Blonde Needles in a Giant Haystack 5

For a moment, Melissa feared that Felipe or one of the other pilots had gone too far, as she saw Gabriela just come back from the hangar with a sad expression on her face. She cheered up, however, when she saw Melissa, and approached her.

»Don’t worry, I didn’t have to do anything – Felipe was honest enough to tell me that they don’t have planes, and with a small one, it will be difficult to get to Morocco anyway! We have to figure out something else!«

In Melissa, the relief that Gabriela had not been »nice« to Felipe was stronger than her disappointment, and she reached for the Portuguese’s hand as they walked back to their car. Melissa suddenly frowned and pulled Gabriela behind a parked car.

»There’s someone leaning in the window of our car!«

They looked closer, and they now saw that it was a woman – a woman in a Police uniform. Gabriela also noticed the gun in her hand, and she whispered:

»That’s the one Sato had to tie up when he escaped!«

Of course, it didn’t make that much of a difference, as most likely every Policeman in Ferol had gotten a description of Sato. Melissa knew they had to do something.

»Get to her left! Distract her!«

Not questioning her, Gabriela approached the car from the front and asked in Spanish:

»What’s wrong, Officer, did I forget buying a parking ticket?«

Ana barely looked at her and just hissed that she was interrupting an arrest. Lacking spontaneity, Gabriela just replied with a perplexed »What?«, and Ana ignored her, reaching for the phone in her pocket to call her colleagues.

»Freeze! Don’t make any false move!«

Melissa had spoken English, but Ana petrified as she felt something hard push into her lower back. Before she could adjust to the situation, Sato reached forward and took the gun from her hand.

It was a strange situation, with the three women gathered around the car’s front door. Gabriela looked at Melissa, signalling »What now?«

Melissa, still threatening Ana with her lipstick, but now assisted by Sato, tried to think reasonable, though she had little to no experience with such a situation.

»Her car must be somewhere! Get her keys and take it!«, Johanna assisted, remembering a scene from a book where a ca left behind had given the investigators all the evidence they needed. Ana tried to rear up, only to be rewarded by the lipstick pushing harder against her kidney, when Gabriela felt her pockets.

Sato left the car, positioning himself beside Ana, so he could threat her with the gun without the few bystanders noticing it.

»Get inside, between us!«

»You will never get away with that!«, Ana followed the protocol for such situations, but she obeyed, wedging herself onto the narrow backseat. Sato took the seat beside her, now also drawing the other gun and handing one to Johanna who tried to act as if this wasn’t the first time she handled such a weapon.

There weren’t many cars on the parking lot, and Gabriela had just pressed the key button, so the indicators showed her which car was Ana’s. To her relief, it wasn’t a patrol car, but an ordinary SEAT. So, she was able to follow Melissa who had started Johanna’s car.

»You are only making things worse!«, Ana tried to reason. Sato chuckled.

»That’s my modus operandi, so to say, just ask the others!«

***

Alia and Ayoub quickly realized that the six miles’ walk to Sidi Ifni had been the easiest part of their mission. Whilst there were lots of cars, even quite a few unattended, the problem was that most of them were modern enough that their electronic didn’t allow to start them by just connecting two wires as was often shown in movies. Of those old enough to allow a shortcut, most looked as if they wouldn’t even survive the bumpy path back to their hideout, let alone a trip to the desert.

»Don’t mind!«, Ayoub said, patting Ali’s shoulder, »your plan was right, the cars around just aren’t!«

Ali, trying to prove his worth, googled for car salesmen around and found one that looked promising – which in their case meant shady and shabby. They reached the lot, and there was indeed a bunch of cars on a sandy yard, surrounded by a fence. On the first sight, they could see that there were a few cars from the 1980ies and 1990ies, and Ayoub strolled onto the yard to examine them closer whilst trying to look like a casual customer.

He had to withdraw a bit when two more men appeared; they seemed more interested in a regular buy, for they called the shop owner, talking to him in a mixture of broken Arabic and French. First, Ayoub was grateful that they distracted the owner, but then, he was sure that these two men had emerged from hell to taunt him: of the around two dozen cars, two fit best what he desired, a Land Rover Defender and a decommissioned Jeep of the Moroccan Army. Both had seen their best days, but they would easily stand a few more days on uneven terrain, and they could be started without a key if someone knew how to do it.

Now, the two men were negotiating about the prize of not only one of these cars, but both. To Ayoub’s dismay, they seemed quite keen on buying, and one of them had even shown the salesman an envelope with cash, to proof they were serious. Ayoub withdrew when the taller of the two and the salesman shook hands; he returned to Ali, and they decided to have a coffee and a snack before they would wait for the dark to steal an appropriate car.

»These guys somehow looked strange to me!«, Ali stated as they were at the next petrol station, sipping coffee and contemplating their fate. »I mean, they looked as dusty as us, and they had no luggage, except their money! I am sure they are criminals on the run!«

Ayoub scoffed.

»You mean, we should see them as colleagues?«

His eyes narrowed and he looked over Ali’s shoulder. The Land Rover rolled towards the gas pumps, followed by the Jeep. Ayoub felt for his djellaba where, as Ali knew, he kept his gun.

»What do you have in  mind?«

Being just 18, a criminal lifestyle was rather romantic than dangerous to him, and so far, it had been an exciting adventure. In addition, the girl they had kidnapped was easy on the eye, and perhaps-

He followed Ayoub who encircled the two cars. Whilst the driver of the Land Rover was filling the tank, his colleague, who had to wait for the gas pump to be free anyway, had gone inside, talking to the station owner. Ayoub pointed at the driver’s seat of the Jeep.

»If he forgot the key, it would be easy! Just jump and run!«

Ali dared to get closer. There were no keys in the ignition; however, he was developing another plan, and he asked Ayoub:

»The car’s still warm! How long do you think you’ll need to shortcut it?«

Ayoub showed a grin.

»20 seconds at most! I could, however, need a little distraction!«

Ali felt warmed by pride when Ayoub secretly handed him the gun before he strolled closer to the Jeep. The gun was heavy in an assuring way, and he stepped in front of the station.

»Ayaaah! Hit the ground! Hit the ground!«

He emphasized his yelling by a shot in the air, watching in the corner of his eyes  that Ayoub had already jumped upon the Jeep. He heard yelling, and a few people, including the shop owner, threw themselves to the ground, staring at him. Ali felt a wave of adrenaline run through his veins – when suddenly, he realized that there had been another shot.

He looked at his gun, though his rational side knew it hadn’t been him. Then, he saw that Ayoub was lying on the ground, holding his leg and screaming.

»Ayoub!«

He stumbled forward, the gun aiming at everyone and nobody. Ayoub cursed, squirming at the ground, and now, he saw the drivers of the two cars, both aiming at him. They had taken shelter behind the Land Rover and a concrete column, but none of them seemed excited. One of them said in broken Arabic:

»Drop the gun!«

Ali turned towards him, and his index finger squirmed around the trigger. The shot sounded a bit muffled, and something hit his upper arm. The gun in his right felt heavy, not in the assuring way, but he no longer could handle it. It fell to the ground, and Ali stared at the growing red spot on his arm, only now realizing he had been shot.

»Will you piss off now, or do I need to get clearer?«

Ali just stood there, the dull pain in his arm turning into a burning one. Ayoub, who had more experience with such situations, managed to get to his feet. He was limping, but when he noticed his legs would carry him, he grabbed Ali’s unharmed arm.

»Let’s go!«

***

At the bay, the captives had a few hours for themselves that could have been idyllic had there not been the armed men having an eye on them. The water was refreshing, and there was also a smooth rock on which they could sunbathe and that was far enough from both the beach and the yacht that they didn’t feel that observed.

Babette had decided to make the best out of it, as there was no escape she could imagine. The way to the beach would have led directly to the two men, and by swimming, she would have been no match for the dinghy.

»If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that I am still on board of the cruising ship!«

Beside her, Carmen scoffed.

»Did you have to remind me that I am not lying beside my pool?«

Inga wasn’t able to relax, but since she was cuffed hand and foot, her chances of escaping were even smaller. So, she just stared at the beach, hoping that someone would show up, so she could scream. Inga knew that one of the men kept an eye on the path to prevent exactly that, but she knew that if her hope died, she would feel completely desperate.

»EEEK!«

Babette’s scream startled both her and Carmen, and when she looked, she could see Marco, clad only in his bathing pants, showing a broad grin. He had approached silently and surprised Babette by grabbing her ankle with his cold hand.

»Sorry, I couldn’t resist! The boss tells me that you shall prepare for returning to the ship and-«

He climbed on top of the rock and from his pants, he drew a small plate. The girls frowned as he held it up into the air; then, they gasped as they heard a shot and the plate was shattered. Marco didn’t even twitch, though the shooter had been more than 100 yards away and been standing on a swaying surface.

»Just in case you decide not to follow the order! See you in ten, Ladies!«

He playfully slapped Babette’s buttocks before he jumped into the water and swam back to the yacht. Inga murmured something in Swedish, and Carmen sighed. The shot had told them more than clearly that if they refused to leave the rock, the man with the rifle could easily hit them.

»Well, let’s go!«

She slid into the water, followed by Babette. Inga hesitated: everything inside her rebelled against being obedient. However, there was no point in getting hurt and to die on that hill – literally. She wanted to be free, but her captivity hadn’t been long and hard enough that she hated it more than she wanted to be well and alive.

Being cuffed, Inga took some time to reach the yacht, and so, she could see both Carmen and Babette standing on the platform, creaming themselves with soap whilst Marco waited with a water hose. She gritted her teeth, knowing that the ordeal of showering in front of their captors was waiting for her, too.

Once all salt had been washed from them, Ben handed large towels to the girls, big enough for them to cover their bodies with them. Marco helped Inga out of the water, and Ben asked:

»So, since we can’t risk you to be free – will you be a good girl and allow Marco to soap and wash you, Inga?«

The Swede stared daggers at him and stepped away from Marco. Ben just shrugged.

»Sorry, Carmen and Babette, but it seems that you have to do the job then!«

He spun around to Inga, suddenly with ice in his eyes.

»And if you make things difficult for them, I will make things difficult for you! You got me?«

Inga didn’t answer and also not lower her head, but she offered no resistance when the other two reluctantly poured soap over her and then rinsed her with the hose, trying not to touch her more than necessary. Inga had to endure getting towelled, and finally, Babette tugged the towel below her arms, so that Inga was covered, too.

They were given some water and food, and Ben told them that Barrot had contacted him, sending pictures of the cars he had bought.

»He has said something about difficulties, so, we will have to make a few miles before we can rest! At least, we don’t have to walk or to rely on donkey-drawn carts!«

When the girls had finished their meal, Ben got another message from Jean: the cars had arrived, and they could see the man get into the dinghy and approach the boat.

»Time for you to get ready! Babette, follow me, please!«

She was given five minutes in privacy to use the toilet, a tiny room from which all sharp objects had been removed, and was then led into the yacht’s main cabin, followed by both Ben and Marco whilst Cory kept an eye on the two others. On a table, she could see some dresses, but also a coiled white rope and some rolls of tape.

»We are not intending to visit the big cities, but if we pass a village and someone looks inside the car, they would be surprised to see you naked! So, you may choose a dress and put it on!«

Ben had plundered the wardrobe Marte Stuyvesant and Maite van Tusk had been forced to leave behind, and he had already pre-selected. Babette saw no plain clothes, but a daringly short black dress, maybe even a real Coco Chanel, a white silk dress and a Burgundy red cocktail dress with Spaghetti straps.

She picked the white dress that looked the most substantial. To put it on, she had to drop the towel, and she didn’t know why she blushed, since the men had all seen her in the nude before. The dress span over her breasts; obviously, Maite van Tusk had been less well endowed. However, the silk felt smooth, and the skirt reached to her knees. Babette felt covered – until her eyes fell onto the large mirror on one of the walls.

The dress was quite transparent, enough to tell anyone even from the distance that she was wearing no bra, and she knew that hadn’t she shaved her pubic hair, there would have been a clearly visible dark shadow.

»M-may I have some underwear, too?«, Babette asked, trying her puppy look on Ben who shook his head.

»I see nothing you’d have to be ashamed of – but you may have these if it makes you feel better!«

He handed her a pair of nude pantyhose, also transparent and having been worn before by either Maite or Marte. Babette hesitated, and in a slightly sharper tone, Ben ordered:

»Put them on!«

Reluctantly, Babette obeyed, knowing what kind of a show she was offering. Marco meanwhile cut some lengths of rope and when she was wearing the pantyhose and had smoothed her skirt, he reached for her arms.

»Since you have been a good girl so far, Marco will try to combine convenience and security!«

He placed her hands palm to palm and tied her wrists, indeed not pulling the ropes too tight. He taped her fingers, though, and she then felt some rope touch her elbow.

»That’s not what I call convenient!«

»It’s for the side effect, Babsi!«, Ben said with a grin, and he stared directly at her breasts as she was forced to thrust them out as Marco brought her elbows together. He showed some concession by cinching the rope in a way her joints were a few inches apart from each other. With a third rope, he tied her legs above her knees.

»Now for a gag!«

Babette gulped when she saw the white pair of Lycra panties Ben had chosen for her. These had been Inga’s, then, they had acted as a gag for Carmen before she had been wearing them. Now, Babette would become their third possessor. Marco gathered her hair and pulled, forcing her to open her mouth, allowing Ben to work the panties behind her pristine teeth.

»See the positive, Babsi! They are so substantial, there’s no more room for one of my socks!«

»Gllgg!«

Marco tied one of Henk van Tusk’s silk neckties between her lips and knotted it off at her nape. Then, he used flesh-coloured tape to wrap the lower half of her face and as a finishing touch, he took a lipstick and painted lips where her mouth was. From the distance, it would look as if Babette wasn’t gagged at all.

Two small pieces of the same tape were placed over her eyes, and Ben added a pair of sunglasses to hide the blindfold.

»Perfect!«

He kissed Babette’s forehead, and Marco led her back upstairs, carrying her up the gangway and placing her on the bench at the stern.

Carmen was next to be prepared, and whilst Babette could not see it, Inga saw her in the red cocktail dress that had a rather daring cleavage and a short skirting, showing her transparent black pantyhose. She was tied, gagged and blindfolded identically to Babette, having to chew on a pair of lacy red French Knickers that had once been worn by Maite van Tusk.

The two girls could only hear from the cursing, rustling and finally mewing that Inga was offering a little more resistance. In the end, however, the Swede was also trussed up and ready for transport – with a few additions:

Inga wore the black mini dress that had looked daringly short on Marte Stuyvesant – on 5’11’’ Inga, it revealed all of her legs, clad in a nude pantyhose that was too small for the tall woman, and her panties were only not on display because she was wearing none. The dress was strapless, and it looked as if once Inga heaved too much, her boobs would pop out of her cleavage.

Her elbow joints were crushed together by ropes above and below, and a rope around her neck disappeared between her breasts. It went directly between her legs, bisecting her labia, and was tied off to her neck noose at her nape. Inga was gagged with a black and a white pair of lacy silk panties, both former property of Marte Stuyvesant, a cleave and flesh-coloured tape. Her blindfold was hidden under a pair of sunglasses, too, but in her case, Ben had also stuffed cotton wool into her ears to further disorientate her.

They were made to sit in the dinghy and were brought to the beach where the men carried them up the hill. Someone – she somehow hoped it was Marco – cradled Babette ij his arms, and Carmen was carried with similar gentleness whilst Inga was transported hanging over one man’s shoulder, with a hand groping her buttocks and playfully testing the tightness of her crotch rope.

Barrot quickly reported that when they had refuelled the cars and bought provisions, two muggers had tried to steal the Jeep.

»One of them even had a gun – but not for long!«

He told Ben that none of the two would-be thieves had gotten severely wounded, and since they had had enough witnesses to prove that they had acted in self-defence, the Police had not even bothered them.

»There was only two Policemen, and it seemed that they were rather keen on getting the two men arrested than asking Sid and me too many questions!«

Chuckling, he added:

»Maybe, the 200 Euros I had inside my passport also helped, for when he handed it back to me, they had vanished!«

Inga grunted, and Babette also felt as if yet another chance of escaping had just vanished. So far, Ben seemed also a little ahead.

The Land Rover had three rows of seats, and the three girls had to sit in the second one, with Inga in the middle. The Swede could not oppress a sigh when sitting, as this made the crotch rope bite even more into her soft flesh. Seat belts were fastened, doors were closed, and whilst the captives realized that the air inside the car was quite hot and stuffy, the men decided who would use which car.

Ben had changed his suit for something more casual from Henk van Tusk’s wardrobe, and he decided to mount the Jeep, together with Jean and Barrot. The other four entered the Land Rover, where Sid again took the wheel: since he spoke Arabic, too, he could ask for the way then. Marco and Nico went in the last row, where they could lean over the backrest of the girls. Marco sat behind Babette and tried a gentler approach by massaging her neck and shoulders and whispering compliments into her ears. Nico, on the other hand, skipped such preliminaries and just fondled Carmen’s breasts.

Cory, sitting beside Sid, had taken a twig from a bush, and he now used it to taunt Inga with it, by brushing over her knees, poking her breasts or lifting her skirt, giggling whenever she cursed through the packing in her mouth or tried to kick him with her unbound lower legs.

»Tomorrow, you’ll do the driving, and I will have some fun!«, Sid complained as he followed the Jeep towards the main road.

***

Wassim seemed to be actually quite a nice guy, or, to be more precisely, not more gruesome than necessary. He left Dalanda ungagged and even let her have one of the two cereal bars he had with him. They had some small talk, but whenever Dalanda tried to find out more about her fate, he dodged her or even threatened to gag her. So, she tried another approach:

»My toes hurt! Can’t you remove just the toe tie, please? I promise not to attack you with my big toes if you do so!«

After some hesitating, Wassim obviously decided that a still tied Dalanda would not be able to escape and so, he drew a knife and cut the cable binder. Dalanda mewed when the plastic tie came off, and Wassim scoffed.

»You expect me to blow on it? There’s not even a bruise!«

His sneering expression changed into a frown when he saw that Dalanda was looking as if he had hit her. She gulped and obviously fought back her tears.

»What?«, he grunted, hiding his insecurity behind roughness. Dalanda sniffled and shook her head.

»Sorry, it’s not your fault, it’s just – just because my skin colour covers minor bruises, or when I am blushing, white people think that I am not hurt, or embarrassed, at all!«

Wassim looked at her; then, he reached for her toes.

»There’s really nothing!«

Dalanda twitched and sharply inhaled air. Wassim suddenly grinned.

»Are you ticklish?«

He gave the answer to himself by brushing over the girl’s soles, chuckling as Dalanda cringed and tried to shake him off.

»No, please!«, she protested, though she also had to laugh. Their banter was interrupted by Wassim’s phone ringing, and he took the call. Dalanda could see his expression change dramatically during the short call. He let the phone sink and stared at her.

»That was Ayoub! When trying to get a car, they were both shot! He and Ali have withdrawn to a shed, but now, the Police is coming for them, and they have lost the gun! I – I – Fuck!«

He kicked the van’s wheel with such ferocity the car slightly swayed, and Dalanda suddenly felt fear. Wassim added a few more curses, then leaned against the van, slamming against the wall.

»They will go to jail – and I am sitting here, with you, and a car with flat tires!«

Dalanda sensed that asking him whether letting her go was an option would not be a good idea. Instead, she asked:

»Are they – badly hurt?«

Panting like after a marathon, Wassim shook his head.

»Just small wounds! Ayoub survived worse back in the days, and Ali’s tough! They will make it, and they will also not tell the cops about me and you – but this is a huge fucking problem!«

He emphasized the last three words by slamming against the car again. Dalanda could only think of two options – letting her go – or killing her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but Wassim grabbed the nerf ball and forced it into her mouth, securing it with a few rounds of tape.

»I have to think! I was sent on this mission because I always find a solution – and I will find a solution now!«

***

During the trip, Ana not only had kept track of their way, she also tried to analyse her kidnappers. Sato was difficult to read, and he was obviously the most skilled of them all. The blonde – Johanna Müller, as she remembered – seemed nervous, and even from the corner of her eye, Ana could see that she had never before used a gun in earnest. However, she seemed determined to assist Sato, though according to what Ana knew, she was a renowned author and he a criminal.

She knew hardly anything about Melissa or Gabriela, just that they had also been among the women rescued from the cellar of Carmen Vega’s mansion. They had shared captivity with Johanna, but what did they have to do with Sato?

They reached an abandoned barn and both cars parked behind it, so they could not be spotted from the road. Ana was led inside where she had to lean against a post, so Sato could tie her wrists behind it.

»Listen, Mr. Sato, if you hand yourself in now, this will be seen as a mitigating circumstance – and your friends are in a state of – great tension! With a little bit of luck, they will not even be charged for helping you escape and assisting in the kidnapping of a Police Officer!«

She had spoken Spanish, knowing that Gabriela, a Portuguese, would understand her. Ana hoped that Gabriela, who was also a Policewoman, was the most reasonable and would talk some sense into her accomplices.

Gabriela translated Ana’s words, and they all looked at each other. Sato stated:

»If we do as she says, we are where we started – just that you will be charged, or at least supervised, too!«

Gabriela tried to play advocatus diaboli:

»If we do as she says and tell the Police everything we found out, they can cooperate with the Moroccan Police and-«

Sato shook his head, staring at the tips of his shoes.

»It was my mistakes that got Babette caught! Whatever you decide, I will not stay behind on another continent and scratch my balls whilst she’s in danger!«

Melissa raised an eyebrow.

»So, is this about Babette, or your fragile macho ego?«

Sato looked up, and for a few moments, it looked as if the next thing to happen was little clouds coming out of his ears. Instead, he coughed what was meant as a kind of laugh.

»Maybe, it’s both!«, he admitted.

He seemed to think of something, for there was a strange flickering in his eyes, though his coolness seemed to have returned. He focused Ana and asked in English:

»Do you speak English?«

Ana nodded, and Sato added:

»Good! Now, please, don’t speak at all, in any language, for I have to make a call!«

He drew his phone he had recharged meanwhile and withdrew outside the barn. Ana spoke to Gabriela:

»Now would be a good opportunity to take his gun and keep him from whatever he plans next, whilst you untie me, so I can call my colleagues!«

With an annoyed grunt, Johanna grabbed a roll of tape and, despite Ana’s attempts to avoid it, taped a strip over the Policewoman’s lips.

»Shut up! Sato may have his flaws, and I know more about it than you – but I want to hear what he has in mind – undisturbed!«

Gabriela just shrugged, and they all turned their back towards Ana and stared at the entrance of the barn where Sato was talking to someone who obviously spoke English.

»Do you think he’s talking to Davenport?«, Melissa whispered towards Johanna.

The call seemed endless, and all four women looked at him with impatient anticipation when Sato finally ended the call and returned inside. He looked as if he was exhausted, and there was a strange expression on his face.

»Mr. Davenport agreed on further assisting us, as long as our activities harm Ben Keane! However, he insists on meeting with us in person – at Agadir!«

***