 
Suzanne

Written by: Paul Gray

Published by Paul Gray at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Paul Gray

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### PRELUDE

Suzanne woke slowly from a deep sleep. She was confused at first, not knowing where she was. Without opening her eyes, she drifted on the brink of sleep and wakefulness entertaining dreamy fantasies that became intermingled with coherent thoughts. She recalled going to bed the previous evening in her brand new bed in the new home that she and her husband Richard had recently purchased. It was only her third night in the new bed and it was most likely the presence of the unicorns that confused her or.. no, that was just a dream. Well, it was a new home and it was understandable to wake with some disorientation considering the new surroundings. She found the confusion annoying but decided that she could live with it for now. Time would provide the remedy as it always did, she dreamily reassured herself, and besides, she loved unicorns. She smiled and tried snuggling deeper into her pillow.

Her husband of three years, was out of town on yet another business trip so she had slept alone. The mere fact that Richard was out of town did not necessarily guarantee that she would sleep alone. In fact she often took advantage of just this type of situation and encouraged him to go on those extended trips that were so often required by his employer, even though she knew he hated being away from her. Richard's job was intense and it kept him very busy. Suzanne was ok with that. Richard was out of town for one reason or another at least half of the time and that played right into Suzanne's longing to roam and gave her the opportunity to perform what she referred to as "social networking" in a way to which she had grown accustomed prior to her marriage to Richard.

As she drifted in and out of slumber, Suzanne remembered the glass of wine she had drunk just before going to bed and now, she assumed as a direct result of the wine, her head throbbed like a hammer with every heart beat. She became aware enough to make mental note not to drink that particular brand of wine again. She thought briefly on how the bottle had been left on the threshold with an anonymous note. Upon arriving home, she discovered the wine wrapped in foil with a bow and a card that simply said, "WELCOME".

She assumed the wine was a gesture from one of many new neighbors. It was definitely a man's hand writing and she was confident that sooner or later the one responsible for the wine would be paying her a visit, either out of benign neighborliness or pure hormonal impulse. It had been her experience in similar situations that it would be the latter. Men liked Suzanne and she liked men. Provided of course they were either extremely attractive, extremely wealthy or wielded a generous portion of power within the confines of her socio-economic business environment. A combination of two or more of these qualifiers suited her even more. She had yet to experience meeting anyone that fulfilled all three.

Moving into a new neighborhood represented advantages the least of which were new people, new friends. It was the new men and the new possibilities that excited her. The people in this ritzy neighborhood had proven friendly enough. An added advantage was that they knew very little about her and therefore there would be fewer prying eyes and ears to meddle in her affairs, no pun intended.

As she slipped once again into the shadowy haunts of slumber, she again dreamed. She enjoyed this time of day, waking slowly just to fall back into the restful arms of sleep over and over. This was the time that dreams visited her and she enjoyed playing with those dreams. Often, as she drifted off for another excursion in the realm of dreams, she found that she had the ability to continue a previous dream and even direct it in a direction that pleased her. Controlling dreams had been a fascination for Suzanne since she was a child. After graduating college she had attended as many conferences on the subject as possible and she was a contributing member of The Dream Research Association at the University of California. After spending much time and study on the subject; she was somewhat of a self proclaimed expert and shared her experiences when possible. She was even in the process of authoring a book on the subject titled, "Neurocognigive Dream Manipulation" by Suzanne Rholf. Between her own and Richard's contacts she was sure that she would get published.

For now Suzanne dreamed of Victor and she was directing the fantasy as much as possible. First it was just the two of them with Richard no where in sight. Then suddenly, the dream expanded and Victor was there with her in the new house and in the new bed. Each time the dream followed her manipulative direction, much to her dismay, she would wake. After several attempts at continuing a sensual direction for the dream, she found herself on a ski slope in Colorado. Victor was there of course but, as ridiculous as dreams can be, rather than skiing, they were sliding down the mountainside on their backsides, laughing and grab-assing with one another as they slipped farther and farther down the snowy slope. A chill ran through her body as she became aware that they were sliding down the snow-covered hillside without a stitch of clothes between them.

She emerged from the strange dream and realized that she was actually experiencing a chill in the real world similar to the one that occurred in her dream and her butt felt as if she were truly sitting on ice. Dreams were often like that. Stimuli from reality often manifests itself in a dream. She had awoke to find both hands above her head, as she often slept, fingers woven together and hands resting atop her thick, naturally blond hair. Richard had suggested on more than one occasion that sleep must have bored her since her slumbering posture alluded to this fact. She wasn't sure why it was that she slept in such an odd position other than the fact that it was comfortable for her.

She un-threaded her fingers and traced down the fleeting warmth of her body in search of a comforter in order to quench the chill that she had dreamed up and to her surprise she discovered that she was naked. She didn't remember taking her clothes off. Perhaps the wine had affected her more than she thought. Of course it isn't unusual to sleep in the nude but it was unusual for Suzanne. She almost always slept in panties and bra or a T-shirt with panties and rarely did she sleep naked, especially when she slept alone. Like most girly-girls, she was prone to a chill and preferred a warm body to snuggle up to. A nice set of flannel pajamas were equally as acceptable to cuddle warmly inside. As reality began to solidify around her, she became more and more disturbed with the realizations that presented themselves. Ultimately she realized that she was not in bed at all but was lying on the floor and what was even more disturbing was that the floor upon which she lay, was not her own.

### CHAPTER ONE

Suzanne opened her eyes slowly to meet the darkness that engulfed her as she attempted to examine her surroundings. If she had been in her own room, half a dozen LED's would share their illumination and she would be able to identify objects and shapes through the darkness. The clock on the bedside table, the red power LED on the cable box, the router and cable modem perched on the desk across the room with their multiple green and yellow lights, some of which blinked while others burned steadily and of course the power light on the UPS which she normally covered with a piece of tape since it burned so brightly. All of those tiny contributors shared a surprising amount of light once the eyes became accustomed to the darkness but the absence of light was obvious.

"Where am I?", she thought out loud as she struggled mentally and pushed panic away. She thought hard and remembered the night before and the evening's beginning was crystal clear. After noticing the wine, she had unlocked the door, gathered the mail from the floor just beneath the mail slot, greeted her cat, "Napoleon" and fed the fish; all typical chores which she performed each day upon arriving home. Her memory seemed perfectly intact. Following the memory farther she remembered taking a frozen dinner from the freezer, heating it in the microwave and pouring herself a glass from the bottle of wine. That's where everything became fuzzy. Why couldn't she remember eating the lasagna? She had taken a sip from the glass and placed it on the table. Everything was vague after that. She had heard a sound; a noise that came from.. upstairs? As Suzanne strained to remember the events of the night before, her stomach growled almost on queue indicating that she had definitely not eaten the night before and suddenly she felt queasy.

She sat up on the cold floor and tried to clear her head. Surveying the darkness, directly across the room; about twenty feet away there appeared to be a window. The window did not appear to offer a view to the outside but an opaque look into what appeared to be an adjacent room. There were no curtains nor blinds, just a large square, perhaps tinted glass. The image from the other side of the window was dim and hardly discernable. The glass appeared to be tinted to the point that had there been any light in the room in which she now occupied, the light on the far side of the tinted glass would not have been visible to her at all. Now however, she could make out the outline of what looked like a table or desktop cluttered with items, a small lamp, a computer and other things. An open door beyond the clutter led to another room which appeared to be even more brightly lit and it was that light that allowed her to see the silhouette of a man standing very close to the other side of the glass. He was looking through what appeared to be binoculars but they was attached to his head and the person appeared to be looking straight at her.

Suzanne stood in the darkness trying to shield her naked body with only her hands and the narrow width of her forearms. Her left hand covered her pubic region as well as any fig leaf and her right forearm and hand concealed a relatively small portion of her breasts. Suzanne had never been ashamed of her body and saw no need to be at this point but until she determined who her admirer was she was not comfortable with the voyeuristic arrangement. Her body had almost always proven ample leverage to get most anything she wanted, especially from men. She swallowed, trying to hide a mild case of intimidation, and said softly; "Who are you? Where am I and how did I get here?"

With a click and a hum that echoed throughout the room, everything was illuminated with bright, fluorescent light from overhead fixtures. Suzanne winced and squinted at the sudden brightness and felt even more self conscious about being observed by the stranger behind the glass. Resisting the urge to run and hide behind something, in her mind she imagined enlarging her hands and arms and took a more comfortable refuge behind them; a trick she had learned in her teenage years but had skillfully forgotten until now.

Just then, a voice spoke. The voice was deep and familiar yet not immediately identifiable through the cobwebs of sleep that still clouded her senses. The voice was, not muffled through the glass but apparently came via an intercom that reproduced the sound of the voice as if the owner of it stood beside her.

"Hello Suzanne. I've enjoy listening to you and watching you sleep. Did you know you talk in your sleep? I'm so glad you're finally awake, I was beginning to worry about you. For a while I thought I may have overdone the sedative in the wine I left for you."

She struggled against the blinding light and managed to peek through one squinted eye as she forced it open against the irritating light. For a second she was confused as she became keenly aware that the person looking back at her from the window was a reflection of herself. The darkly tinted glass that she had thought she saw in the darkness, was in fact a mirror and she stood face to face with her own reflection. The mirror was obviously made of two way reflective glass and if so, the man that stood on the other side now enjoyed a clear view of her standing naked before him while she had only her own reflection to look upon through squinted eyes. As she adjusted to the light she saw a hint of anger in her reflection but what concerned her more was that she saw fear.

Pushing the fear deep into the shadowy hallway of recollection long suppressed, Suzanne held her head high and said, "I'll ask again". This time she spoke louder in an attempt to mask the fear, "Who the hell are you, where am I and how did I get here?"

"So many questions Suzanne. Relax, you're going to be okay, I promise." Came the reply.

She stood, still shielding herself from the unrevealed eyes of the one behind the mirror. She felt awkward and defensive. She had not felt those things in years. Memories of a disturbing childhood experience flooded her mind; memories she had long suppressed; memories she did not want dredged up; not now or ever again. She decided to adopt a different and bolder tact.

Placing both hands on her hips, she began proudly admiring her own reflection. She was quite satisfied with her body. She worked very hard to maintain it and she had lots of experience using it to get what she wanted. The skilled hands of a plastic surgeon had further enhanced her breasts two years earlier and he had done and exceptional job. Her sensually slim waste line was the envy of women five years her junior and her hips and ass, not only envied by women but desired by every heterosexual male that experienced the lustful privilege of casting an eye upon her. She knew the power that she wielded with her sensual appearance and femininity and was fully confident that, unless this guy was a flaming fag, she would bring him to his knees in short order.

She cocked her hips to the left to test her captor. "How about some answers, asshole! Go ahead and get a good look," She posed, weighing her breasts with her hands, displaying them as if to a lover and turned in a circle for his viewing pleasure. "...because by the time my lawyer gets through with you and your... whatever this place is, you won't be able to pay attention much less pay to view this body."

The voice beyond the mirror responded much softer than before. Suzanne thought she heard him swallow and felt satisfaction as she detected his desire that he unsuccessfully attempted to conceal. His voice quivered slightly as he spoke and she knew she had him right where she wanted him. She needed to take control of this situation, manipulate the bastard into thinking he was going to get what he wanted, what he hungered for; what she would tease him with. She needed to exploit his maleness. The weakness that ironically made men feel strong, then use it to her own advantage and get herself out of this place as quickly as possible.

"All of your questions will be answered soon Suzanne", Suzanne heard his breath as he spoke close, puffing into the microphone on the other side of the mirror, and she resisted the urge to smile. "..But for now allow me to tell you what the rules of the facility are." Again, his voice rang familiar to her but she still couldn't recall the identity of its owner.

She stepped bravely toward the mirror with the intention of smashing it with her bare fist but after just three steps she noticed a tingle beneath her bare feet, then a shock as the hair on her head became electrically charged and stood out from her as if being pulled or repelled by an invisible force. She looked toward her feet and saw a wash of tiny electrical traces dancing around the floor; arcing and squirming like an ocean of hair thin lightning bolts. They tickled, pinched and warmed her spine like a stiff martini. Every minute peach fuzz hair on her body stood erect and she was covered by goose bumps and felt as if a billion microscopic ants played over her skin. She backed away and the tiny arcs of energy subsided as her hair began to relax.

The captor warned her as she backed away. "I wouldn't come any closer than that Suzanne. It might be fatal. What you felt was the result of one million volts of electricity. You were standing in an electro motive field generated by that charge. Think of it like a giant taser only this one will kill you when fully activated. What ever you do, never step on the metal grid in front of the mirror. Unless you want to be fried instantly."

She saw that the tiles immediately in front of the mirror were co-mingled and intricately woven with a fine steel mesh. The tiles extended approximately six feet towards her from below the mirror and there were several iron rods with metal balls on the ends pointed towards the room where she stood. As she backed away, the static in her hair ceased and her spine relinquished the unusual warmth.

Suzanne struggled against a mixture of anger and horror and she gritted her teeth. Feeling like a captive was something she had hoped to never experience again. Not since childhood had this feeling gripped her. Not since the man in the raincoat; the man with the big hands had taken her into his home and introduced her to so many new and scary things, ugly secret things. Pushing those memories back once more, the muscles in her neck tightened as her jaw clenched and released. "I don't need to know about your fucking rules, I just want my fucking clothes and I want to get the fuck out to get of here, now goddammit!" Suzanne demanded.

She shouted the last words and it was as if she had flipped a switch with her voice. An alarm sounded so loudly that she was amazed when the mirror did not shatter. By reflex, her hands snapped to her ears and she pressed hard against her head to muffle the painful sound. Her headache pounded in protest and a scream escaped her lips but made no discernible sound above the blaring horn.

The noise silenced and for a brief second Suzanne heard her own scream, which oddly enough, added to her terror. Hearing your self scream out in pain or horror is not something one normally experiences in the course of their entire lifetime. Suzanne however, had experienced it many times and those memories contributed to her angst.

The voice once again spoke almost in mock whisper. "If you raise your voice above sixty decibels the audible alarm is triggered, Suzanne. The purpose of the alarm is to punish you for making too much noise, so keep it quite sweetie. I like it when it's quiet. The sound of the alarm is one hundred eighty decibels and it will render you totally deaf in a short period of time, so I would be careful not to do that again. I'm quite sure your hearing was permanently damaged just by that brief instant. Imagine if I am not here to shut it off, you can kiss those sexy little ear drums goodbye Suzanne." Her ears still rang as the voice explained the noise trap.

"Now, look around the room Suzanne; tell me what you see." Said the voice as if he were testing her vision. She understood he was trying to indoctrinate her on her surroundings and of course there were going to be surprises that she did not anticipate. Reluctantly complying, she scanned the room slowly; once again turning in a three hundred sixty degree arc taking in every item in the room that she noticed, speaking as she turned. "I see a funny looking bed with chains, a toilet, a shower, a wooden chair, four buttons on the wall near the bed, a flat screen TV, four large speakers and four security cameras. What's this all about?"

"Why it's all about you Suzanne." The voice replied.

Suzanne continued. "Where's the door? How do I get out of here?" She continued to pretend that the situation was temporary, alluding to an immediate end.

"While you failed to inventory everything in the room, you win high marks for noticing the absence of a door. I guess from your point of view that would be your first concernt. For your information, the door is so precisely machined into the wall, you would have a difficult time finding it if you didn't see it when it opened. You will see it open quite often when the time comes." Those chains are attached to the three walls that surround the bed. Each chain is capable of supporting five thousand pounds of weight so breaking them is impossible. Also, each chain has a Velcro strap affixed to the end. Trying to separate the Velcro from the chain will result in your immediate electrocution, remember the million volts? Please keep that in mind while formulating any escape plans during your visit here. I have no intention of killing you Suzanne so it would be such a shame if you killed yourself trying to escape. You will be free soon enough."

"Escape"? Suzanne felt a rush of terror as it suddenly became undeniably clear that she had indeed been kidnapped. But what was the reason for her abduction? Was it ransom? Would Richard pay or Victor? Kidnapping was a serious crime and victims of such crimes rarely survived the ordeal. Panic over took her and she again sat in the floor, overwhelmed by her predicament.

"You will also notice that the Velcro straps are color-coded. The pink ones are for your ankles, the blue ones go around your thighs just above the knee and the red ones are for your wrists. They are labeled accordingly. I will call on you to attach these straps in the appropriate places frequently. Failure to comply with my request in a satisfactorily vigorous fashion will result in punishment. You will not enjoy the punishment Suzanne, But I expect you will have to experience it several times before you decide that you don't want it anymore. It is of course my hope that you are smart enough to realize that resisting my instruction is not a wise option. Your cooperation will make this a much more pleasant experience for both of us. Anyway, we will face that issue when it presents itself. Do you have any questions Suzanne?"

Suzanne's heart began to race. She was a very brave woman considering all the things she had been through. She had experienced more than her share of trouble and horror. She had always escaped undamaged. On occasion she imagined what she would do if this or similar situation had presented itself again. She had walked through it hundreds of times in her dreams and in night mares. Fleeing her fear she smiled and said, "Why don't you just let me go?" Her voice was markedly timid now. "I won't tell anyone, I promise, okay? Just go ahead, take a good look, take pictures if that's what you want. Do whatever it is you're doing behind that glass, get your thrill and then let me go. Maybe we can even work something out that doesn't require chains. I'm not really into that. I'm pretty open minded and I definitely enjoy a good time. You have a sexy voice. I'm sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement."

Suzanne's attempt at being the strong negotiator was failing her. Despite attempts at feigning strength, she felt nauseous and almost vomited. She immediately abandoned the ruse and rocked back and forth on the floor as a cold sweat broke out on her back and face. Her head was spinning, she hyperventilated and for a moment thought she would lose consciousness. She heard laughter.

The voice spoke again, bringing her back from the brink of psychological breakdown. He laughed out loud and said sarcastically, "Poor baby! Poor BITCH! I won't ever feel sorry for you Suzanne so you can stop with the helpless little girl crap. And don't think that you can bribe me with your sex. I'll take that from you anytime I want it. I've watched you for the past five years and I have seen how you manipulate men and women to get what you want. You marry men to benefit from their power, get what you're after and throw them away when and opportunity presents itself to step on someone's balls to move higher up the ladder. You bully women into giving you what you want simply because they know the political power you've stolen through your flirtations from the weak minded men that rule their world. Does Richard know you're cheating on him? Oh yes, I know all about Victor, Suzanne."

"Who are you?" Her attention slowly focused towards the mirror. For a fleeting moment she wondered if Richard had found out about her affair with Victor and had hatched this insane situation in a fit of jealous rage but no, Richard loved her. Was he capable of such a thing? The thought was alien to her. No. Not Richard. Richard was too sweet, too kind a person to ever plot any kind of revenge. He wasn't capable of this. The circular logic played in her head confusing the issue. Who else could it be? She had broken hearts all her life but never something that would illicit such a response. Richard was her husband and she was cheating on him. Did he know? Had he found out? Even if he had found out, there was no way he could have or would have had anything to do with a kidnapping. Was it Victor or maybe Victor's father. That was a more plausible explanation. She didn't know his father that well but he was a powerful man with connections. He was the more likely suspect.

"Yes, I know all about your love affair with Victor although I don't' know what it is that you expect to get out of him. He isn't in a position to give you a raise or a promotion, he's the mail clerk for goodness sake. Is it his pretty boy face? Is he hung like a horse?" The voice laughed again. "I have watched you even more closely for the past eighteen months, Suzanne. Every time you've met with Victor, I was watching."

A large, flat screen television, mounted on the wall near the ceiling and situated above the mirror, came to life. The image came into focus and revealed a video of Suzanne getting out of her Mercedes at The Fairfield Hotel. She knew when this video had been taken by the location and the dress that flowed seductively across her hips. It was a dress Richard had bought for her and the occasion was the Annual Executive Officer's Gala just a month earlier. At the Gala, she had pretended to be sick and left early. She had told Richard that she was going home but had meet Victor at The Fairfield. Now, as the video refreshed her memory, reminding her of the evening's transgressions, her recorded image handed the valet her keys and walked toward the front door of the hotel. She felt oddly embarrassed when she saw that the valet didn't' take his eyes off her until she disappeared into the hotel lobby.

"You sexy whore! Even the valet wants to fuck you. Imagine this Suzanne. Every time you met him, I was there. I even recorded the persuasive powers you demonstrated with your real estate agent the second time you toured your new house. Did you get a huge discount for that fuck Suzanne? I can't believe you fucked that fat bastard. Is Richard aware that you christened your living room long before he ever saw the house that he bought you?"

The video now appeared to have been taken from a vantage point outside her living room window in the back of the new house one day before Richard had signed a contract to purchase it. The lighting was bad but she recognized the two shadowy figures as they played out a familiar scene on the monitor. She could see the silhouette of herself leaning forward against the wall as the grossly over weight real estate agent, Ralph Stapleton, stood behind her and clumsily had his way, in stand up doggy style. His hands groped at her breasts and he pounded away as she made good on her sexual bribe for the sweet contract he would arrange for her husband on the house the following day.

"I'll bet Richard would love to see this tape. Should I send it to him? Oh, I also know about the apartment that the Mercedes dealer keeps for you downtown and I am fully aware of the two abortions you've had over the past three years." The voice said as a matter of fact. "Does Richard actually believer your flimsy excuses about female problems? With all the babies you've flushed from your gut I'm surprised anything still works down there."

Suzanne held her face in her hands and cried; bawled like baby, huge tears of fear and sorrow rolled down her cheeks, splashed onto her artificially perfect breasts and dripped from her nipples like lactating mother's milk. "Who are you?" she cried. "What do you want from me?"

"You don't know who I am Suzanne? Stand up and let me reintroduce myself. Go to the bed Suzanne. It's time for us to have some fun."

Suzanne sobbed harder, head hanging low, her body sagged at an odd angle and she hugged her knees against her chest. Shuddering and hugging harder against the chill and horror of the unfolding events she cried and begged, surrendering to her terror.

"Suzanne! Stand up and go to the bed.", repeated the voice.

She struggled to her feet slowly, begging as she went. "Please don't do this.... Please don't. Please don't." She took a deep breath, eyes widening as if realization had take hold of her. She leaned on the foot of the bed and sobbed. "You don't have to do this, not like this. It's just sex. I like sex. Sex is good. I can make it very good for you. You don't have to hurt me. We can make a deal; a sweet deal for both of us.

The bed was not such that one would find at home. Not even like one you could find at a hospital or nursing home. In fact, it was quite unique. He captor had crafted it himself. No other bed existed like this one anywhere in the world. Constructed of stainless steel, it was stylish in a dungeon decor sort of way. Red crumpled velvet covered the pillows and comforter. The bed frame stood approximately a foot high but there was no crawl space between it and the floor as it was boxed in all the way down. It sat on what appeared to be a rubber gasket affixed between the bed and the tile floor. The mattress was eight inches thick and was covered with black faux leather material. A visible portion of three large hinges rested at the intersection of the mattress and the floor on the left side from her vantage point and were partially obscured by a satin sheet that although draped over the mattress, was attached to the mattress on the other side and the mattress seemed to be attached to the frame by a layer of adhesive.

"Sit on the bed and place the pink Velcro straps just above your ankles Suzanne. Make sure you position the Velcro properly and press it together tightly and all the way around. We're going to test it afterward and if it pulls loose, you will be punished. Remember Suzanne; you won't enjoy the punishment but I will."

Suzanne mumbled between sobs, "I'm already being punished". Her brain raced, searching for an escape; something to say; some sort of negotiation she could use to talk her way out of this nightmare. This couldn't be happening to her again. Rape? Not again. Memories of the childhood abduction slowly revisited her mind. She was eleven years old and had been in her own backyard trying to get Gretchen, her dog, to go potty in the rain. She held an umbrella over herself and over the dog as she encouraged the dachshund puppy to go pee. Her stepmother had told her not to go outside while she was alone at home but mother had also left strict instructions not to let the dog pee on the floor again. Dogs don't understand umbrellas and all Gretchen wanted to do was go back in the house and get out of the rain. Her stepmother had said, "If you let that dog piss in my floor again, I'm taking her to the pound." Those words had rang in her ears. The day was gloomy and drizzly. The young Suzanne had interrupted the puppy during an attempt to pee in the kitchen floor and had grabbed the umbrella and stepped outside. After three attempts to coax the dog out into the rain, she had finally picked her up and taken her to the back fence where there was a tree which offered a little shelter. She heard the squeak of the gate when it opened, then the big hands had grabbed her.

"Put your hands on the bed Suzanne!" The voice repeated.

Reluctantly she complied with his instructions. She was mildly aware of the view she offered her captor by bending over with her bottom facing the mirror but it no longer mattered. The humiliation was unimportant now. She wanted to live, to survive. Whatever it took she had to survive.

"Now turn around and sit on the foot of the bed Suzanne."

She sat, sobbed and waited for further instructions.

"Good girl, Suzanne." The person behind the mirror apparently enjoyed saying her name. He either ended or began many of his commands with her name. There was no reason to do so since there was no one else in the room but her. "Now adjust the Velcro straps over your ankles so that the chains point towards the walls. We don't want you to chafe dear."

Did he say we? Was there more than one person behind the mirror watching her? She complied with her captor's command but had to loosen one of the straps after wrapping it too tightly. She reattached it above her ankle and rotated it, pointing its union with the chain towards the wall, then squeezed the Velcro firmly around her leg again.

"Very good Suzanne, now attach the blue Velcro straps to your legs, just above your knees. Make sure they are pointing outward and secure them properly to protect you from punishment. Then lastly do the same with the red straps on your wrists. You're doing so good Suzanne. I really am happy with you so far and believe me, when I am happy you'll be happy too. This doesn't have to be bad at all. As a matter of fact, if you continue to cooperate you will really enjoy your stay here with me. I promise!"

Her mind wandered again. The big hands that took her had left Gretchen behind in the rain. He had been rough with her. He had touched her and forced her to touch his parts; parts that she had only giggled about with girlfriends before that day. Afterwards, he had told her that if anyone learned of what he had done, what they had done, he would have to kill Gretchen. The man with the big hands lived next door to her for six years and visited her many times after that day. Sometimes at night after everyone was asleep but usually after school when her stepmother was still at work. He had taught her so much; so many things that she didn't want to learn. Things that ironically worked to her advantage now. Perhaps this would be one of those learning experiences too.

The purpose of the chains was obvious but they also confused her. Of course they offered some restraint but if the person behind the mirror came into the room to molest her in anyway, he put himself in danger. She imagined whipping a loop of chain around his neck and choking the life out of him. She would really like to do that. She was stripped naked so there was obviously some sexual intent. Was he going to rape her or was he so dysfunctional that all he could do was gawk and stare at her naked body or perhaps abuse her with foreign objects as she was bound and chained. Some people got off on that sort of thing. She preferred action. She hoped for action. At least it would give her a fighting chance to escape. She attached each strap as instructed, making sure they were securely attached. She considered loosely fitting one of her arms to allow for her escape if and when he came close enough but she could just strip the Velcro back off after he came into the room. Getting fucked by a stranger wasn't the end of the world and it certainly wasn't alien to her. She would use her sex to put him off guard, then she would make him pay. That was the plan.

When the last strap was in place, a humming sound filled the room and she noticed that each chain was being slowly drawn away from her and into the wall at the point she had thought it was connected. When all the slack had been taken up, the humming stopped and the chains ceased their retreat into the wall. The ankle chains had been retracted to the left and right to a point where her feet were spread wide and held about three feet apart, her knees about two feet apart had been drawn up towards her head and her arms were pulled almost to the fully extended position, left and right. The point where the arm restraining chains went through the wall was toward the corner so when they were tightened , she was forced to lay back and her head rested on the satin and velvet covered pillow. She felt very vulnerable and understood completely what the chains were for. She was completely immobilized, helpless and in the perfect position for her captor to have his way unmolested as he molested her. He was going to rape her. The voice issued yet another command. "Now Suzanne, try to slowly pull your hands free, putting more and more tension on the chains until I say stop."

She understood his intent. He wanted to visually ensure that the restraints held fast. She tugged on the wrist restraints and slowly applied more pressure and only after she had pulled almost as hard as she possibly could, two bells sounded almost simultaneously and one green light, which she hadn't noticed before, illuminated on the ceiling above her. There were two other lights as well and she assumed those would illuminate after she had proven that the corresponding bonds at her knees and ankles were secure. Pulling against those bonds proved this to be true. At the ringing of the sixth bell, with the third green light's illumination, the door opened with the sucking sound of a vacuum and air being displaced. Suzanne's ears popped and she felt a whoosh of air as the door swung into the room. She raised her head slightly and saw that the door was next to the two-way mirror, just to the left. As the door opened, she was surprised and could not believe who it was that walked into the room. "You?" she shouted.

### CHAPTER TWO

The sun was shining intensely on this Saturday morning. Victor sat in the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren which his father had given him as a gift when he graduated from the Harvard Law School. Victor held a three-year degree from the prestigious law school's Juris Doctor program. Of course his father had ultimately bribed the professors every step of the way to give him the minimum passing grade for the schools minimum curriculum degree. After the preliminary requirements had been satisfied, Victor had taken six years to complete the three-year program and his father had offered the car as a graduation present, hoping never to see him again. After only one year, Victor had shown up at Solitary Contracts looking for a job.

Victor Moran Freudenthal was six foot four and weighed an even two hundred twenty two pounds. Slim for his weight, he was dense and solid. He spent more time in the gym than did the owner of the gym. His chest and arms were chiseled and picturesque. With a full head of jet black curly hair, darkly tanned skin and a face that resembled Elvis himself, Victor was not lacking for female attention. Unfortunately, what he was packing in the sex appeal department; he gave double back in the I. Q. department. When he informed anyone that he had a degree from Harvard Law School, their confusion was immediately apparent. As soon as he opened his mouth, every one surmised his middle name should have been spelled m-o-r-o-n instead of m-o-r-a-n.

Another thing Victor had going for him that no one could take away was that his father, the CEO and Corporate Manager of "Solitary Contracts" was a perpetual source of financial support. His father had proven that no matter how embarrassing his son was, he was indeed his son. This fact was of course kept secret from almost everyone else, as his father's last name was Grannigan not Freudenthal.

Victor had been born a Grannigan but at the age of nine, his mother had remarried and Victor was subsequently adopted by the stepfather. When he showed up looking for a job at Solitary Contracts, his birth father had agreed to give him a job on the condition that their blood relation was kept a secret. He pointed out that the board of directors wouldn't allow such nepotism and that if he spoke a word of it, both of them would most likely lose their jobs. Not even the personnel department was aware of the relationship between father and son. Victor had kept this secret quite well except for the fact that he couldn't seem to hold his tongue when he was with Suzanne. Consequently, there was the one person other than the two men that knew their secret.

Victor and his wife were legally separated. After a flash in the pan honeymoon, Victor had begun to question the wisdom of the coupling and after three months of totally ignoring her, they had finally agreed to take a temporary break to reevaluate but the so called temporary break had now lasted for over two years. Victor was enjoying the independence it afforded him but his wife did not share those sentiments. Carolyn was an attractive woman but quite tall for her sex. She was six foot two without shoes. She was the human equivalent to the Barbie Doll, perfectly symmetrical body, perfect hair and very tall. Carolyn had snagged Victor right out of college and after four days of alcohol, drugs and marathon sex, they had flown to Las Vegas and gotten married on a dare. Victor's father had immediately refused to acknowledge the marriage and his birth mother and stepfather had removed his name from their will as a sign of their disapproval towards the ridiculous coupling. Victor planned to wait it out until such a time that Carolyn met someone that tickled her fancy more than he did and then simply file for divorce. But for now, she called frequently with another desperate request or odd suggestion on why they should move back in together as husband and wife.

"We are still married Victor!", she would say; or, "Who's the whore of the week this week?" or "I know you're talking to a divorce attorney Victor. You need to know that it will be far easier on you and cheaper to keep me as your wife than to divorce me." She tried everything to convince him that she was his best option. One minute she would tell him how much she loved him and wanted him back, the next she would share how much she hated him and how she was going to bleed him and his rich stepfather and mother for every penny she could legally extort from them.

It wasn't that he didn't like being married. His wife was absolutely gorgeous. She had been second runner up in the Ms. Universe pageant the year they met and she was definitely lots of fun at parties where she usually ended up on the table with most of her clothes on the floor beneath it. And he definitely enjoyed having someone to do his laundry and clean for him but he had begun to realize that he could hire a maid to do that more dependably than his wife ever had and much cheaper too according to the three divorce attorney's he had recently consulted. Fortunately for everyone involved, there were no children as a result of this matrimonial train wreck.

On this day, Victor had made arrangements to meet with Suzanne at her new home in Hillside Glenn. She was supposed to call him with confirmation that her husband hadn't returned unexpectedly which would spoil their rendezvous but she was already half an hour late with the call and that wasn't like Suzanne at all. She was always quite punctual and wasn't at all forgiving towards anyone that was late for an appointment with her. Once he had shown up five minutes late when meeting her at the Lorei Blanc, a classy French restaurant downtown. He had pulled strings for the reservations months in advance by calling in favors. He had bribed the Maitre'D with two hundred bucks just for the reservation and the meal he planned would cost him three times that. When he showed up a few minutes later than he was expected, she had walked out, leaving him to enjoy the six hundred dollar meal alone.

Something had to be wrong. Perhaps Richard had returned prematurely and caught her being naughty with someone else. The relationship between Victor and Suzanne was strictly physical. He knew there were other men. He didn't care. It was well known that Richard and Suzanne weren't actually the most solid couple at "Solitary Contracts", although Richard was probably the only one that didn't know that fact. Victor sat and pondered on what he should do. He really wanted to jump her bones inside that new house while Richard was away and he really hoped that Richard hadn't spoiled that for him. He decided to cruise the neighborhood, just to see what he could find out.

As he cruised down the street where Suzanne lived he noticed a police car with blue lights flashing, parked at the curb in front of her new half million-dollar home. He panicked for a minute thinking someone had broke in and harmed her in some way. He headed for the driveway then stopped when he noticed her car was not there. He backed out slowly as if only turning around. During his turn he noticed the front door to the house was open and there were two police officers standing in the doorway. One was talking on the radio and the other was looking toward Victor. He waved to the officer, shaking his head and making a circular motion with his hand as if to say "nothing's wrong, I'm only turning around." The officer pulled him over before he could exit the neighborhood.

### CHAPTER THREE

Stepping through the door and smiling from ear to ear, was Nathan Green. "Hi Suzanne, did you miss me?"

Suzanne had worked at "Solitary Contracts" for eight years. Six months prior to this day she had been awarded the position of senior account supervisor in the advertising department and conjecture had suggested that her promotion was a direct result of her marriage to Richard.

Nathan or Nate as he preferred to be called, had been promoted to manager of the advertising department just one week prior to Suzanne and Richard's marriage. Nate's position was the one she had wanted but, according to an HR procedure which was handled by the Corporate Human Resources department, she would have to occupy the current position as senior account supervisor for a minimum of ten years before she would be allowed to bid up to manager which was contingent on their being a manager position open at the time she became eligible. There was only one manager slot and Nathan occupied that one. Victor's father was the only one that could help her get around the procedural waiting period and she was well on the way to making that happen. She would of course need to get rid of Nathan but it had rarely proven difficult for her to arrange for someone to be fired or promoted or otherwise gotten of the way, which ever served her purposes best.

Trying to understand the motivation behind all this, she thought that maybe he had somehow become aware of her plan to get him out of the way so that she could take his job but surely that wasn't motivation for kidnapping or rape or.. worse.

Six months earlier, Nate had requested an extended medical leave. Only the medical department and Mr. Grannigan himself knew what the problem was and Victor didn't have a valid reason to ask for such information. Besides, Suzanne didn't want Grannigan to know about her affair with his son. Not yet anyway. No one in the office had been briefed on the details of Nate's request and for all intents and purposes, Nathan had simply disappeared. It had been very annoying to her and she hated it when privacy concerns got in the way of the flow of information. Under normal circumstances she would have flirted her way into obtaining almost anything she needed to know but not this time. No one knew or at least no one was telling what was up with Nathan. She had finally settled on the fantasy that he was ill and was going to die. This imagined piece of fortune pleased her immensely. She viewed his absence as an omen because it looked like he was playing right into her hands.

Of course Suzanne had seen her share of ugly men in her day but Nathan had to be among the top ten unattractive men of all time. He was a weasel of a man. He stood just shy of five foot four and was so skinny that he always struck her as being sickly. She trembled in fear and anger simultaneously and stifled a scream, remembering the decibel alarm. Gritting her teeth she whispered loudly between them. "What the hell do you think you're doing little man? Do you think you're gonna get away with this? I mean really Nathan, this is serious shit here man. Kidnapping, rape...."

Nate interrupted her. "Rape? I haven't raped anyone.... Yet." He laughed loudly.

Another huge smile washed over his face as he approached Suzanne. "Lay back and relax baby. It's fun time. You might even like it. Pretend I'm Victor!" He laughed out loud again and it was so loud that Suzanne feared the alarm would sound, causing both their ears drums to burst. At that point she didn't care about him. She wanted him dead but his death most likely would guarantee to her own by starvation since she had no way of freeing herself from Velcro bindings. She wished she had left one of them loose as she had been tempted to.

She strained her neck and stared back at him while he smiled and tugged on his belt buckle, releasing it and unzipping his pants. She shivered in revulsion and her stomach rumbled and cramped. She had the overwhelming desire to shit on him. She continued to strain her neck holding her head up so that she could see what he was doing. She noticed that she was grinding her teeth together. Her jaw complained but she continued as an act of defiance.

For a minute Nate was actually afraid of her even though she was tied down and no threat to him whatsoever. He wanted to jump on her and have his way over and over but something held him back. Her eyes were crazed and she looked as if she would rip him apart with her teeth if he ever got close enough or gave her half a chance. He could have sworn he saw smoke coming from her nostrils as she stared at him, breathing hard and gritting her teeth. Nate examined the Velcro that held her in position. He swallowed hard and his smile suspended into a mixed look of doubt and frustration. He double-checked the green lights above, which indicated she had pulled hard enough against the restraints to free herself if they were not sufficiently connected. Then he saw it; the fear, the helpless puppy behind those fierce dragon eyes.

He smiled and touched himself. Looking at her excited him so much. His eyes were everywhere, taking in every sensual inch of her body. Her long legs, the curvature of her calf muscle as it rolled towards her ankle, the silky smooth skin on her almost flat tummy, the heart shape sculpted and well manicured pubic mound. Even her feet were sexy. Everything about this woman was designed to drive men crazy. With ice blue eyes and plump red lips and cheekbones like an elf. He almost lost himself just looking at her beautiful naked body splayed before him, so available; so vulnerable. He shook his head to snap himself out of the hormonal trance.

Stepping closer, he hammered into her nose with his right fist, snapping her head back and down on the pillow and continued to beat his fist into her face. Her nose was shattered by the impact and sprayed crimson blood down her chin, neck and across her breasts. A crimson flood ran off both sides of her face and her eyes flooded with tears. Wincing in pain, she struggled to turn her head away from his repeated blows. She struggled against the restraining wrist chains but they held her in position.

Nathan punched her again and again, one blow glanced off her cheek bone. He didn't throw punches like a fighter but rather hammered at her with the ball of his fists or the heels of his hands. With the blow to her cheek she thought she heard a bone crack in his hand and he cried out in pain. Backing away, he retrieved a remote and once again activated the chain retractors. In a few seconds her feet were drawn out at painful angles towards the outboard walls and her knees were pulled farther apart and farther toward her shoulders. For a moment she thought he was going to rip her apart. She gritted her teeth and cried in pain, trying not to scream. She felt as vulnerable as a newborn baby and prayed that he would beat her into unconsciousness. "I'm going to enjoy ever minute of this you bitch. As he spoke he rubbed his injured hand, approached the foot of the bed and crawled onto it his knees. He got closer to her, between her spread legs, he touched her knees and pushed them even farther apart than the restraints held them. She groaned in pain. Nathan entered her.

"Get use to this Suzanne. I'll be doing a lot of this in the next six months, even longer if I can hang around that long. Ya see, the doctors have told me I have six months to live at best. Some kind of inoperable tumor in my brain. What luck huh? But they say I'll be fine right up until the day the lights go out so... I decided to have me some fun before I check out. Even if you escape and I get arrested, what can they do? I'm gonna die anyway." He laughed out loud. Nate continued. "Now here's what all that means for you baby. Your job until I die is to make me believe that you want me and you love me, that you enjoy every minute I spend here with you." He took her harder and harder, trying to make it painful for her. "Oh, and just for your information, even if you were to manage to get free and, God forbid, kill me or something. You'd ultimately die too. There's no way out of here without me. Just so you know."

Suzanne spat in his direction as he raped her. He laughed and he played with Suzanne's body as if it were his to do with as he wished "You're gonna eventually figure out that resisting me is not in your best interest Suzanne." His breathing shortened, he spasmed and said with quickened breath, "Let me show you why." His eyes rolled back in his head as the moment arrived. His mouth hung open revealing a mouth full of teeth and fillings and she could smell his breath which carried the aroma of peppermint. After several spastic expressions he laid his head between her breasts and panted in exhaustion, drooling like an exhausted dog. Suzanne strained to reach his scalp with her teeth but he was much too low and she could not reach him. He fondled her breasts and bit her nipples as he lay resting upon her blood spattered chest. Withdrawing himself he once again stood at the foot of the bed, trying to catch his breath. "Damn! That was better than I ever imagined it would be. You're one hot bitch Suzanne. I'm so glad you're here. I will enjoy you as often as I possibly can, I promise!"

Nathan walked back through the door but returned only half a minute later with two thick green glove type things. They were shaped like fists. He wore one on each hand. They looked like toys only menacing and dangerous. He smacked the green fists together and an audio chip from within the devices imitated a cartoon character. One of the two said, "HULK SMASH" the other just roared. He laughed loudly. "Do you like these Suzanne? I picked them up at Spencer's just for you. Before I beat you stupid I want you to know what your full punishment is going to be. First of all, I'm going to beat you until you're unconscious. Trust me, I have lots of experience in this room and I know it takes a lot of beating to beat someone to death. You'll survive it. Then I'm going to have my way with you again while you're in that more cooperative position, and then.... I'm going to let you spend the night in the pit beneath the bed. That's where the toilet flushes by the way so effectively you'll be sleeping in the septic tank. That's also where I'll put your body if you die by accident or if I you make me kill you so, stop fighting me Suzanne! Hopefully this punishment will convince you to be more civil and enjoy your stay here. Just keep in mind, you're not the one dieing, I am."

Suzanne stared at Nathan, unable to believe the horror that was unfolding for her. "Why me?" She asked. Why the hell did you pick me? What have I don't to you Nathan? So what if I cheated on my husband; what does that have to do with you?

Without responding, Nathan approached her from the side and began beating her mercilessly on her body and face. The green fist covers that he wore cushioned the blows to the point where she was not cut by the repeated beating but the impact damage was severe. The shock of being struck in the face by a man, even a man of his small stature was extreme. She saw stars with every blow. and turned her head to one side and then the other trying to avoid or lesson the impact but it only caused the punches to land on her neck or impact on her ears, which was horribly painful. Finally, a punch connected square on her chin and for her at least, mercifully, the lights went out. A minute or an hour later, she wasn't sure which, she regained consciousness. Nathan stood next to the bed, breathing as if he'd just ran a marathon. It was obvious that she had been raped again. Thankfully she hadn't been awake for that particular assault. Her right leg at the hip joint felt as if it had been twisted out of the socket. Bubbles of blood oozed from her nose and she was sure he had broken or at least cracked several of her ribs. Her vision was blurred in the right eye and the left was completely shut from swelling. Her private parts felt as if they were on fire. It felt as if he'd worn a sandpaper condom.

"Slam, bam, thank you mam, is that all you got little man?" She mocked him. He hit her again in her solar plexus's which took the breath out of her. When it returned she spat and struggled to speak. "You bastard..." she whispered through split and bleeding lips. "You needle dick, woman beating, tumble turd, momma's boy, bastard." She spat blood-riddled saliva at him again and this time it landed on his chest and ran down the front of his torso. Nate flinched and then smiled letting out an evil laugh. "Hahaha, this is gonna be so much goddamn fun, Suzanne." Then he knocked her unconscious again with one blow from his green cushioned right fist. "HULK SMASH"

The next time she awoke, it was pitch black. The smell of sewer was stifling and she felt water beneath her. The stink was so horrible that she could hardly breathe. She suppressed the urge to vomit and realized that he had dumped her into the pit underneath the bed as he said he would. She thought that her right leg was broken from the fall and she painfully untwisted it out from underneath her and although it hurt terribly at the hip, she was surprised to discover that it wasn't broken. The pain however, was so intense that she gagged and this time she did vomit. She lay there trying to think of some way to escape. She felt around and discovered floating pieces of sewage that she didn't want to think about. She spat, gagged and vomited again. She took one step in the total darkness parallel to a concrete wall she felt next to her and stumbled over a large pile of something big. Extending her hands to cushion her fall, she landed with a wet thud and discovered that the something big that she had tripped over was a human body. Involuntarily she screamed as she pushed away from the corps. Splashing backward from it on her bottom, scurrying on hands and feet and dragging her butt through the water like an inverted spider, she encountered three more bodies in the process causing her to fall on top of them with a squish. She was terrified and screamed uncontrollably and quickly retreated to a corner of the pit, bumping her head sharply on the rough concrete wall, sobbing and longing for unconsciousness. Hours later, it mercifully came. Approximately eight hours later, though she had no way of knowing how much time has passed, she woke to the sound of Nathan screaming her name. "SUZANNE! WAKE UP! DO YOU LIKE IT DOWN THERE?"

She opened her eyes and saw Nathan leaning in over the brightly illuminated opening at the top of the pit, which was approximately fifteen feet above her head. He wore a mask of some sort, most likely to mask the smell of sewage. He pulled it away from his face as he screamed then put it back in place. She noticed there were steel ladder rungs protruding out from the concrete wall which led to the top. Nathan screamed again, holding the respirator away from his face. "Climb up the ladder and hurry up. This stink is making me sick."

The light that shone in from the opening above her was sufficient to navigate the ladder. Slime however, from the humidity and sewage didn't make it easy. She slipped and fell twice before successfully making it to the top and reentering her dungeon. She climbed out and flopped onto the white floor and it surprised her how glad she was to be back.

Nathan spoke from behind the mirror. "Now get your stinking ass in that shower right now before I throw you back in the pit with the rest of the turds." Nick giggled with his weasel laugh

Suzanne gagged and puked and crawled to the shower where she eventually stood upright on aching legs and turned on the water. The heat from the hot water felt good. She had never imagined anything this wonderful from a place so horrible. She scrubbed and showered and scoured every inch of her body. Washing her hair three times, washing her private sensitive places over and over. By the time she finished with her shower, the entire room was weeping from steam, she had used almost an entire bar of soap and the whole bottle of cheap shampoo with her cleansing efforts but she still felt dirty. She spat and scrubbed her teeth with a soapy finger. Exhaust fans pulled sewer saturated air and the steam generated by the shower out of the room but the mess she had tracked across the floor contributed greatly to the general stench. She wiped the floor with her towel then threw the towel into the shower, rinsing it clean, repeating the process until the smell abated. She showered again with a fresh bar of soap and then fell soaking wet across the bed hoping for rest but heard the voice she did not want to hear.

"Hook up them straps baby. Now that you're nice and clean it's time to ride again, WoooHooo!"

Suzanne lay exhausted on the bed, thinking that as long as she didn't comply or voluntarily bind her self down, there was nothing he could do, at least nothing immediately. He was afraid that she would kick his ass. Even a rat when cornered.... Sure he could starve her to death but that would take days and by then she'd have rested enough to formulate another plan. She just lay there in rebellion. Then she smelled the gas. When she regained consciousness, she was bound and Nathan was already inside her riding like a bull.

"WoooHooo, you stupid bitch. I never had much respect for you but you ain't exactly the brightest button in the elevator." This time she was laying face down. Her ankles were tied and the Velcro straps tugged and held her legs apart. Nathan pounded away at her from behind. In rebellion, Suzanne scooted forward slightly, just at the right moment to spoil his orgasm. He cursed and fumbled trying to salvage with his hands what she had interrupted. "Bitch!" He retreated from her and after a minute began beating her in the back of the head and several painful blows to the head and neck she found herself lying face down in shit water and death. Gagging and choking she painfully jumped to her feet having almost drowned in sewage. What a repulsive thought. Three toes on her right foot ached horribly and a pain shot through her an ankle and up to her skinned knees. The joints at each elbow throbbed with the intensity of a toothache and any movement of her left arm caused excruciating pain. Survival didn't look promising. Hours and what felt to her like days passed. She struggled for breath and stood for as long as she could to put off submerging her naked orifices in the sewage but eventually she knelt and finally sat with her buttocks leaned against the rusty slimy ladder. The exhaust fan cycled on and off with rhythmic timing and though it brought a chilling breeze, it also freshened the air slightly which was a welcome remedy to the miserable stink. She imagined if it did not, she would have suffocated long before from the methane. Finally the door above slammed open and Nathan beckoned again.

"Come on up Suzanne, lets try this again. We have six months to get it right so lets get it on. I promise this isn't as hard for me as it is for you." The climb up the ladder was almost impossible. Hanging with her left arm hooked over a rung, she rested a full minute before navigating each step. When she finally emerged from the pit, the lights were dim in the confinement room. As she lay on the floor next to the bed, the mattress, which also acted as the pit door, swung back up into its place and once again resembled a bed. From the sound that it made she realized it was controlled hydraulically from the other side of the mirror. She crawled into the shower and scrubbed away as much stench as possible with the aches and pains of her beaten and crashed body resisting every movement. The soap and shampoo had been replenished and again she used almost all that was available in an attempt to wash away the filth and the memory. She noticed that a mop had been propped in the corner by the bed and she used it to clean up the traces of sewage that had been tracked from the bed/hatch to the shower. Cleanliness was not her major concern but the smell was unbearable. She used a washcloth and towel to wipe the mattress and bed frame that had splashed with sewage by her two return trips from the pit. Cold, she ultimately shivered and climbed onto the bed, pulling the attached blanket over her naked body. Immediately she slept.

### CHAPTER FOUR

The sky was clearer than she had ever seen it before. In cold weather the atmosphere can be almost completely void of humidity and dust particles which cause haze and limit visibility. Under such conditions you can often see for miles and miles, especially at higher altitudes.

The clean crisp air offered little comfort to Suzanne. As she rode the lift up the mountain she had witnessed piles of gray logs partially wrapped in white paper. After reaching the top and beginning the long trek back down the slope she discovered what it was that troubled her. The ski slope was covered with a combination of snow, gray grass and those items which appeared to be logs but were in fact dead bodies. Suzanne slid down the mountainside slowly on bare feet; with no skis, observing each empty expression on the row of bodies as she passed them. She attempted to conceal the fact that she wasn't wearing any clothes as one by one their eyes came open and one by one each of them whispered to her, "Nathan killed me".

Her eyes popped open to a softly lit room. She was lying on the leather-upholstered mattress under the attached blanket where she had fallen asleep an undetermined amount of time earlier. An LED night-light burned in the overhead. It had not been there before. She closed her eyes, praying that the dream would not resume. It did. This time she was not alone. Richard held her right hand as they both slid down the ski slope on bare feet, observing the rows of bodies that lined the mountain on each side of the ski path. Suddenly she realized that Victor was holding her other hand and skiing barefoot along her left side. Neither man spoke of the morbid sight before them. They just slid along beside her, facing forward and silent. After progressing thirty feet or so Suzanne noticed the real estate agent that had sold her the home in Hillside Glen was also there and he skied along behind her. He was complimenting her on the shape of her ass while holding on to her hips with his fat fingered hands. He was trying to hump her from behind, the way he had done the day she signed the contract to purchase the new house. She could hear a voice behind him trying to talk over the lewd compliments. It was the car dealer that kept an apartment in town just for their conjugal visits. "Suzanne!", the voice shouted. "When will you meet with me again in the apartment?" She was again skiing down the slope with no clothes but this time she was not chilled. Her feet were warm and her body was comfortable. Not too warm, not too cold. She tried to let go of Richard and Victor but could not. They weren't holding her against her will, she just could not get her hands to work properly. Richard turned his head to look at her and said, "Everything is going to be alright dear. I'll take care of everything."

Suzanne was awakened again, this time by the sound of the door opening. Fear sent a chill up her spine and suddenly she was cold again. She opened her eyes and saw Nathan rolling some sort of covered cart into the room through the open door. She immediately smelled food and coffee and realized she hadn't eaten or drank anything since her ordeal began. Her mouth watered and for a moment she imagined she was somewhere else.

"Good morning darling." Nathan was actually being pleasant, acting as if nothing had happened. He walked over to the bed and kissed Suzanne on the forehead, smiled and returned to the cart. He was dressed in black gabardine slacks, a pink polo shirt and black K-Swiss sneakers. Lifting and securing the leaf on the side of the cart, he positioned it so that it was near the wooden chair for her easy access and he removed the tablecloth cover revealing an assortment of gourmet breakfast delights. Suzanne remembered the breakfast she and Richard had on the morning after their wedding. Room service had delivered it on a similar cart, and it had lent similar aromas. The hotel room had been elaborately decorated with South American art and pottery. The Brazilian waiter had offered Richard an authentic Cuban cigar and tip cutter. Richard had declined.

Nathan laid a napkin with plastic utensils on the newly positioned shelf and placed a paper plate and two cups next to it. The cart contained eggs benedict, sliced cantaloupe and honeydew melons, blueberry pancakes topped with whipped cream, several containers with a variety of syrups and toppings, cream cheese and bagels, a half dozen strips of bacon, several sausage links and patties, country ham and a steaming carafe of piping hot coffee. Nathan poured a paper cup full of orange juice and walked to the bedside to hand it to Suzanne.

"Here you are darling." He said lovingly as he passed her the juice.

She took it with a trembling hand. The slightest effort telegraphed pain through her entire body. She had been so weakened by her two trips to the pit, she had no will or strength to fight. Perhaps that was why Nathan entered the room without her restraints being in place. She imagined one day this would work to her advantage, but not this day. She was too tired; too weak and in too much pain. She was grateful for the time to convalesce.

Suzanne wasn't sure how long she had been allowed to sleep but it wasn't long enough to recover from the intense ordeal and she could hardly keep her eyes open. She gulped the juice down her dry throat. The acid in the juice burned her split and swollen lips but she ignored the pain. The juice was divine and she was so very thirsty. Some of it dribbled down her chin and splashed onto the blanket under which she snuggled but she barely gave it a glance.

Her nose was obviously broken, her right eye was swollen nearly closed from the repeated beatings and she apparently had broken toes on both feet, probably from the falls. Her knees and elbows were skinned and bruised and she suspected several ribs were cracked or broken. Her shoulders ached as if they had been torn from their sockets repeatedly and put back in place only to be wrenched loose again. After draining the juice from the cup she handed it to Nathan and whispered, "more". She huddled underneath the blanket, and shivered. "Are you cold darling?" Nick asked. Walking across the room and filling the juice cup again he said, "Here, let me adjust the thermostat for you. I don't want you getting sick on me before we've thoroughly enjoyed our honeymoon. I'll leave this unlocked so that you can adjust it to suit yourself." He handed her the cup and walked to the thermostat.

Honeymoon? Had they gotten married? Suzanne struggled to clear her mind and after only a short mental deliberation decided that Nathan was truly insane. He unlocked and lifted the transparent, vented box that covered the thermostat and adjusted the room temperature toward the warmer side. She had not noticed the thermostat earlier during her inventory of the room. Had it been there before? The sound of the forced air blower could be heard as it started up with a squeal as the swish of air rushing across ventilation covers disturbing the natural silence of the room.

Suzanne's ears popped with the slight change in ambient pressure. The initial influx of air gave her goose bumps. She smelled burned dust as the heating elements singed accumulated dust from the heating elements.

"I'll leave you to enjoy your breakfast darling. Eat all you like. There's more where that came from. You must keep your energy up. Oh, I brought this in for you while you were gone." He pointed to the corner where a stair master now stood. It was the expensive kind, the kind you see at the gym not the type you buy at Sears. Exercise was the least of Suzanne's concerns and she dismissed the comment without considering it. He exited; closing the door behind him, which melded into the white wall and practically disappeared with a swishing sound.

Suzanne closed her eyes and slept again. Later as she sampled the food, which was cold but deliciously fulfilling, she pondered her predicament. She was at her captor's mercy. Any resistance only aggravated and increased the intensity of her misery. She thought of Victor and Richard. What was going through their minds? What kind of elaborate story had been constructed by Nathan to explain her disappearance? Surely they were looking for her. She hoped someone was looking for her.

### CHAPTER FIVE

Suzanne's new home measured just over forty three hundred square feet. That didn't include the four-car garage or the traditional bonus room situated as an enticing extra just above it. Suzanne and Richard had moved in only three weeks earlier and both were still adjusting to the spacious new residence. Richard had barely spent three nights in the new home as it seemed he was out of town more than he was home but his personal feelings concerning the neighborhood and the house was pretentious at best but Suzanne had insisted and, as she almost always did, she had her way.

Hillside Glenn was a gated community recently developed by The Willtree Enterprise, a local LLC conglomerate comprised mostly of attorneys, doctors and real estate brokers.

On this particular day, security guards stationed at the gates just outside the neighborhood's plush welcome center were unquestionably over dressed for the unseasonably warm and humid weather. They wore black suits, black shirts, black ties and black derbies. A large red and white banner fluttered in the breeze, suspended over the entrance way, advertising the official grand opening of the new community for the semi-elite. The words, "SECURE - PRESTIGIOUS - AFFORDABLE" greeted visitors and residents as they approached the avenue to the neighborhood entrance. Victor's car was parked unattended to one side of the outbound lane, near the visitor pass drop box.

One block away, a uniformed police officer interviewed Victor as the two sat in a patrol car, which was once again parked out front of Suzanne's plush residence. The officer had requested that Victor return with him to the crime scene after discovering that he knew the owner. The officer had acted on the hunch that Victor hadn't coincidentally used the driveway to turn around.

Early that morning at around eight AM, a neighbor, thinking she had heard gunshots, summoned police officers. The gunshots were reportedly followed by a scream, the sounds of slamming doors, screeching tires and oddly enough, a horn blowing, all of which were unwelcome distractions in this overpriced neighborhood. When officers had arrived they found the front door standing open with evidence of forced entry. Traces of blood were found on the bed, carpet and on the sidewalk, which extended from the front entrance to the driveway. There were numerous signs of struggle in the bedroom and kitchen. "Detective Johnson will be here shortly Mr. Freudenthal. Tell me again, what is your relationship to the Rholf's" The officer inquired routinely.

"Relationship? I wouldn't call it a relationship." Victor squirmed. We all work at Solitary Contracts, that's all. Why would you think we had a relationship? She's married for Pete sake." Victor was very uncomfortable and it was obvious. He wasn't doing a very good job of hiding his perceived sin. With the face as straight as that of a Macy's mannequin, the officer scribbled notes onto a steno pad as Victor ignorantly stumbled deeper toward his self-implication.

"I meant with the couple, not with Mrs. Rolf." The officer remarked. Victor blushed when he realized he was talking too much. "Oh, I see, my bad, I thought you meant... "The officer interrupted; "When was the last time you saw Mrs. Rolf?"

"Yesterday." Victor answered too quickly. I saw her at the office yesterday. We work together... I said that already, didn't I? Why are you asking me these questions? I haven't done anything wrong, have I? All I did was turn around in the driveway. What's going on? Has something happened to them or one of them... or both... of them?"

The police officer calmly scribbled more notes. "I'm not saying you've done anything wrong sir, I'm just trying to get this preliminary information down before the detective gets here but.. for someone that hasn't done anything wrong, you seem pretty nervous. Is there something you're not telling me or that you would like to tell me?"

Victor raised his voice in protest, "Sure I'm nervous. I'm.... Not telling you anything, I mean I'm telling you everything. I'm sitting in the back seat of a police car being interrogated for God knows what. I prefer to keep a low profile and you have blue lights flashing saying look at me. Of course I'm nervous!"

"Mr. Freudenthal, the car you were driving probably cost more than this house." He pointed to the mansion. "Do you call that keeping a low profile?" The officer stopped writing and stared at Victor through the rear view mirror and waited for an answer.

Victor smiled briefly. He was use to being questioned about the car and most of the time he enjoyed the attention it brought. Today however, he would have gladly forgone the attention. "The car was a Harvard graduation gift."

"You went to Harvard?" asked the officer.

Victor wondered why everyone had such a hard time believing he had gone to Harvard. He just smiled un earnestly and nodded the affirmative.

"Who gave you the car", asked the officer, more out of personal curiosity than official business.

"My father." Nick said, and he immediately wished he hadn't.

"Really? Who's your father?" asked the officer.

Nick had blundered right into a situation that was going to prove very difficult to squirm out of without telling what he didn't want to tell. He didn't know exactly what was going on with Suzanne and Richard and he didn't want to get involved in any kind of police investigation that would make public knowledge of who his father was. He felt his face flush and his mind went even more numb than it normally was. Stumbling over his own words, Victor tried to wiggle out of the question. "My f... father is...a.... um. Well... let me say this. My father.... is a.... a prominent figure in town and... I'd really... rather not get him involved in any of this.

The officer typed "Victor Moran Freudenthal" into the onboard police data base computer and after a momentary delay, received several screen pages of information concerning Victor. He looked into the rear view mirror and made eye contact with him once again. "Your father is the CEO of Solitary Contracts?"

"Oh, come on man!" Victor protested. This is crazy. My father is a prominent businessman in this community. I have done nothing wrong and neither has my father. Please don't use my father's name in any of this. Use my name all you wish but leave my father out of it, OK?" Victor wrung his hands and fretted over the fact that his birth father's identification may come to public light as a result of this unfortunate incident and he pressed harder to keep it under wraps. "Isn't there some privacy rule that prohibits you from mentioning my father in all of this?"

The officer continued to jot down notes and acted as if he hadn't heard Victor's plea of inquiry. Suddenly, the back door to the squad car swung open, taking Victor by surprise. He looked up and was greeted by a very attractive red headed detective Johnson. She extended her hand and introduced herself to him. "Victor?" She said

He nodded and accepted her hand. "I'm detective Elizabeth Johnson, pleased to meet you sir. You can step out of the car now. "Thanks Tim" She said to the uniformed officer in the front seat of the squad car. "Lets go inside the house. I'll need you to answer a few questions for me."

Victor clambered his way from the confines of the back seat and stood on the asphalt beside detective Johnson. He towered above her. She was barely five feet tall. Victor noticed that she had the whitest teeth he had ever seen in his life and her skin seemed to be made of silk. He was of the chauvinistic opinion there were only two types of redheads, those that were incredibly beautiful and those that were incredibly ugly. Her red hair was obviously natural or at least he suspected as such since her eyebrows were also red and she had an almost imperceptible and hardly noticeable peach fuzz mustache above her plump thick lips. It reflected red in the sunshine as well. The two-inch pumps she wore gave her a couple inches of altitude not originally given to her by God but Victor was still a giant compared to her petite stature. The uniformed officer behind the wheel handed detective Johnson the notes he had been taking. She thanked the officer again and closed the squad car door. As they walked to the entrance of the house, detective Johnson visually scanned the sheet of paper containing the notes the uniformed officer had given her, folded it and tucked it away inside a pocket on the left of her navy blue blazer.

They entered the home and although Victor had never set foot in the place, he got an eerie feeling of familiarity upon crossing the threshold. Perhaps it was the telltale scent of Suzanne's perfume that permeated the room and brought familiar feelings to mind. Victor knew in his heart that whatever had happened to Suzanne or Richard or both of them, had nothing directly to do with him, but he couldn't shake the guilty feeling that he had inside knowing that he was actively involved in an affair with Suzanne. All of this made him understandably uneasy about taking the fall for something he hadn't done. Although he had spoken openly with Suzanne about the possibility of her leaving Richard for him and it was true that the prospect of the two of them going for a legitimate relationship wasn't exactly a turn off for him, he would never dream of doing harm to anyone to make any of that fantasy happen. He hoped that fact was obvious to the police officers during their questioning. Victor truly liked Suzanne but he had already begun having second thoughts about the wisdom of his liaison with her. "Mr. Freudenthal..." The detective began.

"Call me Victor", He interrupted.

"Okay, Victor, I understand you work with Mr. and Mrs. Rolf, is that correct?"

"Yes mam, Suzanne... um... Mrs. Rolf is the senior account supervisor and I am, well... I work for her." He ended his answer less exuberantly than he had begun it.

"I see, um, in what capacity do you work for Mrs. Rholf.. Victor?" asked the detective.

"I... um... ", Victor hesitated several seconds and only when the detective made eye contact with him, indicating she took interest in his hesitation did he continue. "I'm the mail room supervisor."

Detective Johnson wrinkled her brow and glanced back at the notes given her by the other officer minutes earlier; One of the notations said HARVARD GRADUATE and was punctuated with four question marks. "It says here that you're a graduate from Harvard Law School?"

"Yes", replied Victor, annoyed.

She involuntarily wrinkled her brow once more. Confused but not wanting to insult him, the detective abandoned the question that loomed large in her mind and asked this one instead, "What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Rolf?" She rescanned the notes for anything she might have missed.

"I didn't know Mr. Rolf." said Victor

Elizabeth Johnson raised her left eyebrow, "You didn't know him or you don't know him?" she asked.

"I mean, I don't know him. Didn't, don't.. what's the difference? He travels a lot for company business. I know of him but I don't really know him personally. He's gone quite a bit of the time. I think I've seen him twice in the past six months and have only spoken to him in passing."

The detective watched Victor's face intently as she continued to pull the string she had stumbled upon. "Saying you didn't know him suggests personal knowledge of his fate. Saying you don't know him.. well, I'm sure you see the difference now." After an uncomfortable pause where she ultimately recognized an ignorant recognition of the language distinction, she asked a more blunt question. " Were you having an affair with Mr. Rholf's wife?"

Victor tried to hide guilt, painting his face in an attempt to appear surprised that she had asked such a question and once again he answered too quickly. "No! Why would you say that? I liked her... I mean I do like her... I mean I think she's hot and all but... she's a married woman.. and.. and she's my boss for Pete sake!" His heart pounded and he could see that the detective didn't believe a word he was saying. The cute redhead was suddenly more of a menace than a potential bed partner to Victor. Although she had been placed in the category of extremely beautiful redheads, she no longer rated as a smoking hot short red head packing more heat than a firearm. Now she was the one person most likely to ruin his whole day and perhaps the remainder of his life. She reached into the right blazer pocket and pulled out a one-gallon plastic bag that contained a single piece of paper. This paper looked as though it had been wadded tightly in a ball then methodically straightened back out.

"We found this note wadded up in the waste basket by a desk in Mrs. Rholf's bedroom. Does it look familiar to you?" She held the note at arms length, displaying it for his perusal but out of his reach.

"What do you mean, familiar? It looks like a piece of paper with words on it. I've seen lots of those before. I don't' know what that one says if that's what you mean." Victor remarked.

"Let me read it for you, Mr. Freudenthal." She said, and she began reading. The note had apparently been written by Suzanne and intended for victor. It was what some may call a 'dear john' letter.

"DEAR VICTOR, I HAVE ENJOYED OUR LITTLE AFFAIR BUT WE BOTH KNOW IT IS WRONG. I CANNOT SEE YOU ANYMORE. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE THIS MORE DIFFICULT THAN IT ALREADY IS FOR BOTH US. I HAVE TOLD RICHARD ABOUT THE AFFAIR AND I HOPE HE WILL FORGIVE ME. I HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE ME TOO.

WITH ALL MY LOVE, SUZANNE"

The note was type written and was signed in what appeared to Victor as Suzanne's handwriting. Victor was in total shock. He was without words. No matter what he said now would bury him. He had already lied to the detective about his affair with Suzanne. If he continued to lie it would definitely be worse for him in the long run but, if he told the truth however, he would be admitting that he had lied a moment earlier. He decided it was better to go ahead come clean then than to have it discovered later.

"Okay Elizabeth."

"Call me detective Johnson", she replied.

" I have been having an affair with Suzanne, um... Mrs. Rholf for quite some time. We've been seeing each other for a little over a year. She's not happily married. If she were, she wouldn't be having an affair with me, would she?. If she wrote that note, she never gave it to me. Maybe she changed her mind about giving it to me and just threw it in the trash. It does look like her signature but I swear this is the first time I've seen the paper and quite frankly, I'm completely surprised by it. Last night, just before leaving the office, she asked me to meet her here this morning but first I was supposed to wait close by and she would call at precisely eight thirty AM to confirm that Richard was still out of town. When she didn't call, I came to see if I could determine what the problem was. It is not like her to be late with a call, trust me."

Detective Johnson listened intently, turning her head side to side to alleviate the crick that was forming from looking up at Victor for an extended period. "You saw her last night at work?" Absolutely. If you want the whole truth; I had sex with her last night at work. The woman is a machine!" Victor confessed. "Three times a day. In the mail room, in the ladies room, in her office, she's a sex machine I'm telling you."

"We're going to check this note for prints. Think very carefully about what I'm about to ask, Mr. Freudenthal. In your opinion, what are the possibilities that we'll find your finger prints on it?" As she posed the question, she backed away slightly in order to decrease the upward angle she had to maintain to keep eye contact with Victor. Victor interpreted her retreat as a maneuver of caution by her, indicating suspicion of guilt and once again he answered far too quickly.

"Absolutely none." Victor replied confidently. "Absolutely none."

### CHAPTER SIX

Rio de Janeiro, the sixth largest metropolitan city in the Americas, is the largest tourist destination in the southern hemisphere. Rich with multi-cultural attractions for both business and tourism, the city laid claim to hundreds of breath taking landscapes and it is known for its beautiful women, fine cuisine and of course the nightlife. It even possesses one of the Seven Wonders of the World. Richard sat at a bar and ordered another tequila sunrise; the fifth he had ordered in less than an hour's time. He thought it ironic that his drink of choice was called a sunrise when it appeared that the sun was setting on his entire reason for living, working or breathing. His reason for visiting the city was a very sensitive negotiation for a partial merger scheduled to take place between Solitary Contracts and Constantine International whose home offices were located in Rio. He had completed most of the negotiations on a previous visit a month earlier and was significant this time only as a supporting gesture rather than any pressing business or negotiation. The merger would mean millions in profit for Solitary Contracts and a hefty bonus for Richard personally. Normally he would be entertaining high-ranking businessmen and their wives or companions at this time of night but earlier he had feigned fatigue and retired to the bar. He couldn't get Suzanne off his mind.

When he first laid eyes on Suzanne, several years earlier, the sight of her had made him feel warm all over. He knew that she had that affect on every man but that night she had shown him interest and ignored others whom he considered more handsome and a far better catch than himself. No man could resist Suzanne. She was the quintessential sensual woman. Their first date had progressed rapidly and ended with them making love in the back seat of a taxi cab on the return trip to her hotel after seeing a Celtic Woman concert in Montreal. They had spent the remainder of the week together, sharing the same room, sitting side by side in the various conferences, which they compulsorily attended and they even shared the same toothbrush when hers had accidentally fallen into the toilet one morning while getting ready for the day. What started out strictly as a business trip had proven to be a life altering development for Richard.

Richard had fallen in love with Suzanne that night and he had fallen deeper in love with her every single night since. When he was out of town he phoned her each night and something as simple as hearing her voice on the telephone brought a song to his heart and a smile to his lips. When she said the words, "I love you", he was literally transported to heaven and became the happiest person that could ever have existed and he never wanted that happiness to end. For this reason he strove to make her equally as happy in return. Anything she asked, he would make it happen. He had relinquished the reins of his life to the woman he loved and now he had physical evidence and no further reason to doubt whether or not it had been such a good idea to surrender so easily to his heart.

Just before the two of them had met, he was making plans for retirement. Having completed the required paperwork, he had submitted a request for retirement and was weeks away from making it happen. At the age of sixty-two he anticipated the leisurely life of a retiree, eagerly enjoying the fruits of the labor of the previous four decades with Solitary Contracts. He had already purchased his retirement home in Costa Rica and furnished it just the way he liked. The Deljueago family tended to it daily and he was anxious to move there as quickly as his paperwork was pushed through and the red tape completed. No more monthly travel to God knows where, no more strange hotel rooms, no more room service with bad coffee. He was ready for a change and he saw it as a monumental shift for the better. Less than thirty days before his retirement, Suzanne had come into his life and changed everything. Thirty years younger than he, she had needs and wants that couldn't be supplied by his pension even though his retirement income was going to be quite hefty and his investments would be generous through the years as well. It was a no-brainer and he had immediately made the decision to cancel his retirement plans. The board of directors were of course more than happy to keep him on at Solitary Contracts, as he was the top executive account holder for the corporation. The night he had broken the news to Suzanne and asked her to marry him, he had made two of the biggest decisions of his personal life. No one was more surprised than he, when she said yes. That was three years ago. When he had reminded her of their age difference, she had placed three fingers across his lips and said that age was only a number and love couldn't count.

The whole thing had happened so quickly he hardly had time to notice or care what others thought of his new life decision. Eventually he had heard others talking when they thought he could not hear them. Some said Suzanne was a gold digger or a power hungry manipulator and there were many rumors of her promiscuous nature The fact was that while all of it may very well have been true, in some strange, twisted sort of way it all seemed to be worth it because he would get to be with the most incredible and most beautiful woman he had ever known. He didn't believe rumors of her unfaithfulness and had learned through experience that jealousy was the mark of death for a marriage. He never questioned her and never doubted her word. Pulling the wool over his own eyes had proven to be best for his own selfish interests because above all else, he did not want to lose Suzanne. Unfortunately of late, her behavior had come to make his dream future all but impossible.

In the airport, while waiting on his flight to Rio just one day prior, he had received a text message from his wife informing him that she had placed a letter in his brief case and that he should only read it after the plane had departed Newark International. She often played those little games to spice up their love life and he had honored her request. Finding the letter right where she said it would be as his plane passed high above the Dominican Republic. He opened the letter and found that it smelled like Suzanne. The letter, wrapped in a pair of her panties, a Suzanne trademark, had been brief and to the point and even though he had always known it was a possibility, the letter brought a certain clarity and sadness to him that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get out from under. The words would be burned forever and indelibly into his mind.

DEAR RICHARD, I AM SO SORRY TO TELL YOU LIKE THIS BUT I COULD NOT BEAR TO SEE THE HURT ON YOUR FACE THAT I KNOW IT WILL BRING. I HAVE BEEN UNFAITHFUL AND HAVE HAD AN AFFAIR WITH VICTOR FREUDENTHAL FOR THE PAST YEAR. TODAY I HAVE BROKEN IT OFF WITH HIM AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT HE MEANS NOTHING TO ME, HE NEVER DID. YOU ARE GONE ALL THE TIME AND I WAS LONELY AND NEEDED SOMEONE. I HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE ME AND THAT WE CAN REPAIR THE DAMAGE THAT I HAVE DONE.

ALL MY LOVE, SUZANNE

Finishing up the sixth drink, Richard paid his tab, left a generous tip for the bartender and asked that a cab be summoned. When the cab arrived, he gave instructions to the driver to take him to the Copacabana Palace at 1702 Avenida Atlantica. The driver nodded and headed off in the direction of his hotel. Richard had been ignoring his phone all evening and at some point between the second and third drink had turned it off completely. He remembered it now and switched it back on to discover that he had five messages from a detective in Newark. Her name was Elizabeth Johnson. Each message requested he return her call as soon as possible and the only detail given in the voice mail was that it concerned his new home and his wife.

He resisted the images that flooded his mind; images of Suzanne and Victor making love in the new bed he and Suzanne had shared and in their new home, in which he had hardly spent a night. He touched "Call Back" on his iPhone but immediately pressed cancel when he realized that he didn't care what happened to their new home and he shouldn't care what happened to Suzanne, although in his heart of hearts he did. He would just let Suzanne worry about the house. It was really her home. He had bought it for her.

After arriving at his hotel, he paid and tipped the cabbie, spoke briefly with the woman at the concierge desk, and stopped in the Pérgula for a cup of coffee but spontaneously changed his mind when he spoke to the bar tender. "Duas margaritas por favor" As he continued to drown his pain beneath a sea of tequila, he tried to maneuver his tongue to lick the salt from the glass but kept missing it completely. When the cell phone rang it startled him, and nearly caused him to drop the margarita from his hand. He did manage to spill about half of it out onto the table. The bartender eyed him suspiciously but smiled when he saw Richard digging in his coat pocket for the phone.

"Richard Rholf", he slurred into the phone. The voice on the other end of the conversation was commanding and authoritative. "Mr. Rholf, my name is Elizabeth Johnson. I am a detective with the Newark, PD. How are you this evening sir?"

Richard's speech was slurred but discernible. "Well detective, I can't seem to lick the salt off a margarita glass for some odd reason, but thanks for asking. You aren't going to write me a ticket are you? I promise I'm not driving." He looked toward the bartender just to make sure he wasn't driving.

Detective Johnson frowned with confusion then realized the time difference and understood that he must have had quite a bit to drink. "Sir, this is your cell phone, is that correct?"

"That would be an accurate statement detective. Now I know why they made you a detective. We can't slip anything past you people, can we?" Richard's elbow slipped off the bar just as he spoke the word "slip" and the iPhone scooted out of his hand and slid three feet down the polished high gloss bar top. When he retrieved it, the detective was talking frantically.

"Hello, Mr. Rholf? Are you still there, hello, hello?"

"I am right here detective. And I thought you were a detective." Richard replied sarcastically.

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour but I've been trying to get in touch with you all evening. I left several messages on your voice mail." Detective Johnson replied.

"Yes, I did receive those messages a few minutes ago detective Johnson but didn't really think I should call back at this time, I've been drinking you know." Richard stated the obvious.

"Yes sir, I detected that you may have had a few drinks" she replied.

"Detected? I get it! You're a detective and you detected, I get it. Very cleaver. Can you detect what I'm thinking now?" He tried again to lick the salt from the glass and this time got some of the green salt on his nose.

Elizabeth Johnson took her queue. "Could it be that you're thinking about a man named Victor Moran Freudenthal.

Richard went silent for about thirty seconds as his mouth hung open in surprise. He stared at the phone as if it had just told him all the secrets of Harry Houdini, then he offered; "Damn, you ARE a detective. How the hell did you know that?"

The detective hesitated, not knowing if it would be the best thing to tell him of his wife's disappearance since he was out of the country and since he was obviously quite drunk. She decided to give it to him straight anyway. "Mr. Rholf sir, your wife.... Is missing."

The effects of the alcohol were not enough to lessen his recognition that there was a serious problem at hand and as if God had thrown a switch, his mind became as clear as if he'd not taken one drink. "Define 'missing' detective"

Detective Johnson described the events of the disappearance but didn't mention her conversation with Victor just yet. She didn't want to taint his deposition. Richard suggested finding Victor to ask him where Suzanne was since she and he had been having an affair. The detective was relieved at the fact that she would not have to break that news to him.

"We found a note, written by Suzanne to Victor, breaking it off. The note had been thrown away and it appeared to have been intentionally stuffed deep into a waste container inside the house. That could have been done by your wife or by the kidnapper. When we asked Victor about it he said he'd never seen it, so there was the possibility that she had not delivered it to him but, when we ran it for prints, his were all over it. We have him in custody but he denies involvement and still swears he never saw the note nor knew of your wife's plans to break off the affair."

"I will take the first plane back in the morning. What precinct are you with detective Johnson? Richard was all business now.

"Three eleven Washington Street. Ask for Lizzy." She replied

"I'll see you tomorrow detective." He hung up.

Richard licked the salt from the rim of the margarita glass, swallowed the contents and dropped a twenty and a ten on the table, more than three times the cost of the drinks. Richard had a reputation for being a big tipper.

In his room, he dialed a phone number that was labeled in his iPhone as Emergency Only. When the voice mail answered, speaking Portuguese Richard said. "Sou Richard Rholf, Tenho um emprego para você" which is to say, "I am Richard Rholf, I have a job for you."

Five minutes later Richard's phone rang and a voice on the other end spoke Portuguese saying, "Meet me in one hour at the Sessenta e Nove. You know this place? Richard confirmed and heard the click as the person that had initiated the call hung up.

### CHAPTER SEVEN

Behind the mirror, Nathan watched with keen interest. Sitting there watching was exciting but exercising total dominance over someone was his realization of a fantasy he had dreamed of and planned in detail for over a decade. Suzanne wasn't his first guest but the realization that she may be his last saddened him.

Suzanne stood, brushing her hair. The mirror was attached to the wall near the shower. Her elbows and shoulders protested painfully as she lifted both hands to pull the brush through her wet hair. Pain echoed through her joints each time she tugged on the brush, which in turn pulled against her scalp and caused more pain. She contemplated what reasoning Nathan had used to build his "torture chamber". Putting a mirror in a room that had obviously been designed as a dungeon seemed twisted. But she took solace in the fact that Nathan was twisted. This meant he had a weakness that could be found and exploited. She thought it even more interesting that Nathan had provided her with a hairbrush, although he had cut the handle off of it, and an assortment of toiletries, which included deodorant, mouthwash, toothpaste although no toothbrush so she had to use her finger, feminine products, lotion, perfume and even a makeup case which included an eyelash curler. Did he really expect his victims to primp and get ready for their next rape or beating? She needed to get inside his head. She needed to think like he thought and most of all, she needed to survive.

Realizing the conflicted thoughts, in her mind she justified brushing her own hair. She did not enjoy the attention she received from Nathan and the purpose of brushing her hair was not to become more attractive for Nathan. There was a two-inch laceration just inside the hairline above her forehead that had bled profusely while she slept. When she awoke she found that a crust of dried blood had literally glued the satin pillowcase to the side of her head. She had taken the pillow into the shower to dislodge it and now, it lay soggy wet by the drain.

Tending to the cut on her head with the first-aide supplies Nathan had stored in the medicine cabinet, she pampered the cut. It was very sore indicating possible infection. Wading around in sewage could cause the most superficial injury to become infected and quite realistically that could result in her death. She wondered how the three bodies that now occupied the pit had met their end. Had Nathan killed them or had they died of secondary causes such as infection or neglect? Nathan may end up killing her too although she was going to do what she had to do to prevent that, but she certainly didn't plan on dieing from an infected cut. She dabbed alcohol on a dozen scrapes and scratches, wincing with each touch of the sterile gauze and finally poured half the bottle directly onto the cut in her hairline holding a washcloth above her brow to prevent alcohol from getting in her eyes. The alcohol caused pain to radiate through her scalp as if a swarm of wasps were trapped in her hair. She gritted her teeth, sucking in air between them and reached for another towel to blot the blood stained liquid and further prevent it from running into her eyes. She then wrapped the towel tightly around her head like a turban, its pink and crimson marker growing larger around its edge.

Adjusting the thermostat, she hugged herself, gave a slight shiver and draped a dry towel over her shoulders. Padding around the room busily, it appeared as though she were tidying up. This was the impression she wished to give just in case Nathan watched from behind the two-way mirror. She was skilled in performance and had much experience manipulating the thought processes of hormonally driven men. She had decided to abandon the tough girl attitude. She could never be sure when she was being watched so the performance had to be switched on all the time. In reality she was moving about the room examining things, becoming intimately familiar with the world that had recently been thrust upon her or more precisely that she had been thrust into. The more she knew about her quarters, the more likely she would find something that could work to her advantage if and when the opportunity presented itself. She didn't quite know what that might be but hoped she'd recognize it when she saw it.

Nathan's first fantasy of such a thing had come to him as the result of a failed marriage. He had loved his wife . Her name was Brenda. He had loved her with all his heart even though he had discovered her cheating on him several times. Struggling to understand the psychology of such behavior he had negotiated with her to stay with him, talk about any problems that existed and as a result he thought the two of them could have a good marriage. Experts in relationships always put so much emphasis was put on good communication and he was convinced that open communication was the key to a successful relationship. While Nathan could talk for hours and did so on many occasions, Brenda was simply not into communication. She would say the things she knew he expected her to say but nothing ever really changed. She was a slut through and through as it turned out. After years of trying to salvage what proved to be non salvageable, Brenda ran off with the preacher that lived next door to them which suggested to Nathan that she'd been fucking him all along. During the long drawn out divorce proceedings, Nathan had designed the chamber. He knew he could never bring Brenda to his special "Guest Room" since he would be the prime suspect if she were to disappear but he would enjoy bringing others like her to experience his revenge. It was almost a decade later before he had actually taken steps to build it. His engineering degree had finally come in handy. He hadn't pursued a career in engineering because it simply bored him to tears but ironically when he used his skills to satisfy his own needs, he found engineering quite rewarding.

On the tenth anniversary of his divorce from Brenda, he had woke up in the middle of the night and started "The "Guest Room" project. Still in his pajamas, he had pulled back the carpet from his living room floor and, using tools he had accumulated through the years while having this project in mind, cut a three-foot square out of the concrete slab. Then, for the next two years had spent a minimum of six hours each evening and at least sixteen hours per day on weekends, holidays and vacation time, digging, reinforcing, shoring up and building underneath his house. It was the perfect place for him to be himself. It was totally sound proof and completely isolated.

He had methodically removed the dirt from the hole each day using buckets and had scattered it around his yard. He took that trick from a war movie he had seen as a child where POW's digging escape tunnels had done the same thing. It worked like a charm and only required patience. Patience was one thing that Nathan had an abundance of. When completed, the additional dirt was hardly noticeable. Any increase in elevation had appeared so gradual that no one paid attention.

Purchasing bags of concrete from a local building supply, inch-by-inch he had constructed the floor and walls of "The "Guest Room". Nathan was especially proud of the door in the wall that separated the control room from the "Guest Room". Using a CNC machine tool he had purchased through an online military auction, he had designed and constructed steel plates to fit together independently of bolts or rivets. He could never have fit a single piece of steel large enough to make the door through the three-foot opening in his living room floor. Each plate of steel that fit together to make up the door was a mere one-foot square. The finished door however, with its gargantuan hinges weighed over a ton and was so precisely machined that it fit invisibly into the opening between the two rooms. The operation of the door was so perfect that it virtually sucked itself closed as if it wanted to return to its home. And it operated so smoothly he actually regretted that he couldn't apply for a patent. He called it the Nathan vault door.

When complete, "The "Guest Room" was twenty-four foot wide, thirty-six feet long and twelve feet deep. A steel ladder offered access from the secret trap door in the floor of the living room down into the control room. The control room boasted its own bathroom complete with shower, toilet and sink. A large pit had been dug below the "Guest Room" to catch the small amounts of sewage created by him and his guests and had eventually proven beneficial for the purposes of punishment and even disposal of wayward guests. Every inch of the control room that wasn't switches, buttons glass or other control mechanism was lined with mirrors so that Nathan could see himself from every angle and vantage point. He spent hours sitting there, watching his guests, enjoying the sight of them. He enjoyed trying to imagine what they were thinking, what they were planning or hoping for; what kind of escape they were cooking up or what kind of tactic they were going to use to try and get him to release them.

Nathan had been host to many guests, most of them women but he had experimented with a couple of men just to see what it was like to control the destiny of someone that under normal circumstances could defeat him. It wasn't a sexual thing. He wasn't gay, although coincidentally, one of the men he had hosted turned out to be. He didn't like men much. They weren't nearly as pretty as women and they tried too vigorously to escape. He had quickly terminated them compared to his female guests. He loved women and now he had the ultimate woman as a guest; Suzanne.

He referred to his victims as guests and didn't think of them as victims in any way. They were actually more than simple guests. They were honored guests that, while providing a service to him also had the unique experience of getting to know the real Nate. He was an extraordinary man and a very nice man, given the opportunity, he provided most of his guests with the best of everything in exchange for their companionship.

Normal relationships proved to be confusing for Nathan and most of the time they were one sided or just down right deceitful. After his divorce from Brenda, Nathan had tried unsuccessfully to have a relationship with several women. Not all at the same time of course. But one by one they had cheated on him, borrowed from him with no intent to repay or strung him along in an attempt to use him as some kind of sugar daddy. He found it much more satisfying to have a relationship like this where he was in control of everything, every aspect of the relationship's progress. When they were guests in "The "Guest Room", after awhile though some took longer than others, they became quite pleasant to be with. Some even grew to like it.

Nathan's first guest to the "Guest Room" had been a cute little lady from Georgia. He had stopped off at a bar on his way home from work to grab a bite to eat and there she was sitting at the bar. When she stood to go to the bathroom, the skirt she wore was so short that he could actually see her pink panties. He quickly jotted his phone number onto her napkin and left without getting anything to eat. As he was about to pull out of the parking lot, his cell phone rang and he heard her southern drawl saying with a giggle. "Who is this?"

Nathan's voice was surprisingly deep and resonate for his small stature so he never had a problem luring women in with his voice on the telephone. The problem came later when they met him. "I saw you from across the bar tonight and thought I'd give you an opportunity to meet the man of your dreams darling."

She giggled again and in no time he had convinced her to meet with him. Since he had described himself as being six foot four, she didn't' suspect a thing when he walked by her as she waited in a local park. Once he was behind her, he quickly turned and used chloroform to subdue her. When he arrived home with his newly acquired guest in his trunk, he parked in the back yard so that no one would see him fumbling with her. He had previously extinguished the street light with a pellet rifle so it was pitch dark in the backyard as he threw her across his shoulder and carried her petite body into the house through the back door. The light fixture on the ceiling over the trap door actually concealed a winch and he used it to lower her into the control room but first he held another chloroform damp rag over her nose and mouth to make sure she didn't wake up before he could get her securely situated inside the room.

It had been a learning experience for Nathan. He found that the initial reactions from guests could be violent. He hadn't installed the chains and Velcro restraints at the time and on his first attempt to play with his first new guest, she had fought like a wild tiger. She had almost put out one of his eyes as she clawed and slapped at him, trying to get away. She had actually gotten out from under him and managed to get into the control room and even climbed the ladder. Fortunately for Nathan the trap door is heavy and she couldn't open it. She climbed up and struggled with the door and he had knocked her off the ladder with a two by four. Unfortunately he damaged her Achilles tendon when striking her with the board and after about a week her foot and leg had swollen to twice their normal size. This was unsightly and caused her a great deal of pain.

He re-evaluated his tactics and considered alternative solutions to the cooperation problem. He considered introducing drugs or gassing them but both of those ideas were counter productive since the guest's response to his treatment of them was part of his thrill. His ability to convince a guest to accept their lot in life and make the best of it was a super turn on for Nathan. The ultimate goal was to have a guest fall in love with him and trust him.

In order to have his way with Georgia, as he had dubbed her, he took a baseball bat in with him on subsequent visits and knocked her unconscious. He enjoyed taking her as she was very beautiful, but it would have been much more fun if she could have been awake and responsive. The baseball bat solution was crude and had a permanent effect on the girl. He had learned a valuable lesson with Georgia and after she was gone he installed the chains and straps and several other security measures to more effectively manage his guests. After about a dozen times of being knocked out with the baseball bat, Georgia became lethargic and eventually fell into a coma. He thought she might have contracted an infection in her brain from her skull being cracked. He dumped her breathing but unresponsive body into the pit beneath the bed.

He was elated when it just so happened that the second guest to the room was Brenda, his ex wife. It was Thanksgiving evening. He was out driving late at night trying to find a convenience store that was open. He was having a rare craving for a Snicker's Bar. Making the complete loop through town with no luck, he had decided to forget about his sweet tooth and head home. He planned to buy a case of Snicker's the next day and make sure this situation never happened again. As fate would have it, road construction had him detour from his normal route and while following the detour signs he had come upon a country store that he never even new existed. It had a neon sign over the door that said, "OPEN".

Before entering the store, he glanced through the glass and couldn't believe his eyes. The woman behind the register was his ex wife, Brenda. On a whim, taking it as an omen, he had pulled his stocking hat down over his face, clubbed her over the head with the bat that he carried in his trunk and hauled her out to the car. He had totally forgotten that he was wearing his jacket from Solitary Contracts, which announced "Nate" right above the left breast pocket. If there had been a security camera in operation he would be behind bars now but, as fate would have it, the police had no clue of what happened to her and since it had been so long since his last contact with her, all he had to contend with was a casual inquiry from the police.

Brenda had bitched and moaned and threatened to see him in jail from the moment she regained consciousness. He had stripped her naked and burned her clothes, flushing the ashes down the toilet upstairs which went to the public sewer system. When he had removed her clothes, the body he discovered underneath was not the body he remembered making love to for so many years. This body was old and disgusting. An obvious poor breast augmentation had left her scarred and disfigured. One breast was completely deformed and had no nipple. Nathan had no desire to do anything but get away from her. Since he had strapped her in while she was unconscious, he was frustrated. He couldn't release the Velcro remotely and would have to enter the room where she screamed at the top of her lungs. Only then did he remember how he hated it when she screamed. It was this incident that spawned the decibel alarm that now hung from the ceiling of the "Guest Room". He considered using the bat and beating her into oblivion but decided against it.

For some stupid reason, he still loved her; he went in and unsecured her left hand, then quickly exited back into the control room, closing the door behind. Over the loud speaker he instructed her to remove her bonds but to stay on the bed. He lied to her and told her the floor was electrified. He watched closely through the two-way mirror and at the precise second that she freed herself from the final Velcro bond, he flipped the switch that released the mattress and it swing open to the septic pit below. She had fallen in and he had retracted the hatch. He hadn't opened it again until the need arose to deposit another body more than two months later.

As Suzanne tidied up the "Guest Room", Nathan became more and more excited. He removed his clothes and was about to instruct Suzanne to assume the position and secure the straps when he heard a thump above him. He looked at the security monitor on the desk, which monitored a series of cameras both inside and outside his home. Someone was on his front porch. Two young men stood, dressed in suits and ties, conversing among themselves. Nathan turned up the volume and heard the conversation. Nathan could see religious flyers in the young man's hand on the left. They were discussing a mutual affection they shared for a girl named Amy.

"You know, just thinking about doing that is a sin brother." Said the young man on the left. The one on the right responded, "You're only saying that because it is me that she offered herself to instead of you."

They rang the doorbell again and this time it was fully audible since Nathan had turned up the volume on the monitor. He touched an intercom and said, "Who is it?" His voice startled the two religious zealots on the porch.

The one on the left replied. "Mark and Marshal from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We'd like to speak with you about your belief if we may."

Nathan thought for a minute, frustrated by the interruption. He had manually worked himself into a hormonal frenzy while watching Suzanne for more than two hours and he was ready to release that frustration with her. "I'll be right there." Nathan said.

### CHAPTER EIGHT

The two boys stood on the front porch as the hot sun beamed down upon their backs. Sweat beaded on both of their foreheads and the white shirts they wore were stained long with sweat around their armpits and neck. Youth seemed to render them impervious to the discomforts of summer. Marshal was nineteen years old but his birthday was only a week away and he told everyone that he was twenty. Each time Marshal told the lie about his age, Mark would remind him that it was a sin to tell a lie. "You won't be twenty until seven forty one PM a week from tomorrow and rest assured that Heavenly Father will hold you accountable for misrepresenting the truth."

Marshal, being the older of the twin brothers by a full two and a half minutes, didn't appreciate being called down by his younger brother. They were fraternal twins, not identical. Mark had taken after his father and was a full six foot tall while Marshal took more from his mother's genome measuring a mere five foot three. No one believed them when they said they were twins but they were twins nonetheless. The brothers had been raised in the church since birth and were fully indoctrinated in its teachings and doctrines. Marshal, having had many bad experiences relative to his relationship with the church, was less zealot that opportunist while Mark, who had been closer to his mother and consequently had somewhat of a sheltered life, was very devout and an excellent spokesman for the church. "If a woman answers the door, I'll do the talking." Declared Marshal.

"Sometimes I think the hospital must have made a mistake and switched my true twin brother for this pervert that stands before me now." Mark replied. "We are knocking on doors and witnessing to sinners in an attempt to save their immortal souls and even now you are totally controlled by thoughts of sex. You should repent before God takes you into protective custody to adjust your attitude." Protective custody was the term Mark used for hell. The twins often used code words when discussing personal matters especially where it involved religion. Using code speak was one way to guarantee the elders did not intercept their meaning and perhaps separate them or at least punish them for being naughty or council them on their errors in theology. No one hated being counseled on theology more than Marshal though Mark did it every chance he got.

"If lust were not a natural and intentional part of our lives brother, we would not have so many hormones to contend with. Our bodies are chemical factories flowing with hormones from head to toe. How else would the species survive? If everyone were like you, man would have gone extinct about one generation after creation, besides If I have to go into protective custody, that will give you an excellent chance of winning Amy for yourself, only you wouldn't know what to do with the p...." The door opened and interrupted Marshal's lewd commentary to his brother.

Nathan answered the door wearing only a robe and slippers. "Hello boys, won't you come in? Pardon my appearance. You caught me as I was about to get into the shower. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, or so they say." Nathan smiled and opened the door wide and motioned for the twins to enter. He offered them a glass of iced tea from his refrigerator and Marshal accepted graciously. Nate made small talk as he poured the refreshing liquid into tall, ice filled glasses. "Boys, I have to tell you that I'm always happy when folks from the church come a calling. It tells me there are still people that care in this world. I watch the news everyday and well, there's a lot of evil out there."

"So, you are secure in your eternal destiny then?" Inquired Mark as he handed Nathan a piece of literature with the words "SECURE" which seemed to jump off the page in bold red and black print. Nathan took it and laid it on the counter top without giving it a glance. "Secure indeed. Me and the man upstairs, we have an understanding. Why he even speaks to me on a regular basis, telling me what it is he wants me to do, ya know?. I bet you don't meet too many that can say that, now do you?" Nathan was laying it on thick and he planned to continue to keep the two boys off their guard long enough for the flunitrazepam in the tea to take effect.

Marshal couldn't resist playing this game and he smiled at his brother and winked. "What is it that the Heavenly Father tells you? Um, when he speaks to you I mean." Marshal put absolutely no stock in stories of personal interactions with God. He usually mocked openly when anyone mentioned such a thing but had recently been counseled by his brother to be on his best behavior when they were out representing the church.

"Oh, he tells me when people need help or he leads me to them in strange and mysterious ways. Sometimes he leads people to me that I can help or that can help me, like you boys for instance." Nathan replied.

"So does that mean we're here for help or here to help you? Can you give us an idea of how he speaks to you? Do you hear his voice or does he just come to you in dreams or what?" Mark fired one question after another with genuine interest.

Nathan offered the boys more tea as he told about his conversations with the deity. Marshal guzzled the ice-cold liquid. It was hot outside and the air inside the house stood strangely still and humid. A clammy layer of perspiration lay on his skin and he felt a bit nauseous. He slugged the tea, relishing the cooling effect it had on him. Mark however was so engrossed in Nathan's tale of divine communion that he had not tasted his. In only a few minutes, Marshal began to experience the drug's effect as it crept up on him like a deceitful friend. Marshal drained the last of his tea from the glass and asked if he could use the bathroom. Nathan pointed to the hallway and gave brief verbal directions to the bath without interrupting his conversation with Mark. He touched Mark's glass and said, "Drink your tea son, you're sweating."

.........

Suzanne had heard a noise emanating from the direction of the mirror. It was a scraping sound followed by a bump and another scraping sound and another bump. It was faint but definite. She had heard the identical sound many times over the past couple of days and had determined it was the sound of Nathan doing something in the control room. Now she was almost certain it was the sound of him coming in or going out but it was difficult to determine if his current whereabouts were in or out. She had heard the sound a couple of hours ago and had assumed Nathan was behind the mirror, watching her. Now she heard it again and she weighed the odds that it meant he had left. Time would tell if she were right or wrong.

She quickly climbed up onto the bed and stood as tall as possible, stretched to the end of her reach in an attempt to touch the conduit that connected the three green lights to the control room. If Nathan were behind the mirror watching, he would either enjoy the show she was giving or he would gas her into unconsciousness for what appeared to be an escape attempt but it was worth the risk. Apparently Nathan was unaware that the sound of his access to the room was detectable from this side of the mirror, an advantage she didn't want to reveal. Of course it could turn out that he tapped the images the surveillance cameras captured or that he had monitors where ever he went, in which case she would eventually get busted for her activity. Either way, she had to do something to bring her closer to freedom. She strained on her tiptoes to reach the metal piping but was a good foot and a half short of touching it. "dammit" she said.

.........

Mark still had not tasted his iced tea. Nathan prompted him again and this time, the boy placed the glass on a coaster located on the coffee table. "I'm allergic to caffeine sir, I'm sorry."

Nathan cocked his head and pondered for just a second on the meaning of what the boy had said and the resulting consequences. Any minute now if not already, Marshal was going to become incapacitated while his brother remained alert. The boy looked quite strong and his six-foot stature was intimidating to Nathan, especially since he was alert and free of the influence of the drugs Nathan had intended for him. Nathan smiled and picked up the glass. "Oh, I'm so sorry, why didn't you tell me? Would you like some water instead?"

"No thank you sir, I had a large bottle of water just before we arrived." Replied the boy. Nathan poured the full glass of tea down the sink and rinsed the glass underneath the flow from the faucet. He then opened the dishwasher and placed the glass on the top shelf. A loud thump echoed through the kitchen, which emanated from the direction of the bathroom. Nate and Mark made eye contact instantly and Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like your brother is having a hard time. Perhaps you should check on him."

Mark stood for a second, wondering if he should indeed check on his brother. He really didn't want to barge into the bathroom while his brother could very well be sitting on the toilet taking a dump or even worse, doing rude things to himself. He knew how Marshal was with all those hormones raging. "I'm sure he's ok sir. We had Mexican for lunch." Mark grimaced.

Nathan walked across the kitchen to the corner cabinet and opened a drawer. "Would you like to see the spot where God talks to me?" Nathan offered. The boy stood about three feet from the cabinet where Nathan dug through the drawer. He wondered if Nathan was going to tell him that God appeared to him inside the cabinet drawer with the large kitchen utensils. Nathan withdrew an object from the drawer but Mark did not recognize its purpose. "You mean there's a certain spot that he appears to you?"

"Do you see the burned spot on the floor, there in the hallway?" Nathan waved the object he was holding in the direction behind where Mark stood.

Mark turned and scanned the carpeting, which began at the head of the hallway and traveled about twenty-five feet down another hallway. There were five doors in the hall; two on the left, two on the right and one at the end. He saw no burn on any portion of the carpet. "I don't see it."

Nathan moved closer to the boy, standing behind and to the left of him and pointed down the hall. "Just there."

ZAAAAAAAAAP

The loud crack and frying sound of the taser took the boy by surprise but more than the sound was the hot stab of electrical current, which disrupted every muscle in his body. He screamed in pain and fell to the floor, writhing and convulsing. Nathan walked to the doorway which led to the living room, took the baseball which stood propped in the corner and hammer cracked the boy across the skull.

### CHAPTER NINE

Detective Johnson poured two cups of coffee, adding sugar and non-dairy creamer to both of them. Returning to her desk, she sipped on one cup and placed the other on the desk in front of Richard Rholf. "How long have you known about the affair, Mr. Rholf?" Asked detective Johnson.

"I am much older than my wife, detective. As a rule I try not to dwell on every detail of what that means. One could find one's self overly stressed, considering all the possibilities presented by daily life. My wife is very beautiful and desired by every male on the planet. I was very well aware of that fact when I met her and I learned to ignore it early on in our relationship." Richard smelled the coffee and placed the cup back on the desk between him and detective Johnson without tasting it.

"You didn't answer my question." Said the detective.

"I received a text message from Suzanne two days ago, immediately prior to boarding the plane to Rio, informing me of a note she had placed in my carry on bag. She often leaves notes for me to find in my luggage. I opened it somewhere over South America. The note informed me of her affair, apologized and said that she had broken it off." Replied Richard.

"Did you call her after reading the letter?" Inquired agent Johnson.

"No. I didn't see the point." Said Richard.

"Your wife informed you she was having an affair with a man half your age and you didn't see the point in calling her?" Asked Johnson.

"She informed me that she had broken it off. Calling and confronting her about it over the telephone didn't seem like the wise thing to do. I love my wife, so divorcing her wouldn't make me feel any better. She was a woman of the world when I met her and she will be long after I am gone detective. Men like me are manipulated by women like her everyday.", Replied Richard.

Detective Johnson held up a hand as if to say "wait". She was in the middle of taking a long sip of coffee and the hot liquid that she held in her mouth seemed to linger longer than she wanted it to. She swallowed hard and shook her head. "If you know that she manipulates you, why do you stay with her? Heck, why did you marry her in the first place?"

"I love her, detective. I love being with her. I love the site of her, the thought of her, the sound of her voice. She is thirty years younger than me. Have you seen her, detective?"

Detective Johnson shook her head no and replied, "No but I've seen photos. She's very beautiful but...."

Richard interrupted; "She treats me like a king. When I'm home, she spends every minute at my side, catering to my every whim. Nothing is denied me, no fantasy withheld. Conversely I place no restrictions on her freedoms to come and go and do as it pleases her. What she does discretely, in private, has no bearing on my love for her."

"Why do you think she told you about the affair then? If she's free to do whomever she pleases privately and discretely I mean." Asked the detective.

"I don't know." Said Richard

"Do you think it could be her way of broaching the subject of divorce? I mean, she didn't have to tell you about it at all, breaking it off or going at it wholeheartedly." Asked detective Johnson.

Richard thought about it for a second and again said, "I don't know."

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Detective Johnson wrote something down on the pad in front of her and fidgeted with a broken nail on her left hand.

Richard interrupted the silence. "I have hired a private detective to recover my wife from.....whomever has taken her."

"What makes you think you'll have more success than I will?" asked Johnson.

Richard drew a breath but hesitated, then spoke. "While I am fully confident in the police and of course with your own experience in these matters detective, the person I have hired will not be hindered by the encumbrances that you will face."

"By encumbrances, I assume you mean the law, Mr. Rholf?" Asked the detective.

Richard moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, glanced at his watch and gave a slight shrug. "The law was created to protect the victim but somewhere along the way for one reason or another we've reversed that logic and now it appears to shield the perpetrator more than the victim. The person I have hired is former Israeli Mossad. Quite frankly he is the best in the world. It is logical for me to expect speedy results."

Johnson raised both eyebrows and stared at Richard with intense curiosity. "Your resources are impressive Mr. Rholf. Please understand I don't blame you for doing anything in your power to secure the safe return of your wife, no matter how promiscuous she's been but I will warn you, as you know, we have laws in this country. If you or your private detective violate them, you'll assume the roll of criminals and you will be treated accordingly."

Richard shrugged again. "Very well detective. I assure you we have no intention of violating any laws."

Richard stood and put his chair neatly underneath the edge of the table. Pausing, he looked at the short beautiful redhead and said, "I will keep you informed detective. I trust you will do the same for me."

Detective Johnson drained the last drops of coffee from her Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the circular garbage pail next to her desk. She nodded. "Agreed."

### CHAPTER TEN

Richard left the police station and walked the three blocks north to Sixth Street, then turned right and briskly covered the remaining five blocks to River Street. The man he was looking for waited patiently approximately a thousand feet away. He was leaning against the handrail and was looking out over the Hudson River towards Manhattan. Richard approached quietly.

"Yakov Petrova?" Richard spoke softly.

Petrova puffed on a long stemmed pipe. The smoke billowed around the tall man's head but dispersed quickly with the wind that blew in off the river. The smell of burned cherry blossoms permeated the air. Yakov Petrova pushed up from his casual posture on the handrail and appeared to grow another three foot tall. Making eye contact with Richard, he spoke with a thick Russian accent, "Hello Richard Rholf, it is very good to see you again my friend."

Richard's hand disappeared into the palm of Petrova as the two men shook hands. Richard felt like a child next to the giant Russian. Though Yakov Petrova was six foot - nine inches tall and weighed more than twice that of Richard he had a remarkably gentle hand shake. The Russian sported a pair of spit shined Russian military boots size twenty.

"How long has it been, Yakov?", asked Richard.

"It will be thirty two years come Christmas." Said the Russian. "I am sad that it has been so long since we have shared company and I am sadder for the circumstances under which our meeting takes place now. But I am happy that I am finally able to repay a debt I have owed for so long."

The Russian's grip tightened warmly around Richard's hand but not too tightly. More than two decades earlier, Richard had been arbitrated a difficult negotiation between the Soviets and the Israeli's. During those negotiations, Petrova, a Russian Jew, had been bodyguard to a high-ranking Soviet Attaché' named Kateryna Volodymir. The negotiations had failed at every level and a billion dollar contract negotiation was about to fall through. That evening, an attempt was made on the life of Volodymir who had been perceived as the stumbling block to the agreement. Petrova pursued the would-be assassin through the streets of Zurich and had cornered the killer in the Grossmünster cathedral after an exhausting chase through the sparsely populated night streets. Petrova, believing himself superior to the fleeing shooter had approached to make the arrest but had been shot in the face by an accomplice who was hiding in the shadows. The two criminals were about to finish off the huge Russian when Richard had appeared on the scene and killed both armed attackers.

"How's the misses?" Richard asked.

"Kateryna sends her love and continued gratitude."

Petrova reached into his hip pocket, retrieved a wallet and produced a string of photos. The first photo though faded and worn showed Richard standing next to a hospital bed, which was occupied by the giant Russian bodyguard, half of his face obscured by post surgical bandages. The second photo was taken at the wedding of Yakov Petrova and Kateryna Volodymir. Richard held a glass of champagne high in the photo as he performed the best man's toast at the couple's wedding. That photo had been taken thirty-two years prior to the coming Christmas. The remaining four photos were of the children that had followed the union of Yakov and Kateryna, the oldest of which had been named Richard.

Richard smiled as memories flooded his mind of days gone by. "That was so long ago, but it seems like just last week. How are those children?"

"Richard is a doctor and teaches at the University of Moscow. His mother wishes him to move to Rio so that she can be closer to the grandchildren if they ever produce any but his job does not allow it. He is quite successful and I understand this situation but his mother.... What can we do?"

Petrova pulled another photo from behind a flap of black silk in his wallet. The photo had apparently been taken at a wake. The body of a young man could be seen in the background. He lay in a coffin parked below an Israeli flag. The dead man was the youngest son of Yakov and Kateryna Petrova. "Nicholi was killed last year after an extortion attempt. He was kidnapped and held for one million dollars ransom. Later I discovered that the boy was dead before the kidnapper called to negotiate his ransom demand so saving him was impossible. After I found the killer, he confessed to me this truth and I slowly put this peach out of his misery."

"Yakov, I am so sorry." Richard took the picture from the Russian and examined it closer. He stared at the photo and wondered how he would feel if Suzanne were killed during her ordeal.

"His twentieth birthday came only one month after his death." Said Petrova. "Do not worry my friend. Providing she is now alive, a similar fate will not befall your wife. I only need to know what you wish me to do with her abductor. Shall I....punish him for the error of his ways or shall I deliver him to you?"

### CHAPTER ELEVEN

Suzanne's breath came in short shallow gasps even though she knew the blood that covered her face and chest was not her own. Thrashing her head from side to side, she struggled, exerting great effort to suck air into her lungs. Marshal's body lay lifeless on top of her pressing the air from her lungs, his throat slit from ear to ear. The blood had been copious and hot when it sprayed across her face and chest. She had tasted salty iron when she opened her mouth to scream and nearly choked to death on an ample portion of the boy's life liquid that spurted from his throat and into her own. Her chest could barely expand due to the dead weight that fell centered full force onto her cracked ribs. The weight of the body and the horror of the experience as the body twitched involuntarily with nerves struggling to make sense of the shock and pangs of death, was obscene.

Suzanne imagined she would die here and now without shedding a drop of her own blood while bathed and choking on the blood and incidental anger of the dead weight that this very moment pressed the life from her like a python patiently but relentlessly squeezing its prey. She struggled to retain her sanity and gain one more inch of space to breathe the blood scented but precious air, yet the Velcro straps on her wrists, thighs and ankles held her securely in place.

Twenty minutes earlier, after she had once again heard the tell tale sound of his entrance, Nathan had spoken from behind the mirror, instructing her to assume the position and to strap herself in. Having devised a juvenile plan to cooperate willingly and gain his trust, she had complied instantly with Nathan's instructions only to experience yet another surprise from his bi-polar house of horrors.

The clunk of magnetic latches and the familiar instantaneous pressure change to her ears as the room equalized with the outside pressure signaled the opening of the door between the control room and Suzanne's dungeon. Two young men, perhaps teens, had been brought into the room by an irate Nathan. One of them was already dead. His neck had been broken accidentally as Nathan attempted to lower the two unconscious guests into the control room. As a result of the premature death and other frustrations unrevealed to Suzanne, Nathan was in an unprecedented evil mood. He cursed and kicked the dead boy's body into the room with the other slung over his shoulder like a sack of dog food.

The surviving boy had quickly regained consciousness and cried continuously, wailing and praying out loud, begging for an unseen God to forgive his transgressions and deliver him from his current plight, declaring his denial of Satan and his faith in God. The boy's hands were tied behind his back and Nathan slapped him repeatedly, telling him to shut up, which only made the boy scream and cry louder and with greater intensity. Nathan retrieved a baseball bat from the control room and hit the boy in the face with it twice, causing him to huddle to the corner and cry and pray quietly.

Nathan threw the boy a towel then immediately sliced him deep across his chest causing the starched white shirt to open horizontally and it was instantly soaked with the crimson flow of blood from the knife wound. Mark fell to his knees and begged for mercy. Nathan then yanked the boy to his feet, held a knife to his throat and whispered into his ear.

"Now look over there boy; that there is Suzanne. Except for her wounds, isn't she just the hottest girl you've ever seen in your life? She's all tied down and waiting for you. Your brother won't be able to experience her pleasures, although I'm sure he would have welcomed a ride with this one. Now I'm extending that invitation to you boy. Don't you want some of her sex? Come on now, man up and get ya some while I'm feeling so generous. You don't want to meet your maker as a virgin do you?

Nathan cut Mark's clothing free with the knife, taking little care not to cut the skin in the process, then forced him at knifepoint onto Suzanne and ordered him to have sex with her. He pushed the boys head down between Suzanne's breasts and use the knife's sharp blade to neutralize any resistance and force the boy's hips closer to the naked flesh beneath him but Mark resisted anyway, shying away from Suzanne and directly against the unyielding blade behind him which pierced his flesh repeatedly, eyes closed, weeping and praying. When Nathan drew the knife across the boy's throat, lightly at first, testing for a response, the boy was obviously in shock and didn't notice, didn't flinch. The next stroke of the blade cut deep into the boy's windpipe and carotid artery, causing a spray of blood that brought instant and eternal escape for the young man; ending his fear forever.

Falling forward full force, Suzanne had moved her head to the left to avoid smashing face to face as the boy's head crashed down upon her. The dead body had knocked the breath out of Suzanne and she struggled to regain the ability to take in breath.

Nathan stood staring at the two dead bodies, one bloody, still flinching atop Suzanne, the other still and limp in the floor, head twisted at an odd angle, eyes still open giving the appearance of awareness. Marshal's tongue protruded from his mouth in a post mortem defiance of Nathan's thwarted efforts to play games with his new guests.

Nathan quietly turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Suzanne's ears popped and a moment later, the chains that held her splayed for the taking, loosened allowing her to escape from the Velcro straps and the crushing force of the body that lay between her legs and on her chest. The fresh blood on her skin and pooling on the leather beneath her acted as a lubricant and she almost squirted out from under the boy's dead weight. She landed on the hard floor with a thump and grunt. Gasping for breath she reeled in pain but glad to find the air her lungs demanded.

Crawling to the shower in horror, she gagged and washed blood from her mouth, hair and skin. She heard the telltale bang as the bed hinge swung free allowing the boy's still warm corpse to slip into the waiting arms of its secret resting place. Nathan spoke harshly into the intercom. "Dump the other into the pit so I can close the hatch. Hesitate for one minute and I'll leave it open and you can smell it for a week." The sound of Nathan's voice seemed to echo around the room as Suzanne leaned back under the flow of cleansing water and slowly slipped down the wall and sat on the water covered tile floor. The water was warm and soothing and pink. She didn't bother to retrieve the soap from the small indention on the shower wall. The water spattered onto her body as pink and red stripes of diluted blood flowed down and off her skin, swirling then disappearing into the drain. It was hypnotic. Suzanne stared at the blood and water and thought how ironic it was that the young man's blood having been spilled had robbed him of life but was now circling around the shower floor, passing through the drain line and into the pit to reunite with the body from whence it originated. She imagined that he would come back to life when that happened. He wasn't going to like the pit any better than he liked her room.

Suzanne rocked and closed her eyes. She hugged herself, pulling her knees to her chest and embracing the warmth as the water, which once again cleansed her of the horrors of the moment. A tune came to her, as often occurred when she visited this place in her mind and she hummed and swayed to the rhythm of it. Softly whispering now, the words of the song escaped her lips and for a moment, if only for a moment, she was free. "In the circle of life, it's the wheel of fortune.... It's the leap of faith, it's the band of hope..."

### CHAPTER TWELVE

Victor slid his brass key into the deadbolt of the apartment door and turned the cylinder counter clockwise. Isn't it strange how an unexpected result from an action you've performed a hundred times can put you off track? As Victor turned the key, rather than feeling the usual and expected smooth resistance of the locking bolt as it slid to the left, liberating the door from the grip of its keeper, the cylinder turned freely indicating that the door was already unlocked. A rush of angst gripped him, magnifying his already bewildered demeanor. He was almost positive he had locked the door when he left the apartment on Saturday morning for what turned out to be a failed rendezvous with Suzanne but he had been through so much in the past forty-eight hours; he shook his head, amazed that he had made such a blunder as leaving his door unsecured.

The apartment building where he currently resided was relatively secure. There was a security guard in the lobby around the clock and no one without a key to the front entrance was allowed in without a current tenant's approval. Solicitors are not allowed and would be thieves would rather shop where the pickings were less guarded. The only imaginable threat to his unlocked apartment would come from someone already inside the building and that would only happen if they tried the wrong door by mistake and discovered that it was unlocked. Victor had not yet signed up for a maid service and no one ever visited him so the possibility of an intruder was most likely near zero. Honest people wouldn't normally go looking for trouble and he believed most people that resided in these expensive apartments were honest enough or at least had far more on their agenda than checking for doors that had been accidentally left unlocked.

Relieved at being released from jail but still frightfully worried about Suzanne's whereabouts, he went straight to the entertainment center and put on the blues. Willie Dixon broke out in his "Little Red Rooster" and the music echoed across the spacious apartment. Music was a universal tranquilizer and Victor collapsed on the sofa in exhaustion. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and blew slowly with puffed cheeks toward the ceiling. He didn't know what to do. His finely chiseled and manicured musculature offered up no energy, no motivation and the forced inactivity of the past couple of days bred more complacency as he lay there. More mental exhaustion than physical plagued his body as his mind wandered in a dozen directions. He was only out of jail on bail and was certainly still detective Elizabeth Johnson's prime suspect in the disappearance of Suzanne. Richard would certainly be gunning for him since the news of their affair was now practically public for everyone to hear and the discovery of the paternal relationship between he and Rudolph Grannigan was now inevitable. Suddenly, a vibration on his leg followed by the immediate ringing of the cell phone in his front trouser pocket startled him and he flinched sharply, then almost immediately he prayed it was Suzanne calling to put an end to this nightmare and tell him that everything was okay. He fumbled clumsily for the phone and answered with an anxious voice on the third ring. "Hello".

"I'll expect you to be here promptly at ten this evening, we have much to discuss." Said the caller. Sitting up on the sofa Victor replied, "Thanks for getting me out of Jail dad. I really am sorry about all this." There was no reply; only a click as the connection and conversation was terminated. Victor stood, dropped the phone back into his pocket and went to the kitchen in search of food. As Willie Dixon requested his red rooster be sent back home, Victor's peripheral vision revealed a man sitting at his breakfast table causing him another frightful start. Victor screamed involuntarily, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN MY APARTMENT?"

The stranger sat calmly at the table, holding and reading one of many documents that were scattered messily across the tabletop. Lowering the document and peering over wire rimmed reading glasses, the stranger made eye contact with Victor and spoke with a Russian accent. "My name is Yakov Petrova. Excuse the intrusion but I knocked and when no one answered, I tried the door. To my surprise it was unlocked and I interpreted that as invitation to come in. American hospitality has always impressed me." Petrova smiled and returned his attention to the paper that he was holding.

"How'd you get past the security guard downstairs?" Victor asked nervously. The stranger did not reply. Victor backed slowly toward the door putting distance between himself and his uninvited visitor. "If you leave now, you might escape before the police arrive." He fumbled with the cell phone in his pocket. Foolishly he had thought to try and dial 911 without revealing the phone to the intruder then he remembered that it was touch screen and had no mechanical buttons to interpret with his fingertips and therefore was impossible to dial without looking at it.

"I am certain your recent interaction with local authorities was enough to satisfy your need for the company of law men. Said Petrova without looking up.

The statement put Victor strangely at ease yet he continued to slowly add distance between them. The man's confidence and conversation caused Victor to imagine he was an official of some kind or somehow connected with law enforcement, a plain-clothes detective perhaps. Victor finally took the phone from his pocket and tapped 911 on the touch screen but hovered his finger over the DIAL button. "You have three seconds to tell me who you are and why you're here."

I have already told you who I am. The reason that I am here is to collect information. I am involved in efforts to rescue Suzanne from her captors. Do you know where she is?" Said Petrova.

"I do not know where Suzanne is. Are you a cop?" Asked Victor.

"No, I am not a cop. Just a friend of a friend." Said Petrova.

"What do you need from me?" Asked Victor.

The Russian offered Victor the document that he currently held and said, "Tell me about this."

The document was a photocopy of the type written Dear John note purportedly written by Suzanne; the one that had contained his finger prints and subsequently caused him to be arrested for lying to detective Johnson. He had not lied but of course no one believed him. Once more, putting the cell phone back into his pocket, Victor rolled his eyes in frustration and raised his voice. "I've already told the cops, I had never seen that note before the detective pulled it out of her pocket. I was supposed to meet with Suzanne Saturday morning at her house. She and I were on the best of terms the day before she wrote the note and she even invited me to her house so why would she write me a Dear John letter just to bury it in her own garbage can? I'm being setup I tell you!"

The Russian fingered through the documents on the table and pulled another one from the pile. "I believe you are correct sir. Tell me about this person, please." He held up a publicity photo of Victor's wife. She wore a skimpy white bikini with green polka dots and stood in the sand on a beach in Hawaii. In the photo she was posed as if she were about to remove the bikini bottom.

"That's my wife, Carolyn. We're....separated." Replied Victor.

"Yes, separated. Is she aware of your fraternization with Mrs. Rholf?" Petrova looked directly into the eyes of Victor, looking for any sign of concealment or deceit. He detected none.

"I don't know what she knows. She knows I'm seeing other people.... or.... other.... women. I haven't TOLD her anything except.... well.... I've given her the impression or...... allowed her to get the impression that I have no desire to reconcile with her, but I've never told her directly about anyone I'm seeing." Victor's response was immediate and unrehearsed, which convinced Petrova of the truthfulness of his statement.

Petrova nodded but maintained eye contact with Victor.

"Why do you ask? What does she have to do with this? Surely you don't think...."

Petrova cut Victors comment short. "Currently she carries even less weight than you as a suspect, Mr. Freudenthal, but I have to weigh all of the possibilities in order to magnify facts and eliminate fictions which will ultimately allow me to uncover the truth and the location of Mrs. Rholf." The Russian gathered all the papers from the table and arranged them in one neat stack, deliberately placing one photo on top. "I have one final inquiry and I will be finished here. Tell me about your father." The photo that Petrova placed on top of the stack was that of a gentleman with silver hair, approximately sixty-five years of age. He wore a thousand dollar suit and a million dollar smile. Obviously a professional photo, It was Rudolph Grannigan, Victor's father.

Biting his lip, Victor stared at the Russian. Petrova stared back unwaveringly.

Victor rarely spoke to anyone concerning his father. The relationship that he maintained with the elder Grannigan was more beneficial for Victor from a financial standpoint than a warm family connection. Prior to moving here and maneuvering for the position at Solitary Contracts, Victor often spent years without seeing or speaking to his father and certainly didn't speak of him to anyone else. This time however, once he started, he talked for over two hours, explaining the strained and complex relationship that existed between he and his father, mentioning details he had all but forgotten himself; details that he had never before shared with anyone. Once he opened up on the subject he was overwhelmed with the feeling of being cleansed and he just couldn't stop talking. He realized it was similar to the feeling he had only once experienced after seeking the advice of a guidance councilor, many years earlier while in high school. The Russian had a strange ability to draw him out and Victor told everything he knew without reservation. Petrova had heard enough; more than enough. Victor was still rambling on as the giant Russian stood and gathered the documents from the table, placing them in a soft-sided leather briefcase.

"Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Freudenthal. You have been most helpful. I must now take my leave of you." Said Petrova.

Ironically, B. B. King offered these husky words as the Russian left the apartment. "You know if I don't' find my baby, I'm going down to the golden ground."

### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nathan took Suzanne again and again, throughout the day and late into the evening in a marathon of sex and violence. He swallowed pills designed to enhance his virility and drank coffee to stay awake in order to repeatedly take advantage of the unique effect the drugs had on him. After a particularly brutal session, punctuated by a severe beating, Suzanne had become lethargic and unresponsive. This situation angered Nathan, causing him to become even more violent. This cycle of violence breeding frustration, breeding violence had often yielded fatal results for many of Nathan's previous guests and this time Nathan found himself desiring to kill Suzanne and rid himself of the frustration. After a brief rest, a refreshing bottle of water and another pill to fortify his ability to perform like the man that he imagined he was, Nathan calmed himself and rationalized the situation. Instead of doing away with her, he tried injecting her with stimulants to bring her back from the stupor that his violence had thrust upon her and hopefully back to the sexy, sensual prize that he had enjoyed only one day earlier. The stimulants however, proved detrimental. An allergic reaction caused Suzanne to become violently ill which once again brought frustration to Nathan. Having sex with a woman as she wretched and vomited wasn't exactly an exciting proposition but Nathan wasn't above it. He simply refused to allow Suzanne to spoil his fun. He had recently been informed that his time with her was limited and he wanted to take advantage of every hour that he had left with her. He planned to continue the marathon for as long as he could stay awake and for as long as the drugs supplemented his ability to get an erection.

Abandoning the bed restraints and the sewage-scented room, Nathan hauled Suzanne's limp body into the control room and tied her to a railing where he enjoyed her physically as often as he could and visually during the breaks in between. After an exhausting six hours of forced sex and brutal beatings, he stood behind Suzanne staring at her naked, bruised and bleeding body. She hung, unconscious now, draped over a handrail with her bruised but plump round buttocks presenting itself to him in a way that begged for his attention. He tried once again to rise to the occasion but failed. Slumping into the chair exhausted, he closed his eyes and tried to remember how perfectly beautiful she had been when she had arrived just a few days earlier. For a fleeting moment he regretted the damage that he had done to her and determined in his mind to calm himself. From this moment on he would take all of his pleasure from the sex and resist the need for violence. He reminded himself that he needed to take better care of this one. He was being paid to do her and she was, after all, the pinnacle of his collection. If he killed her prematurely his partner may not look upon it favorably. Nathan needed the financial support and the advantageous political connections of his anonymous partner. He inhaled deeply, sampling the air and enjoyed the pungent aroma of sweat, blood and sex. The memory of her perfect un-bruised body excited him in such a way that suddenly he felt moved to have her again. He opened his eyes just in time to see her swing the baseball bat.

.........

Yakov Petrova approached the walkway that led to the front door of the home of Carolyn Freudenthal. It was almost ten o'clock in the evening but the house was still lit brilliantly on the inside. He rang the bell, which was an elaborate musical chime. The chime lasted for a full sixty seconds and the door finally opened as the last note faded to silence. Petrova envisioned that Carolyn stood listening to the music, waiting for it to end before making a move to open the door. A very short woman by any one's standard, not Carolyn, dressed in a black and white maid's uniform opened the door and asked how she could help the very tall Russian.

Petrova displayed fake but official looking credentials and asked to see Mrs. Carolyn Freudenthal on a matter of the utmost importance. The four foot, ten-inch maid invited the six foot, nine inch Russian in and closed the door.

.........

Victor arrived at his father's mansion at exactly ten PM. The driveway was long and steep. Its surface was constructed of white concrete, bordered on each side by thirty-two shrubs, each planted precisely six feet apart. To the left side of the impressive drive was a stone retaining wall, sixteen feet high at the foot of the drive. It followed the slope up the hill towards the mansion and linearly reduced in height until it met ground level at the top. Flanking the right side of the two hundred foot long driveway was a gracefully descending courtyard, aptly covered with lush green and expertly manicured grass. The main house boasted thirteen gables. To its left and toward the rear of the estate, stood a detached seven car garage, a triple tennis court and a swimming pool. Victor knew that his father would not be amused if he were late or early for that matter. Rudolph Grannigan was a German Jewish business man and kept a very busy schedule. By appointment was the only way that anyone got in to see him, including his son. The butler stood holding the door waiting as Victor parked his car in the large spotless cobblestone circle that extended out and around the brightly lit fountain in front of the thirty-room estate house.

Vaulting up the stairs, traversing three of the European stone treads at a time; Victor spoke with mock English accent to the expressionless servant and crossed the threshold underneath the twelve-foot high solid oak doors and into the mansion. "Hello Hartsworth, how's the prostate?"

The butler ignored Victor's attempt at insult and spoke with benign disinterest, his authentic British accent added a hint of class to his sarcasm. "Master Victor, how wonderful to see you. My how you've grown."

"Where's father?" Victor asked.

"I do believe he's in the water closet sir. Would you care to go in and wipe his ass?" Replied Hartsworth.

"No, but I sure would certainly enjoy kicking yours." Snapped Victor

"A haughty ambition to be sure sir, but unlikely I fear." Remarked Hartsworth with zero emotion. The butler never made eye contact with anyone.

A deep voice resonated from above, calming the tongue of both son and servant. "If you two are finished with the verbal sparring, I'd like to see you in the study, Victor." Rudolph Grannigan spoke clearly as he descended the fifty-foot grand staircase. "Hartsworth, hold my calls."

"Yes indeed sir", the butler responded as he exited the room.

Victor followed his father across the marble floor of the large drawing room; through the legal library and into the section of the mansion that had been dubbed the study although studying was most likely the least of the activities that took place among the volumes of books that resided on half-a-dozen solid mahogany bookcases lining every wall in the room. A single antique suit of brilliantly polished armor stood silent guard by the door, sword in hand. Three golden goblets waited patiently on an ornately carved silver platter in the middle of a twelve-foot diameter hardwood table adding ambiance to the medieval feel of the room. Out of place, a billiard table occupied the space to the right of the round wooden table. Victor imagined King Arthur standing in the arch on the other side of the study that led to the greenhouse and ultimately out into the garden in the rear of the estate.

Rudolph Grannigan walked behind a bar style counter on the far left corner of the one thousand square foot room and poured himself a drink. "Would you care for a brandy?"

"No thank you, I'm driving." Victor replied.

"I have a proposition for you Victor. Now mind you it is only a suggestion so don't get all ruffled when I announce it. I'm simply looking to your best interests." Grannigan drew thirstily on his drink as Victor waited to hear the proposal.

"I have necessary business coming up soon abroad and I would like to send you to attend it." Said Grannigan.

"Abroad? You mean like..over seas? In London or something?", inquired Victor.

"The business is to take place in Germany." Answered his father.

"If I leave now I'll be a fugitive. I've been told not to leave town and you want me to leave the country?" Victor protested

"I have connections in the state department. I've already made several calls and I've been assured that arrangements can be made for you to go if your job requires it. Since I am your boss, I can say I requires it." Said Grannigan.

"No! If I leave the country it will give the appearance to everyone that I am guilty." Said Victor.

"Nonsense, you'll be getting out of harms way so that a proper investigation can take place. With you gone they'll be forced to look elsewhere. Not that they'll find the perpetrator but at least they'll be leaving you alone." Said Grannigan.

"I won't leave until Suzanne is found and the kidnapper is put away for good." Protested Victor.

"That girl's never going to be seen again, trust me." Said Grannigan.

"You can't say that, how can you say that?" Victor paused for a minute and then a look or recognition washed over him. "Did you have something to do with this? Father, what have you done?" His mouth hung open in astonishment. Grannigan took another long drink from his glass draining it dry, then poured it full of brandy once again. Victor continued to stare in disbelief and a wave of nausea washed over him as he imagined the worse case scenario.

Grannigan, distracted by the effects of the brandy, suddenly realized what Victor had asked and that he had not answered. "Oh don't be ridiculous boy!"

"If I find out you've had something to do with this....I'll" Grannigan interrupted before Victor completed his threat.

"Trust me, if I had something to do with it, you nor anyone else would ever find out. Why can't you date women that aren't married or just go back to your wife for heaven sake. She's a very beautiful woman. More so than this.. tramp you're frolicking with now. Do something right for once in your life!" Said Grannigan

"She's not a tramp, and what is that supposed to mean, for once in my life?" Asked Victor.

"Can't you see this woman only wanted you in order to get to me?" Declared Grannigan.

"What do you mean? We're in love." Said Victor.

"Love? She's wiggled through three executives at Solitary Contracts in the last ten years, scooping them up when it's beneficial and using them as a stepping stone to the next one." Said Grannigan. "I've been waiting for an excuse to get rid of her."

"Suzanne loves me, and I love her. Besides, I'm no executive. I run the mailroom for heaven sake. How can that be helpful to her?" Said Victor.

"You're my son you idiot!" Snapped Grannigan.

"No one knows I'm your son.. yet." Said Victor.

Grannigan raised his eyebrows and with wrinkled brow inquired, "She doesn't know that I'm your father?"

Victor stood in silence, staring at his feet.

### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The bat had connected squarely with Nathan's mouth, splitting both lips and dislodging three upper and three lower teeth. A sharp pain that radiated through the right side of his head where mandible joined skull directly below his ear meant his jaw was fractured. As usual, Nathan held a peppermint in his mouth and the blow had caused it to lodge in his windpipe. Fate could have delivered the final blow but as it happened, the candy was immediately ejected by a violent fit of coughing. Gasping for breath, Nathan wheeled around to protect his head from further attack. Suzanne struck again and again and delivered punishing blows to his back and shoulders. She was frustrated that she couldn't get a longer arc on the swing of the bat. Nathan fell and crawled into the space beneath the desk, whimpering like a whipped cocker spaniel.

Less than half an hour earlier, spotting the baseball bat near the rail, Suzanne had feigned unconsciousness, waiting for her chance to act. The frenzy that Nathan had worked himself into had brought with it carelessness. Nathan had untied her and repositioned her for the next round of rape. Draping her over the rail, he had felt comfortable leaving her unconscious body untied as he sat for a moment to catch his breath. Over confidence had caused him to underestimate Suzanne and now she was determined that he was going to pay the price.

Nathan was a small man compared to Suzanne, who was taller and more robust, and he didn't stand a chance, especially since she now wielded the empowering baseball bat. Her weakened condition however, combined with the close quarters in the control room had greatly reduced the force that she was able to deliver with the bat. She regretted aiming for his mouth. If she had cracked him across the skull, perhaps he would have fallen unconscious and she could have finished him off quickly.

Fate had once again worked in his favor. For the moment, Nathan cowered in the space underneath the desk, crying and holding his mouth. He spat blood and teeth and begged for mercy. "You knocked out my teeth! My jaw! You've broken my jaw! Please stop Suzanne. I give up. You can go. I'm a dieing man anyway, please don't kill me." Mumbled Nathan.

Suzanne visually surveyed the room. One of her eyes was still swollen completely shut and the other was damaged by the repeated beatings. The room was a blur to her but she could see good enough to determine what she needed to do. The room was built in sections with the patchwork steel doorway positioned in the center of the wall that separated cell from control room. The mirror stood to the left of the door above the desk where Nathan now cowered and the control panel stood as a large metal cabinet full of switches and gauges, video monitors, dials and such, on the wall to the right of the doorway. In the rear of the room opposite the desk was a brightly lit bathroom. Dirty clothes and towels lined the floor and the toilet ran constantly. A welded iron ladder stood straight up in the center of the wall near the back of the control room opposite the patchwork steel door. The ladder lead to a closed hatch in the ceiling, ten-foot off the floor. Two hydraulic cylinders locked the hatch to the concrete wall; one on either side. The hatch was round and approximately three feet in diameter. The hatch and ladder were covered with rust. Suzanne went to the control panel and tried to determine which switch unlocked the hatch at the top of the ladder but the vision in her open eye was blurred to the point where she could not read the small labels.

A white lab coat hung from a hanger on the wall near the ladder. Suzanne put it on and pressed the Velcro together in front. It was too small to come together completely over her breasts, but fit reasonably well elsewhere. It felt good to be at least partially clothed again.

"How do I open the hatch you son of a bitch?" Suzanne asked. "The one in the ceiling."

When Nathan failed to answer immediately, she cracked him on the knee with the bat causing him to scream out in pain. "Stop it! The switch there on the control panel; it says 'DOOR'!"

"Which one? I can't find it." Suzanne screamed.

"Top row, third from the right." Nathan answered.

Suzanne eyeballed the control panel. Locating the third switch from the right on the top row, she reached for it but paused before flipping it.

"Which switch opens the door to the cell? Tell me now or I'll beat you to death, I swear I will." Suzanne demanded.

Nathan cursed. "Shit! It's the third switch from the left on the bottom row. Its marked 'CELL', can't you fucking read?"

"Stand up you weasel son of a bitch. You're going inside." Said Suzanne.

She flipped the third switch from the left on the bottom row and immediately the big door jumped straight forward two inches toward the cell, then swung open inside her previous quarters. Nathan remained underneath the desk.

Suzanne hit him again on the kneecap and Nathan yelled out in pain. "Come out of there you coward! Get in the cell, NOW!" Suzanne screamed.

Nathan crawled out from his hiding place, favoring his freshly wounded knee. Blood streamed from his mouth and lips, down his chin and onto his chest. Suzanne was disgusted by every aspect of the little man. He struggled to stand, stumbled on the injured leg and almost fell again. Putting his hands behind himself, he propped on the desk and stood with his back arched and his pelvis pushed forward. Suzanne cracked him across the chest with the bat and ordered him to put his pants on. The little man stumbled into the cluttered bathroom and grabbed a pair of kaki's from the floor and pulled them up fastening the button and zipping the fly. Nathan then stood with his hands on his hips as if displaying himself for her approval. Suzanne couldn't resist the urge. Swinging the weapon in a low arc, she struck Nathan in the groin with the baseball bat and he immediately crumbled to the floor, holding himself, writhing in pain and crying like a baby.

Suzanne grabbed a handful of the hair on his head and dragged him through the door and into the cell. Dropping him near the bed, she hurried towards the door, then stopped and returned to Nathan's side. Gazing down upon him for only a second or two, she spat on him and then struck him hard, three times in the groin with the bat. Nathan screamed and struggled to cover himself with his skinny hands, which absorbed one of the blows. He begged for mercy.

As Suzanne walked deliberately towards the exit of the cell, she berated Nathan's cries for pity. "Poor baby! I won't ever feel sorry for you Nathan so you can stop with the helpless little boy crap. How does it feel to be on the receiving end of those words?" Disappearing into the control room, she flipped the switch and closed the cell door, feeling a momentary increase in pressure as the door sealed her captor into the secure side of the dungeon.

### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Detective Elizabeth Johnson had been questioning Suzanne's office mates at the offices of Solitary Contracts for the last several hours. Many of their stories were simply that they knew little or nothing about Suzanne's personal life. Apparently Mrs. Rholf didn't fraternize with coworkers. From what detective Johnson had learned, Suzanne wasn't very well liked by her coworkers or subordinates. Many of the individuals that worked for Suzanne seemed to have an underlying resentment for her, though they were understandably afraid to say so. She did, after all, have the power to fire them. Johnson surmised the resentment was due to Suzanne's flirtatious behavior and her eargerness to use her sexuality to get what she wanted with little regard for what others thought of her. The detective was satisfied that no one she had interviewed thus far was a kidnapper. Most of the office personnel were little old ladies or pimple faced college co-op teenagers, none of which had the means or the gall to purport such a crime. The detective had just one more person to interview from this office. His name was Nathan Green. When she asked for Mr. Green to be sent to the conference room for his interview, she was told that he had been out on extended sick leave for several months and no one knew when he was or if he was expected to return to work. She was also informed that the previous detective had already been given his address. When she inquired which other detective they were referring to, she had been told about the very tall Russian.

Detective Johnson knew of no tall Russian detective, at least not one from her precinct but kept that information to herself. She didn't want to alarm anyone in the office. She had an idea it was the detective hired by Richard Rholf. If it was, he moved very quickly and he was ahead of her in the investigation. Mr. Rholf was right about the man.

Rudolph Grannigan showed up unexpectedly as detective Johnson was gathering her things, and it took her by surprise. He introduced himself and shook her hand."I was just getting ready to come to your office Mr. Grannigan." Said detective Johnson.

"I thought I would save you the trip. I admit I'm more than a little curious if you've discovered anything that may be helpful in the search for Mrs. Rholf. We're all simply beside ourselves with worry over this thing. Richard and Suzanne are valued employees." Replied Grannigan. Grannigan wore a gray pin striped suit over a starched white shirt. His tie bore the corporate logo as did the tie tack that held it in place. His silver hair was as full and thick as any man one-third his age. He was a handsome man and he bore a striking resemblance to his son, Victor.

Detective Johnson was puzzled that the relationship between the two men could ever be kept a secret. "I haven't uncovered anything significant in the interviews. You run a tight ship here; very efficient. Everyone seems to be all business." Said Johnson

"We are number one at what we do and we train very hard to stay that way." Replied Grannigan.

"Do you know of anyone else I should speak with? Any other friends or acquaintances outside her department? Was she involved with any outside activity that may have represented a threat?" Asked detective Johnson

"I'm certain you are aware of Mrs. Rholf's....relationship with Victor Freudenthal, the mail room supervisor." Said Grannigan

"Yes, your son." Replied Johnson.

Grannigan made eye contact with detective Johnson and then looked immediately away. Adjusting his tie, he looked over his shoulder and commented, "I would prefer to keep that information under your hat detective."

"The fact that he is your son? Why is that?" Asked Johnson

"It's against company policy to hire relatives" Said Grannigan.

"Yes, that's what Victor said as well but I checked with Corporate Human Resources and they say that's simply not true." Said Johnson.

"It's a personal policy of my own" Said Grannigan.

"What about Mr. And Mrs. Rholf? Aren't husband and wife considered relatives?" Asked detective Johnson.

"They don't work together." Said Grannigan.

"Neither do you and Victor." Said detective Johnson.

"What are you after detective?" Asked Grannigan.

"I'm simply trying to find out why you endeavor to keep your relationship to your son a secret." Said detective Johnson.

"Its personal." Said Grannigan.

"So is kidnapping." Said detective Johnson.

"Am I a suspect detective?" Asked Grannigan.

"Everyone's a suspect" Said detective Johnson.

"I've cooperated with the police in every possible way detective. I can't imagine that you have any doubt about my involvement in this." Said Grannigan.

"Tell me about Nathan Green." Said Johnson.

"What about him?" Asked Grannigan.

"Where is he?" Asked Johnson

"He's sick." Said Grannigan

"He's been sick for months?" Asked detective Johnson.

"He's very sick" Said Grannigan.

"What kind of sick? What's wrong with him? Why doesn't anyone want me to talk to him". Asked detective Johnson.

"He has cancer, a brain tumor with less than a year to live. I don't care if you talk to him but his illness is private. He's requested that we keep it that way and I will do everything in my power to do just that." Said Grannigan.

"I'm sorry." Said Johnson.

"I'd prefer it if you kept that under your hat too, detective." Said Grannigan.

"Of course, I understand." Said Johnson.

"Is there anything else detective?" Asked Grannigan.

"Yes" Said Johnson.

"What is it?" Asked Grannigan.

"I need Nathan Green's address." Said detective Johnson.

### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Richard waited outside Victor's apartment building until well past ten o'clock. He had considered asking other tenants to grant him access to the building but decided against it as he didn't want circumstances to shake out as if he were the bad guy. He wanted to confront Victor on level ground, legally and with the advantage of being on the side of the law and of morality. No one would blame a man for wanting to confront the seducer of his wife. No one would blame Richard for wanting to hear from Victors own mouth, what it was that made him think he had the right to take the only thing in life that Richard loved; the only one that mattered. In light of the disappearance and apparent abduction, Richard halfway imagined he could get away with murdering the bastard or at least could get off with a warning after an attempt at assaulting one of the prime suspects, considering the mitigating circumstances. After another hour, Richard decided to try again in the morning. He had other fish to fry this evening.

.........

Petrova studied the dossier he had obtained through contacts and key individuals with whom he had ties in Langley, VA. The information folder was nine inches thick and contained an unimaginable amount of information on Richard Rholf. The man was impressive by anyone's definition of the word. Richard Rholf had been born in Frankfort, Germany on August 14th, 1948, obtained his Masters in business from the University of Hamburg and went on to receive a PHD in metaphysics and a post doctorate in nano technology, both from Stanford University as well as a Medical Degree from Mount Sinai School of Medicine in New York. An avid pilot, he had formed and operated a successful air transport company, which flew medical supplies, prescription drugs and transplant organs to hospitals worldwide and he currently remained an active member of its board of directors. In 1961 after obtaining a U.S. citizenship he met and married his first wife, Eleanor Batiste who died five years later of complications resulting from ovarian cancer. He remained single and uninvolved for the next thirty-seven years. Suzanne was his second wife. Though certain portions of Rholf's ties to the CIA had been blacked out as classified, bits and pieces implicated him in multiple covert operations around the globe dating as far back as 1968. Richard Rholf was a spook!

Petrova had known Richard for decades and owed him his life. Richard Rholf was the Godfather of his children and a personal friend. Now it turned out that it wasn't a coincidence that he had happened to be there at the right time when Petrova needed him all those years ago. Rholf had been sent as a part of the security detail to support the negotiations, not simply as a negotiator. Petrova always made it a habit of investigating those that he worked for as well as those that his employers paid him to investigate. This had proven to be a worthwhile practice in the past and this time was no different. Petrova disliked the CIA and felt similar disassociation toward the Mossad. Intelligence organizations had an uncanny ability of turning good people into bad people, all under the guise of national security. Not that protecting one's country was bad but some of the things one was requested to do in the process could actually twist their minds into becoming monsters and many times the heads of such organizations used their powers to pursue personal goals but so far, Petrova saw no indication of this in his friend, Richard Rholf.

.........

"Get on the bed and put the damn straps on your ankles now you weak little bastard or I'll come in there and beat you unconscious and do it myself." Suzanne insisted. Nate refused to comply with Suzanne's instructions claiming she had broken his ribs and cracked his pelvis and it was far too painful for him to move. He whined and whimpered like the weasel that he was as he attempted to hold his damaged crotch. The mere act of touching his genitals caused excruciating pain but he repeatedly tried to comfort himself by cupping the damaged organs in his hand. He pulled two large pink pills from his pocket and choked them down dry.

In a fit of blind rage, Suzanne reopened the cell door and charged in, red faced and belligerent, angry enough to kill. She definitely intended to beat him unconscious and dump his disgusting body into the pit beneath the bed where she knew he would not escape and where he would be securely detained until the authorities were alerted to his whereabouts. Then he would not only be held accountable for her kidnapping, rape, abuse and attempted murder but he would also be required to explain the numerous corpses that populated the pit where they would find him.

Nathan huddled in the floor at the foot of the bed and continued to cry for mercy, begging Suzanne not to hit him again. Suzanne swung the bat from way up high with all her of might in the direction of Nathan's head; surrendering to the hatred induced adrenalin which enabled her far beyond her normal capabilities. She was intent on shattering his skull and sending him into oblivion.

Suddenly rolling and kicking with the swiftness of a rattlesnake, Nathan avoided the impending blow from the baseball bat, which glanced off the end of the bed frame, struck the concrete floor, stinging Suzanne's hands and leaping out of her grasp. It rattled noisily across the room and came to rest in the corner near the toilet. In the same motion, Nathan managed to deliver a solid roundhouse kick to Suzanne's solar plexus with his bony left foot, sending pain through her injured ribcage, knocking the breath from her lungs and momentarily relieving her of the ability to refill them with much needed air. The effort delivered excruciating pain to Nathan and he cried out as Suzanne doubled over and crumpled to her knees, sucking for air that did not come as if the room had suddenly been transformed into a vacuous extension of outer space.

An injured but numbing Nathan, scrambled for the baseball bat. The damage to his pelvic area impeded his progress and screaming like a little girl, once again he fell to the floor writhing in pain. Multiple blows from the bat had caused a separation of the pubic symphsis, the small section of cartilage that connects the left and right pubic bones. The separation of this cartilaginous joint resulted in substantial pain and subsequent difficulty in lifting his legs. Since the use of his legs aggravated his injury, he resigned himself to pulling forward with elbows and arms, dragging his lower body behind. He cried continuously like a whipped puppy but was intent on obtaining the weapon.

Suzanne, recognizing her predicament and after regaining the ability to breathe, limped into the control room and activated the door mechanism, causing it to begins its hydraulically powered journey to the closed position.

Nathan finally reached the weapon and grasping it with his right hand, quickly rolled over to defend himself against an impending attack, Nathan witnessed the cell door as it swung towards the closed position which again represented his defeat but with an odd smile on his face, he screamed to the top of his lungs, "Safety!"

As if by magic, the huge door instantly stopped. It rocked back and forth momentarily as a result of its interrupted momentum, for a second stood silently suspended half open or half closed, depending on which side of the current saga you resided and then returned to the full open position. The overhead lights flickered and suddenly with the echoing click of a dozen electrical relays returning to their de-energized, normally open position, the room succumbed to a blackness so dark that it could be felt as well as seen. All noise ceased as every item in both rooms lost power. The air handling system ceased its blowing, the hum of fluorescent light ballasts vanished with their accompanying illumination and fiercely deafening silence filled the thickening darkness. The only remaining sound was that of Suzanne's raspy, sporadic and suddenly terrified breathing. Suzanne stood motionless in the darkness, listening intently in the direction of Nathan for any indication that he was coming for her. After a seeming endless moment of silence, she heard laughter coming from inside the cell and finally Nathan's whispering voice eerily echoing through the darkness. "I'm going to enjoy killing you Suzanne."

### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Petrova stood on the porch and rang the doorbell for the third time and again received no reaction from anyone inside Nathan Green's residence. According to Petrova's research, Green was the owner of only one vehicle and it now sat cold in the driveway suggesting he was home and had been for some time. Petrova's inspection of the exterior of the residence revealed no lights burning inside and all exterior doors and windows were locked. He noticed that the streetlight, mounted on the pole in the back yard had long been extinguished, either by vandalism or by Green himself for the purpose of covert nighttime activities. The back door was perfectly concealed by darkness, which Petrova found convenient. Easily picking the lock, the Russian entered the residence through the tiny den, which reeked of Mentholatum and peppermint. He quickly moved from room to room making sure each was unoccupied, checking for and neutralizing security cameras, motion detectors and other incriminating devices that would leave recorded evidence or that would currently alert anyone to his uninvited presence as he looked for clues.

The dim illumination of a night-light in the bathroom attracted Petrova's attention to an array of prescription drugs that lay scattered across the top of the otherwise neatly kept vanity. Several empty bottles of a drug called Avastin were piled in the garbage pail and many full and half full bottles occupied the vanity counter top. Avastin is a drug used by severe brain tumor patients. Another drug on the counter that caused Petrova special concern was Pethidine Hydrochloride, an intense narcotic pain reliever often prescribed to cancer patients in severe pain. The large pink pills totally blocked the brain's pain receptors and were most often used when patients were experiencing excruciating pain and were near death. The prescribing physician's name on the labels was a familiar one to Petrova. they had been prescribed by Dr. Wolf King.

.........

Nathan's pain quickly faded under the influence of the Pethidine. He was now completely focused on the task at hand; kill the bitch and deal with the consequences later. She had ruined him; ruined his chances of enjoying the last months of his life with any future guests that he lured to his playroom. It didn't seem fair that once he had completed the "Guest Room" and was actually capable of having his fun the way he had always dreamed of having it, he was going to die and had to leave it all behind. It wasn't fair that Suzanne had come into his life when she did, representing the prize of a lifetime only to ruin everything. Nathan regretted the deal he had made with the doctor. Six months earlier, after being diagnosed with the fatal brain tumor, Nathan had met Dr. King in a bar. Nathan was there getting blind drunk in an attempt to ease the depression brought about by his prognosis. Strictly by coincidence, the doctor had befriended him. After a long night of tequila shots, margaritas and conversations froth with intimate details, the two men had revealed secrets to one another about themselves which had proven oddly similar; not the least of which had been that both men had a passion for beautiful women, both had a unique ability to attract women but neither boasted an appreciable ability to keep them for any meaningful amount of time.

Nathan had been so drunk that he invited the Doctor home with him to see his "Guest Room". Nathan of course planned on using the room to eliminate the doctor if he detected any indication that the doctor represented a threat to his need for secrecy but once the two men had entered the control room and Nathan had described the details of its operation, the doctor had been overwhelmingly impressed with the possibilities that existed for such a facility. Nathan told him everything from its design to the intimate details of how each body that now occupied the sewage pit below the bed came to be there. The doctor was ecstatic and became visibly aroused. This made Nathan a bit uncomfortable but at the same time had made him smile. He had found a partner.

It was the doctor's idea to incorporate the voice activated Safety shutdown feature, which had just now proven to be indispensable. The doctor said and it had proven true, better safe than sorry. The doctor's enthusiasm for the project had proven so intense that he had offered to assist Nathan financially with anything he needed. In return, rather than physical interaction with the guests, the doctor preferred to watch which pleased Nathan. At first this was accomplished through the use of videotapes DVD recordings. Later his physical presence had become an unwelcome intrusion.

The Doctor rarely visited Nathan in person. They had daily phone discussions as to who should be invited to the "Guest Room" next. The doctor often provided leads, which led to other guests, although many of them didn't workout for one reason or another. Ultimately the doctor had been the one to suggest Suzanne. Nathan was surprised that the doctor knew Suzanne but was very eager to have her as a delicious guest. The doctor had informed Nathan on Suzanne's new address and supplied him with a key to her residence. After the kidnapping, Nathan had informed the doctor of Suzanne's continued resistance, wanting to do away with her but the doctor had offered to sweeten the deal if Nathan would keep her alive at, least until the doctor could enjoy watching their interactions in person. Nathan was not sure how he felt about having an audience but since he had promised to supply Nathan with any and all medications needed for the treatment of his painful condition, he agreed. The drugs Nathan required were extremely expensive and his health insurance did not cover them.

Nathan was now determined to kill Suzanne , no matter what the doctor wanted. Out of town on a business trip, his only communication with Wolf was by phone. Nathan quickly decided that he would have no problem breaking the news of Suzanne's demise the next time Wolf called for an update. He would pay for his own medication just for the pleasure of killing the bitch. There would be other guests, provided Wolf could repair the damage Suzanne had inflicted to his genitalia.

Nathan crept silently on bare feet to the open cell door and listened through the darkness. He could hear Suzanne's breathing which had slowed considerably but was still discernable in the total silence of the underground dungeon. Huddling against the doorframe and reaching silently around the corner to the inside mirror's ledge just above the desktop, Nathan retrieved the night vision goggles he remembered leaving there earlier. Withdrawing the goggles, he clumsily knocked the stapler from its perch on the desktop and it rattled noisily out onto the floor between the desk and the darkness from whence he heard Suzanne's frightened breath. She gasped and scurried backward in the dark, whimpering in fear she collided with the iron-rung ladder. She grunted in pain. Nathan smiled and stepped away from the door, retreating deeper into the cell to affix the goggles to his head and over his eyes.

Night vision viewers function by amplifying tiny amounts of light from the lower portion of the infrared spectrum which is almost always present but mostly imperceptible to the human eye, thus allowing the wearer to see in what appears to be total darkness. In this particular case there was no light whatsoever in the dungeon. Supplied by doctor Wolf, these high tech goggles worked using both the short-wave, upper and lower infrared spectrum. The short-wave portion of the spectrum doesn't require heat but the upper portion of the infrared is generated by heat and in the control room, Suzanne's body was a virtual blast furnace compared to everything else.

Nathan could see Suzanne as she cowered behind the ladder, listening, eyes wide with anticipation and fear. He toyed with her, approaching and fanning towards her face with his hands, then backing away. Suzanne reached out, scratched and struck at the darkness and Nathan could hardly contain his laughter. He touched her on the left breast and she screamed, then he yanked the Velcro open on the lab coat. Suzanne backed into the corner and took a defensive stance. Turning her head to one side, then the other, Suzanne listened but heard nothing. There was only a fraction of a second's warning as the baseball bat cut through the air and sent Suzanne to a different realm of darkness.

### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Little Suzanne held the puppy named Gretchen, in her lap and stroked the dog's head and ears. When it panted, the expression on the dog's face made it appear to be smiling. Gretchen lay in Suzanne's lap enjoying the attention that Suzanne gave her. Suzanne felt the anxiety that the unsuspecting puppy should have felt but was oblivious to. Suzanne wished that she could be oblivious to it as well. Gretchen had pee'd in the floor again the previous night and adding insult to injury, she had barked which had woke Suzanne's stepmother. The reason she had barked was that the man with the big hands had entered Suzanne's room and surprised the dog. The unwelcome noise in the middle of the night had woke her stepmother who had shouted down the hallway which caused the man to run away. Suzanne was glad that he ran away but she was afraid of what would happen now. It just wasn't fair. Gretchen was in trouble for peeing and for barking and Suzanne was responsible for both. She hated the man but she loved her dog and didn't want anything to happen to her. She felt responsible for Gretchen who was only two years old. Her stepmother had often told her, "Suzanne, that puppy is totally dependent on you so you're responsible for anything that she does. If she piddles in the floor, as far as I'm concerned, it was you that pissed in the floor." Suzanne had been given total responsibility for Gretchen, which, in Suzanne's mind meant that she was also responsible for protecting the dog from the man with the big hands. She always did as the man said and kept his uninvited activities a secret, for Gretchen's sake.

One year earlier, Suzanne had become aware that her father kept a handgun in a box underneath his bed. It was a black and white box that said "RUN FASTER AND JUMP HIGHER WITH KEDS!" She knew it was really a shoe box but she also knew it now held the gun. Suzanne was home alone when she had found the box. She spent lots of time at home alone during the summer when her father and stepmother were both at work. That particular summer day, she was searching for Gretchen and had followed the puppy into her father's room. She had heard the dog scratching around under the bed and when the puppy failed to respond to her calls, she went in after her. Crawling under the bed, Suzanne had accidentally dislodged the top from off the box and had saw the gun. At first she thought it was a toy because it was smaller than she thought a real gun would be but it scared her just the same. She touched it and discovered that it was real but it wasn't nearly as frightening as she thought. She had half expected to receive visions of death and mayhem when she made contact with the article of evil but it was just cold and hard and oily. When she picked it up, she was surprised at how heavy it was for its small size. It had a short barrel and a round cylinder that held flat headed bullets. The following school year during Social Studies, she had learned that bullets were partially made of lead and that lead was one of the heaviest metals known to man. She then understood why the gun was so heavy. She hadn't told anyone else about the gun.

The man told Suzanne to always leave the outside door unlocked day and night so that he could come and go as he pleased and no one would have to get hurt. He always visited on Sunday nights after everyone had gone to sleep and on Mondays during the school year during the three hours between Suzanne arriving home from school and her father and stepmother coming home from work. This particular Monday, after she had arrived home from school, she sat and waited for the man to come to her house. This day was going to be different.

.........

Stripping the goggles from his head and turning the lights back on, Nathan strapped the unconscious Suzanne tightly onto the red velvet and silk bed, stretching her limbs almost to the breaking point. She lay splayed before him, an open receptacle for anything he wanted to do but this time he felt no desire toward her at all. All he wanted to do was destroy her, eliminate the problem and flush her like sewage into the pit, never to think of her again just like he had done with his ex wife who now lay silently twelve feet below the floor in a pool of sewage, which was exactly what she deserved. Suzanne deserved it too. In Nathan's mind, all women deserved it and now it was simply Suzanne's turn.

He threw water on her face to wake her and she gasped for breath against the cold splash of liquid. Her joints ached and she realized she was once again a slave to the skinny little bastard. She wished that she had killed him when she'd had the chance to do so. Now, here she was again, spread eagle before him in the most humiliating position anyone could ever imagine and it was not fear that she felt, it was realization. Realization that killing was horrible yes, but sometimes necessary and that her repeated reluctance to do so would some day prove to be her fatal mistake.

"Come on squirt, don't you want another ride?" she taunted him, knowing he was in no condition to do so. She had seen to that. She had hit him right where it hurt the most and she wanted to relish that moment and revel in it for however much longer she had to live.

Nathan produced a straight razor from his back pocket and opened it slowly. "Laugh it up little girl. Lets see how long you can keep laughing while I remove your breast implants nice and slow. Then I'm gonna flush you down where the toilet water goes and let you rot with the rest of the scum in the sewer." His choice of the words, 'Little Girl' took Suzanne by surprise. That's what the man with the big hands called her when he had molested her over and over all those years ago. She despised being called 'Little Girl now. It made her feel dirty. It reminded her of what she didn't want to remember. Suzanne spat on him in defiance and called him every limp-dicked name she could think of. She new that the best way to hurt a man was go for his ego; tell him what a small dick he had.

Nathan approached her from the foot of the bed expecting her to squirm in fear but she lay perfectly still, staring straight into his eyes with defiance. He reached down with the razor and touched her in a very sensitive place with the side of the cold sharp steel, toying with the sheath of her clitoris gently.

She was no longer the beautiful woman he had lusted after for so long; no longer the woman that had excited him beyond imagination. When he had first realized she was really coming to his "Guest Room" he lost himself in anticipation. Now, Incapable of feeling regret for the damage he had done to the once radiant and beautiful woman that lay before him, he simply heaped all the blame upon her and remembered what she had done to him. If she had just cooperated, she would now be in the lap of luxury, enjoying every lavish attention Nathan could shower upon her, meals fit for a queen and anything she needed or wanted to make herself more comfortable. This Suzanne was not the one he wanted in his "Guest Room". She was covered with bruises, lacerations and contusions. Her once crystal clear ice blue eyes were swollen, black with bruises and bright red from broken capillaries. Her left eye was swollen completely shut and the other so puffy and bloodshot that it made her face unrecognizable. Nathan was surprised she had any vision left at all. Her nose was broken and dislocated to one side in an oddly crooked shape and blood dripped from it constantly. Her once luscious and plump pink lips were split, cracked and bleeding. Her shapely legs were covered with bruises, scraped and crusted with blood and her toes pointed at odd angles. Nathan thought how badly her legs needed shaving. He could hardly remember what she looked like just two weeks earlier. She really needed to comb her messy hair. He wondered if he could wash those bruises away, then realized how foolish that was. He felt no pity for her; only anger for ruining his good time. He paused for a moment of reflection, remembering the marathon of sex and violence he had with her just hours earlier. All of that was over. The memories would have to suffice him until he no longer remembered anything.

Folding the razor and placing it back into his pocket, Nathan walked to Suzanne's right side and looked upon her in disgust. The bat was propped against the bed and he picked it up and wiped a smear of slippery blood from its small end with the lab coat that he had removed from Suzanne prior to placing the Velcro straps on her arms, legs and feet. Suzanne's arms were stretched tightly out away from her body at an uncomfortable angle towards the two corners of the room that lay behind her head, similar to the way she would hang had she been hung on a cross of crucifixion, only here, she lay spread eagle on her back, ready to be abused in any fashion he deemed enjoyable. Nathan pondered her as a sacrifice and considered her worthy. Swinging the bat with all his strength from a long arc that started above his head to the right, similar to a golf swing, he swung down and then up, striking the backside of Suzanne's right arm, breaking it by separating the humerus and ulna at the joint. She screamed in pain, Nathan only laughed. The pain was unimaginable and Suzanne wretched and gagged against it. She closed her eyes and ground her teeth together. Suddenly, she heard her bedroom door rattle. She opened her eyes and found that her restraints and the pain in her arms had disappeared. Once again, she sat on her childhood bed, swinging her bare feet as her legs dangled off the side. She was petting Gretchen and waiting for the man with the big hands. The doorknob rattled again and rotated to the left and the door squeaked open.

.........

After performing the same brutality to Suzanne's left arm, Nathan tossed the bat towards the control room and it rattled through the door, bounced off something and disappeared inside the smaller room. He then removed a remote from his pocket and released the tension that held her arms extended. Suzanne did not scream out in pain. He removed the Velcro restraints from her wrists and thoughtlessly threw her broken arms across her stomach giving no concern to the pain it must have caused her. She flinched but made no further sound.

.........

"I'm going to punish that dog Little Girl, but first I'm going to punish you." Said the man with the big hands. With those huge hands the man reached for Suzanne. Gretchen jumped out of her lap and scurried away from danger and out of the room. Suzanne closed her eyes and the man grabbed her by the throat and pushed her back onto the bed. He squeezed her neck and she coughed against the hands that choked her.

.........

Nathan straddled Suzanne's pelvis and placed his bony little hands around her throat. He weighed her head as he bounced it up and down against the pillow but Suzanne made no attempt to resist. At first he thought she was unconscious but she opened her good eye. She looked right through Nathan as if he wasn't there. Nathan's hands were small and he could barely encompass the full circumference of her limp neck in his tiny double grasp. He squeezed tight and Suzanne coughed against his efforts.

.........

The man with the big hands stopped choking her and touched her face. He stroked her hair and leaned over and kissed her on top of her head. When the color had returned to her face he started choking her again. He was punishing her for not making things go right for him the night before. This time he squeezed harder and she saw stars behind her eyelids. She remembered he had said that he was going to punish Gretchen after he had punished her. She feared that she would be unconscious soon and would not be able to protect Gretchen from his attack. It was this thought that allowed her to work up the courage to squeeze the trigger on the gun that she held in her hands. She squeezed hard but nothing happened. She had never fired a gun before and was amazed at how difficult it was to pull the trigger. She held it with both hands and it was pointed straight at the big man's belly. She squeezed with both index fingers which still did not exert enough pressure to pull the trigger and discharge the weapon. She felt dizzy. The big man had totally cut off her air and she could not breathe at all. In a final act of desperation, Suzanne used the index and middle fingers of both hands and squeezed as hard as she possibly could, squeezing so hard that pain radiated up her arms and into her elbows. The boom of the gun firing was deafening and her ears rang in painful protest.

.........

Warm sticky blood spilled onto her own body. Sheepishly, she opened one eye to see the result of what she had done and was surprised when saw Nathan. The bullet had blown half of his face away but the remnants of face that remained held an odd expression of surprise. He slid off of her and onto the floor head first with the sickening squishy thump and crumple of dead meat. With one blurry eye, beyond where Nathan had sat straddle her, Suzanne saw a very tall man standing in the doorway of the control room. Smoke drifted up from the barrel of a gun like the tip of an idling cigarette. The gun that he held was still pointed in her direction.

After Nathan's body had fallen to the floor, Petrova holstered his weapon and dialed 911 on his cell phone. After reporting the situation and address to authorities, he approached Suzanne and released the Velcro bonds that held her ankles and thighs. He covered her naked body with the bloody lab coat that lay nearby and attempted to comfort her. She shied away from the Russian who had hands that were as big as catcher's mitts.

"You are safe now Mrs. Rholf. I am Yakov Petrova, a private rescue specialist, hired by your husband to find you. All is well. An ambulance is on its way. There is no more evil to fear."

Suzanne shivered behind the lab coat and pondered what he had said. She knew better. There would always be evil to fear. Wincing against the pain she cried and eyed the Russian suspiciously. "Richard?" She swallowed, "Richard hired you to find me?"

"Yes my child." Replied Petrova. He didn't have the heart to tell her that it was also Richard that was responsible for her kidnapping.

### POSTLUDE

Nathan Green did not have a brain tumor. Dr. Wolf King's associate had intentionally miss-diagnosed Nathan on King's request so that King could easily manipulate him into doing his bidding. Having over heard Green's drunken ramblings about constructing a secret dungeon, Dr King had begun an elaborate deception which led to the torture and death of many innocent individuals. The original target of the ruse created by Dr. Wolf King was his wife, Suzanne Rholf.

The authorities recovered nine bodies from the sewer beneath the dungeon; four male and five female. One of the females was identified as Brenda Green Smith, Nathan's ex-wife. Dental records have identified a second female as Marie Youngblood, a known prostitute with a history of working the bars on the outskirts of town. The other three females remain unidentified. All four of the male victims found in the dungeon had previously been reported as missing by family members and dental records positively identified each of them. Two males were identified as Charles (Chaz) Wood, the owner of a local gay bar and his accountant Thaddeus Barlow. The remaining male victims were identified as Mark and Marshal Phillips; twin brothers actively serving the local religious community.

Wolf King is the CIA alias used thirty-two years earlier by Richard Rholf. While Rholf's medical license was legitimate, the name Wolf King was not. It is interesting to note that in the German language, the word Richard means "high king" and the German word for wolf is Rholf.

Richard Rholf is currently serving eight consecutive life sentences resulting from his complicity with Nate Green. The charges for which he was found guilty include nine counts of murder, kidnapping, conspiracy to murder, conspiracy to kidnap, attempted murder and thirteen other high crimes of a heinous nature. He will never become eligible for parole. The CIA admits to its dealings with Mr. Rholf in the sixties and seventies but denies any association with him for the past three decades.

Suzanne Rholf recovered from her physical injuries and became even more beautiful than before. She sold her home in Hillside Glenn for a handsome profit considering the discounted price she paid for it and resigned her position with Solitary Contracts. The violence of her experience proved fatal to the relationship with Freudenthal and the couple discontinued their liaison. Suzanne moved west to Washington state claiming she needed to get as far away from the East as possible. She is currently undergoing therapy and is writing a book about her experience. She has been approached concerning the movie rights to her story. The former Mrs. Rholf owns and operates a day spa for men in Seattle which has thus far proven quite successful. Suzanne has become known as one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the state of Washington.

Solitary Contracts continues to be a world leader in the arbitration industry, successfully negotiating union labor contracts around the globe. After a publicity blitz which pounded Solitary Contracts for its apparent complicitous involvement in the "Dungeon Serial Killings" as the incident had been dubbed by the press, Yakov Petrova was immediately and very publicly hired as head of security for the international firm. As a perk of the job, he and his wife frequently travel to Moscow and visit with their son and recently born granddaughter whose name, strictly by coincidence, is Suzanne.

Victor Freudenthal and Rudolph Grannigan still publicly deny their paternal relationship. Carolyn Freudenthal divorced Victor and married a plumber from Detroit. Victor and detective Elizabeth Johnson are currently romantically involved, but that is not public knowledge.

###

### ###

A Note From The Author:

Thank you for reading Suzanne. Please visit my Author's Page at  
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/PaulKurt  
From there you can gain access to my Facebook page where I hope you will leave direct feedback and let me know what you thought about this story. I welcome your comments.

On the Smashwords website you will also find other books that I've authored and published through Smashwords.

Thanks again for reading Suzanne.

Paul Gray
