Chapter 97

I looked round, there was a tall, muscular man blocking our exit from the alley. He held a baseball bat in his left hand.

SHIT! We'd planned this take-down for when there wasn't normally any people around. Where the fuck did he come from?

He walked forward slowly, looked down at Rapists one and two. "Both dead?" he asked conversationally.

"Yes," I replied.

"Good, saves me doing it." He held out his hand, "Gerry Campbel, local butcher and, until two minutes ago, prospective drug dealer killer. Pleased to meet you," he smiled at me, then nodded towards Alison. "Ma'am," he said politely.

Alison nodded in reply.

"Are you part of The Movement?" he asked. We could hear the capitals in those words. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bronze coin which he showed to me. It was nearly an inch across, and showed the image of Saint George slaying the dragon. I'd never seen one of these before; I wonder where he got it from?

Alison saw it and showed him a similar coin. Hers though, was silver. Gerry became much more respectful to Alison and seemed to dismiss me completely.

"Doesn't he have one yet?" Gerry asked.

Alison reached into a pocket and extracted another coin, this one though, shone brightly, it was obviously a 'proof' coin; it was slightly larger than the other two; and looked heavier. It was in gold.

"Oh," said Gerry in surprise.

"I didn't know, sorry." He looked back to the mouth of the alley, "I need to let some people go back to work, we've arranged to dispose of the bodies."

He looked at me expectantly, "If there is anything we can do to help, just come to my shop," he named a butcher's shop just along the street, "And tell me or the Wife."

He held out his hand and we shook, he then shook hands with Alison, "You two get along now, I'm sure that you've got better things to do than take out this sort of trash."

Gerry turned to the road, "Come on, lads, let's get this done," he called. Four men came into the alley; they ignored us and loaded the two bodies into wheelbarrows. A minute later they were gone.

"Sir, Ma'am," said Gerry, then he too left.

I looked at Alison and she just shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know anything about them, Master," she said.

We left.

"Alison what were those coins? The ones you showed to Gerry?" I asked.

Alison retrieved the two coins, "Master, this girl asks that you don't touch either coin. Possession of one of these coins is circumstantial evidence of complicity in any one of a number of crimes, neither of these coins have your DNA on them, you can deny having anything to do with them."

I looked at her and then understanding dawned. My girls would carry my coin, and show it if it became necessary, like today. But if arrested, I didn't have possession of the coin, nor could it be traced back to me forensically. My girls were safeguarding me.

"Are these June's coins?" I asked.

Alison smiled, "Yes Master. Mistress Sasha approved the designs. They are good, aren't they?"

I agreed, they were very good. I was proud of what my girls could achieve.

"Put them away, precious girl. Thank you for looking after me," I was humbled that they thought so much of me to do this.

"Master, your girls are proud to be able to do this small thing for you, you do so much for us, it's nice to be able to serve you as a good slave should."

I kissed her, a kiss she returned in full. With a shrug of her shoulders, her dress pooled around her ankles. We made sweet, sweet love on the floor.

I sat looking at all of the data we'd gathered. I wanted to bring an end to Winston's reign as pimp and drug dealer once and for all.

Obviously there were a number of ways we could do this. If we just killed him and his men, someone else would just walk in and take over his patch. We had to make sure that anyone would think twice before stepping into the power vacuum we'd be leaving. The one way to do this was to make Winston & Co's deaths as messy and public as possible. Send a message, "Don't piss on my patch or else!"

Alison visited the butchers, help was requested and two gorgeous steaks were obtained. We would be ready on Saturday night, the night of the big local football derby. The crowds and influx of football fans would disguise our actions.

The six girls we'd 'hired' for this 'party' arrived, and so did a minder. We'd expressly warned that we would only allow the girls into our rooms, but Winston had a surprise for us. He had female minders.

She was easy to spot, chewing gum, trashy talk, and trying to project a 'hard' image, she was a product of the worse streets in the city. She looked as though riding herd on a group of prostitutes was the pinnacle of her career.

Getting rid of the men who'd accompanied the girls was easy. I strolled up to their car and shot them. Gerry's people took them and the cars away. They, and their cars, would be found burned out on a local landfill site in a few days.

The minder caused the most problems though. She was determined to keep an eye on all of her charges, even to the point of looking into the rooms where the girls were 'entertaining' their clients.

I tried to intercept her as she walked to one door, one where I knew the girl had been extracted and was even now being driven out of the city.

"Hi, darling, how about you and me get some lovin'?" I slurred drunkenly.

She whipped out a wicked broad-bladed knife, obviously intending to threaten me with it.

I caught her wrist and twisted, a little pressure to a nerve junction, and she dropped the knife.

Alison came to my side. "Do you need her, Master?" she asked.

I shrugged, "What for, she doesn't know anything that we don't?" I answered.

With a graceful, almost casual, flick of her wrist Alison struck at the girl's temple. There was a muted crack as she drove fragments of skull into the girl's brain. The girl dropped to the floor dead.

"OK, let's stop fucking about," I called. That raised a small laugh from the men in the room. Gerry had provided a number of 'fans' for this party and other calls on Winston's girls tonight.

"We need to wrap this up as soon as we can."

There was a brief scurry and the room was clear, all except for a single woman.

"Are you sure that you want to stay?" I asked her.

She nodded, "I've lived here all me life, no one's gonna drive me away. I stayed with Winston for protection. You're obviously gonna kill him tonight, I can handle that. How's about you gimme a phone number I can call if it gets too much?"

I thought for a moment and then wrote a number on a blank card. I was wearing latex gloves so no DNA or finger prints were transferred.

"Don't wait too long, you don't know who's going to try and take over around here." I warned her.

She looked at the card, "London, eh?"

"Yes," I answered, "We're from London."

Winston and his two lieutenants were caught in their 'class' car. The one they use to show that they had 'style'. A nice, this year's model Chrysler Grand Voyager, in black. Winston seemed to think that this car was the absolute bee's knees.

Six men surrounded Winston's car, all holding machine pistols. We heard the click as the doors locked and dead-bolted. This was fine by us. We didn't really want the doors being opened anyway.

I tapped on the window with the barrel of my pistol, by the sound from the glass it was bulletproof. Oh bummer.

For Winston that is. I liked the fact that the windows were bulletproof.

Trolley jacks were then used to lift the car's wheels off the road. Once the car was completely immobilised, the containing vehicles drove away. They weren't needed anymore.

Three men came and tag-welded the doors shut. Then metal grills were tag-welded over each of the windows.

I poured jellied gasoline, napalm, over and under the car. We could see those inside knew what was about to happen.

A burst of gunfire sounded from within the car, but if you want the ability to shoot out, then you need to remember to have soft points in your defences. There were none in this car. I'd checked.

I stood in front of the car, I could see Winston in one of the centre seats staring at me, he was waving a fistful of money. Ah well, Winston, old boy. Sometimes you're the statue, sometimes you're the pigeon. My match dropped onto the bonnet and, with a 'whoosh!' the car started to burn. Today, Winston was the statue.

As we walked away we could hear the screams from inside. I hoped that the manner of Winston's death would make any others think a few times before trying to take over his turf.

Still, I'd done what I wanted to do, I'd avenged Sandra, I hoped that she'd sleep a little easier now that her demon had been defeated.

I'd also done a little good. Trash that needed sweeping away had been cleared from the streets. I'd also met at least one group who were helping cleanse their own corner of the country. I felt that I'd used my time wisely here.

I felt good.

I took Alison's hand and we went to get our cars. Despite probably costing more than an Aston Martin DB9, they didn't have to show off any of their tricks and hidden gadgets this time.

We drove back south. To go home to the Chateau.

Sandra was working when I returned to the factory. She was cleaning the school and play areas. She was far too emotionally damaged to do anything else. Ill-educated and from a family who believed that girls didn't need to go to school, she had fallen in to the trap of ignorance. Unqualified to work at any job, she had been prime material for Winston's glib tongue and smooth ways.

Well, I hoped that I could free her from the spectre of Winston Kingswell Jones. And I hoped that I could persuade her to join the classes at the factory's school. We should be able to educate adults as well as children.

I also had another task I wanted to do here, one which should help two of my slaves as I rightly rewarded them for their work and service...

Joan and Karen knew what I planned, but I'd asked them to keep the details a secret. When I arrived, I could see that no one suspected what I planned.

"SLAVES OF THE FACTORY," Karen shouted, "Gather on the ground floor. Our Master wishes to speak to us all."

The cry was echoed floor to floor and the looms quickly fell silent. The children too became quiet as the wondered about this, so unusual, occurrence. The slaves quickly gathered, there was some mumbling, but overall, no one appeared to be too worried about the unexpected gather.

At the back I saw a group of women looking on with interest. They were the ones rescued and brought here out of their exploiter's reach.

I stood alone and watched as the girls gathered round me. Even 10,000 was brought in and his leash was padlocked to a ring on the wall.

Finally the room fell silent as my slaves waited for their Master.

"Bring Helen before me," I called. I didn't have to shout, they were all already straining to hear anything I might say.

Helen came to the front, looking a little worried. She might be sure that she'd done no wrong, but who knew what the politics were within a new harem, had she offended a higher status girl? She knew that should she have offended my favourite, then her body would already be fertilising the gardens.

I looked at her carefully as she approached me. She was looking better than when she left me in England, but she still had a long way to go before she looked anywhere like the run-away I found outside a supermarket in Cumbria.

"Master, this girl attends," she said respectfully.

"Helen, stand." I ordered.

She stood and I reached forward and unclipped her thin collar.

"Helen, my girls of the factory, I am the Baron!" I called out, making sure, this time, that everyone could hear me. "My girls do not wear cheap clothes, nor do they wear cheap collars." I threw Helen's collar onto the floor, then held out my hand to Joan.

Joan opened the heavy case that I'd given her when I'd arrived. She gasped as she looked inside.

I pulled Helen to me and turned her round so she faced her fellow slaves.

"This girl braved degradation and death to serve me. This girl allowed her body to be violated to serve me. This girl by her actions and deeds has raised herself to be one of my personal girls."

I held out my hand and Joan placed a heavy gold collar onto my palm.

I turned Helen back to face me again, then placed the collar into her hand.

"Helen, I know you have been told about 'The Choice', and instructed in the ceremony; now is the time for your choice."

She looked down at the fabulous collar, 15 ounces of gold with a massive opal shining with its special pearlescent glow, then looked back up at me, mouth and eyes wide open in her shock.

"Master, this girl..."

"Is ready to make her choice before her peers," I interrupted.

"I don't deserve..."

"You have earned your choice, freedom and a pension that will enable you to live in comfort for life, or to take your place among the highest status girls in the world." I smiled at her, "This is YOUR choice."

Helen stood for a long while, then she knelt down and raised her hands, holding out her new collar to me.

"Master, please collar this unworthy girl as your slave," she asked, loudly and clearly.

I lifted the collar and fitted it around her neck. It hung loosely. I knew she had much weight to gain before it fitted properly. Still, I doubt that anyone would complain about its looks.

"Stand Helen, stand proudly and face your fellow girls."

She turned round and everyone gasped when they too saw her magnificent collar.

"I have one more thing to do..." I started.

Helen started walking back into the crowd.

"Helen," I said softly, "Your place is here, with me." I gestured to a spot just behind me on my left.

She turned, blushing deep red with her embarrassment, then hurried to the spot I'd indicated.

"Jill!" I called. "Come attend your Master."

Jill had been instrumental in setting up the factory to accept the rescued women from England. She'd also taken a huge amount of work off Karen's hands, allowing her to concentrate on the factory's product and her designing.

Jill was also one of the first, one of the first women to give themselves to me. She deserved to be recognised just as much as Helen did.

Jill came and knelt in front of me. She smiled up at me, at ease in my company even in front of a crowd like this.

"This girl attends, my Master." She said.

I reached forward and removed the leather collar I'd placed around her neck so long ago.

Joan handed me another gold collar, 13 ounces and three sapphires shining from their settings.

"Jill, you too must make your choice," I said.

She laughed out loud.

"My Master, this girl made her choice a long time ago. You, my Master, saved this girl from herself. This girl is PROUD to belong to you, Master."

She lifted her collar, "Master, this girl begs you to collar her as your willing slave."

I too smiled and slipped her collar round her neck. This one fitted properly, snug, but not too tight. She would always know she wore my collar.

"Take your place, Jill," I said quietly.

Jill moved to my left. There was a minor shuffle as Helen tried to make way for her, but Jill gently, and respectfully, moved Helen back into the position of precedence. Helen might not know the meanings of the size of the collars, but Jill certainly did.

"Come, girls," I said and started walking to the stairs. One person I missed during this meeting was the Gail Briant, the doctor.

The small sickroom was quiet; until I opened the door that is. The wail of a soul in torment struck me. I entered and saw why Gail hadn't attended the ceremony downstairs. I entered alone, Helen and Jill waiting outside.

A woman was secured onto her bed. She writhed in agony. Gail, with an almost maternal tenderness, wiped her brow as she murmured to the poor woman.