Chapter Fourteen
Completely oblivious to what was presently transpiring in town with the rest of his officers, in particular his security chief, Chris Larabee led the rest of the Maverick's senior staff into the collection of tents and shanties that made up infamous locale known as Wickestown. Prior to their arrival here, the chatter of the locals had told the Captain what to expect but to see the place for himself was nothing like their description. Many unsavory images were conjured up in his head when one spoke about bordellos and cat houses but Mr Wickes had created a new distinction of sleaze in the establishment he run in the middle of nowhere, miles from Four Corners.
To make matters worse, Chris was not entirely certain that confronting Mr Wickes and his cohorts was exactly the best way to proceed but if Picard's reports regarding Q were to be taken as gospel, the entity often liked being involved in the mischief it created. Chris was certain that Q wanted a ringside seat to watch them dancing to his tune. Since he did not appear to be around when Chris had confronted Top Hat Bob and Poplar did not seem to have an accomplice, Chris could only deduce that Q was watching from Wickes' side. Chris disliked the idea of having to deal with Mr Wickes who from Buck and Mary's account sounded like a true piece of vermin, but with Julia dead it was obvious they could not remain here when any of them might befall the same fate.
It was easy enough to sneak into the camp that made up Wickestown. There was such a large clientele that it was a simple matter for five people to go unnoticed. The atmosphere was lively even in broad daylight with half clad women visible at almost every tent they came across. Mary stayed closed to Chris, finding the whole concept rather odious even though such places still existed in the age that they lived in. The ladies for most part seemed neither unhappy or happy, their eyes wore the look of resignation that this was their life and they had accepted it. The lack of spirit in their eyes was more offensive to Mary than the fact that men with leering expressions were commandeering their attentions as if they were objects to be purchased.
The unfortunate reality of their profession made it true.
"This is disgusting." Mary hissed under her breath when she saw a young girl no more than sixteen, standing at the open flap of tent, cheeks reddened with too much rouge and her lips painted crimson, making her look older than she really was. The girl had smiled at JD, who swallowed visibly when she pulled down the sleeve of her shoulder and revealed an alabaster shoulder that was marred with a bruise.
"I don't know." Buck remarked with a hint of mischief. "I mean they are providing a service."
"Attaboy Buck," Vin retorted. "Show her your sensitive side." The helmsman was more comfortable with his Winchester now that he had used it accurately and had his hand poised to reach for it at a moment's notice.
"This was the way things were back then," Buck said unrepentant and as a matter of factly. "There were like twenty men to one woman. A man had to get some relief."
Chris slapped his hand over his face wondering if it was possible to get away with shooting one's first office in the mouth.
"Oh really?" Mary turned to Buck, her feminist outrage well and truly inspired as she stared at him, with her fists clenched on her hips, a stance that Chris knew well enough to be the universal position taken up by females about to go ballistic.
"I'm sure he didn't mean it that way..." Chris started to say, giving Buck a murderous glare.
"Well perhaps they should have used the tried and true method." The protocol officer retorted, her blue gray eyes smoldering as they narrowed. "Using Mrs Palmer and five daughters!"
All four men looked at her in shock at using that rather old but very descriptive method of dispelling relief as Buck had put it.
"Lieutenant Travis." Buck exclaimed with astonished amusement. "That's extremely sexist."
"Buck shut up." Vin snapped.
"Yes Buck," Chris said rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Please, shut up."
"I don't get it." JD looked at them all confused. "Mrs Palmer?"
"Let me explain..." Buck started to say.
"Later." Chris met the first officer's gaze and growled.
"Yes Sir." Buck swallowed, seeing the captain's patience finally reached its limits.
"Hey," Vin spoke suddenly, his voice urgent. "Is that Wickes?"
Vin's statement immediately forced them to raise their eyes at the sight of Mr Wickes emerging from one of the tents, a rather battered young woman in his grip as he came through the flap. Her physical state indicated that she had been abused physically and Mary's stomach hollowed at the sight of the desolate expression on her face. Wickes for his part, did not seem at all worried about her condition, shoving her in the direction of ladies in his stable. They immediately surrounded their wounded comrade and spirited her away to another tend, most likely to deal with her injuries. The animosity they felt towards Mr Wickes was obvious, even if they were powerless to do anything about it.
"That's him." Buck spoke through his teeth. "That's the son of a bitch." The first officer started towards Mr Wickes but Chris grabbed his arm and kept him from going any further.
"Stand down Buck." Chris ordered.
"Yeah," Vin added his agreement. The helmsman's eyes were already scouring the immediate area and they could see the men that were located in various points, acting as bodyguard by the gunbelts worn around their hips. "He's got people around him." Vin warned. "You take two wrong steps towards him and they'll cut you down before you even get there."
"We have to reach him," Chris replied as he signaled them into what appeared to be an empty tent. Judging by the rumpled sheets and the trunk in the corner, laden with feminine clothing, its owner would soon be returning so he outlined his plan quickly since they did not have a great deal of time. "If we can get him alone, maybe we can use him to draw Q out."
"Or at the very least, keep his men from blowing our heads off." Vin added.
"Sounds like a plan," Buck conceded that the plan was sound even if their method of executing it at this time appeared somewhat vague.
"So how do we do that?" JD inquired, assuming that the trio had some sort of idea how they were going to accomplish that.
Chris did not answer for he had not thought that far ahead. However, he noticed that Mary had drifted away from the group and was presently examining the contents of the worn trunk on the floor. She lifted from the array of slips and corsets what was definitely a scandalous cut dress in red.
"I have an idea." She suggested winking at Chris while, holding the gown over herself.
Chris' eyes widened.
"Absolutely not." He responded without hesitation once it dawned upon him what she was alluding to.
"Chris," Mary said impatiently. "Somehow I do not see anyone else in our party fitting into this dress and quite frankly, you don't have much of a choice."
"Oh I don't know," Buck glanced at Vin with a devious smile. "Vin, with your hair..."
"I'll shoot you Wilmington," Vin retorted, "commanding officer or not."
"Hey!" Chris snapped. "Will you two cut it out? Mary, no." He stated once again, facing the protocol officer. "Its too dangerous. You saw what he did to that girl out there."
"I did," Mary nodded, not about to forget that for one minute. "But I don't intend to be alone with him long enough for that to happen and I am going in armed. Once I get him alone and under a gun, you three can come in and take it from there. It won't arouse any suspicion from his men."
"That's true." JD agreed with Mary's assessment even though he did not like to think of her in that position any more than Chris did. Mary always seemed so dignified and she was what JD coined as a lady, someone too elegant for the plan she had just conceived.
"Don't encourage her." Chris retorted and JD immediately fell silent.
"Chris," Mary looked at him. "You don't have a choice. We need to get out of here. We have obligations back on the Maverick, not to mention the fact that I really do not wish to die in this place, the way Julia has."
Chris swore under his breath, not all happy about Mary being the bait that would lure Wickes into solitude but as Captain, he had to forget that she was more than just his protocol officer. He had to forget that he loved her and threat Mary like any other officer and resource under his command. There was more than just her life he had to consider but all the other members of the senior staff because she was right, he was not allowing anyone else to die like Julia had.
"Alright," he conceded at last, reluctant to do so but unable to deny that they did indeed need to return to the Maverick before any one else was killed. "We'll go with your plan."
"Mary, he saw you." Buck pointed out. "You can't convince him to do anything if he recognises you."
"That's true," Mary agreed but she had already considered this and picked up a black wig that was visible through the heap of clothing and immediately extracted it from the collection. Slipping it over her blond locks, she looked at Chris and replied. "I think it becomes me, don't you?"
Wickes thought he knew every woman that worked for him. He mad it a matter of principal to 'assess' their qualifications for deserving employment with him personally. Most of them did not mind the task and it was those that Wickes hired for the simple reason of money while others, the ones who had come off the farm, with no family and had no other choice but to resort to whoring for money, those were the treats. He liked their delusions of doing the work just long enough to earn money to take them to a new life, unaware that they were indenturing themselves to him until it was too late. Those who ran often paid the price for Wickes knew there were plenty more where they came from.
Mary saw Wickes as she walked up the path between the tents. He was at one of the tables outside a tent that acted as a saloon of sorts, with a girl on his lap, talking to one of the men who had sampled his wares. She prayed inwardly that Chris and the others were watching her closely when she felt a tingle of revulsion at the sight of the man she had to pretend to seduce. He was a fat, bloated specimen with a goatee and a dusty old suit that was meant to make his look respectable but succeeded in making look more like the slime he was.
She was noticed the minute she had appeared out in the open with her heavily made up face, her wig and the dress that pulled so tightly across the bosom and the waist that in this day and age, it left nothing to the imagination. She noted with some amusement the expression of desire on Chris' face as he had surveyed her form even though he tried very much to hide it and wondered if all men harbored secret fantasies about seeing the women they loved in such apparel. Men started hooting and whistling at her as she continued walking, hoping she looked nothing like the woman Wickes had tried to accost earlier that day.
She gave alluring smiles to those who propositioned her, keeping her eyes fixed on Wickes who by now had glanced her way. Mary could tell by the expression in his eyes that desire and lust was quickly filtering into them and that like the other men about the place, he was just as taken by her disguise. Mary ignored the crude offers and kept her gaze fixed upon Wickes, so that he would know that he was all that she was interested in. This was no different from any negotiation that she had been forced to mediate in her career as a Starfleet diplomat, it was all in the eye contact and first impressions.
"Mr Wickes," Mary planted herself in the chair across Wickes table when she finally reached the man.
"Sally honey," Wickes stared at the young woman on his lap and gestured at her to leave. It was not a request. For her part, the young woman did not mind leaving and as she lifted herself off Wickes, Mary had the distinct impression that she was willing to go. When they were finally alone and the offers had stopped because the clients of Mr Wickes' establishment knew better than to bid for a woman who had captured the whoremaster's attention, Wickes regarded Mary once again.
"Now what can I do for your little lady?" He asked.
"It's not what you can do for me Mr Wickes," Mary said breathlessly. "Its what I can do for you."
"Really?" One eyebrow arched even though they were both aware of what she was referring to. "And what would that be?"
"All the pleasure you or your clientele may desire." She smiled. "I do everything and anything."
"Now that is mighty interesting." Wickes leaned forward, enjoying the view he got when he peered down her dress. "Tell me a little about yourself, Miss?"
"Delilah." Mary answered. "That's all the name I need. I was travelling in these parts with a gent but he looks to have left me in something of a bind. I need money and I heard that you could help a girl with my talents."
"I may," Wickes' grin seemed broader and once again, Mary felt that flush of disgust wash through her. "It depends on how good you are."
"Well," Mary braced herself and reached for his hand. She lifted one digit to her lips and proceeded to suck the finger with slow, languid flicks of her tongue. He tasted of ash and booze and Mary surprised herself by now gagging there and then. She saw Wickes respond to her ministrations and knew that he was taken in by her act, or at least putting up an extremely good show if he was not. Unfortunately, there would be no way to know for certain until they were alone in his tent. "Maybe we can go somewhere and talk about this some more?" She cocked a brow suggestively.
"I think that can be arranged." Wickes retorted and immediately pushed himself off the stool he had been seated on. "Come with me darling and we can talk about your 'qualifications'."
Mary followed Wickes back to his tent, which was located on some tents away from where she had caught his eye. As she moved through the meandering path through the rag tag collections of tents, she tried to spy if Chris and the others were about. However, there were so many people around that it was almost impossible to distinguish their faces through the crowd and Mary hoped earnestly that they were indeed there because she had no intention of getting any more personal with Wickes than she had already. As it was, it would take a week to wash the taste of him from her lips.
Wickes himself gave no indication that the ruse she had perpetrated upon him was a failure and Mary hoped that she was able to maintain the charade for just a little longer until the time was ripe to spring their trap. Despite the reassuring knowledge that Chris and the others were keeping close eye on her as she followed Wickes back to his tent, she could not help feeling a little apprehensive about being alone with this man. She had seen the girl that had emerged earlier with those terrible injuries to her face and knew that her wounds ran deeper than the ones that could be seen on her skin. Her stomach hollowed in disgust at the assault the girl must have suffered at this man's hand and was glad at the weapon strapped to the inside of her thigh.
The inside of Wickes private tent did not look very different from that of the one she had been when she had liberated her present costume but it did have a proper bed unlike the fold up cots she had spied in the others. She supposed being the master of this place allowed him such luxuries. She noted a few pieces of furniture but nothing that showed he had any real attachment to the place. Mary hid her anxiousness as she saw Wickes go to one of the tables next to the bed and pour them both glasses of whiskey from the bottle that he had laid there.
"Here we are Miss Delilah." He turned around and handed her a glass.
Mary was just about to reach for it when suddenly; he splashed the drink into her face before she knew what was happening. The liquid stung her eyes and made her recoil, robbing her of vision long enough for him to throw a balled fist into her face. Mary felt knuckles against her cheek and tumbled back into the bed, uttering a small cry of pain as her body sunk into the mattress. Through the stupor of pain, she heard Wickes hissing.
"You stupid bitch!" He snarled. "You take me for a fool? I know you're Larabee's whore!"
Mary was not listening, her hands were fumbling beneath her dress, trying desperately to reach the gun strapped to her thigh when she felt Wickes body climbing onto her own, pinning her under his weight. His hand slipped between the folds of her dress, trying to reach the gun first. Mary struggled hard to keep that end from taking place but was not capable of getting to it before he did. However, during their struggles, she did manage to score something of a victory, when she knocked the weapon out of his hand and it tumbled to the ground, out of reach of both of them.
"Whore!" He screamed enraged and hit her again, this time connecting with her jawline.
Mary felt a surge of rage overtaking her and she snapped her head back and glared at him. Staring him full in the face, she calmed herself and spoke with a low voice. "I have had just enough of you."
Mustering every ounce of strength she could, Mary twisted her body hard. She could not throw Wickes off but her momentum and his weight allowed her to dislodge him and he felt next to her on the mattress. Mary did not waste any time and flipped onto her feet from the bed. Wiping the blood running down her lip, Mary threw one controlled punch at Wickes whom was starting to sit up. The blow caught him in the jaw and his face reddened in fury at her audacity to strike him. Mary did not care; she threw a series of blows to his face and some to his thick gut, which had little or no muscle control. His arms were flaying as he tried to fight back in his sitting position. Her attack kept him from standing up or rushing at her with brute force.
She paused long enough to give him the chance however, when she decided to go for the gun, which fell into her line of sight. Taking no chances, Mary dove for the weapon, just as Wickes stood up from his bed and charged her.
"I'll kill you!" He roared. His eyes wide and frenzied.
She dropped to her knees, allowing his forward momentum to topple him over her body. She heard his outrage howl just as he crumpled in a messy heap but ignored it as she wrapped her hand around her gun and took aim. Wickes growled loudly, snarling like an animal about to tear its prey to pieces. Although Mary had the gun, she was plenty scared and reacted without thinking.
The first bullet exploded out of the barrel and struck him in the knee. Correcting her aim in time to pull the trigger again, she fired. This time the bullet lodged higher, in his stomach. Wickes was starting to scream as his knee shattered and he was driven to his feet, blood gushing from dual wounds. Mary did not stop firing. She pulled the trigger again and again, watching him dance in pain as the bullets tore through his body one after the other. She did not pause until all of them had been discharged and the loud click of an empty chamber seemed louder than the screams she heard outside and the frantic sounds of approaching voices.
Wickes did not utter any more sounds after the third bullet and by the time he finally stopped moving and she had emptied the entire contents of the gun into his body, he was almost bathed in red. Blood was flowing freely, oozing through his clothes and saturating the dirt with its viscosity.
For a few seconds, Mary did not know what to do. Her hands were shaking and she felt her stomach heaving in such protest, she thought she might wretch. She had never killed another creature in her life and this first experience was not one she wished to repeat any time soon. Even though, Wickes was a truly disgusting specimen, given life where he should have remained an aspect of fiction, Mary regretted that she had been forced to kill him. When she recovered, she stood up shakily and made her way to the tent flap, emerging just long enough into the sunlight to feel a hand clenching around her arm and dragging out the rest of the way.
"What have you done!" The man who was obviously Wickes bodyguard demanded.
"Let me go!" Mary protested weakly and saw a crowd had appeared before, demanding retribution for what she had done.
"She killed Wickes!" Someone from behind her shouted.
"You bitch!" Her captor swore and rose his gun to fire.
A single gunshot erupted to stop him, while at the same time silencing the rumblings around the room. Mary looked up and saw Chris not far from her, aiming his peacemaker at the direction of the man who intended to harm her. As she scoured the rest of the compound before her, she saw Vin, Buck and JD taking up similar positions. From where they were, anyone who attempted to shoot her or fire at them would have reason to regret it.
"Let...her...go." Chris Larabee's icy voice demanded as he glared at the man holding her.
"She killed our boss." The man responded in turn. "She's gotta pay."
"Judging by the bruises on the lady's face," Buck added. "It looks like self defense to me."
"She had a gun!" He retorted, not about to release Mary just yet.
Chris could see he would take just a little more convincing. This was fine by him because Chris could be very persuasive when he chose to be. "I have a gun and I'll shoot you just as dead as your boss if you don't take your hands off her now." Just for effect, Chris cocked his gun and narrowed his gaze as he sharpened his aim on the target.
Mary saw her captor swallowing hard. There were beads of sweat on his forehead as he tried to gauge whether or not Chris would actually fire. It did not take long before the infamous Larabee glare won out and he released her reluctantly. She let out a sigh of relief and immediately pulled away from the men, walking slowly towards Chris.
"Q!" Chris shouted. "We're done playing your game!"
"What are you talking about?" Wickes' bodyguard asked with genuine puzzlement.
Chris ignored him, certain that the omnipotent entity was hiding in the crowd somewhere. Seeing the blood on Mary's face made him smolder with increased anger, already running hot torrents through him because of Julia Pemberton. "Do you hear me you son of a bitch!" Chris shouted on top of his voice and further sent Wickes' men and the present population of this facsimile world into deeper confusion. "We're through playing your puppets! We're not going to play your game any more! Its over!"
Suddenly, the face of Wickes' bodyguard altered from what it was and the man who stared back at Chris looking nothing like him. Q stared at Chris with a decidedly amused expression on his face and remarked rather innocently. "Well to tell you the truth Captain Larabee, it hasn't been my game you've been playing."