Blonde Needles in a Giant Haystack 2

A nurse had finally sent Melissa and Johanna off Gabriela’s room, telling them it was time to go to sleep. It was just 6pm, but it was dinner time, and the staff obviously thought that people needed rest to regain their health. Melissa shook her head as they walked to their rooms.

»I thought that Sato’s plans were nonsensical, but now, it seems he could take lessons from you!«

Johanna, who had seen that the Policewoman was also a bit intrigued, smiled enigmatically. The nurse that had interrupted their powwow spoke some English, and so, Johanna started to negotiate with her, so the woman finally not even allowed her to use her cell phone, but to also use it for 30 minutes in privacy.

She had told a white lie about a beloved person in Germany, and whilst Friedemann Schuster was an old classmate, their relationship was rather on a business level. Friedemann had studied economics and become a banker, and so, when her writing had made Johanna considerably wealthy, she had engaged him as her broker.

To her relief, rumours about her kidnapping had not yet spread to Germany, and so, she used another white lie about having been assaulted and robbed in Spain, leaving her with nothing but the clothes she wore.

»I am okay so far, and the people here are quite nice, but I need some money asap – and, don’t worry, I am talking about my money, not yours!«

Her plan was simple, but she needed a professional banker for the details: he should contact one of the banks in Ferrol, preferably one that had lots of foreign customers and thus was used to transferring money. Then, Friedemann should negotiate a sum the Spanish bank would give Johanna, based on the securities of her German account, and guaranteed by Friedemann who acted as the representant of her bank. It was not illegal, just unconventional, and Friedemann only mourned the costs of such a transaction, and that he would have to take the money from some investments he had done in her name.

»I know, I know, I am acting impulsive and irrational! Just tell me how much you think you can get me that fast!«

He once more tried to convince her just to take enough for a decent hotel and her flight back, but in the end, he promised her at least 20.000 Euros. Johanna oppressed a happy chortle and thanked him.

The nurse took her own conclusions when Johanna asked her for a sleeping pill, knowing she needed a few hours of rest and could not start her plan before the Spanish bank would open the next morning.

»You really must love him! Soon, you will meet again!«

Johanna, having taken the pill and waiting for sleep to come, thought of these words, and the face of Sato appeared in front of her inner eye.

***

Inside the container, Nico had replaced Cory, but the change hadn’t improved the captives’ situation much. When thirst had again become unbearable, it had been on Carmen to get the next bottle. In her case, the humiliation was less than when it had been Babette’s turn: Carmen had to put her hands behind her head and to dance on the spot to a song the man played via his phone. It required some hip-shaking, and since Carmen wore Inga’s panties that were a little too wide, they slowly slid down her legs in the progress. When they were at her ankles, Nico pulled them back up, but the game continued until the song was over.

For a few hours, they were left alone, and by dusk, Nico even changed their bucket before he brought a watermelon he sliced with a vicious looking machete.

»You may eat as much as you like, and you will also get another bottle of water for the night – if you agree to the only condition!«

This condition was that if any of them would spill some juice or pulp upon themselves, the others would have to remove it – with their tongues. Carmen decided that this threat sounded more humiliating than it was.

»If we remain standing and eat whilst bending forward, the worst to happen is a little juice on our fingers, and licking away that won’t kill us!«

They did so, and Babette noticed with slight glee that Nico obviously seemed a bit disappointed. He ate a piece of the melon himself, staring at their dangling breasts. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed.

»Holy crap, is that a tarantula?«

With a shriek, Inga jumped backwards, landing on her butt as she staggered with her bound ankles. Nico’s chuckling told her it had been just a practical joke. She cursed in Swedish, and the man, wielding his machete, pointed at her. Inga looked down on herself, and she could see that, when she had dropped her piece of melon, it had landed on her chest before it had hit the floor.

»Just stay where you are, the cleaning team has almost finished eating!«

Nico insisted that Carmen and Babette licked each other’s fingers clean before they had to approach Inga who defensively crossed her arms in front of her breasts. Carmen rolled her eyes.

»Great, now, we have to do your arms, too!«

»You won’t touch any part of my body with your filthy mouth! You may be into such things, but I am not!«, Inga hissed. Carmen barked back:

»Just because I got intimate with Miranda – and Johanna, doesn’t mean I am keen on every bit of female flesh available!«

Babette, trying a more diplomatic approach, pointed at Nico and whispered:

»I don’t think any of us will like the alternatives this creep may think of!«

With a sigh as if she was agreeing to being sacrificed, Inga opened her arms.

»Let’s get this done!«

Carmen turned to Inga’s arm, leaving it to Babette to lick some lemon juice from Inga’s breasts and cleavage.

»If you get her nipples hard, I will ad another bottle!«, Nico crowed, and Babette had to admit that the word »Rövjävel!« sounded both cool and aggressive when Inga shouted it at the man. She had never before kissed another woman’s breasts, and she definitely didn’t want to spend more time on it than necessary, but even by her cursory licking, she felt how firm Inga’s boobs were.

»He! What are you doing?«

Inga twitched back when Carmen suddenly kissed her lower belly. With an expression of calm contempt, Carmen answered:

»There was a drop running down your tummy, and I thought you would want it to be stopped before it reaches your crotch!«

Inga’s chest heaved when Carmen traced the way of said drop up her belly, showing her co-captive a sardonic smile.

»All this could have been avoided if you had your arachnophobia under control!«

Babette pushed herself between the two girls.

»I am sure Nico won’t mind if the two of you fight – but I definitely won’t lick the blood from your bodies!«

The two calmed down, and Inga even endured it without another outburst when Nico took a close look if her breasts were indeed clean.

»Just give us the bottle, you creep!«

»Say ›Please, Master‹!«, Nico demanded.

»Please, Master!«, Babette purred, plucking the bottle from his hand and dropping a gracious curtsey before he could protest. Carmen also curtseyed, and Inga showed him her middle finger.

»Rövjävel!«

They withdrew behind the barrier of piled coffee sacks and shared their bottle of water, not mentioning the obvious: no matter how many pranks the men played with them, things could only get worse if the trip ended.

***

»I am getting chloroformed!«

It had been Dalanda’s last coherent thought before she had passed out, and now, as she regained her senses, the memory helped her to realize what had happened to her. So, she didn’t panic, just pant heavily through her nose as she realized that she was bound hand and foot, gagged and blindfolded – again.

It didn’t take her long to find out that her captors had taken great care in restraining her. Not only her wrists were tied, but also her elbows, and when she felt for her bonds, she touched the zip tie enforcing her wrist tie. A painful tug on her big toes told her these were bound, too, and when she tried to dislodge her blindfold by rubbing her face against the soft cushion she was lying upon, Dalanda knew she was hooded es well. In addition, the blindfold consisted of tight bands pressing pads onto her eyes, and equally tight bands held some large spongy thing in her mouth.

»Mph!«

Dalanda forced herself to breathe more calmly. It was the blindfold that bothered her the most; not knowing what was around her was worse than not being able to scream and talk, even worse than not being able to stop her captors from – whatever they had in mind for her. Again, she moved her head, trying to rub it off, but to no avail.

She tried to listen for sounds, but all she could hear was some indistinct murmur. It told her that it was men, and she was sure they spoke Arabic, but she couldn’t understand what they were talking about.

Who were they? The Nomads she had escaped from, or the slavers from Mauretania? Dalanda doubted that she had fallen into the clutches of some random Moroccan criminals. Both options didn’t help her to cheer up.

»After all, if they had wanted to kill me, they would have done so! And as long as I am alive, there is hope!«

So far, the only positive thing, instead of being not dead, was that she wasn’t feeling really sick from the narcotic, just a queasy tingle in her stomach. Dalanda shooed away the thought that this could also be fear. She squirmed on her cushion and heard a squeak from an old spring. Her fingers brushed over some threadbare cloth. She was lying on an old couch.

Her foggy mind took some time to add the meaning of the squeaking and the old furniture, but then, Dalanda felt for holes in the chintz, dug into the upholstery, trying to find one of the springs. Perhaps, she could free her hands before her captors noticed she had woken up.

»As long as I am alive, there is hope!«, she repeated like a mantra, until her fingers touched the curved metal of one of the couch springs.

***

In his rebellious youth, Sato had once been in pre-trial detention for a week, and so, he knew a little about prison routines. They would let him stew for another few hours, most likely giving him a full day to think about his situation before a higher ranking Policeman would inform him about the accusation and tell him that he could deny talking to them and had the right to contact a lawyer.

His employer, businessman and billionaire Martin Conradi, had several top lawyers on his payroll, and Sato was sure that he could persuade him to send one of those. However, even if he got out after a few months – what would these months mean to Babette? It was his fault she had been kidnapped, no matter that the new party had come out of nowhere. And as long as she wasn’t save, he would not find inner peace.

»And yet, I saved Johanna!«

Seeing her, and the fact she had visited him on her own will, had been a balm to his soul. And yet, the fact that she was on the other side of the prison wall also didn’t help him to find sleep.

***

Aboard the »Yolanda«, Ben could also not find sleep, as he was considering the potential flaws of his plan. Maybe, Miranda had already blabbed all she knew about him to the Police, which was his full name, and that he had mentioned doing business in Central Africa. If the Police followed that lead, they would expect him on his way to Cameroon, from where it wasn’t too far to that state. However, they knew that he couldn’t get there by helicopter, and there was a small chance that they suspected him of not using a private yacht but one of the freight ships he owned. They were four altogether, but only the »Yolanda« had been close to the Spanish coast – and she had changed her direction after she had already been commissioned for Vigo.

»So, if they put a capable profiler on the job, he might find out that I am aboard this ship! They won’t dare to enter, but they can observe the ›Yolanda‹, and that coloured chopper on deck is like an ›I am guilty!‹-sign!«

Ben scoffed as he thought of another imponderable: Inga. What if she decided not to cooperate, no matter with what he threatened her? In doing so, they could only get so far, for neither a dead nor a mutilated Inga could fly the chopper, and he was sure that she wasn’t too loyal towards Carmen or Babette either that threatening them would help.

He rose from his bed. On the couch, Jean opened his eyes: like all soldiers, he didn’t sleep soundly when on duty. Ben padded the mercenary’s shoulder.

»Stay alert, but I don’t think I will need you right now! I have to talk to our Captain!«

As he had almost expected, Yussuf was at the bridge, also unable to sleep. He glanced nervously at Ben who gently asked for some coffee, but allowed him to see the gun in his belt.

»How far to Agadir, Yussuf?«

The man looked at the screen and scratched his head.

»Some 300 nautical miles – which is-«

»Roughly 500 kilometres – or some 15 to 17 hours if we keep up our current speed«, Ben interrupted him, and the Captain nodded. Ben looked at the radar and asked:

»If some other ship shoes up – how can you distinguish if it’s a rowboat or an aircraft carrier?«

The question obviously triggered the man on the helm who explained the function of the different systems to their guest. Ben asked some questions, and the answers made him smile. He reached for his wallet that was always filled with some cash.

»Thank you, Hamad, that was very informative! I hope that I am not insulting you by paying you a tip?«

The 100 dollars were a month’s salary for the man, and his grin showed Ben that he wasn’t the least insulted. Yussuf grumbled something, and Ben put his hand on the Captain’s shoulder.

»Don’t worry, I am not planning to bribe your crew and to take over the ship! After all, I am the owner already – that is, if you are not interested in some – career movement?«

He neither lowered his voice nor put the man aside, so the man on the helm could listen to them.

»As the owner of the ship, whilst staying her Captain, you could earn a nice bonus on each trip! So much indeed that you could easily afford giving the whole 40 Grand I initially offered to you to your crew!«

Yussuf managed to stay calm, but the seaman gasped. If they shared even, he would get some 2.000 Dollars – more than he earned in a year.

»What would I have to do for such a – promotion!«

Ben strained the man’s patience by sipping from his coffee before he answered:

»Nothing any of you could be blamed for! Even better – not only would we leave your ship sooner, but after we have done so, you may either throw the helicopter overboard, or, if this is impossible, you may pretend that we landed and forced you to change your course!«

He took a pen and noted a number on it.

»This is the number of Monsieur Argent, one of my African partners! I will inform him immediately after you agreed, and he will take care that even if I get arrested, you will still be Captain and owner of the ›Yolanda‹! And, as I said, there will be not a single drop of blood on your or your crew’s hands!«

He began to explain, and after he was finished, he could read in Yussuf’s eyes that he had convinced the man. Hamad also seemed rather impressed by the way Ben handled problems, and before he left, he put another 100 Dollars into the man’s breast pocket.

»Just have a good eye on the radar – I will now call Monsieur Argent and then, we will get ready for departure!«

***

With Nico doing nothing worse than sitting beside the door, and completely exhausted from their previous ordeals and the hours in the hot, stuffy container, Babette, Carmen and Inga had dozed off and therefore were risen from sleep when the door was suddenly opened and Ben entered, followed by three of his men whilst two guarded the outside of the container. Nico also was startled, but he quickly calmed down and began to grin when Jean whispered something into his ear.

»Sorry for interrupting your sleep, Ladies, but we have some changes in our plans! Please, line up side by side!«

Since the men carried their arms, the three girls obeyed, and Barrot and Cory quickly took their wrists and cuffed them behind their backs. Carmen demanded an explanation, but Ben ordered them to be silent whilst the two henchmen blindfolded each with a black cloth.

»The good is that you will soon be allowed to leave this sweat box – and I also have a very special delight for you, Inga! Your services as a pilot are no longer required!«

With some glee, Ben watched as three pairs of breasts started to heave at that ambiguous words. Of course, he could simply have told them, and the blindfolds also weren’t necessary – but they would add to the girls’ confusion.

Babette shuddered when a hand gently brushed over her cheek.

»Now, what’s it going to be, Babsi – soft way, or hard way?«

Babette gulped, and her voice sounded hoarse as she opted for the soft way, seeing no point in being defiant. Something smooth and soft brushed over her lips, and she could smell a scent she knew all too well: the fragrance of worn female panties.

»You know what these are, Babsi?«

»P-Panties!«, the girl stammered, and Ben playfully poked her nose.

»If you guess which pair, you will be spared extra packing!«

This was hardly a generous offer, but Babette was willing to take every little advantage. She thought that Ben could only have chosen from those they had been gagged with, minus those they were wearing currently. So, it could be one of her own bikini briefs, black silk with lace trimmings, or Gabriela’s equally lacy silk briefs that were white. Last option were Miranda’s panties, a plain white silk pair with only a thin lace trimming. She sniffed, feeling a bit like a dog, and finally, driven rather by hope than by knowledge, she answered:

»Mine – black lace!«

»Too bad, that’s wrong!«

A hand not too gently grabbed her scalp, and when she reflexively opened her mouth, the panties were stuffed into her mouth. Something less smooth was crammed on top, and Babette retched when she sensed it was a man’s worn sock. The packing was sealed by five rounds of tape, and then, she heard some rustling, followed by something slightly scratchy being pulled over her head. It was a canvas sack, according to the scent one of the coffee sacks. It was pulled down to her ankles, and then, her entire body was tightly wrapped with rope. Babette stood slightly shaking as ben turned his attention to Carmen who blindly guessed Babette’s panties, too – and was right. According to her muffled grunts, she was not overjoyed of again having to chew on another woman’s used underwear, though she at least was spared a sweaty sock.

Once Carmen had her lips taped and was packed inside another sack, Inga waited until she heard Ben’s steps before she spat into his direction and also tried to hit him with her forehead. She was stopped by a grip on her scalp and torn backwards, and two pairs of hands grabbed her arms. Ben laughed at the Swedish curses she spat at him.

»Some never learn!«

He enjoyed stuffing Gabriela’s panties and the second of the sweaty socks into her oral cavity, and before Cory taped her lips, he loosened his necktie and tied it tightly between them. Also, he cut a piece of rope, doubled it and slung it around the Swede’s waist. The crotch rope was pulled from her front to her back, and Inga groaned and reared up as her crotch was bisected by the ropes, the tiny thong doing little to protect her soft flesh. Ben took care all was tight before he used the ends to tie her elbows together.

»Maybe, you will be more gentle next time, Inga!«

He kissed her forehead before the girl was put into a sack, and wrapped with rope, too. Cory, Barrot and Nico then each put one of them over their shoulders, either groping their victim’s buttocks, or, in Inga’s case, spanking them as she tried to struggle.

Babette wasn’t carried far, though they once walked down a ladder, and then, she suddenly was taken from the man’s shoulder and hung upside down, her head dangling in the air.

»Uuuhmmph! Mmhhrrrmmm! Nnngggg!«

Her confusion turned into panic as she was lowered down, still dangling from her feet, and for a terrible moment, she thought that she was about to be drowned. Then, hands grabbed her shoulders, and she was lowered onto a soft, shaky surface.

»A rubber boat!«, shot through her head, and she wondered what had happened to the plan of using the helicopter, and if they already were that close to the shore. The boat was swaying, and then, she felt that either Carmen or Inga was placed beside her. Little later, there was the sound of a small engine, and the rubber boat left the side of the »Yolanda«.

Yussuf watched the boat until it had disappeared in the night, ignoring the ostentatious clearing of throats and scrapping of soles on the ground of his crew members. He knew that they waited for him to share the money from the bag in his right.

»We did what we had to do!«, his First Officer stated, and when Yussuf still stood motionless, he dared to pat his shoulder. Yussuf nodded absent-mindedly, and as if to finally admit to his role, he gave order for the men to line up, so he could share the loot among them.

***

Though related to the famous tobacco empire, Rochus Stuyvesant was a non-smoker, and he also hardly ever drank. So, he knew that the sign he spotted about a mile in front of them wasn’t a hallucination, and he woke up his wife Marte, and also Henk and Maite van Tusk, the other couple on board of his Yacht.

The two men had been partners in a business so successful that now, in their early 60ies, they had been able to retire and devote their lives to their shared hobby, long-distance-yachting, a hobby their wives luckily shared. They had left Cape Town some time ago, and they expected to reach the Strait of Gibraltar in a few days.

»What is this, some case of emergency?«

They approached a swaying red light, and as they were close, the four elderly people spotted a rubber boat, with a man swinging a red lantern from side to side.

»Ahoy! Please, we need help! Our ship sank!«

»Oh my God, are these pirates?«, Maite gasped, and her husband grumbled that he was sure it were some illegal refugees. Rochus stopped their concerns:

»This is not the coast of Somalia, and we are more than 150 miles off the coast! And refugees also don’t get that far away from land in their crappy boats!«

He slowly got closer to the rubber boat, and to his relief, the man swinging the lantern was white, and wearing a suit. Obviously, a fellow yacht owner who had lost his ship.

His smile froze when he was alongside the rubber boat and could see that not only was it bigger than he had expected, but also there was at least half a dozen men on board. If he’d save them all, it would be quite stuffy on board his yacht!

»Thanks God, you are good Christians – or good Muslims, or Jews, or whatsoever!«

The man lowered his lantern, and Rochus could see that he was smiling, though he had just lost his ship. Suddenly, there was a muffled sound, and he noticed some commotion behind the man, causing the boat to sway.

»Is everything okay?«

Instead of an answer, a man jumped aboard his yacht. Before Rochus could protest, he saw that the man held a gun he pointed at him. Still smiling, the man with the lantern said:

»As the owner of such a ship, I guess you are a businessman! And as such, you sure know what a hostile takeover is!«

***

Dalanda stiffened, her hood slightly billowing over her nose from her panting. The man’s voice sounded as if he had spoken to her a second time, and she hadn’t reacted to it. That was hardly surprising, as for the past minutes, she had managed to hook the zip tie around her wrists over the couch spring and finally managed to rip it. Her elbows were still tied, and there was also the tape around her wrists, but it was a start. Now, however, it seemed that she had been discovered.

»Do you need to pee?«

The man spoke slowly, and she could hear slight amusement in his words. His Arabic had a different accent that that she had often heard in her youth, in the North of Senegal where most people spoke Arabic and French.

»Maybe, he won’t notice my success!«, she thought and nodded. There was a chuckle, and Dalanda mewed when a hand brushed over her breast, but the man just pushed his hand under her armpit, helping her to sit up and raise from the couch. Again, she feared that he would recognize the ripped zip tie and replace it, maybe even tape her fingers. However, he just assisted her when he made her hop forward and though she couldn’t see it, she could almost feel his gaze on her bouncing boobs.

»Look all you want, just don’t turn your eyes to my wrists!«, Dalanda thought. He led her a few yards and then turned her around. Her heels touched something cold and smooth, obviously a toilet seat. Her cheeks burned, and she was about to vigorously shake her head when he pulled up the skirtings of her dress, but she persisted and grabbed the linen, gathering it in her fingers as it would hide the missing cable binder. Then, she again stiffened and let out a fluttering breath as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and peeled them down to her knee ties.

»I hope you can do the rest alone!«

»Mph!«

Dalanda squatted, and though she knew that he most likely hadn’t turned around, she relieved her bladder.

»Finished?«

She nodded and rose, and he adjusted her panties, at least not touching her more than necessary. Dalanda let the dress go and expected to be led back to the couch, but instead, he put her over his shoulder and carried her a short distance. More hands grabbed her, and Dalanda felt that she was place inside a box, or a coffin.

»Don’t worry, it has got air holes!«, the man announced. A thud followed when obviously the lid was shut, and then, she heard the start of an engine, and the box began to move.

***

Johanna, Melissa and Gabriela had breakfast at the hospital where it was served early, only to leave little later, dropped at the city centre by a kind orderly whose shift had just ended. The bank Friedemann had chosen opened at 8am, and though the director who served them personally seemed more than bewildered by the three women who were all wearing white T-Shirts and grey sweatpants, but obviously no bras underneath, he accepted Johanna’s provisional ID document and the guarantees Friedemann had already mailed to him. Half an hour later, they left the bank with 5.000 Euros in cash, and a new bank card giving Johanna access to 20 Grand more.

»Now, let’s go full Shopping Queen!«

They took a taxi to the next big fashion house and Johanna handed each 500 Euros. They agreed to meet at the cafeteria after one hour, and when they met again, they admired each other’s choices.

Melissa and Gabriela had stayed together, and they still wore partner-look: black sneakers, black jeans and dark blue, short sleeved blouses; it looked as close to Police uniforms as possible, and their new sunglasses matched the look.

Johanna had chosen a more feminine attire: a white silk top with a thin lace trimming, together with an old pink tailleur, a business jacket and a knee-length skirt, together with matching high heels and pantyhose. From her new handbag, she handed prepaid cell phones to Gabriela and Melissa who put them into their belt bags.

»Call me shallow, but it feels marvellous to wear fresh new clothes!«

Johanna’s smile was a bit forced, and the other girls also felt the tension of what was lying ahead of them.

»If you’d describe such an action in one of your books, your readers would call it complete nonsense!«, Melissa stated, and Johanna giggled.

»During my captivity, some switches inside my head must have been turned odd!«

Her expression turned serious, and she took Melissa’s hand.

»Now is your last chance not to do it!«

Melissa pressed Johanna’s fingers as an answer.

»If Gaby’s okay with it, I am on board!«

Gabriela took a deep breath.

»Madre de Deus, I used to be a good girl!«

She placed her hand upon the entangled fingers of the two others, and Melissa turned towards her and placed a quick kiss on her lips.

»Let’s go!«

They left the fashion house and Johanna called a taxi that dropped them at the main Police Department where also the remand prison was located.

»Now, let the games begin!«, Johanna stated with much more confidence than she felt.

***