Chapter 7

Grace hopped nervously from foot to foot, waiting for the limousine to show up. Rachel had phoned three days previously with conformation that she'd secured a lucrative assignment, but offered no further details. The sum of five thousand dollars was mentioned and she wondered what sort of activity she'd be expected to perform for that sort of money. Rachel had been quick to reassure her.

"This guy is important. His image would suffer if it emerged that he was hiring escorts. The money is just there to ensure that you forget about it afterwards."

Her curiosity was piqued. Who would suffer the most from that type of exposure?

The car arrived outside the lobby and pulled away as soon as she climbed into the back seat. The drive lasted about an hour, heading along the valley where lush farmland competed for space with huge ranches owned by the rich and famous.

The journey ended at a set of iron gates where a uniformed security guard challenged the driver for ID. Grace gulped nervously when she noticed the sub-machine gun swinging casually about his waist. He waved them through and the vehicle proceeded up the sweeping drive to a palatial house fronted with ornamental stone pillars. The extensive gardens boasted an ornate fountain, exotic birds, and a helipad.

Two men exited the building, each displaying ominous bulges under their crisply pressed uniforms. Curled cables disappeared down the back of their collars from their communication earpieces.

"This way miss," one of the men said. "I'll take you to the senator."

Everything slipped into place as Grace realized that this was probably the home of one of the senior figures in the administration and idly speculated if she'd recognize her host when she finally met him. She entered a luxuriously furnished sitting room where an open fire illuminated the room with its flickering glow. Moments later, a grey-haired mature man appeared from an adjoining room and greeted her cordially.

"Grace, what an enchanting name for an enchanting lady," he praised obsequiously. "Your simulation simply does not do your beauty justice my dear."

"Senator," she replied, somewhat in awe.

"Benjamin, please," he corrected.

She knew Senator Benjamin Payne by reputation only. A member of the old guard, he was a prominent member of President Carlton's inner circle and chairman of the defence sub-committee. Many years ago, he narrowly missed out on the presidential nomination, but was known to still covet the top job.

"Turn around," he begged. "Let me see you properly."

Slowly spinning on axis, she observed with satisfaction the look of unadulterated lust in the older man's eyes.

"You are absolutely gorgeous my dear," he stated admiringly. Grace smiled in acceptance.

"Dinner is almost ready," he told her. "Do come and join us."

Grace was slightly surprised at the implication that they would not be eating alone and even more surprised as they entered the elaborate dining room to find another young woman waiting there.

"Is this her Benjamin?" the woman asked, a dark haired beauty that looked a year or two younger even than Grace. She was dressed immaculately and Grace felt a little envious.

"Indeed, my dear," the senator confirmed. "This is Grace."

"I'd like you to meet Monica, my wife," he continued.

"Your ... wife?" Grace failed to disguise her confusion.

"Don't be concerned. We have a very open relationship and she is very obliging to my tastes. She'll dine with us and probably join in afterwards."

"Of course I will," Monica sighed congenially.

Observing the senator's young wife, Grace detected an aura about her that she hadn't encountered for several weeks. All the girls at the club, bar Sierra, had that slightly docile aspect, indicative of the heavy doses of Hypnol to which each were subjected. That the man selected a partner whom he controlled via psychiatric medication confirmed to her the moral decay endemic amongst Oceania's ruling hierarchy.

"Let's eat," Payne suggested, drawing out both the ladies' chairs to allow them to sit. He lifted a small silver bell and shook it gently. A number of servants instantly materialized and the senator indicated their readiness to start the meal.

How the other half live, Grace mused.

The food was fitting to the décor: over-elaborate and pretentiously nouvelle cuisine. Each place setting had more utensils than a carpenter's tool box and Grace was uncertain as to which implement to use with each course. She surreptitiously observed her companions, carefully copying their selections.

The senator talked of mundane issues throughout the meal and Monica contributed almost nothing except to occasionally giggle or wholeheartedly agree with her husband.

"Do you follow politics at all?" Payne asked rhetorically, his patronizing tone implying that he didn't expect much in the way of an intelligent response.

"I try to keep up to date with current issues," she replied non-committally.

"What are your views of the government's performance this term?"

"The President's popularity seems somewhat in decline," she proffered.

"I'm more interested in your own thoughts than regurgitated press speculation."

Grace was torn between her duty to please and her desire to vent her dissatisfaction with the current regime.

"You might not like what I have to say," she warned tentatively.

"I'm a politician. I deal with my critics almost every day of the week."

"The administration is morally corrupt," Grace opined. "Dissent is suppressed without redress and the citizens are no longer served by the very people elected to represent them."

"I've heard all that before." Payne laughed. "You're just repeating the leftist views of a few malcontents. The citizens that you speak of care mostly about tawdry tank dramas, the availability of cheap consumer goods, and the endless pursuit of prosperity and pleasure."

"Until someone they care about is shipped to Excelsior Island in an orange jump suit and tortured until they confess to crimes that they didn't commit."

"You can't believe everything that you read in the media. I can assure you that only those guilty of the most heinous crimes are interned on Excelsior. There have certainly been no documented cases of torture."

"Well you would say that," Grace teased.

"You have to grant me that the standard of living has risen dramatically over the course of the administration," Payne stated, hastily changing the subject.

"By allowing the import of substandard merchandise produced using slave labour, putting our own citizens out of work. Let's not forget how street gangs now terrorize the inner cities."

"Crime is not as rampant as people are led to believe."

"And criminals are not abducting and enslaving helpless women?"

"There have been a few isolated instances but the authorities clamp down hard when such abuses come to light."

I wonder where these authorities were when I was incarcerated at Mason's, Grace pondered critically.

"Our industrial development is unsurpassed by any other nation," Payne boasted. "Take Syntel for instance, its exports reached nearly twenty billion dollars last year."

"But how many people do they employ? How much money do they invest back into the community? How much do they spend lobbying government to introduce legislation to make it impossible for anyone to successfully compete against them?"

"That's unwarranted, Miss Roe," Payne replied irately. "Syntel sponsors many government programs: free computers to schools, adult literacy, and ecological research to name but a few."

"Government weapons programs?"

"Their advanced technology obviously finds military applications."

Grace sighed, aware that nothing she could say would make the slightest impact on the stalwart's beliefs.

"Time for coffee," Payne announced, signalling to a domestic.

"Oh yes, coffee," Monica enthused.

Grace turned her attention to the vapid female, appalled at the level to which her senses had been dulled. The only things that displayed an iota of sentience were her eyes; they seemed to glow with a magical life of their own. Grace was drawn to them almost hypnotically and the woman seemed to realize this and make contact as frequently as possible. Forcing herself to look away, Grace was just in time to accept her cup from a neatly dressed servant.

"Thank you," Grace said, smiling up at the man. Neither Monica nor the senator made comment as they received their own drinks.

Twenty minutes later, with coffee consumed, Payne dismissed the servants and led the way upstairs into an elaborately appointed bedroom. The far side was dominated by a hand-crafted bed, fashioned from rare woods. It was draped by linen of the finest cut and on either side sat small cabinets made from ebonite, a rare black mineral that surpassed even diamond in strength and durability.

"Perhaps you ladies would care to remove your clothes," the senator suggested. Monica began to disrobe immediately, removing each item in a wanton display of carnality. Once naked, she crawled onto the bed and spread herself obscenely.

"What the smoke does he need me for?" Grace wondered. Nevertheless, she mimicked the woman's actions and even attempted to outperform the competition. The senator lapped up her movements and even Monica made sounds of encouragement.

"Excellent my dear," Payne panted. "Perhaps you'd like to join Monica; I will be with you both presently."

He disappeared into an adjoining bathroom, leaving Grace and his wife naked on the bed together. The woman's hands reached across and caressed her thigh. Before she could object, Monica's mouth covered hers and kissed her with fervent passion. Not knowing what was expected of her, Grace returned the embrace, moving her hands softly along the woman's flank. She cupped a breast and ran her thumb over the raised nipple, her mind focused on the prospect of five thousand dollars and the many uses that she could find for it.

"Time enough for that later," the senator interrupted, returning to the room dressed in nothing more than a thick, quilted dressing gown.

He opened the gown to display his interest and it took all Grace's self-control not to laugh. Despite his diminutive stature, she dropped into her required role and feigned vocal admiration. The senator seemed pleased by her praise and slid between them. The two women were alternating sucking on him when a shrill sound permeated the air. It took a few seconds for Payne to become aware that his private phone was ringing.

"Smoke," he cursed. "I was expecting him to contact me earlier."

He eased off the bed and donned his gown.

"Why don't you two amuse yourselves for a while? I need to take this call," Payne told the two women.

He watched as Monica found a new recipient for her oral attentions then disappeared into an adjoining room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Grace's trysts with Sierra had been a meeting of equals but the thought of engaging with this half witted nymphomaniac left her cold. She remembered that women under the influence of Hypnol were often highly open to suggestion.

"It's been a long day. I expect you're quite tired."

"What?" Monica replied, her eyes flickering in the subdued illumination present within the room.

"Aren't you tired?" Grace repeated softly, staring deep into the woman's gaze.

"You know, I am," the woman sighed, yawning openly. She abandoned her ministrations and snuggled into the sheets.

"Why don't you take a little nap?" Grace suggested quietly, running her hands soothingly through Monica's long, dark hair.

"I think I'll have a doze. Just until Ben comes back to bed."

"Try to rest," Grace instructed.

The woman closed her eyes and within a minute or two, she slept contentedly.

Slipping off the bed, Grace hastened to the bathroom to use the facilities. She borrowed a silken gown from a hook on the wall and returned to the bedroom.

A muffled conversation filtered through from the adjoining room. Pushing open the door slightly, she poked her head around the jamb and peered into what was obviously a study. Books lined one wall entirely. Opposite, a long oak desk provided home for a powerful computer workstation whilst at the far end of the room, with his back to her, Payne stood deeply engrossed in conversation.

"Are the deliveries on schedule Gene?" the senator asked.

"All five hundred units will be delivered as promised," the reply filtered back. "I take it that you'll be able to convince the other members of the subcommittee."

"Your demonstration video of the SYLFS was most illuminating. I'm sure that once they all see it and realize the potential, everything will be just a formality."

"A great deal of my company's investment has gone into the development and I need to be assured that the deployment will be ratified."

"You have my word, but realize that in return the President is looking for corporate support in the upcoming elections. Your block vote, and those of companies like yours, contribute almost twenty percent of the total. We believe that this will be essential if we are to win a third term. Your company's equipment is used almost exclusively to control the voting system and we may need to take advantage of that.

"I'm sure I don't need to spell out the implication of what a defeat at the polls would mean, and what would happen if those woolly liberals were voted into office."

"We are very well aware of the aspirations of the opposition. Cutting back on defence spending and regulation of the electronics industry are as much an anathema to us as I'm sure they are to you," the voice answered.

"Indeed," Payne retorted.

"We would like further assurances," the distant party requested.

"Such as?"

"Weaver has to go."

"If only," the senator replied wistfully.

"It has to happen. If anything was to happen to the President, we can't risk having him interfere with our plans."

"Getting the Vice President out of office will require very careful manipulation."

"I always found that evidence of financial impropriety was conducive to dictating the correct course of action."

"An opportunity to spend more time with his family?" Payne suggested.

"I'm sure I can help you in this regard."

"I'm sure you can."

"To be blunt Ben, the Syntel board is willing to sponsor your challenge to the Vice Presidency. Long term, this may pave the way for even greater aspirations."

"I appreciate that," Payne replied gleefully. "Naturally, I wouldn't want to do anything to undermine Carlton's position."

"Naturally." The voice on the phone carried heavy sarcastic overtones. "When the election is over however, we may want to reflect on whether our current President is an asset or a liability."

"That would also be my understanding."

"We've known each other for many years Ben. Together we can bring government and the corporations closer together than ever before. We can be a trading nation like no other," the voice stated emphatically. "How's Monica by the way?

"She's absolutely fine."

"Is she settling in satisfactorily?"

"I have no complaints at all."

"I knew she was simply made for you."

The senator laughed raucously and Grace used the distraction to tiptoe away from the door, not believing what she'd just overheard, or its implications. She slid back to the bed and crawled alongside the somnolent Monica, feigning sleep and awaiting the senator's inevitable return.