Arnold Thompson's private jet taxied into one of the terminals at Heathrow. It had been a long journey from Topeka and then LaGuardia. But he was used to jet lag having taken this journey many times before to meet with his British followers who believed in his philosophy.
He grabbed his briefcase as well as his suitcase and headed for Her Majesty's Customs and Excise. As he usually did when he came to London, he scowled in this lineup. For to one side was an express line for citizens of the European Union. Back in an earlier day, the preferred line was for Commonwealth citizens, of which he was one as he was born in Canada. He hoped that the United Kingdom would go back to the old days.
At last he found himself in front of a man in his thirties.
"Citizenship?" the agent asked.
"Dual citizen, Canada and the United States. I am traveling on my American passport for this visit."
"Duration of the visit?"
"Only twenty-four hours. I'm checking in on my London office before I head towards my final destination."
"And where would that be?"
"Jerusalem. I'm flying into Tel Aviv."
The agent scowled. This was a rather odd travel plan.
"Why just twenty-four hours, sir?" asked the agent.
"I have a meeting with the Patriarch of Jerusalem. He is one of the only people that can get my application to have my church's application for registration as an official denomination approved."
By this point, the passport had been scanned, and the agent's screen turned red. Thompson could not see this.
"Sir ... are you the Pastor General of the Reconstructed Church of God in Topeka, Kansas?" inquired the agent.
"I am," said Thompson.
"The Patriarch is Catholic." The agent was buying time until another agent could take over. "You are well known in this country for being anti-Catholic."
"Correction, sir. I am against the Vatican. I have no problems with Catholics, in fact the Patriarch has approved several tours of the Holy Land run by my church in previous years."
"Then why not just fly to Ben Gurion, and do your business here on the way back?"
"I have a set schedule. I do everything outbound, and fly back direct inbound."
"All right sir, would you take your suitcase and briefcase down the hall to inspection room 'C', for a secondary inspection."
"I've never had to do that before!" exclaimed Thompson, annoyed.
"We randomly select travelers for this. We're going to inspect your baggage. It's probably nothing, but we just want to be sure."
Without comment, Thompson walked down the hallway to the assigned room. In front of him stood a slender but muscular woman, in the distinctive uniform of Scotland Yard. She was Ashley. Lucy's friend. Since she and Ruthie had met, Ashley decided to leave the bond trading business and join her boyfriend Jeremy as a cop.
"Good afternoon, Reverend Thompson," Ashley said.
Thompson looked at her lapel, which had her first and last name on it.
"Excuse me, officer ... but it's kind of weird. I just met someone the other day with your same name. Except she spells it -"
"L-E-I-G-H?" interrupted Ashley, in no mood for chitchat, although she added, "Yeah. My name gets misspelled on court documents all the time. Since I'm originally from the South, people back there thought it was spelt the way you said."
"You're American?" asked Thompson, surprised.
"Yes, can't you tell from my accent? But I've lived here the last ten years with my common-law. Now sir, you have been pulled over for a secondary not because of a random selection process, but rather because we received a call while you were in-flight from LaGuardia about the real purposes of your trip. I cannot tell you who the source is or the nature of what was said. Often times it's just a call from someone who has a grudge. However, we can't take any chances. Please open up your luggage."
Ashley was secretly praying that the source was right.
Thompson opened up his luggage. Inside were clothes, toiletries, an electric shaver and sunscreen. Odd for the winter, thought Ashley, until she remembered Tel Aviv was a year round resort.
"All right, that's fine sir. Now will you please open up your briefcase," she said.
Thompson obliged. Inside were a stack of papers - copies of his sermons - and a laptop, along with several DVDs and data sticks.
"Turn on the laptop, please," said the agent.
The minister did this as well. There was nothing on the hard-drive other than more of his sermons and a balance sheet for his ministry for the previous four quarters.
"Okay, let's take a look at the DVDs."
To ensure there was no funny business, Ashley put the first disk into her own laptop. Then the second, then the third.
"Into lesbian films, Reverend?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Thompson had no idea how the disks had gotten into his briefcase. He was certain they had been switched. But who would have done it?
"As long as they aren't being tortured or raped, there's nothing illegal about that, is there?" he asked, neither confirming nor denying ownership.
"Yes, but you need a permit to import them, sir. Normally this would be a large fine, but given your lack of issues with us before, we may be able to let you through with a small duty. Now we'll look at the sticks."
Ashley took a deep breath, then put in the first stick. Then the second. Then the third and fourth.
She took another deep breath, and counted to sixty. Finally she addressed Thompson.
"Sir," she said, "these cards contain explicit images of females under the age of sixteen, the line for statutory rape. Some, from what I see, as young as four. Many of them, being raped and quite malevolently. It appears on the face of it that you are in violation of the Sex Offenses Act of 2003. The maximum penalty under our statutes is fourteen years, for each offense. Would you please explain where you got these materials ... and why?"
Thompson could not believe that this was happening to him. And then it struck him.
Two nights before, wanting to have some fun, he went to the red light district of Topeka. About halfway up the strip were two young women who looked like they were eighteen or nineteen. Their dress could only be described as someone only wenches would wear. He asked them for their names.
"I'm Samantha, and this is my twin Ashleigh." The sisters had a phone call earlier that morning with the detained Arnold Jr, who said his father trolled the street twice a week. The girls had lucked out that this was one of those nights.
"Sisters!" Thompson said gleefully. "This is going to be fun. Want to have a good time?"
"What are we worth to you?" asked Ashleigh.
"I want the Big Kahuna. I'll do both of you for a thousand bucks."
Several of the other women on the drag did a double-take. One thousand dollars?
One hour earlier, Samantha and Ashleigh showed up. The other women were suspicious of the new arrivals, until they explained their mission. The women warned the sisters that Thompson was on their "Bad Date" list, meaning a man who was looking for really rough sex or even rape. Since he had gone through all the usual women, Thompson went to other parts of town where street walkers were not too familiar with the code and ended up at the wrong end. They couldn't say anything because they thought that they too would have been charged - for tax evasion, since they were in the black market.
So when Thompson offered the large price, it took the regulars by surprise. It looked like he didn't care he was having sex with minors (the women knew the sisters' real age after they told them), and was desperate since he kept getting turned down. But the sisters knew they had their mark in their grasp.
"Deal!" said Samantha.
The sisters went into the car, and Thompson drove off. What he did not know is he was closely followed by Diana and Wesley, and two local cops, in unmarked vehicles. They had instructed Ashleigh and Samantha on what to do. They had a magnetic bug which they were told to place on the table lamp when they entered his bedroom. They were given a safe word to use in case they got in trouble so the police could bust in. Finally, Samantha and Ashleigh were told exactly what materials to get from Thompson, and nothing more.
They demanded payment as soon as they got to his manor. They shared some drinks, then Samantha put GHB in his drink while his back was turned. Then, with Ashleigh taking Thompson's hands and leading the way, they went to his bedroom, his judgement somewhat impaired by the illegal drug. Ashleigh planted the bug. Then the sisters got to work. For the next three hours, the women and Thompson had three way sex. The sisters were disgusted they had to make love to each other again, but then picked up the pace when they realized how turned on Thompson was getting at that. They also subjected themselves to being penetrated both ways, quite roughly, after Sam and David said it was okay, but they made sure to use separate condoms, and they brought along the morning after pill just to be sure.
As Thompson finally was spent and collapsed on his bed, the sisters got to work. Searching the room, they found his briefcase. They replaced the disks that had extensive data on his illegal bond trading and replaced them with the skin films. (The sisters had watched one of them on the flight to Topeka, and they found themselves almost turned on.) They went to the data sticks. One had more financial data, one had a list of every nuclear facility in the world and how to compromise them, the third was a list of televangelists who shared his deigns for Doomsday, and the last was the start and stop codes of the device designed to blow up Hebron. This they replaced with the disgusting images that had been supplied by the police officers. As soon as Samantha and Ashleigh left his house, they promptly handed over the damning information to Diana and Wesley. They also handed over the money.
"Keep it," said Diana. "After your performance, guys, you deserve it!" The sisters were driven to the hospital for a rush test for AIDS and Hepatitis C, taken from the man stain inside the condoms. They were thankful it was negative.
As soon as they got back to their hotel room, the sisters showered up separately, for twenty minutes each. It wasn't just their joint moral filth they wanted to cleanse, but Thompson's decadence too for putting them in positions Sam and David never did to them, because the brothers thought it was wrong to treat their women that way. They then sent a text message to Scotland Yard. This was followed by a call about a day and a half later from Lucy.
In the inspection room, Thompson realized he had been set up. But he wasn't going to complain.
"Sir," said Ashley, "I have to put you under arrest." Then, using the British version of Miranda, she added: "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later may rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay."
Ashley promptly arrested him. As soon as he arrived at the police station to be booked, he lawyered up.
She then sent a text message to Saint Louis.
Ashleigh, Samantha, Maighread and Rhiannon were in the church library, putting back some religious books that parishioners had borrowed then returned, and pulling out others that had been booked out.
Samantha's phone buzzed.
"Good job, girlz, we got him!" texted Ashley.
The four girls hugged. Three down, one to go.