Tales of Drysdale House (13) Men Make Plans

 

Tale 013

The Queen Conch sailed into the bay through the Golden Gate under the famous bridge. The sun was shining down on the deck. I felt very relieved that morning. The mission was over; I could resume the life I had planned since Juli and I had left the Lazy F at the very beginning of the summer. I would live, semi-retired from my practice of patent law with Juli as my devoted kajira. Mrs Magruder would manage the small household for me. I would live with Juli, my own my true life, and a couple of other collared sluts for variety and to serve my guests. I would have time each year to select and collect a few other women, suited for the collar by beauty and temperament. Three would be sent to the Grand Duke of Lutha as tribute for my position, and perhaps a couple as gifts to the Fricks as thanks for their friendship and protection. I would finally rest and have no more to do with adventures and the affairs of the Steel Worlds. That was my dream and it was, as far as I was concerned on the edge of fulfillment.

Man makes plans, and the Priest-Kings laugh.

*

A fishing boat docking with other fishing vessels at a wharf used by commercial fishers, we drew no unusual attention on a sunny day just before noon.  The squat, swarthy sailor was at the wheel, expertly bringing us into a slip on the wharf. Not at the famous Fisherman’s Wharf, but at Pier 47 at Hyde Street Harbor, which is nearby to Fisherman’s Wharf, but more commercial with fewer tourists. As the short swarthy sailor skillfully docked the boat; Smith, one of the Frick’s men tossed a rope to three men standing by two nondescript unremarkable white vans. The vans were not old enough to draw comment, but not new enough to be shiny and memorable; just plain white vans seen by the thousands in any American city and used by tradesmen of all kinds. The three men took the ropes and secured the vessel.

Then the older of the three men, about thirty, called up to the sailor.

“Was you ever bit by a dead bee?”

“Were you”, was the strange reply.

“You have to be careful of dead bees”, continued the odd conversation.

“They can sting as bad as live ones.”

The sailor nodded and the leader climbed on board and helped lower a gangplank. The other two men rolled two long troughs on wheels towards the plank. Each trough was about two feet deep and 18 inches wide and topped with a canvas cover. I have seen such troughs in the fish markets used to move around fresh fish covered with ice.

Smith and I met the leader on the deck by the hold. The leader of the three men held out his hand. He had a firm, dry grip. Smith introduced himself, and then me. Anders had disappeared. An Assassin can easily vanish when it is prudent, and Wyandotte Frick had wanted Anders’s presence on Earth to be not widely known. I wondered at Smith revealing our names so openly.

“My name is Joshua Peralta.” The man gave us his name, or at least a name. “We’ve come to offload your catch.” Then in a lower voice, “we are an acquisition team from Los Angeles. With General Security. Ethan and Seth are my colleagues”.

“The catch is below.” Smith gestured to the hatch.

A fourth man, wearing coveralls and carrying a clipboard came up the gangplank. Underneath his cap, I recognized Zach Frick, who seemed to pop up whenever the Frick’s had important errands that needed discreet, efficient handling. He nodded but did not speak.

The four women were below. Juli, Lena, and Hannah Quigley stared at the two fish troughs. Lena opened her mouth to speak and then was silent. Nicola VanRijn said nothing. She was lying face-down; gagged, blindfolded, and bound; with her hands tied together and her feet the same as she had been left by Howard Smith. Later hands and feet had been tied together as well. Nicola was wearing the clothes in which she had been captured, Hannah was wearing Juli’s sundress, and Juli and Lena were barefoot wearing only collars. Ethan tied Lena’s hands behind her back and lifted her into one of the troughs. She was stiff with fear. Joshua took a small device from his pocket and pressed it to her shoulder. She relaxed, unconscious immediately. Nicola was lifted into the same trough, and the device was used again. This time as he pulled it away, I saw a needle retract.

Juli did not complain. She stepped into the other trough and placed her hands behind her. The little device came out again. Ethan and Seth approached Hannah Quigley.

“Must I go into the trough. I am a Free Woman; I give you my word I won’t cause any trouble.”

“You mustn’t be seen leaving the vessel,” it was Smith who answered her.

“Must I be bound though, and knocked out?” Hannah was begging now, her experiences of being confined over the past three days were apparently traumatic.

Smith looked at Joshua. He almost smiled.

“I will help you into the trough. I think that will be sufficient.”

“I think it is out of fluid anyway,” Joshua did smile.

Hannah climbed into the trough, she was trying not to let the sundress ride up as it was practically all she was wearing. As she lay down in the trough beside Juli, Joshua stepped forward and pressed the device into her neck, then secured her hands.

“A dead bee can still sting,” he said. There was enough serum in the stinger, or needle, for another dose.”

Joshua (not Josh) Peralta looked at Zach Frick and asked;

“Now to this Drysdale House? I wish we had a secure facility in the Bay Area. Processing them in a house is as safe as we normally like?”

I answered him. As much as I wanted to keep Drysdale House as my own domain, I didn’t want these slaves and captives anywhere that was outside my control.

“You will be pleasantly surprised at the facilities at Drysdale House. But don’t go directly there. Take them to the loading dock at the Hathaway Building, two blocks downhill from Drysdale. There are more secure and private ways to handle this.”

Joshua looked at Zach, who nodded. Immediately after Joshua, Ethan, and Seth drove off with the catch of the day in one of the white vans, Zach Frick and I followed in the other van, Smith stayed with the Queen Conch. As we drove away, I asked about the involvement of General Security, as I had understood that Wyandotte Frick had wanted things with Vincent VanRijn handled quietly.

“Once everything was all over the news in such a spectacular way, we needed to bring in General Security. There is a burner phone on the dash, check it out yourself.”

I scrolled through the news on the phone. What had happened at Dragonwyck was indeed big news.

Conflagration in Terrorist Attack; Dozens Feared Dead.

Apocalypse on Patroon’s River

Were about as restrained as the reporting got. There was video of the still smoldering ruins of the central section of Dragonwyck, with the wings and courtyard still standing but wreathed in smoke. I read on. The Forest Service of US government was crediting the rain and their quick response with saving what they could of the building and preventing a forest wildfire from happening. Poor VanRijn’s; they received no credit for their Dutch-American prudence in building with fire doors and thick walls. The most restrained report posited an attack force of at least ten members who had taken out the guards at the gate and carried out the attack on ‘investor and philanthropist Vincent VanRijn.’

“Philanthropist?”, I queried. “I doubt that old miser gave away a nickel in his life.”

“They have to call him something nice,” the news isn’t allowed to say the old bugger got what he deserved.” Now what actually happened?”

I told Zach of the events at Dragonwyck, ending with our departure in the estate’s power boat. I did not mention the presence of Howard Smith aka Holgar Magnusson. I was wrapping up as we neared the Hathaway Building and Drysdale House.

“Once we were on the boat, we travelled down the Patroon River to the Pacific where the Queen Conch was to meet us. We travelled slowly when we heard helicopters overhead, and stayed under overhanging tree branches when we could. There was no point in getting to the ocean before nightfall anyway.”

“And it was peaceful and quiet?”

“There was a little problem at the beginning. Nicola was thrashing around and cursing and shouting for help and generally being a nuisance. So Anders ripped off her left sleeve. He opened the seam, then ripped the cloth from end to end a few times. Two narrow strips and one wide one. He stuffed the first narrow strip into Nicola’s mouth, then tied it there with the second. Then he took a bit of rope and tied her hands and feet together. Finally, he blindfolded her with the wide strip. We left her that way all the way to San Francisco. Let her learn obedience.”

“What are you going to do with her,” Zach asked.

“Gor I think. She is too fierce and cunning to leave on Earth, even if she was sent to Lutha. Let her learn to serve under the three moons.”

“You won’t give her to Wyandotte?” Zach persisted.

“No, I captured her, I killed her man. Gor is the only place for her.”

I continued the story.

“Hannah, of course, had to speak up. She is still Free Woman, after all. She wanted Nicola’s clothes; the poor captive only had a K-girl silken g-string. But cutting off Nicola’s clothes would render them unfit to wear, so I told Juli to remove her sundress and give it to Hannah, ‘as Hannah is a free woman and you are but a slave’. Hannah and Lena were both upset that Juli was my slave, Juli confirmed it and kissed my feet, calling me ‘Master’. I reminded Hannah that I had told her that there were places on Earth where the old ways were still practiced. She was shocked and fascinated in equal measure I think.  Lena wanted clothing as well, of course. Anders told her that slaves only wore what their masters provided, and that VanRijn had not given her any. Lena protested that now that VanRijn was dead, surely she should be freed. Anders told her she was still a collared slave. ‘You mean that you won’t free me?’ she asked. Anders told Lena that ‘only a fool frees a slave.’ She did not visibly react, she just said ‘Oh’.

“So of our catch, Juli will remain my kajira, Nicola will be branded and sold on Gor, and Lena is Anders’s property. Only the fate of Hannah remains to be settled. I promised her I would save her from VanRijn and restore her to her sister.”

“A promise to a slave is no promise at all,” pointed out Zach.

“I promised her sister Barbara as well. The only way Hannah will be enslaved is if she begs for enslavement. After all, she has been in a collar for three days, and has yielded well in when a collar and bound’ all this by her own account. I think it will be an interesting decision.”

“As for Lena, when Juli brought coffee to the wheelhouse this morning, she knelt and made a proper serve. When Lena took coffee to Anders, she tried to copy what Juli had performed as best she could. I think Anders will be pleased with her.”

*

Zach pulled the van into the loading dock area of the Hathaway Building just as Joshua Peralta was backing the other up to the dock. I hopped up on the loading dock and unlocked the small passage door, entered and turned off the alarm system.

“It is Saturday, and only my firm uses this loading dock. The tenant businesses in the Building use a different loading dock. We will not likely be disturbed.”

By the time I had summoned the freight elevator, Joshua and his acquisition team had rolled the fish troughs inside and closed and locked the overhead door. I locked the passage door and engaged the alarm system. The fish troughs, the acquisition team, and Zach and I just barely fit in the freight elevator, In the basement, we passed through another locked door and rolled the troughs down dusty corridors to a strong steel door. Once we passed through that, we faced a old strong oaken door, with steel bands and hinges.

“If I have followed the twists and turns we took through the cellars,” said Joshua, “This should be right against one of the outside walls.”

“Very good, well observed.” I was impressed.

I unlocked the door. Ahead of us stretched a tunnel, sloping gently upwards.

“This will take us through to the deep cellars under Drysdale House. You will find, I think, the appropriate facilities.”

Lights, activated by motion sensors, came on as we approached them and extinguished themselves as we past. At Drysdale House we encountered a similar wooden door to the one at the other end of the tunnel. We entered a brick walled room.

“Drysdale House is built into a hill. This cellar level is three levels below the main floor of the House. Below the main level is a walk out area containing the kitchens, and under the ballroom, a pool and exercise area. Beneath that level is storage and wine cellars and some sleeping quarters for kajirae. Below that, we are now, are the original pens. They are very suitable for processing our catch.”

Seth whistled appreciatively. Ethan nodded his head.

“From the old Barbary Coast days? For Shanghaied sailors and cargos not approved of”

“You know of those times?”  I was a little surprised.

“We all grew up in the Bay Area. I am from Oakland; Ethan was from Santa Clara. But there have been no First Families operations around here since the demise of the McMurtrys over forty years ago. These facilities should do very well.”

I excused myself to have a shower and change. It had been days since I had been out of my clothes. As I shaved, I decided it was no coincidence at all that the team sent by General Security all had roots in the Bay Area. They would, I was sure, make a veiled offer to switch employers and offer to work for me. If they did so, I would negotiate with them. It was a clumsy attempt to plant General Security people in my house, but if it wasn’t them, it would be someone else. If I knew they were spies, then they would be less dangerous, and I had nothing to hide. I would know they were spies, they would know I knew they were spies, I would know that they knew that I knew that they were spies.  Of course, they would know that I knew that they knew that I knew that they knew that I knew that they were spies. We would be a knowledgeable bunch.

I was going to lead a life of semi-retirement, enjoying myself and picking up just enough captives to meet my obligations to Lutha and the Lazy F. No more adventures for this lawyer. I would put this violent summer behind me and lead a quiet, honest and legal life of contentment and ease. Likely the Peralta team would return to General Security out of boredom within six months. Then all I had to do was to find a place for the Goreans, Scipio Metellus and Anders to live quietly for the term of their exile and all complications would be out of my hair. It sounded good to me.

*

Showered, shaved, and in clean clothing, I descended to the cellars. Mrs Magruder had had Veronika prepare a tray of sandwiches and the slave followed me, carrying the provisions with her. Mrs Magruder herself carried a tray of drinks. I promised her that soon we would have more help around the place. She sniffed, “about time”.

In the reception pen, the catch of the day were all lined up, kneeling in the approved manner of the pleasure slave. Nicola VanRijn had been untied and stripped, but not yet collared. Stripes from a switch showed that she was already learning lessons of silence and obedience.  The acquisition team were efficient. Lena looked a little rebellious, she had a couple of switch marks on her, she was a quicker learner than Nicola, that or she had already learned lessons under VanRijn. She kept looking around furtively, I guessed that she was looking for Anders.

I should not have been surprised to see Scipio Metellus sitting on a high stool in the corner. I had not thought of it, but of course the old slaver would be curious and take a professional interest in the proceedings. Joshua Peralta smiled as I came in. I wasn’t sure if he was happy to see me, or if it was the sandwiches and beer that pleased him.

“Thank you for remembering to feed us; not everyone does you know.” He turned to Zach Frick, not wanting to offend a member of the First Families. Zach grinned his usual grin.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m a distant cousin, I’m hired help myself.” He scowled, “Everyone know the Bannons are cheap.”

I knew enough about the Fricks to know by now that Zach, distant cousin or not, and young as he was, was valued by Woodrow and Wyandotte for his hard work and efficiency. I also understood that he was reminding me to make sure that the team got a little ‘thank-you’ before they left.

Juli said nothing, setting a good example by silence and posture as to what was expected of a collared girl in Drysdale House, but Hannah Quigley could no longer contain herself.

“Please Mr Masters, I ask you, please let me have some clothes; please get me out of this collar and back to my sister. Please, I beg you.”

“Does a slave beg for her freedom?” It was Ethan who spoke, but any of the acquisition team of Scipio Metellus could have asked the question.

“I am a Free Woman, not a slave. I demand it, I have Mr Masters promise.”

“Let me go too, you assholes! You bastards can’t do this to me! I am a VanRijn!”

There was a yelp as Seth used the switch to remind Nicola that she was no longer a VanRijn, and only Nicola as a slave name. I took hold of Hannah’s chain which was still attached to the collar Vansittart had fastened on her three nights ago. She was only free due to my forbearance and the fact that Vansittart had not right to collar her. As she followed me to an isolated cell, wearing only a red silk K-girl thong, she looked every inch the slave. Just the rolling of her butt, not at all the way a free woman should walk indicated that she would bring a good price; probably more than Lena, although not as much as Nicola.

Zach and Joshua followed us into the small cell. I did not sent Joshua away. General Security should have an accurate report.

“Are you sure that you want to be free, Hannah?” I asked quietly. “Over the last three nights and three days you have been in a collar and tasted some of the joys thereof. Does the iron collar, the bounds, the being on your knees to strong men not stir a longing for the collar in your heart and iny your loins?’

“No sir, I am a Free Woman. I desire to be free, to return to my sister and my life in Pittsburgh?”

Standing there, wearing only a rag of slave silk, a collar on her throat, her breasts shaking, she did not look convincing as a free woman.

“Fall to your knees and tell me that!”

Reluctantly, slowly, but quite gracefully, Hannay Quigley knelt, her legs wide, her back straight, her thighs well parted. The wisp of silk clung to her forming a cameltoe.

“I desire to be a Free Woman. I am a Free Woman. Return me to my sister. I beg, I mean I demand it.”

Did you not remove your clothes when a man demanded it, and you in a collar?”

“Yes, sir, but..”

“Did you not kneel before men, with your legs spread wide?”

“Yes, sir, but they were strong.”

“Did you not put on silk, when commanded, and remove it to display yourself when commanded?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you not accommodate men, more than one man, when demanded, and did you not yield when put to use?”

“My body betrayed me, I am not a slave.”

“And you want to return to Pittsburgh to live the discontented life of a free woman there?”

“Yes, yes, I have your promise.”

That was the problem, she did have my promise. I left her kneeling there and listened as Zach Frick spoke to her.

“Very well, if that is your decision. This is what will happen. You will never speak of what occurred at Dragonwyck, in fact you will claim never to have been at Dragonwyck at all. You will never speak of being at this house. Your amnesia began when you arrived at San Francisco and will continue until you are discovered tomorrow on a bench in Golden Gate Park. You will stay here tonight; clothes, your clothes will be brought here from San Francisco.

“How will you get my clothes? How will you get in my apartment?

“You were not given permission to speak,”

“No sir, sorry sir.”

“When you are on your bench, a policewoman will approach you. You will tell her that your name is Hannah Quigley, and that you have no memory of events since you arrived in San Francisco. The policewoman will take you to a police Inspector, Inspector Lee Strade. He has an English accent. You will repeat your story. After a day or two, you will be returned to Pittsburgh, where you will stay in a care home until things are quieter. Then you will be released to your sister. Do you understand?”

I went to the door of the small cell and summoned the waiting Mrs Magruder. She was always where she was wanted and never when she was not.

“Mrs Magruder, please take Miss Quigley and give her a soothing bath and wash her hair. She will need something to eat as well. Feed her well on some Nutri-girl. She can sleep here tonight. It is well that she be well-secured against danger and temptation.”

As the housekeeper led Hannah away, Joshua asked Zach,

“Do you need any help with the arrangements? We have a protocol for when foolish members of the Families need to visit a care home from time to time for a bit, when they forget their position and their responsibilities.”

“It should be all right thanks. We have Pittsburgh under control and we dealt with Inspector Strade when there was an attack on Mr Masters. Everything went away smoothly; Lee Strade can be trusted with this.”

Peralta nodded.

“Just call if you need us, we are the Excelsior Hotel. As for that Hannah, I bet that within eight months she is again on her knees, this time begging for a collar.”

Zach held out his hand.

“Within six months, One Hundred dollars on it.”

The two men shook hands. Later that night I visited Hannah in her cell. After she was cleaned up and fed, Mrs Magruder had given her a wrap of green silk to tie around her hips. The collar suited her well. When I told her to remove the silk she did so. I tied her hands and put her to use. She yielded completely. I thought she would again kneel before begging La Kajira within four months.