Chapter 3

The next day at work, she went up three floors from her office to visit her friend, Brenda, at another company. While there, she asked to use the phone. She assumed they couldn't tap all the phones of all the companies in the building. Steve was surprised to hear from her, but agreed to pick her up at her office after work.

Cat had brought a change of clothes to work. She changed shortly before quitting time, put on a wig, and turned her reversible coat inside out. When Steve arrived, she watched with amusement as he wandered around the office looking for her. The second time he walked by her desk, she said something.

"Cat, is that you? You're different. This is a new look for you."

"It's not a look, it's a disguise," Cat said, mildly surprised that he would notice or comment on her look. "Let's go down to your car and I'll explain on the way."

It was raining out and Cat pulled her umbrella down close over the two of them, hoping not to be recognized. Steve misinterpreted her action and slipped his arm around her waist. Cat started to shrug him off, but desisted. She needed a major favor from this guy. Considering all the things she'd done for total strangers in the past few weeks, an arm around her waist was nothing. Nevertheless, Steve's presumption was intensely annoying, and Cat was puzzled as to why it should bother her so much, but it did.

Steve was surprised when Cat asked him to take her to his shop. As they drove, Cat explained her problem. Her original intention had been to tell Steve as little as possible about her situation, but there was no way to tell part of the story. She ended up telling him everything, including the rodeo, the death of Monica, her own punishments, and her fears about Mindy.

"Cat, that's the wildest thing I've ever heard in my life. I've never known you to make up stories, but this absurd. Why don't you tell me what's really going on."

"Please, Steve, you have to believe me. I know it all sounds incredible, but it's true. I need for you to believe me."

"It's clear you're frightened. I honestly don't know what to make of all this, but we'll have a better idea of what's going on once I make some measurements."

Upon arrival, Steve led Cat into the shop and sat her down on a low stool in front of a work bench. He switched on a lighted magnifier and swung the arm around so that the lens was positioned over her collar.

"Weird," he said. "This isn't just jewelry."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Steve continued his inspection. As he worked, his personality changed and Cat remembered what had first attracted her to him. He spoke with a confidence born of competence, not arrogance. He had the situation in hand and Cat felt safe for the first time since this had all started. If only Steve had put that level of effort into their relationship.

Cat watched as Steve waved what appeared to be a wand with a loop at the end around her collar.

"What are you doing?"

"This is a pickup loop. See the waveform on that scope? That's the signal you're collar is putting out."

"What does it mean?"

"I don't know yet. It's a very low level signal. It looks like we get a burst every twenty seconds or so. I assume those are the instructions to your implants. It probably resets a countdown timer."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that if the signal from your collar doesn't arrive before the countdown timer runs out, the pain is turned on."

"You mean the implants have to get a signal every twenty seconds?"

"Maybe, maybe not. If I were doing it, I'd set the timer for forty five seconds. That way it would have to miss two successive resets to activate, but who knows how these guys programmed it. Has it ever turned on by accident?"

"No."

"Then they probably included some sort of fail safe... Jeezus, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"This thing just put out a much larger signal. Stronger than the reset signal and a longer burst. You may be in trouble. I think your collar just reported in."

"Oh, no. Steve, they'll kill me. We've got to get out of here."

"And go where?"

"I don't know, but we have to get away."

"I don't think so. If your collar was reporting a problem, it would have repeated by now. I'll bet that was a routine report."

"Do you know what it said?"

"No. The signal was digital, but modulated onto an analog carrier. It may be encoded as well."

"I have no idea what you just said, except that you can't read it."

"I can't read it right now. Given time, I might be able to figure it out, but I've got to capture it first." He disconnected the handle from the pickup loop and taped the loop to Cat's collar with a piece of electrical tape. Then he made some adjustments to his equipment.

"There. Now we'll be able to save the next one."

"So how far can this thing transmit? It doesn't seem like it could be all that far, so they've got to be nearby, don't they?"

"I doubt it. They would use a relay device."

"A what?"

"A device that would pick up the signal and transmit it at higher power to wherever they are. For all we know they could be in another city. They might have their own repeater, or they might be using a satellite or the cell phone system. I would eliminate the satellite idea just because it takes more power to access a satellite and this is definitely a low power device. My guess would be either the cell phone system or their own repeaters. Either choice presents a number of problems, but the fact that they've solved those problems and come up with a working system indicates they have resources, both technical and political."

The two of them sat silently and stared at the screen of Steve's scope. Every twenty seconds, a short burst of activity would occur, then it was quiet again.

"This is boring," Cat commented.

"That's good. If your collar had reported a problem, I think we'd have seen some other activity by now. I think that was some sort of routine... There, got it!" The screen had burst into activity, but this time the waveform more than filled the screen.

"It's been about twenty minutes. I'll bet this thing reports in about every twenty minutes. We'll have to wait another twenty to know for sure, though."

"How long have I been here?"

"A little over an hour."

"Then they probably don't know where I am. They'd have been here by now."

"On the contrary, they probably know exactly where you are."

"How could they? Even you didn't recognize me in the disguise. I'm sure we weren't followed."

"Cat, you're not thinking clearly. What do you think your collar reports when it reports in?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"No, but I can guess. I think it reports your position. That burst it sends out probably consists of an ID number and your current latitude and longitude."

"How can it do that?"

"I think you've got a GPS receiver buried in your implants or collar. Every twenty minutes it tells them exactly where you are."

"What's GPS?"

"Ground positioning satellite. It can determine your location to within a few yards."

"I thought you said it couldn't reach a satellite."

"It can't talk to a satellite, but it can listen to them. That doesn't take any power to speak of."

"But if they know I'm here..." Cat was beginning to panic.

"Relax. They may know where you are, but they probably don't know where that is."

"I don't understand."

"Just because they know your location doesn't mean they know what's at that location. They know your exact latitude and longitude, but they probably don't know you're at my shop. I doubt that this location would set off an alarm in their system."

"I still don't get it."

"Okay, let's back up a bit. You assumed they had people following you and that's how they knew when you went to the police. Now you know they didn't need to do that. Do you think they've got a guy sitting in front of a terminal somewhere watching your every move?"

"Well, yeah. That's sort of what I thought."

"Well, they probably don't."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't. But I can make some reasonable assumptions. I just ask myself how I'd solve the same problem."

"What problem?"

"The problem of keeping track of several busloads of women. It would require a lot of manpower to sit and watch them all the time. People would get bored. They'd miss things. That's a job for a computer. You just feed it a list of forbidden locations and then let it compare the incoming reports to those locations. That's how they knew you were at the police station. When your location matched a forbidden one, the system yelled for help."

"Yelled for help?"

"Rang a bell, buzzed a buzzer, printed a report, sent an email, whatever. The details don't matter. The point is that someone was alerted and they took action."

"But what about when I was with Monica?"

"That's easy. They also program it to watch for two locations that are identical. At that point, somebody probably has to sit down and decide if you both just happen to be independently shopping at the same mall or if you're in contact. In your case, it would have been easy. You were in the coffee shop, so your locations were identical and neither one of you was moving around."

"How sure are you of all this?"

"Hang on, we're coming up on twenty minutes... Yes, there it is. Given that, I'd say ninety percent. If I can extract the data from that signal, I can probably make it a hundred percent."

"How long does that take?"

"It won't happen this evening, if that's what you're asking. Give me a couple of days and I'll let you know."

"So, is there anything you can do?"

"I have several ideas, and I'll probably get a few more as I think about it. We aren't going to do anything tonight. Besides, if I can read those transmissions, we have a much broader range of possibilities. I wish I could be around next time you're punished. I'd love to get a copy of those instructions."

"What do you mean by that?"

"If I had those instructions, I could probably manage to counteract them."

"Doesn't the collar send them out every twenty seconds?"

"No, that's a simple reset. There should be an override instruction that's transmitted to the collar to turn on the pain when you're being punished. I'd like to see the response."

"Sadist."

"No, dummy, not your response. The collar's response. It probably sends back an acknowledgment. Otherwise, they would have no way of knowing if the instructions they transmitted were received or carried out."

"So what's that good for?"

"Suppose the instructions weren't carried out, but they received an acknowledgment anyway. They would have no way of knowing you weren't actually punished."

"Can you do that?"

"I don't know. Can you arrange to be punished when I'm around so I can get a copy of the signal?"

"Steve, you don't know what you're asking."

"Probably not, but think about it anyway. If I could do it, it would free you from future punishment, and they'd never know."

"Okay, I'll think about it."

"Fine. We'd better get you back to your car. They may be set up to raise an alarm if you're not where you're expected to be for any length of time."

"What do you mean?"

"You're normally home at this time, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, tonight you're not, and you've spent a couple of hours in the same place without moving, so you're probably not shopping. Are they set up to watch for that?"

"I don't know."

"I don't either. I'll take you to your car, then you'd best get home. I'll let you know when I've got something."

"Okay. Leave a message for me at Brenda's office. I'll call you from there."

"Cat, I don't think they're tapping your phone."

"I don't care. I'm not taking any chances. If they catch us doing this, they'll make me cut my head off."

"You're right. Caution is called for. I'll be in touch."

Shortly after Cat arrived home, her phone rang. She nearly panicked, afraid it was them. Oddly enough, it was Fred. He wanted to know if she'd seen Mindy. Cat told him she hadn't and Fred went away.

Cat thought the call was odd. If Fred had sold Mindy to the institute, he wouldn't need to call around looking for her. Maybe he was trying to cover up, in case her disappearance became a police matter. The other odd thing was that Fred was distracted and distant. He hadn't tried to flirt with her, which he always did when he had occasion to call her. Cat wondered if she had been wrong about Fred being the cause of Mindy's indenture.

The next morning, her phone rang again. This time it was the institute. Cat was alarmed until she realized they were only calling to give her an assignment. She relaxed a bit. Apparently, her visit to Steve's shop had not set off any alarms.

Cat was dismayed by the assignment she had received. It was a repeat of her second one. As before, she was instructed to dress up in her hooker outfit, catch the bus, etc. She was further instructed that this time they had better be four inch heels. Cat couldn't believe the guy had actually noticed her shoes on their previous brief and stormy encounter. If only Steve could have learned to pay attention like that. Why was it only the jerks? Not only that, she was going to have to go out and buy a pair of shoes after work that met the specifications. She couldn't afford to piss this guy off a second time. She didn't know if that would qualify as strike three, but even if it didn't, her punishment would certainly be severe.

Cat dressed as required and went to catch the bus. She had neglected to replace her plastic raincoat and didn't want to abandon her good one, so she waited for the bus in the hooker outfit. At this point, it didn't much matter what the neighbors thought. She had more serious problems.

This time she arrived at her destination without mishap. The man was waiting for her as before.

"I'm glad to see you've learned to follow instructions properly."

"Yes, sir."

The man pulled Cat's arms behind her and bound her wrists, then opened the trunk of his car.

"Okay, in the trunk."

"But my hands are tied."

"I don't want any crap from you. You've already got enough to make up for."

"But I've already been punished for that."

"Not by me, you haven't. Now get your ass in the trunk."

Oh, God. Why did she get all the wackos? Didn't the institute have any customers who just wanted to fuck her and send her home?

The trunk had a high lip. Cat backed up to it and sat down. Leaning back slowly, she tried to slide her butt into the trunk. She slipped and fell backwards, banging the back of her head on the forward lip of the trunk. Cat lay moaning, her feet still hanging out the back of the trunk.

"Cross your ankles," the man commanded. Cat complied and he bound her ankles tightly with rope. "Now, get all the way in." Cat pulled her ankles into the trunk and rolled onto her side.

"You don't have to lock me in the trunk. I'll do whatever you say."

"You bitches just never get it. You always assume you're being locked in the trunk for some ulterior motive. You're not. You're in the trunk because I like locking you in the trunk. You're here to please me and this is what I like."

"Yes, sir."

"Just so you don't feel neglected, I'm going to have my friends keep you company." The man produced a large glass jar. The light in the trunk lid allowed Cat to see that it contained two very large tarantulas. The man unscrewed the lid and upended the jar. The spiders landed with two small thumps. Cat screamed, scooting away from the spiders...

"If you injure my pets, you will very much wish you hadn't." The trunk lid was slammed, extinguishing the light.

Cat stopped screaming and worked her way into the far corner of the trunk. How had this guy known of her fear of spiders? Cat thought she heard scuttling near the front of the trunk. She shrunk farther into the corner. The car started and lurched into motion, making enough noise that Cat could no longer hear the spiders, if indeed she had heard them.

Cat lay trembling in the corner, rolling about slightly as the car accelerated, decelerated, and turned corners. She felt something on the back of her knee. Cat screamed and flopped about, managing to bang her head yet again. She returned to immobility, hoping she had frightened the thing away, but it was a cold night, and the spiders sought the warmth of her body. Moments later, she felt something on her throat. Cat screamed again, raising up with sufficient force to knock herself unconscious.

Cat returned to consciousness. She didn't think she'd been out very long. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The red glow from the tail lights permeated the trunk with a soft light that didn't really allow her to see anything, but did at least permit her to orient herself by the position of the lights. Cat noticed she couldn't see out of one eye. She opened and closed her blind eye a couple of times. Her eye lashes brushed against something. She realized the thing was perched on her face, blocking her vision. Cat screamed hideously and thrashed about, finally to lay whimpering at the rear of the trunk with her back to the taillights. A few minutes later it happened again. One of them had crawled up her thigh and arrived at the bare flesh above her stocking. It was more than she could stand. Cat screamed and kicked continuously for the remainder of the trip, pleading to be let out.

The car stopped and moments later the trunk opened. The man, who she later learned was named Louie, scooped her into his arms. Cat was still hysterical and didn't pay any attention to her surroundings. Louie set her down in a chair and untied her ankles.

Slowly, Cat regained her composure. Looking around, it was obvious that she was in the basement. The accouterments made it equally obvious that she was here to be punished. Why did she always end up in the basement? Couldn't somebody just once carry her to the bedroom?

"Now listen, cunt, cause I'm only going to say this once."

It was obvious to Cat that Louie saw himself as a real tough guy. When confronted with a terrified woman whose hands were tied, Louie didn't flinch even a little bit.

"You're going to do exactly as I tell you. If you disobey in the slightest, you're going to spend the rest of the night in a box with a dozen of my friends. Understand?"

Cat gulped and nodded emphatically. Louie would be obeyed.

Cat spent a miserable night with Louie, but no worse than others she had recently endured. Except for the spiders, Louie was not that imaginative, and Cat was subjected to a fairly routine evening of sexual service interspersed with punishment and humiliation. When morning came, Cat was bound and stuffed in the trunk again, sans spiders, to her vast relief.

When next the trunk opened, Cat was released from her bonds and climbed out. She was at the corner where Louie had picked her up. Louie handed her bus fare and departed. It was early morning and Cat made her way home without incident.

Cat showered and dressed for work. If she hurried, she would be on time, but there was no time for breakfast.

She returned home that evening to another call from the institute. It was another assignment, plus some feedback.

"Louie was quite taken with you," Cat was informed. "He said you screamed most delightfully."

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me he wants me again."

"No, he wants somebody new every time."

"How did he know I was afraid of spiders?"

"He didn't. He does that to everyone. Most women are frightened by spiders, although few are as frightened as you were. He said you were spectacular. He made a recording, you know. He collects recordings of women screaming in his trunk. So far, you're his favorite."

"Where do you find these weirdos?"

"Mostly, they find us."

"But where do they all come from? I've dated a bunch of guys, and nobody ever wanted to torture me or anything. These guys are just sick."

"If they have the money, they can do whatever they want."

Cat was given her assignment, which turned out to be just what she'd been praying for last night. Some guy who just wanted to fuck her and send her home. It didn't pay as well as a night with Louie, but Cat didn't care. The guy was actually kind of sweet, considering.

Two sentences from the last phone conversation with the Institute stuck in Cat's head. The first, 'Mostly, they find us' caused her to wonder just how one went about finding the Institute. How had Louie found them? If you were someone who collected recordings of women screaming in your trunk, how would you go about finding someone to supply the women? Cat didn't want to know where he got the spiders.

The second sentence she remembered was frightening. 'If they have the money, they can do whatever they want.' What if they unearthed some nutcase who collected shrunken heads? Would they sell her head? Considering what had happened to Monica, Cat was certain they would. And if a schmuck like Louie could find them, it was likely that even more sinister types would find them, too. Something like that might already be going on. Since the ban on communication among Institute 'servants' was strictly enforced, there was no grapevine. Cat had no idea what the other girls were forced to endure. Did she get a disproportionate number of wackos, or were all the institute customers like that and she was just getting an average mix? There was no way to know.