Blonde Needles in a Giant Haystack 3

Inspector Criminal Alvarez had, like most men, problems in dealing with female emotions, and so, he was glad that Gabriela and Melissa seemed very calm as they wanted to give their testimonies about the events at the mansion. The third woman, however, though also calm, wanted something he couldn’t allow.

»Mr. Sato is a suspect in the current case, and also, with all due respect, Senora Müller, you have been involved in it, too! I must not allow that you speak to him again, let alone without any of my men present!«

Johanna produced a smile.

»Inspector, as far as I know, Mr. Sato is allowed to contact his lawyer before the interrogation begins!«

Alvarez blinked.

»Of course – and so far, Mr. Sato hasn’t demanded to speak to a lawyer! We will offer him one once again, but it also is his right to speak for himself!«

According to what he knew, neither the blonde woman nor her companions were lawyers. Johanna bent forward, oppressing the urge to close her jacket and allowing him a glimpse of her cleavage instead. In a lowered voice, she said:

»It’s true, Mr. Sato did some – unfortunate things when trying to get me out of these evil men’s clutches – but he did so with the best intentions! Inspector – are you familiar with the Japanese sense of honour?«

Alvarez, who had tried to find out what colour Johanna’s bra had, needed a moment before he could answer:

»You – you think he will try to commit Harikari?«

»It’s called Seppuku, and no – after all, I doubt that he has access to sharp objects anyway! However, I know that he feels guilty because in his eyes, he failed in saving me! So, though there are a lot of mitigating circumstances in his part in the whole crime, he might think that only the hardest punishment serves him right!«

»So?«

In Alvarez eyes, a criminal who did not try everything to get less punishment was a refreshing change – in addition, he was still angry because Sato had threatened him with his own gun. If he wanted to do a few months more, he would gladly accept it.

Johanna focussed him in a way he concentrated fully on her eyes.

»I think you want to catch those who are still on the run, and do your best to free the missing women! So, you need Mr. Sato’s full cooperation – and if he is not trying to punish himself, he will be of greater use!«

She had a point there, and Johanna insisted that she could persuade Sato to work together with the Police – if she could talk to him in private.

»If you think I am trying to smuggle a gun for him, you may call in a female Officer, and she may check both me and my handbag!«

In the end, Alvarez agreed on Johanna and Sato having their meeting. However, he had some extra conditions: he insisted that Sato wore handcuffs and that the female Officer who had indeed checked Johanna for weapons would be in the same room.

»You have as long as the testimonies of your – friends will last!«

A young Constable was waiting to withdraw together with Melissa and Gabriela; they would be interviewed together, for there was no interpreter available and Gabriela could translate Melissa’s words. Johanna whispered to Melissa in German:

»Go into the sleazy details – buy me some time!«

Melissa swallowed a comment about Sato having done one or two of these sleazy things to her and Gabriela, too. They followed the young man, and Alvarez led Johanna to a small room that had no barred windows and a nice look on a park, but offered nothing but four chairs and a plain table. Also, it had a small sink with a mirror, and Johanna once again checked her looks whilst she nervously waited for Sato.

After some 15 minutes, the door opened, and Sato entered. They had taken his belt, but he still wore his jeans and T-Shirt from the arrest, and his hands were cuffed in front of him. Whilst the Police Officer spoke to her male colleague, he bowed and showed a fine smile. Johanna wanted to approach him, but the Policewoman interrupted them. In broken English, she explained that no physical contact was allowed.

She positioned herself beside the door whilst Johanna and Sato sat down, opposite to each other. Johanna looked towards the Policewoman and said in German that she hoped she wouldn’t mind if she spoke to Sato in that language. The woman just frowned, and Johanna repeated her words in English. The Policewoman just shrugged and crossed her arms.

»You look good, even better than yesterday, Johanna-San«, Sato began, and Johanna realized he didn’t use the more familiar »Chan«. However, she hadn’t come for exchanging compliments. Taking a breath, she began:

»I am here because we need help to get the man who is behind all this! He’s one of these white collar criminals that euphemistically call themselves businessmen – so, there’s a good chance your employer knows him!«

Johanna knew that loyalty to Martin Conradi meant everything to Sato – and the only challenge to that loyalty was maybe whatever he felt for her. She quickly continued:

»None of us wants to do anything against Mr. Conradi – but perhaps, he knows some shady guy named Ben who is about 50, tall, speaks English with a slight accent and has business contacts to Central Africa!«

For a few moments, Sato just looked at her with a strange expression. When she was about to ask what he was thinking, he spoke:

»Such kind of – businessmen are not common among those with whom Mr. Conradi spoke during the last five years, and I am sure the only connection to Africa that he has are that he owns one third of a Renault factory in Morocco!«

He paused, just for Johanna to show slight disappointment, before he added:

»There is, however, a man who sure knows more about the man you are looking for – Andrew Davenport!«

The name rang a bell in Johanna’s head: after all, it had been her participation in trying to spy on the negotiations between Conradi and said Davenport that had brought her into Sato’s radar. In fact, their first encounter had been that the Japanese had lured her to his room where he had kept her bound and gagged.

»Do you have his number?«

Sato scoffed.

»If I would contact Davenport, all he would do was laugh and warn me to be careful if I bent for the soap at the prison shower! Maybe, he would talk to Mr. Conradi, but they didn’t part as friends!«

Johanna didn’t want to let go that small glimpse of hope.

»Could you persuade him to do so?«

This time, Sato showed a sad smile.

»If anyone could do so, it’s me! However, it would take some more than just the one phone call they would let me have – and if we take the official way, it will take days, maybe weeks – too long for poor Babette!«

Johanna included Carmen in that as she looked at the Japanese.

»So – is there nothing we can do? I mean, I have some money, and-«

Sato raised one of his hands resting on the table, causing the Policewoman to ostentatiously clear her throat.

»I doubt that they will accept a bail in a case like this, Johanna-San! By the way, do you think that it is true what they say about the size of Asian men’s dicks?«

The abrupt change of subject made Johanna’s jaw drop. In the same calm, matter-of-fact tone, Sato continued:

»I think I will drop my pants and let our female Cerberus decide, if you don’t want to!«

»Whatever they are giving you – take less of it!«, Johanna hissed, and Sato now showed his smile.

»It was a little test, to see if she really understands German! Don’t you think that she looks pretty, but a little underfucked?«

Johanna turned her head and looked at the Policewoman who raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look as if she had understood what Sato had just said. She rose from her chair and went to the sink where a few plastic mugs were piled. Filling one, she focussed the woman and asked in German:

»He told me that you sucked him before you brought him here! So, you maybe want to gurgle afterwards?«

The Policewoman didn’t stir and just shook her head when Johanna offered her some tap water, too. Sato showed that he was fighting to oppress a chuckle, and he stated:

»Seems that we can indeed talk without her understanding us. So, what do you say – how big are my chances of knocking her out and get out of the window?«

Johanna now knew what had made her so nervous all the time. It wasn’t the fact that Sato could perhaps help them to find out more about this ominous Ben, nor the fact of again meeting a man who had feelings for her – and who had seen her completely naked, though only from the distance.

It was the fact that Sato was planning an escape, and that she should become an accomplice in that. Why else had she insisted on talking to him in private? She bit her tongue, forcing herself to speak calmly:

»You would have to knock me out, too! Otherwise, it would look suspicious if I didn’t scream!«

Sato looked at her.

»Johanna-Chan – can you distract her for a few seconds?«

»How dare you?«

Sato looked perplexed as she jumped up, and for the glimpse of an eye, Johanna blinked at him. Then, she panted, sipped from her water – and started to cough. Retching, she staggered towards the sink, and reflexively, the Policewoman rushed towards her.

»Senora, que-«

Her question ended in a strange croak, and her eyes twisted. She sank against Johanna before collapsing on the floor. Sato, who stood behind her, nodded approvingly towards Johanna.

»That was great, Johanna-Chan! Now, listen at the door!«

Johanna obeyed, and Sato bent over the unconscious woman. He rummaged through her pockets and found the keys to his handcuffs. Having opened them, he used them to tie the Policewoman’s wrists behind her back. Then, he took off her shoes and socks. When he also removed her belt and opened her trousers, Johanna protested:

»This is not the time for your – less appropriate hobbies!«

»We are on the second floor, and I need some makeshift rope ladder! Her jeans are made of strong denim!«, Sato explained matter-of-factly as he place the woman on her belly on the table and grabbed her ankles, crossing them and tying them with one of her shoelaces. With the other, he fixed her feet to the chain of her handcuffs, hogtying her. Then, he stuffed the socks into her mouth and slung the belt twice between her lips before buckling it tight.

Johanna, who had heard nothing from the corridor, now approached Sato who looked at her in a way that made her feel awkward, but not in an unpleasant way.

»You have to knock me out, too!«

Sato shook his head.

»I can’t do that, Johanna-Chan!«

Technically, he had used a nerve pinch on the woman, but the idea of hurting Johanna was a step he just didn’t want to go. He gently touched her shoulders, and since he wasn’t a tall man and Johanna wore heels, their eyes were at the same level.

»You had no problems with binding and gagging me!«, she whispered with a hoarse voice, and Sato smiled.

»That was indeed a pleasure!«

He looked around in the room, but there was nothing, not even curtain strings. Johanna kicked off her new shoes and reached under her skirt, pulling down her pantyhose. She blushed slightly when she handed it to Sato, and he seemed to feel for her body’s warmth for a second before he tore it in half at the seams.

He placed her on one of the chairs and tied her wrists behind the backrest. With the other half, he tied her ankles behind the rear legs, forcing her to spread her thighs. Johanna let out a fluttering breath when, for a moment, his fingers gently brushed over her naked soles. He then looked for a gag, and Johanna saw him pluck on the unconscious woman’s pink cotton panties.

»No! I-I am wearing an underskirt, take that!«

She panted when Sato reached under her skirt and tore away the silk underskirt. Parting the flimsy material, he balled up one half, allowing himself a moment to enjoy her scent. Before he gagged her, he kissed her cheek, close to her mouth.

»Domo arigato gozaimasu, Johanna-Chan!«

She smiled wryly.

»In my handbag are my cell phone and some 2.000 Euro in cash! Take it, and call us as soon as you can! The only numbers in the phone book are Melissa’s and Gabriela’s!«

She parted her lips, and he stuffed the wad into her mouth, tying the other half of the underskirt tightly between her lips. Again, he kissed her cheek; then, he took the phone and the money from her handbag, put the Policewoman’s gun into the waistband of his trousers and opened the window where he tied one leg of the woman’s jeans to the radiator. After a last bow towards Johanna, he climbed out of the window.

***

When the lid had closed, panic had taken Dalanda’s heart in an iron grip, and she had started to hyperventilate, though she knew that if she lost control, she would also lose any chance of getting out of this nightmare soon. Only when, after a while, she had been able to make her emotions clear that she was not going to suffocate, she was able to calm down a bit and to examine her tiny prison.

Not that there was much to examine. It seemed to be an ordinary crate, not a coffin, and it was padded with a blanket she was lying upon. The walls were made of wooden planks, and Dalanda could squirm a bit, but not sit up.

As the trip went on, now on a relatively smooth and straight road, she continued picking on her wrist bonds, and after a while, she could rip off the tape. The problem was that this didn’t get her anywhere, as her elbows were tied, too. However, Dalanda refused to accept defeat, and she squirmed, so she could feel the walls of her box.

There were some splinters the size of a toothpick, but these were no use to her. However, there was also a knothole with a protruding edge, and she hoped that perhaps, she could saw through her elbow tie with it. Dalanda bent her knees and squirmed, turning to her side so she could get closer to the knothole. She couldn’t see anything and barely even feel if she was at the right place, but she started to move, rubbing her arms over a spot of which she thought it was where the sharp edge was. It was a straining procedure, and repeatedly, she had to pay tribute to being gagged and hooded. More and more, Dalanda developed a routine: ten times rubbing and pulling, then two deeper breaths.

»If anything, it at least helps me to pass the time!«

***

Usually, Rochus Stuyvesant preferred a slow cruising speed, but his yacht had a strong Rolls Royce motor and could get fast enough to even allow waterskiing. Right now, he was staring at the stern wave of his beloved boat whilst trying not to fall off the rubber boat.

The strange pirates had forced him, his wife and the van Tusks into the rubber boat they had towed to the yacht after they had unloaded three sacks that had sent shivers down Rochus’ spine, as feet had protruded from them, and these sacks had squirmed and mewed. The man in the suit, obviously the leader, had told them to better get a hold, and then, the yacht had speeded on an Eastern course.

They had been robbed of their cell phones, and so, all they could do was to half sit, half lie in the boat that flew over the waves, and discuss their fate over the noise of the engine. So far, they had been left unharmed; the pirates had been almost polite, with one of them even assisting the women in entering the rubber boat. But why were they taking them with them? Would they try to get ransom for them, or had they become hostages in some political conflict they didn’t even know about?

»Maybe, we can loosen the rope!«, his wife suggested, but Rochus shook his head. In the dawn’s light, he could see that one of the men was watching them, and if they did so, the pirates would perhaps sink the rubber boat, leaving them to drown. Their boat also had an engine, but the yacht was much faster, and they would stand no chance if they would chase them.

It was some time after the sunrise that the yacht stopped and the pirates pulled the boat closer. The man in the suit stood there, flanked by his black henchman.

»From here, it’s just 50 miles to Agadir! I don’t know if the fuel will last that long, but there are oars in the boat, and the closer you get, the more likely you will see other boats! Oh, and here are a few things you might need!«

He tossed a bag to Rochus, and in it, he found a few bottles of water, some fruits and a bottle of brandy. In a second bag, the pirates handed them some cloths as sun protection, and even their sunglasses. The man in the suit finally held up two small boxes.

»I am not sure me and my men found every item, but just to show you we are no savages!«

He handed the boxes to Rochus: it was the jewellery boxes of his wife and Maite van Tusk. The two elderly Ladies stared at him as if they had to reconsider what they thought of him. The Black started to loosen the rope tying the boat to the yacht, and the man in the suit pointed towards the horizon where a shadow could be seen.

»You can’t miss the African coast! Don’t worry, by the evening, you will be saved and have something to tell on your next social evening at the country club! Oh, and before I forget-«

He threw a roll of toilet paper into the boat.

»As said, we are no savages!«

The sound of the starting engine drowned the curses of Rochus Stuyvesant as he looked after his disappearing boat with disbelief.

»Rochus! Look!«

His wife had opened her jewellery box and held up a ruby necklace that looked rather pretentious than delicate.

»The necklace of my beloved Grandmother! These men are really not just ordinary pirates!«

Rochus, who had just lost a yacht worth three million Dollars to the Gentlemen of the sea his wife fancied had to oppress the urge to grab the necklace, throw it overboard, and send his wife afterwards if she protested. Henk, who could read his friend’s thoughts, handed him the brandy bottle and whilst Rochus drank, he started the boat’s engine.

***

»Maybe, I should retire and buy such a boat, spending my last years at Sea!«

Ben had enjoyed the yacht’s shower, changed for one of Rochus Stuyvesant’s white shirts and now sat behind the helm, wearing Stuyvesant’s Captain’s hat. He knew that the lifestyle of a rich playboy would bore him to death after a few months, but for now, he just enjoyed the moment.

In the stern, three more of his men had gathered, together with two of their captives. On the bench to his right, Carmen was draped, freed from the sack, but still cuffed hand and foot and gagged. Ben and Jean had put the sun roof over the stern, so she didn’t get burned under the sun, and yet, she could not relax. Her feet rested on the lap of Cory who held the chain of the cuffs in his left. With his right, he teased her soles and toes with something he had discovered when they had collected the jewellery of the two Ladies: Maire van Tusks vibrator, a secret not even her husband knew about. Cory brushed over Carmen’s soles and toes, not tickling her so much she squealed and struggled, but forcing her to constantly writhe and occasionally moan.

On the other side, Inga sat between Nico and Sid; since she hadn’t stopped struggling, she had been left packed inside her sack, and her foot chain was attached to a ring in the floor. She was still crotch roped, and the unnaturally upright posture showed that the sitting position caused the rope to dig even deeper into her soft flesh. The two men had cut holes into the sack, exposing her breasts, and each was fondling one of them. As long as Inga held still, it was just a tender massage; whenever she protested, bucked or tried to shake the hands off, they intensified their taunting and also squeezed her nipples.

Barrot and Jean were relaxing on the deck, Jean enjoying one of the advantages of his dark skin and sunbathing in just his shorts. Marco, the last of Ben’s entourage and the other black guy, had withdrawn to the sun deck at the yacht’s bow, together with Babette. Here, he treated the helpless girl with a strange mixture of tenderness and cruelty.

Babette was still gagged with the panties, socks and tape, and her wrists and ankles were still cuffed. The sun deck was padded, and Marco had draped a towel under her; also, he had wriggled down her pantyhose to her ankles and then creamed her entire body with sun oil.

»You cracker girls burn so easily!«, he had joked, taking care that every inch of her naked body was covered by a film of protective oil. Babette had her eyes closed from the sun and tried to cope with the situation. Marco, stripped to his shorts, was lying beside her, one hand loosely on her left breast. He was sipping from a Coke, and he had pierced a small hole into Babette’s gag, so he could put the straw of a second bottle through it. So far, Babette hadn’t drunk, knowing it meant sucking the drink through her gag, but she knew that sooner or later, thirst would take over.

»Is it me, or are you freezing?«

During his constant caresses, her left nipple had grown hard, and he now playfully pushed it like a button. Babette blushed, but the touch also sent a pleasant tingle through her breast, and she could not oppress a sigh.

***

The Spartan room also offered a clock on the wall, and so, Johanna could see how many minutes of a head start Sato would get. The Nylon of the pantyhose cut into her wrists and ankles; Sato had tied her tight enough it would look convincing. She slightly moved her knees, but stopped as she noticed it made her skirt slide up her thighs even more. The gag felt inconvenient, the lots of experience had not gotten her used to being in bondage.

»At least, it’s not panties this time!«

Watching the second hand of the clock do its turns without hearing any alarm from outside, Johanna forced herself to stay calm until she could see the Policewoman regain her consciousness. Only then did she writhe in her bonds and moan through her gag.

The other woman did not act reserved. Once her eyes had opened, she vigorously fought her bonds, screaming through her gag and trying to wriggle off the belt between her lips by moving her head. Too late, she realized that she was lying on the table, and she fell off, knocking away two of the chairs in the progress.

She continued to struggle, either not hurt or not noticing it, but the noise had already caused people from the corridor to enter, and Johanna moaned and squirmed when a Policeman stumbled inside, dropping his coffee mug at the sight of his colleague, staring at him with widened eyes over her gag, and clad only in her pink panties from the waist down. Johanna couldn’t help the embroidered silver unicorn on the crotch panel.

A few minutes later, both women had been freed, and the Policewoman (named Ana, as Johanna had concluded from the conversation in Spanish, put her jeans back on, unable to express dignity as she did so. She was fuming, and had Sato been in the room right now, she would perhaps had ripped out his heart and torn it to pieces with her bare hands. Johanna was taken care of by the young man who had first discovered them. Alvarez appeared little later, giving her a »I told you so«-look before organizing the search for Sato.

»Johanna, are you okay? What happened?«

It was Melissa, who, alarmed by the commotion, entered the room, followed by Gabriela. Now, Johanna felt her tension cease, and she buried her head on Melissa’s shoulder whilst Gabriela defended her from Alvarez’ accusations of having enabled Sato’s escape.

A prolonged interrogation followed, but in the end, a Police car brought the girls to a hotel where they checked in for the night, promising not to take any risks by exposing themselves. Once the door had closed behind them, Melissa put her hands on her hips.

»Helping a criminal escape, hm?«

»I had no other choice«, Johanna replied enigmatically, and after a moment, she couldn’t help giggling. The other girls fell in, and they decided to stay at the room as they had promised – until they heard from Sato.

***

»Uuhmmph!«

With a last effort, Dalanda pulled on her elbow tie, and she could almost not believe it as her elbows finally parted. Her shoulders were numb and aflame at the same time, and for some time, she couldn’t move her arms at all. Trembling, she waited until she could finally pull the dreadful hood from her head.

She oppressed the urge to remove her gag and started picking on the bandage of her blindfold first. If she could see, it would be of greater use than if she could scream. Still, the car was driving on, on a smooth and even road. Dalanda was sure it was the highway leading from Agadir to the South – to the Mauritanian border.

When she had unwound the bandage and taken the pads from her eyes, Dalanda could still see nothing but a few dark grey schemes. She felt for the lid of the crate; it was closed, but perhaps, it wasn’t locked with a strong lock.

»Mph!«

She needed the ability to breathe! With fluttering fingers, she worked on the bandage and tape sealing her mouth, and she coughed and panted when she could finally pull the sodden nerf ball from her oral cavity. She took a few deep breaths; then, she raised her arms and slammed her hands against the lid as hard as she could.

THUD!

Dalanda hesitated. She was in the load of a van, but the sound could alert her captors. However, if she waited for them to open the box, with her feet still tied, her chances were even worse. So, she pushed against the lid again, and a third time.

The box, that had indeed not been firmly locked, sprang open, and Dalanda, driven by her impetus, sat up. Her eyes fell on the dimly lit interior of a van – and on a young man sitting in the opposite corner, staring at her.

»What the-«

He jumped up, slamming his fist against the front wall, to alert the driver. Dalanda pulled herself out of the box. She could not get to her feet, for her legs were still tied, but perhaps, she could reach the back door!

Both she and the man landed on the floor, entangled, as the van abruptly came to a halt. Dalanda squirmed and struggled; her feet hit something soft, and she was rewarded with a grunt. She pushed herself forward, to the door. It was just two yards away, and if she could reach it-

She made it half the way when it was opened from outside. Another man stared at her, and behind him, Dalanda could see the sky and a bit of an asphalted road. She screamed, and the man drew a gun, aiming at her.

»Shut up, Bitch!«

Again, Dalanda screamed. Now, she could see they were not alone on the road: there were other cars, most of them riding fast, but one of them slowed down, and a man yelled in Arabic, demanding to know what was going on.

The man fired at the direction of the car, and Dalanda heard a curse and the sound of spinning tires. Meanwhile, the other man had thrown himself upon her, and the one with the gun jumped inside, too. Standing in the open door, he yelled:

»Drive! For Allah’s sake, drive!«

Whilst Dalanda and the other man were struggling, he stood shakingly in the open door, holding himself to the frame, and tried to close the door with his other hand as the car accelerated. When he had managed to slam it shut, he fell forward, also landing on Dalanda, and since the other guy had wrestled her to her back, their faces were only an inch apart from each other. His brown eyes sparkled from oppressed rage.

»You’ll pay for that!«

Daland a now could recognize him. She had escaped from him and his friends before, and he obviously still held a grudge about her last escape. She tried to struggle, but his comrade held her arms in a vice grip, and her legs were still tied. So, all she could do was glance at the man, as she didn’t even have enough saliva to spit at his face.

He brought himself into a kneeling position, deliberately putting most of his weight at the knee resting on Dalanda’s chest.

»You know with what my ancestors made a living?«

»According to your looks, I would guess fucking goats!«, Dalanda managed to croak, and to her surprise, the other man chuckled. Her captor also grinned, but it was more from anticipating his revenge.

»Then, you should be save, as I am not considering you as a goat! You are more like a rebellious mare, and my family has a long tradition of breaking horses!«

***