Chapter 18

I had the first night-watch on the Black Swan as we headed north to Fiddler's Green. The owner, pop star Basil Bundy, was locked in a cabin. Cleo, Marsha and a tearful red-headed woman called Ruby kept me company on the bridge deck, while Popeye went below to drown his sorrows.

"You'll have to let the girls out of the bolt-hole soon!" whispered Cleo, snuggling up to my starboard side.

"Yeah," agreed Marsha, as she rubbed her hip softly along my port quarter. "It must be getting pretty high in there."

"It will be difficult," I replied. "The skipper, Popeye, has taken over the master's suite. He's drinking heavily so we may be able to get them out and hidden while he is unconscious. But we must be careful."

It was a pious hope and overlooked the fact that, with a couple of gills of overproof rum beneath his belt, Popeye became mentally unbalanced. While the girls and I talked he decided that Basil Bundy was the cause of his misery. Not only did he imagine the flabby singer had plotted the ambush, which had seen Popeye's homosexual partner sent to gay-heaven, but the large sailor thought Bundy might substitute for his late Philippino bedmate.

This I understood later. At the time I was unaware of the growing crisis until Bundy erupted on deck, dressed only in a tee-shirt, screaming for help and declaring that he was nobody's "buddy-buddy-bugger-boy". He was hotly pursued by a naked, rampaging, Popeye.

I left the girls at the wheel and tried to reason with the drunken sailor. He knocked me down and continued his unsteady pursuit of his reluctant swain. On Popeye's third circuit of the deck I hit him, hard, with a chair. He blinked, ripped the chair from me and swung it at my head. I ducked. He missed, staggered a few steps, and flipped over the rail and into the sea.

By the time we had turned the Black Swan around and retraced our course Popeye was nowhere to be seen.

Bundy hailed me as a hero. Marsha let the three women (two of the "Boojums" backing group and the engineer's girl-friend) and McGregor, the engineer, out of the secret bolt-hole cabin where they had been hiding since the original pirate attack. They too regarded me as something of a saviour. It was an uplifting and entirely new experience.

Bundy made me a very handsome offer to captain the Black Swan to civilization. I accepted with pleasure and, with willing help from the bevy of beauties and Jock Mc Gregor, we reached Singapore without major trouble. Bundy reported the pirate attack. The resultant burst of publicity did much to elevate his single - Walkin' the Plank - into the top ten. By that time I was winging my way back home, to my harbour-side boat-house residence, having banked a large sum of money, my reward for being virtuous. It made me think. Perhaps I should turn over a new leaf. Become a hard-working student, a one-woman man, and an all-round good guy. Be satisfied with vanilla sex. These thoughts of reform lasted until I entered my domain, where Charity and Theodora had prepared a welcome-home surprise I just couldn't resist.

They were dressed as two schoolgirls in uniforms that were just a shade too small. The white blouses strained across their well developed bosoms, which accentuated their proud nipples and advertised the fact that neither of my sex-toys wore a bra. The short pleated skirts were just long enough to leave some doubt as to whether they were wearing pants (Charity was, Theodora was not) and the high heeled pumps, with ankle socks and straps, exaggerated the smooth stretch of their long legs.

The pair confessed to being very naughty during my absence in foreign parts and begged to be severely punished. I bent them over the back of the soft, padded, chesterfield and caned them both, before roughly sodomizing Theodora. This was an act she pretended to abhor but one that sent her into paroxysms of delight, before I had climaxed. Such thoughtlessness earned her a beating from Charity, but not until I had stripped the red-head naked, and fucked her ruthlessly on the floor. When the greetings were over, we showered together and then tucked into a dinner cooked by them both.

Charity and Theodora listened with mixed emotions to the story of my adventures in Thailand and upon the high seas. They were as surprised as I had been that Kim, my sister-in-law, had used me as bait, of sorts, without telling me. They were equally appalled that my half-brother would shanghai me, even given his jealous nature and my near public rape of his wife. The circumstances were not of my making, nor had they been helped by the Pontius Pilate-like inactivity of the Organization, the crime syndicate that controlled major criminal activity in the city.

It was while I was being critical of the Organization I noticed Theodora looking concerned and asked why.

It seemed that in my absence Charity had approached her sister, Hope, who was a big-wheel in the all-woman hemp-cultivation cooperative known as Amazon-pot-com, and found employment for her little bed-warmer. Hope had used her influence with the Organization. The result was, Theodora Throsbie, who had been a lecturer in accountancy at the night school I had attended until recently, was now the chief accountant for the Organization. She had taken over the books and the management of funds from her grey-suited predecessor, Mr Gray, just before he suffered a fatal accident. A condition of her employment by the criminal syndicate was that she remained a "house-guest" in my boat-house apartment under the watchful eye of Charity for a year.

I explained to her I had intended to turn over a new leaf and was going to offer her a ticket to the Congo with enough funds to start a small mission. Under the circumstances it didn't seem such a good idea. My proposed generosity brought snorts of derision from both the young women. I concluded that Theodora was no longer a believer and took greater pleasure in our debauchery and a career in crime. Even so, I was obliged to discipline her again.

After a week of domesticity I received a hint through Theodora that it would be politic to call on Mr White or Mr Green and pay my respects. The Organization wanted a first hand account of what had transpired in Bangkok. They would expect to see me, said the efficient Miss Throsbie, at noon the following day at Kim's old warehouse. I understood from her that the payment to Madam Kim for surrendering her interests in the city had not been made.

The next day, I used the aluminium dinghy with the small outboard to reach the warehouse and was met at the jetty by Turk and an nervous looking Bruce Smith. Bruce seemed to have recovered from his ordeal at Turk's hands. The ultra-short haircut suited him. Nor did he seem particularly hostile to Turk. Perhaps he was the forgiving sort. I thought I must remember to ask Turk what had happened between them.

On the way to the warehouse, with its protected floors served by the latest in hi-tech security elevators, Bruce asked anxiously about Samantha. I explained that his bride had spent a week with me and my two affectionate young girl-friends and was well looked after (well, I could hardly tell him the three of us had used her as a piece of meat in a triple-decker sex-sandwich), before flying to Thailand with Madam Kim. Here she had been, I told him, held captive by the Colonel and his niece. I told him, I was fairly sure she had been sexually abused while in their hands, as I had been, but when I last saw her she had been well fed and was sleeping. I didn't add that after this I had spent several weeks at sea and that his wife had probably been staked out in some high-class brothel where, it was likely, she would have been fucked witless every night. Genuine blue-eyed blondes are as popular as they are rare in Bangkok.

Bruce seemed happier at hearing Samantha was alive and well when last seen, but he was, with cause, a worried man.

Mr White and Mr Green greeted me in a friendly fashion and dismissed Turk and Smith. I told my story. It seemed to confirm what they had heard from other sources. They assured me that they were in no way responsible for the Colonel's attack on Kim and myself.

"A dreadful misunderstanding," said Mr Green.

"Quite," added Mr White. "And one which has led to your delightful sister-in-law adopting a most hostile attitude to Organization activities in south east Asia."

I said nothing but thought that Kim's attitude was understandable, particularly if the Organization was sitting on the money they had promised for Kim's warehouse and associated businesses.

"We have lost several valuable suppliers," lamented Mr Green. "Not to mention control of some lucrative properties in Bangkok."

"It seems that Madam Kim has taken over Colonel Robrien's extensive vice empire and is expanding her activities to our detriment," growled Mr Green.

"Have you been in touch with her?" I asked. "Remember, sirs, that after the coup by my brother I was either unconscious or at sea. I know as little of Kim's current plans as you."

"That's what we wanted to speak to you about," said Mr White. "We sent a messenger last week. He met with an unfortunate accident. We think you would be a better, er, ambassador for the Organization."

So that was how I was put back on the Organization's payroll at junior-executive rates and found myself, accompanied by Bruce Smith, flying first-class Thai Air into Bangkok once again. My brief was simple. Contact Kim, explain that the Organization was innocent of encouraging Randy Rob in his attempt on her virtue, and make her an offer she couldn't possibly refuse.

The deal was a return to the situation that pertained prior to Mr Black's death. The Organization was prepared to surrender the warehouse and all its peripherals, plus a six figure sum in compensation, in return for Kim relinquishing the Organization's Asian assets and suppliers. Kim and Conrad would be permitted to keep what they could of the Colonel's old empire.

It was a good offer but I wasn't sure Kim and my half-brother would trust the Organization enough for them to accept it. I had a private talk with Mr White, an elderly gentleman to whom I had rendered a service in the past, and explained my doubts. Between us we came up with a fall-back position I could use if necessary.

From my suite in the Ramada Hotel I telephoned the Colonel's residence. The phone was answered by a woman. I recognised Laiya's voice.

"How's your uncle?" I asked.

There was a pause before she answered, "Unfortunately he is indisposed. Who is speaking?"

"Sebastian. You may remember me," I purred. "I certainly remember you, Laiya."

"Ah, yes. Madame Kim heard you were in town. She would like to speak to you. Unfortunately she is not here at present. Perhaps you could meet her here tonight?"

"No. I will book a table for dinner here at the Ramada for seven-thirty. I want my sister-in-law and Samantha Smith to attend. Will that be a problem?"