Finders Keepers
Part 3
Kneeling on the smooth bottom of the bubbling spa, Kat twisted and struggled frantically in her bonds. The heat was beginning to get to her. Tied as she was, the intrepid adventuress could bounce and bob lightly in the frothy water, but there was no way for her to climb out. It was a pool designed for total immersion, the walls were vertical and completely smooth, with no bench or steps inside.
She wasted no effort in trying to call for help. Disgusting as it was to be gagged with several women’s panties, it was also quite effective. The little sound she could make could never be heard outside of the bathing chamber. She also knew there was little chance of someone rescuing her from the boiling pot; it was not unusual for people to spend an hour or more in the private rooms, undisturbed.
Damn, it’s getting hot! Kat glanced up at the digital readout again, and shuddered despite the searing heat. The water temperature was already up to 105 degrees! I’ve got to get out of this makeshift cookpot before I’m stew! the captive woman thought frantically.
Fighting the growing urge to pass out, she took stock of her situation. With her wrists roped together across her stomach and her elbows tied back, she could only flap her hands uselessly. She could waggle her feet, but since her legs were doubled up by the ropes she couldn’t really kick, only bob helplessly up and down. Again and again she tugged and strained at the ropes, but they held her fast. No matter how much she twisted and struggled, she couldn’t loosen a single cord or reach a single knot. It was maddening to be able to touch the rope cinched tight across her stomach, but to be unable to do anything with it.
The digits clicked over to 110 degrees. Kat was starting to get very woozy. Bobbing up to grab a frantic breath of cooler air, she sank helplessly back into the roiling water. When she settled back to the bottom of the pool, however, something jabbed painfully into her knee. Looking down, she spotted a small, dark object lying on the bottom of the pool. It took her a moment to realize what it was: the bottle cap Titania had spat at her. Not only a murderous thief, but a litterbug, too!
Kat shook her head, realizing that the growing heat was affecting her thinking. Soon the water would be scalding hot, and after that it would be only a matter of minutes before she passed out from the pain. Her knee came down on the bottle cap again, making her wince and jerk away. That little sucker’s pretty damn . . . sharp . . .
A sudden flash of hope sent a jolt of renewed energy through her. Maybe there was a way out of this horrible death-trap. If she could only get her hands on that blasted bottle cap! Rocking from side to side, Kat sought to reach the bottle cap with one of her hands. Again and again she strained to reach it, but the little round circle remained just beyond her desperately-stretching fingers. Just as she was about to give up, she lurched to one side, her head slipping all the way under the water. A few seconds later she bobbed back up to the surface, gasping and snorting, but with the bottle cap grasped triumphantly in her hand.
Now it was desperate race against the steady rise in water temperature. With its crinkled edge, the bottle cap was like a tiny circular saw. Kat pressed the edge of the cap against the rope that stretched between her wrists and across her stomach and began rubbing it up and down as fast and as hard as she could. Though the aluminum cap looked like a saw and felt sharp against her skin, she knew it wasn’t nearly as sharp as a knife blade, or even as a shard of glass might have been. Nevertheless, her only chance was to use the cap to try and saw through the rope and free her hands.
115 . . . 116 . . . 117 . . .
The going was maddeningly slow. Kat fought against rising panic while she rubbed the bottle cap against the rope, up and down, up and down. The heat felt like thousands of tiny pinpricks all over her body, and she couldn’t see through the water well enough to tell if she was making any headway against the rope.
123 . . . 124 . . . 125 . . .
It was more than pinpricks now. The water was so hot that Kat felt like her skin was about to be peeled away. Her fingers were cramping from gripping the bottle cap so tightly as she sawed away, sawed away. It was getting hard to breathe, and hard to think. She kept sawing frantically at the rope, straining her arms to pull her wrists apart. If something didn’t give way soon . . .
And then, just like that, the rope between her wrists snapped. Her hands flew away from her stomach, but her elbows were still tethered together behind her. With her hands freed, however, she could arch her back and flex her arms back enough to loosen the coils around her elbows. Then it was just a matter of standing up, the rope from her ankles tugging the elbow ropes down and off her arms. Hopping awkwardly against the resistance of the water, flailing with her arms, Kat made her way to the side of the pool and hauled herself out of the roiling waters.
The tiled floor of the bathing chamber felt blessedly cool against her heat-seared skin. Kat lay panting through her nose for several minutes, watching as the temperature readout climbed past 130 degrees. A few more seconds, and she’d have been badly scalded. Reaching up with shaking hands, she peeled away the waterproof tape and unwound the elastic bandage from her head and out from between her jaws. Groaning, she expelled the wadded panties from her mouth and drew in deep, greedy breaths of fresh air.
Once she finally felt like she wasn’t going to pass out, Kat sat up and started working on the ropes binding her legs. The cords had were swollen from being immersed in the water, and it seemed to take forever to loosen the knots. She persisted in her efforts, finally managing to undo the knots and free her legs. The tight ropes left deep creases in her skin, and she spent several minutes massaging her arms and legs before she finally felt ready to get to her feet again.
By the time she made her way out of the bath chamber, of course, there was no sign of Dominique and Titania. The staff and administration of Greystoke Havens was aghast at what had transpired, so much so that Kat was awarded with a free membership for life. So she had to admit that some good had come out of her harrowing experience. It took months, however, for her to sit in a jacuzzi again.
Katarina’s reverie was broken by the soft but insistent beeping of the cordless phone she’d taken into the bathroom with her. Stretching out a languid arm, she lifted the receiver from the counter. “Hello?”
“Hey, Kat, how long are you going to sit in that glorified bubble-bath?” Jill St. Claire’s voice vibrated stridently in her ear. “Alison and I are already half a pint ahead of you, girl!”
“Is it that late already?” Kat exclaimed. “Sorry, Jill, I’ll be right down.”
“Hurry up, love, before you turn into a prune,” Jill laughed, and hung up.
Climbing out of the swirling waters of the spa, Kat toweled herself dry quickly, then slipped into a short dress of light blue silk and stepped into a pair of high-heeled slides. She checked herself in the mirror, then added a pair of silver earrings set with lapis lazuli and a matching pendant on a light silver chain. The pendant nestled neatly in the hollow between her generous breasts. Making sure that the door of her private suite was double-locked behind her, she sashayed down the hallway and pressed the call button for the elevator.
Alison and Jill were waiting for her in the VIP lounge off the main lobby. Sure enough, Jill had a near-empty glass mug in front of her, while Alison was sipping delicately at something tall and frosty with a tiny paper umbrella stuck in it. Kat seated herself at the one remaining empty chair at their table and waved a short-skirted waitress over. “Singapore Sling,” she ordered.
“I hear you had another nasty set-to with our old friend Dominique,” Jill remarked, waving her now-empty mug for a refill.
Kat shot the redhead a look. “I see bad news travels fast.”
“Not as fast as Dominique and her over-athletic Russian pal. Last I heard they were halfway to Madrid.”
“Where a particularly unscrupulous curator will pay her a nice fat fee for the Star of Zanubia, with no questions asked,” Alison chimed in. Somewhat shorter than the other two women, she looked almost like a schoolgirl with her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and her rimless glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“Don’t remind me,” Kat grumbled. “Damn it, I was so blasted close! I had the gem right in my hands, until that thieving she-devil horned in. I’m going to hate telling the Calhoun family what happened—not to mention that bitch of an attorney. I was so looking to showing her up.”
Alison cleared her throat carefully. “Now that you mention the Calhoun’s attorney, you might be interested in some information I dug up earlier today. Haven’t you wondered how Dominique and Titania were able to track you down in the crypt so easily?”
Kat’s face turned stony. “You don’t mean the Honorable Jessica Drew . . .”
“More like ‘dishonorable,’ Kat. It took a little chasing down, but I found an overseas account in her name, with several recent deposits totaling $10,000. The checks for said deposits were drawn on an account held by the Museum de Madrid.”
The waitress brought Kat’s drink. She took a long, thoughtful sip of the red-hued cocktail, then set her glass down hard on the tabletop. “That witch! So she’s the one who sicced Dominique on me.”
Jill ran a finger around the rim of her mug. “Perhaps we should pay that solicitor a visit, and let her know how much we . . . appreciate . . . her little ploy.”
Kat thought for a minute, then shook her head. “Maybe later. Right now I want to catch up with Dominique and Titania, and get that gem back.”
“Now that’s the ticket!” Jill agreed. Scooping up the fresh mug of foamy ale that had been set down in front of her, she clinked it smartly against Kat’s glass. “Count me in, love!”
The two of them grinned at each other, then turned to Alison, who looked less than enthusiastic. “I don’t know,” she temporized. “I mean, remember what happened the last time we went up against those two?” She shuddered delicately. “I never want to repeat that experience!”
“Now, now, love, that was a bad time we had, no doubt about it,” Jill agreed, patting her hand soothingly. “But this isn’t like it was in Panama. They caught us off-guard and one at a time, remember? This time, we’ll be the ones doing the catching! They’ll be no match for all three of us together.”
“I hope you’re right,” Alison said, still sounding unconvinced. The fearful ordeal they’d experienced in Panama was still fresh enough in her mind for the memory to give her the shivers. Still, it would be very satisfying to give Dominique and her crony a taste of their own nasty medicine. “Okay, I’m in for the whole shooting match,” she said finally, clinking her glass with the others. “I owe those two bimbos some payback for what they did to us in Panama.”
Panama had been Alison’s first time working “in the field” with her two companions. Most of the time the pretty blonde worked behind the scenes, scouring the Internet or hacking into supposedly hack-proof computer systems to get the information Kat needed. In the case that had brought the three women to Panama, however, the information system in question was completely isolated from outside connections. The only way to hack into it was for Alison to get inside the former military post and find somewhere to hook up to the system with her laptop.
While Alison worked at hacking into the network, Kat and Jill were on a more prosaic search for information. Jill had made her way to the institution’s main file room and was systematically picking the locks on the file cabinets, while Kat worked on opening a large safe she’d found in another part of the complex. The prize this time was not a jewel or a book, but rather a map. The three women had information that the map was somewhere in the complex, but they didn’t know if it was still just on paper or if it had been scanned into a computer somewhere. If the latter was true, then Alison would surely find it.
Unfortunately, what none of the women realized was that the informant who’d sent them to the complex was working both sides of the street. Because of the informant’s betrayal, the three of them had been under careful surveillance from the moment they’d entered the old fortress. When it became evident what they were searching for, surveillance turned into stalking.
It had been a grave error, Kat realized later, for the three of them to split up. With the three of them working together on the project, they had become far too confident in their own abilities. Separated from each other inside the complex, the three women became easy prey for their stalkers.
Their first target was Jill St. Claire. The redhaired Interpol agent was bent over a desk, flipping through a large pile of manila folders in hopes of finding the map they were looking for. So engrossed was she in her search, she never heard the stealthy footsteps behind her, never realized she was not alone until powerful hands seized her and pinned her arms behind her back. Her instinctive yelp of surprise and anger was muffled by a damp, sweet-smelling cloth pressed firmly over her nose and mouth. Even as her brain screamed the identification, “Chloroform!” she felt her body succumbing to the fumes. Her limbs grew heavy and awkward, her vision darkening rapidly from gray to the final color, absolute black.
Alison Palmer was next on the list. Hunched intently over her laptop, she keyed in the entry code for her wireless connection, linking via satellite to her home system. “C’mon, c’mon,” she whispered urgently, watching the little glowing line on the screen change color as the critical file was uploaded to her home system. Bent over as she was, her shirt had ridden up, baring several inches of tanned skin above her waist. She jerked at a sudden sharp pain in the small of her back. Thinking it was a mosquito she swatted at it, only to find something shaped like a small, thin pencil imbedded in her flesh. “What the hell?” She pulled it out, realizing belatedly that it was a dart. Already an odd lethargy was weighing down her limbs, her vision beginning to blur. Squinting, she strained to focus on screen while she punched out a final few commands on the keyboard. “Gotcha,” she whispered, just before she sank into oblivion.
Last to fall was Kat herself. Stymied by the intricate lock on the safe, she was just coming out of the office when something that felt like a huge canvas bag was pulled down over her head and shoulders. Before she could even react, the sack was pulled all the way down to her feet and cinched tight around her ankles. A swift jerk sent her toppling to the floor, stunning her and knocking the breath out of her. The heavy cloth of the bag hampered her movements, enough so that her attackers were able to wrap leather belts around her from outside. One by one the belts were cinched tight, strapping her legs together and strapping her arms tightly against her sides. A thick leather collar was buckled snugly around her neck, isolating her head in the top of the bag, giving her the appearance of a canvas-covered mummy. When her muffled imprecations and curses grew too loud to suit her attackers, they fastened another narrow strap around her head and between her jaws to form a crude but effective gag.
The next few hours were nightmarish. Unable to see, hardly able to breathe in her canvas and leather cocoon, Kat could only guess at what was happening around her. She was carried for a time, then dropped onto a flat surface that vibrated beneath her—possibly a truck bed, she thought. Not knowing what had happened to her friends, she hoped that they at least had escaped. Twisting and turning, she tried to fight her way free, but it was no use. The bag and confining straps held her fast despite her best efforts. With her arms pinned to her sides by the leather belts, she couldn’t reach either of her knives, not the one she kept up her left sleeve or the one strapped to her right ankle.
She was bumped and jostled during the long ride, to the point where she was sure she’d have bruises on her bruises. When the vehicle, whatever it was, finally came to a halt, she was both relieved and apprehensive. Rough hands pulled her out and carried her for a short distance, then dropped her to the ground. From the muffled grunts and squeals she could hear through the canvas covering her head, she surmised that Jill and Alison were with her as well, and likely just as constrained as she was. She could hear the voices of what sounded like two or more women, but could not make out what they were saying. Nevertheless, at least one of the voices was disturbingly familiar.
Scissors were brought into play, cutting away most of the canvas bag except for the part covering her head. More than the canvas bag was cut away, too, leaving her in nothing but her skimpy lingerie. Kat grimaced as she felt her precious knives taken as well. The leather straps were removed, but were quickly replaced by coarse, tightly-cinched ropes biting into her arms and legs. She found herself seated on the ground and leaning back slightly, roped around her waist to something rough and unyielding, her hands drawn up and tied over her head. Her legs were roped together at the knees and ankles and left stretched out in front of her.
Vision returned in a blinding glare as the canvas hood covering her head was cut away, leaving her with the leather strap-gag still fastened between her jaws. She blinked sunlight-induced tears away and was finally able to take in the scene around her. It was not an encouraging sight.
Seated on the ground a few yards away, trussed and gagged in the same manner and just as uncovered, was her friend Jill St. Claire. The intrepid agent was roped up to the trunk of a long-fallen jungle tree, and Kat supposed she herself was bound to a similar object. Kat thought she recognized what it was, but she didn’t want to accept it, didn’t want it to be true.
Alison Palmer lay gagged and hogtied on the ground off to one side, stripped to her lingerie like Kat and Jill. Standing over her with gloating grins were the last people in the world Kat wanted to see: Dominique Chandeaux and Titania Borinski. Besides the thief and her over-developed crony were several other sturdy, olive-skinned women in the ubiquitous and colorful native garb Kat and her friends had seen during their earlier trek through the Panamanian jungle. Looking around, Kat saw a battered Jeep parked a dozen or so yards away, evidently that was how they had been brought to this spot. There was nothing else around but thick jungle growth. Though it was only a little past dawn, it was already stifling hot and humid, and Kat could feel the sweat trickling down her body.
A large pit had been dug into the ground between the two fallen trees to which Jill and Kat were tied. Next to the pit was a woven basket about the size of a two-drawer file cabinet lying on its side. Kat didn’t want to speculate what might be in the basket, which, from the little shudders and movement she saw, seemed to contain something living.
“Good morning, ma cheri!” Dominique greeted her, coming over to stand before her, her eyes dancing with mischief and malice. Showing her prisoner the knives she had confiscated, she waved them back and forth several times before tossing them into the underbrush. “Such nasty little toys you had hidden away! I had heard that you had somehow escaped being turned into soup, but I could not believe I would have the chance to meet you again so soon! And under such auspicious circumstances, too!”
Kat groaned into her gag. She would hardly have described these circumstances as “auspicious.” Dominique, however, seemed inordinately pleased with herself.
“To have you and both of your oh-so-clever partners at hand is more than I could have hoped for,” the auburn-haired thief continued. “It was hard to come up with a plan that would involve all three of you, but I think you will be pleased with the result.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “Well, perhaps ‘pleased’ is not the word you would use. But let us finish with the set-up, oui?” Turning to the native women, she snapped out a series of commands in their language.
While Kat and Jill squirmed and struggled futily in their bonds, two long ropes were tied to their ankles, the other ends flung over two overhead tree limbs. Pulling down on the ropes, the native women drew the captives’ feet up into the air, then held them there. Alison squawked and writhed as two more women lifted her off the ground and carried her over to the pit between the other two prisoners. After a short but intense tussle, she found herself suspended over the pit, the ropes from Jill’s and Kat’s ankles tied together and slung under her arms and across her chest. With both of the bound women’s legs fully extended, Alison was lowered into the pit until her knees practically scraped the ground.
“Perfect, perfect!” Dominique exclaimed. “You see, the weight of your little friend keeps a constant tension on the ropes, while the two of you can pull your legs down and raise her up out of the pit. Is that not so? Please, do demonstrate for me!”
Kat and Jill glared at her defiantly. Whatever the evil-minded thief had in mind, they would certainly not go along calmly with her demands.
“Oh, so you refuse?” Dominique smiled cruelly and turned to her partner. “Titania, perhaps you can show them why they should obey, hmm?”
Titania grinned back. “Oui, Dominique.” The big-bosomed blonde stepped over to the woven basket and unfastened the lid. Handling it gingerly, she tipped it carefully towards the pit. The lid fell open, and to Alison’s horror several large, hissing snakes fell out into the pit! Instantly Jill and Kat contracted their legs, pulling the squealing, struggling blond computer expert away from the angry vipers.
“Ah, a wise move, ma petites,” Dominique purred. “These lovelies are fer-de-lances, the most deadly snake in Panama. A single bite is fatal, and they are notoriously ill-tempered. If you wish to keep your dear friend out of danger, I suggest you keep your feet pulled down as far as possible . . . for as long as you can, that is.”
Kat sank her teeth into the leather and cloth of her gag, glaring daggers at her gloating captoress. What a sadistic and deadly trap Dominique had devised! Tied as they were, neither she nor Jill could help Alison get out of her bonds, nor could she do anything to help them escape. As long as she and Jill kept their legs contracted, Alison would be suspended over the pit and away from the snakes, but they couldn’t keep their legs pulled down that way for long. Both women were in excellent physical condition, but Alison was a dead weight, and sooner or later their strength would give out and she would drop down, lower and lower . . .
But Dominique wasn’t finished yet. “Oh, but I nearly forgot! I cannot just leave you other two as passive witnesses to your little friend’s peril. I must give the two of you something else to hold your attention.” She snapped out another order, and one of the native women ran back to the Jeep, returning with a large glass jar filled with some kind of amber liquid. Slowly unscrewing the top off the jar, Dominique stepped over to where Kat sat back against the mossy trunk of the fallen tree. She tipped the jar over Kat’s head, and the bound woman squirmed uncomfortably as the thick, amber liquid began cascading down over her.
“Yes, ma cheri, it is honey,” Dominique confirmed. “Sweet golden honey, fresh from the native hives.”
Kat looked over to where Titania was emptying a similar jar of honey over Jill’s squirming form. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she suddenly realized the significance of the fallen trees to which she and her friend were bound. She distinctly recalled one of their guides pointing out how such trees were often home to huge ant nests—army ants!
“I fear the insects who inhabit these trees are rather voracious and indiscriminate eaters,” Dominique was saying, letting the honey drip slowly down along Kat’s heaving breasts and taut stomach. “They will start with the honey, of course, but it will not take long for them to begin on your flesh. If you stay very still they will probably not sting you, but the bites of so many little jaws will surely provide you with some distraction, no? After all, I should hate for the two of you to become bored. Of course, once the fer-de-lances have finished with your little friend, they will be seeking out such fresh prey that is close at hand, so you may get some relief from the ants before long. If nothing else,” she added with unholy zest, “the jungle sun will finish all three of you eventually. Adieu, ma cherie!” Blowing each of the struggling women a mocking kiss in turn, Dominique turned and stalked off towards the Jeep, accompanied by Titania and the rest of her band. They all piled into the battered vehicle, and with many derisive hoots and waves, soon vanished into the greenery, leaving the captive women behind to face their awful fate.