Buying the Virgin

Chapter 112: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Twenty-Eight

MICHAEL

Richard pauses, obviously thinking. “Do you think we want the police in on this?”

“We should have them available,” I say. “But if the area is suddenly flooded with police vehicles,

someone’s going to start asking how they know to look there. If Charlotte still has her tracers, we don’t

want them being taken away from her.”

“Fair point. I’ll have a word with Will and ask him to keep any police presence discreet for the moment.”

*****

I drive at a crazy speed, following James’ navigation from the previous path of the tracers. We pass the

spot where Charlotte’s assorted signals separated, where we now know that she was taken from her

car; where her phone was destroyed, and her bag thrown away. We pass by, still pursuing the more

recent trail.

“This is where we lost the signal,” says James. Haswell says nothing, his face grim.

“You think we should just circle first?” I ask. “Try different areas to try to catch the signal?”

“Yes. You just drive. I’ll keep an eye on the trace... Wait! There... it’s back again….”

“Which way?”

I slam onto the gas. After only half a minute, James again. “Damn! It’s off again…”

“Perhaps taking her out of a car and into a building?”

“Seems plausible.”

“Did you see enough to get us there?”

“I think so, yes. Certainly, we can get closer. Keep driving. We’re losing the light.”

*****

CHARLOTTE

The truck rattles to a halt, and the engine stops.

Are we here?

The door opens, from the outside I notice, and my guard thumbs me out.

It is still daylight, and we have pulled up in woodland, at the end of a broken mud track, much ridged

and rutted. Only tough, overland vehicles would be able to reach here. There is a long, low, block-built

shed. Overhung by trees, the shed would not be very visible from the air.

Fuck! The roof’s made of corrugated iron….

The signal from my remaining tracers will almost certainly not escape the building, so I have only a few

seconds out of doors for them to transmit freely and be spotted again.

I drag my heels, delaying the moment until I am in the shadow of the metal roofing, and my Masters will

no longer be able to find me. All the while, I glance furtively around, looking for any detail that will help

in my escape…. and Beth’s.

Is she here…?

…. Am I in the right place?

But the guard seizes me by the arm, his fingers biting into the muscle as he drags me indoors. Without

word or ceremony, I am marched through a main central room, then pushed through a side door,

staggering to keep my balance as I am thrust inside. The door slams closed behind me.

The room is small and cheerless, with no furnishings barring a bucket in one corner, and bars on the

window; a cell.

And Beth is here….

I’ve found you….

Sitting on filthy blankets piled in a corner on the floor, her face is tear-streaked, eyes red and swollen,

her hair an unkempt red tangle around her shoulders.

She looks utterly lost.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

She looks as though she will burst into tears again. Her voice broken, “Oh, Charlotte! They got you

too….”

I can’t say too much. She needs to keep looking scared….

“Yeah, ‘fraid so. If it’s any help, it was me they wanted in the first place.”

She stares up at me. “You? I thought they must be trying to ransom me.”

I sit down next to her, and she shuffles up the blankets to make room. “They’re connected to the people

who ran Blessingmoors. It’s looking as though they want to make sure I don’t give evidence.”

Her breath shudders as she resists weeping. “It’s awful here. There’s things living in the blankets. They

keep getting into my hair.”

We’ve been imprisoned by traffickers, and she’s worrying about fleas?

Convenient though….

“Have these.” I pull a couple of combs out from my hair. “I know what it’s like when it gets out of control.

I always use more of these than I need. Here, let me put it up for you, out of the way. You’ll be more

comfortable like that.”

I plait her hair into braids, winding it up and pinning it with the combs.

*****

The cell door opens, and a gun jerks down at us, where Beth and I sit on the floor. “You two. Out.”

I stand, then help Beth up as she struggles to rise.

Is she ill? Or just scared sick?

We are trooped into the main room….

…. and I meet a face I know; a face from the past, a face that once looked over teenagers as though

they were cattle.

Tall, fair-haired, although silvering, his features sharp, well defined, he would be a handsome man were

it not for the twist of cruelty to his mouth.

Walking slowly around me, he examines me from all angles, arms folded, face expressionless.

“You know me?”

“Yes. You’re Lawrence Klempner.”

He is older now, but not so changed that I do not remember him. He stares down at me, pursing his

lips. His voice is chill, passionless, but there is something else in his eyes; a cold hatred….

Of me?

Why? Where’s that come from?

“I wouldn’t have recognised you from being a teenager you know. You’re a lot better looking than you

were then. Useful that.” he says. “But I do see your mother in you. You are very like her, Jennifer. She

was beautiful too, to begin with anyway.”

My stomach churns.

He knew my mother? How?

He perches on the end of a table, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankle, arms folded. And clearly, he

is enjoying himself, relishing my discomfort, but I say nothing. “Yes, I knew your mother; Michelle

Conners. You want to know how? I ran her, with a string of other whores.”

Still, I say nothing. He wants to bait me. I refuse to be baited.

“Looks like it runs in the family, doesn’t it? You sold yourself too, auctioned yourself, and now you live

with two men. I assume they are both fucking you?”

How does he know this?

“What I don’t know though, is…” He points at Beth. “Who’s she? You never had any sisters. I’d have

known.”

I hold my silence, staring him down. He glances contemptuously at her. “It hardly matters. I suppose Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

you’re bound to go looking for family. What is she then? A cousin?”

They really don’t know who Beth is? They don’t know whose wife they’re holding prisoner?

“What do you want from me?” I ask.

His eyebrows arch. “What do I want from you? Well, let’s see…. for a start, I want payback for what you

did to Charlie Jenkins.”

Who? Aaahhhh…. Jenkins….

Oh, crap….

Supervisor Jenkins; who chased me when I ran; a fourteen-year-old girl pursued by a man threatening

to have me gang-raped, and he went under the wheels of a truck…

And Klempner was... his friend?

So, monsters have friends too.

“I didn’t kill him. He wasn’t paying attention. Got run down.”

“He was after you because you wouldn’t do as you were told, wouldn’t obey…. just like your mother.

She didn’t like doing as she was told either… usually had to be persuaded when I wanted to fuck her.

Am I going to have to persuade you? Or are you going to do as you’re bid?”

He sweeps his head back, indicating the other four, no five men in the room. “We’re going to have a lot

of fun anyway, you and me, and the others here. I gather you enjoy it, having a few of ‘em going at

you…”

Where is he getting this from?

“I’d rather like to keep you nearby for the long-term.” he continues. “Run you with the other hookers. I’d

enjoy that, seeing how much cock you can suck in a day. But I think you’ve got a big mouth, so instead,

I’ve got a buyer for you. You’re going where no-one speaks English, and no-one cares about what

comes out of a whore’s mouth… just what goes in it.”

He surveys Beth, trailing fingers through her hair, over her face, lifting her chin with a finger. “And I’ll get

a better price now, selling you as a pair.”

Beth’s fear is visible. Trembling, her eyes are frantic, skin pale, and glistening with a cold sweat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say. “Handling her. You don’t want to devalue your goods.”

He doesn’t stop; running his hands over Beth, her shoulders, her waist, one hand settling below a

breast. Her breathing is shallow and rapid. “The buyer I have in mind for you two won’t care.” he

sneers. “Quite the opposite. He likes to know that you’ve been brought to heel before he pays.”

I force a laugh. “You’re nuts. You really have no idea who you have there?