"
"I made a complete idiot of myself. I don't remember what I said. I must have said or done something right, because I got away. Thank God I wasn't on duty."
That put last week's little incident at school into a whole new perspective. "I think you'd know if you were in trouble."
"I hope so. And it wasn't even worth it."
"What wasn't?"
"The magazine. It was horrible. Who could take those kinds of pictures? Those poor women. What did they do to them?"
"I don't know. But I'm sure it'll work out for you. Lord Katse didn't strike me as the type to delay."
"I suppose." He brightened. "Can I get you some lunch?"
"Sure."
She watched an old television series on a nostalgia channel. A fact-based crime series in black and white.
The intercom blipped. She pressed the button. "Yes? Who's this?"
"Me. Your father called. He was successful. We make the trade tomorrow." Katse's male assistant.
Relief gushed through Mina. "Really?"
"Really." A friendly laugh. "I hope this helps you. I know you've been under pressure."
"It does. Thank you."
Home. Oh, this would be great. She could take a decent shower and change her clothes. A comfortable bed.
Berg Katse smiled. "I fully expect he'll hand over 95% of what we want."
"Oh?" Geary glanced up.
"Would you give a kidnapper everything? He'll hold back. He doesn't know that we will extrapolate everything he doesn't include."
She finished the transfer plan. "Here, sir."
He examined it carefully. "If there are any police, we'll have them all over the countryside. Good work."
No breakfast this morning. The sergeant put a thick cloth bag over her head and wrapped several turns of something around her eyes and ears. Then she tied Mina's wrists and ankles. Thus muffled, she was laid in what felt to her like another van. Whoever drove the vehicle cranked up the Quiet Riot (classic heavy metal?) and peeled out.
She didn't try to keep track of where they were going. Too many turns in the road, stops, starts, and a few reverses. A couple of times, she thought she felt the vehicle go airborne for several minutes. Just like before.
Then the vehicle slowed and stopped. Someone unwrapped her head, cut the tape on her wrists and ankles, and said, "Count to sixty five times. Then remove the bag."
"Okay."
"I'll help you out. There's a step. Good."
She sat and counted as directed. Sure, one count of sixty was probably enough, but she wasn't taking the chance. She didn't want some report to read, "She almost made it home, but then she removed the blindfold too soon."
"Hey." She recognized the road. Home was that way. Dropping the bag and ropes, she set out.
It looked early, perhaps eight in the morning. A touch of humidity in the air made the walk less comfortable than it could have been.
A police car slowly approached. She stopped. She saw the officer in the passenger seat check a clipboard.
The police car stopped, and the officer got out. "Mina Hartley?"
"Yes." Relief filled her.
"Thank God. Your father sent us. Come on."
Both her parents were at the police station. Neither looked as if they'd slept much. "Mom! Dad!"
The lead investigator separated the family hug, apologizing and explaining. She had to be questioned, and examined by a doctor. Every minute they waited was a minute her kidnappers had to escape. Reluctantly, her parents let go.
Because the police knew nothing of Galactor, they made the logical presumption that she had been kidnapped by criminals hired by a firm competing with her father's employer. They saw a girl who had been taken by force and kept prisoner until her father had paid the ransom.
Mina resolved to keep it simple. She would not volunteer information, and answer only what she was asked. Since it was not important (certainly not now), and because she did not want to distress her parents or throw off the investigators, she would not mention the rape threats.
They asked about her captors. She told them that they all dressed alike in green-and-blue uniforms and wore masks. No, she wasn't certain how many there were, but there were a couple of women among them. They called their leader 'Lord Katse', and he wore purple, with a cloak.
Where was she held? She never saw the outside, so she had no idea. They had kept her in a small room, like a motel room, but smaller. Someone left her meals outside the door.
After the questioning, she was taken to a hospital for a physical. The doctors confirmed that, aside from a few mild bruises, she was unhurt.
Her parents had been asked to bring fresh clothes for her. The ones she had worn were bagged and taken to forensics for examination.
Over the weekend, Mina had a number of arguments with her parents. In their zeal to protect her, they had decided one of them would drive her to school and pick her up. She pointed out that she had been grabbed at lunch, when she had gone to the store. The gang could have taken her at any time, anyway. If Mom had been with her, they might have kidnapped or hurt her, too.
Another argument came about returning to school. They thought she needed time to recover, to heal, perhaps to see a professional. She didn't want to spend time in an office rehashing her captivity. What good would it do to tell her feelings and be told what she already knew: that it was natural to be afraid, to be cooperative so that she would be released, and so on and so forth. In reality, she feared revealing things she had not told the police. She didn't want any trouble. Fortunately, her parents acceded to her arguments, to avoid 'further traumatizing' her.
So, that Monday, she returned to school and turned in her homework.
Her classmates weren't certain how to react. Deb wanted all the 'gory details', and was disappointed that there weren't any. The rest were at once aghast at Deb's temerity, yet eager to hear the answers.
Her teachers were sympathetic, but professional.
She awoke every night, at once relieved and disappointed at her empty room and bed. Two men's voices whispered in her mind's ear.
Thursday, Randy approached her at school, contrite and apologetic. He'd made a mistake. He shouldn't have dumped her. That was a big mistake. When she'd disappeared, he'd realized that he couldn't live without her. Couldn't they get back together?
Her friends waited for the reconciliation and the happily-ever-after.
She wanted to accept his apology and take him back. They'd had some good times.
She refused. He had dumped her once; he could do it again. He and his friends might talk about big breasts, but when he finally had a chance at them, Randy had dumped her for a girl with peach-pits and no hips. What excuse would he use next time? She would not set herself up for disappointment again.
That's not what she said. Steeling herself, she told him that he had made his choice. Good luck with it.
Saturday, her father told her that he'd tricked her kidnappers. He had given them only part of what they'd asked for, and substituted older data to make it look complete. The police were on the watch.
Oh, no. These people knew where they lived, and she had no doubt that they could take revenge before the police knew anything.
She spent a tense weekend.
Wednesday of the second week, the local news media carried the discovery of a murdered man. No identification. Their pictures were the creepy ones made by modifying a photo of the dead to simulate life.
She gasped and leaned forward, froze the image.
Him. The man who had threatened her for hours. His mask had concealed his upper face, but she recognized the shape of his face, and an oval scar on his jaw. It had looked like a bite. This dead man had the same scar.
Someone had shot this man in the head.
Thursday, a mysterious text message on her phone: 'You're safe.'
The lead investigator had told her to report anything that seemed like contact from the kidnappers. She held the phone for several minutes, debating.
She had talked for hours with Katse, about philosophy and the world. Since then, as she thought about it, she had come to the conclusion that Galactor (what a cheesy name!) had goals she could agree with, even if she might quibble with the methods. The organization worked as it did because people would not or could not understand those goals.
She hit 'erase'. If asked, she could always say that she had thought it a wrong number.
Then a new realization hit her: it didn't matter that her father had tried to trick them. Whatever data they had demanded, there had been enough for their purposes.
But why take the risk of telling her she was safe?
What risk? That text had probably been routed 20 times around the world. These guys knew what they were doing.