Chapter 15

Three days had passed and they were still no nearer to breaking open the case. Angela looked glumly at Penrose, their relationship strained since he'd discovered the depths to which she'd stooped in order to extract information from Rachel Wilson. The image of her having sex with Olivia haunted him; he'd never suspected her of harbouring lesbian tendencies and felt threatened by the knowledge. He wondered what other dark secrets she'd kept hidden from him.

Angela had maintained contact with Joanna and had visited her once at home, ostensibly to update her on the investigation. Inevitably, their meeting led them upstairs where they'd undressed and relieved the tension in the only way they knew. Joanna still firmly held onto the hope that they could move their relationship onto a more permanent footing; but Angela refused to commit, concerned that Jim might cause problems, particularly in light of her actions at the Wilson house.

"We've gone through all registered medical files for the name Morbius but there's little to show for it," Jim informed her. "There's a Doctor Morbius Scott, a Harley Street gynaecologist but he's been retired for five years. The other two candidates are a Doctor Herbert Morbius who's a general practitioner in Sunderland and a cancer specialist from Runcorn named Doctor Peter Morbius-Mortimer. We're running background checks on all of them, but they look clean so far."

"Hunnicutt?"

"Paul's found nothing. He started doing some preliminary checks and the next thing he knew, he got hauled before his superiors and told to cease all enquiries."

"Can they do that?"

"David Hunnicutt is a former Foreign Secretary. He has friends in high places. It doesn't surprise me that he's capable of blocking our investigation."

"We can't let him get away with it."

"We'll bide our time. Unfortunately, he knows he's on our radar now so he'll probably be particularly careful. I wouldn't be surprised if we see no more kidnappings for a while."

"That doesn't help Amanda. What about Pamela Weston?" Angela asked.

"I still find it hard to believe Hunnicutt would sanction his own daughter being taken."

"Seems too much like a co-incidence."

"I've sent their pictures to all ports of entry. If they try to smuggle them out of the country, hopefully we'll intercept them before it's too late."

"What if Amanda's already been trafficked?"

"If that's the case, we'll have to pray that we can get some lead on where she's being held."

"What are the chances of that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Morbius watched Ruth prepare Amanda for her first showing. Modest outer clothing hid the exotic lingerie underneath, necessary if they were unlucky enough to be stopped by the police. Her hair had been dyed to a bleached blonde that would doubtless appeal to the client.

Vladimir Molkov was a Russian businessman, one of a new breed of entrepreneurs that had built up a small fortune since the end of the cold war. He fostered strong ties with the ruling regime, partly due to the several years spent serving with the FSB. His nightclubs catered to the upmarket elite, including several prominent deputies of the Duma.

The clubs were little more than window dressing for the prostitution that proliferated in the capital. Morbius had sold dozens of girls to Molkov and two of his competitors, making it a lucrative market to exploit.

Amanda would entertain visiting foreign dignitaries and Russian Mafia alike, her body the icing on the cake that would seal deals worth millions. She would live a pampered lifestyle but when the time came, she would be used hard by men accustomed to getting exactly what they wanted. They saw a woman's place as either curled up at their feet or with her orifices stuffed with their cocks.

"Is she ready?" Morbius asked.

"As ready as she'll ever be," Ruth replied.

Henry and James had spent forty-eight hours ravaging her almost continuously, acclimatising her to the strict demands soon to be placed upon her. Her body was a tool forged for the pleasure of all those subsequently allowed to make use of her.

"I'm meeting Molkov at the Holiday Inn this afternoon. From there, we'll drive to the lodge where the American will meet us the day after. The Baron is flying in tomorrow and he'll arrive at the lodge on Friday. By the end of the week, Amanda will have a new home and we'll decide where to go from there."

"Pamela's training is almost complete," Ruth informed him. "I'm starting the anal conditioning this morning and I expected James and Henry to be fucking her by the weekend. All her inner resistance has totally collapsed. Now we're just filling her mind with whatever we want."

"Excellent. We may have to hang onto her for a little bit longer as Hunnicutt is reluctant to take delivery at the moment."

"Why is that?"

"The police questioned him about Pamela's disappearance. I knew it was a distinct possibility that he'd come under suspicion due to his high profile and circumstances."

"Why did you proceed with the abduction then?"

"He was adamant," Morbius replied irately. "However, there are no loose ends for the police to follow. If he maintains his cool and says nothing, then there's nothing to worry about."

"Is he going to be a liability?"

"I've planned for every eventuality," Morbius confided. In his desk, there were several complete sets of false passports and travel documents. He knew that he could be out of the country in hours if things went pear-shaped.

"Let's go to the car, Amanda," Morbius instructed. "There are some people I'd like you to meet."

The teenager followed obediently, her trust in the doctor absolute.

The Holiday Inn at Heathrow was heaving with holidaymakers and travelling business people. Morbius relied upon the fact that one small girl amongst the teeming throngs would go unnoticed. They chatted casually on the journey, easing her nervousness about what lay ahead. On the motorway, he guided her slim hand into his trousers and she stroked his cock as they talked as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

Leaving the car in the underground parking area, he proceeded up to the front desk where he enquired about Molkov's party. The pretty, dark-haired receptionist smiled and called up to the Russian's room then informed Morbius that the man would meet them in the lobby. The doctor returned the smile and stopped undressing her in his mind, returning dutifully to the task at hand.

He'd never been able to resist a pretty face, leading to his expulsion from the medical profession for inappropriate conduct, even before he'd completed his internship. He kept the title 'doctor' mainly out of vanity, although he'd gained further medical expertise while serving in the armed forces.

It was while touring Bosnia that he'd stumbled upon an abandoned research facility, created in order to coerce ethnic Muslim girls to provide 'entertainment' for the Serb militia stationed there. The fugitive General Ratko Mladic had been instrumental in establishing the facility but when coalition forces discovered it, the staff and scientists had fled fearing indictment by the International Court.

Having studied psychology as part of his medical degree, Morbius recognised the main objectives of the project and discreetly destroyed the evidence after making copies for himself. Years later, he reproduced and improved upon the techniques and had been reaping the rewards of his discovery ever since.

Now, whenever he saw a beautiful woman, he imagined her rendered submissive by his treatment, waiting for him to pleasure her. He visualised the pretty receptionist spread naked across a bed, semen flowing from her well-fucked orifice, begging him to pleasure her one more time. Temporary compliance could be achieved in just a few days given a receptive host: something he'd determined early in the refinement process.

Many years ago, he'd taken a shine to Marianne, a waitress in a trendy London restaurant. She'd rebuffed his clumsy advances, leaving him aroused and needy. Returning the following day, he approached her in his car as she finished her shift and tranquilised her before she could raise the alarm. He'd established a makeshift laboratory in a disused warehouse and had attached her to the early prototype of the equipment he now used.

For the next week, Marianne became subservient to his wishes, providing him with all manner of degenerate sex until he desperately needed time to recuperate. She returned to her daytime job with few memories of what had transpired other than a deep-seated desire to please him.

A month later, he ate in the same restaurant and noticed the soon-to-be Foreign Secretary dining with parliamentary colleagues. The man had flirted with Marianne, drawn to her charm and prominent sex appeal but had no more luck than he had on that first occasion.

David Hunnicutt had walked to the toilet and Morbius had followed, standing in the adjacent urinal as they relieved themselves.

"Do you fancy her?" Morbius had opened the conversation.

"What? Who are you? What do you mean?" Hunnicutt had replied defensively.

"The waitress. You want her but she won't have anything to do with you."

"If you're attempting to blackmail me," the man asserted, "I'll have you arrested."

"You're David Hunnicutt, rising star at the Foreign Office and favoured successor to George Bentley in the next government reshuffle. I saw you looking at that girl and I know exactly what you wanted from her."

"Now look here..."

"I can deliver her for you. Tonight, tomorrow night and as often as you'd like. When you tire of her, she'll return to her job here and forget she ever knew you. It's a win-win situation, whichever way you look at it."

"I don't believe you."

"Give me a chance to prove it. Enjoy her for as long as you like then call me."

"Why should I trust you?"

"I need a partner. Someone with connections, and I see you as that person. If not, you can just enjoy this gift and we'll never need to meet again."