Trapped in Bangkok, page 8
“I told him I was Adrian Daltry. He can’t trace me.”
“Okay. You check him out. If he wrong, let him go.”
“Of course, I’m not an idiot.” Eric rose and walked to the door, then turned. “He’s just as suspicious of me, you know. He doesn’t believe I have the goods. If he checks out, would you be willing to let him get a peek?”
Ranong grunted. “Maybe. If he no see anything else.”
Eric went down the steps, whistling. Typical slave went for one hundred-thousand pounds. Yes, fifteen thousand pounds would make him a very happy man. Maybe he could convince the hoser to pay a hundred-fifty-thousand pounds.
He went through the wide entryway, ignoring the servants who bowed and scraped as he went by. He jumped into his Jaguar and roared off down the highway. His first stop would be Linda’s, to see if she’d found out anything on Casey. Then he might go downtown and troll for new customers.
He traveled down the asphalt highway, dodging potholes and honking whenever someone got in his way. Don’t you see there’s money to be made here? He arrived outside Linda’s house and screeched to a stop and jumped out of the car, then ran up the steps to her apartment.
He rapped on the door, two knocks, a pause, then a third.
It opened on the chain, and a pale blue eye peered out. “Hi, ducks. Come in.” She closed the door and he heard the chain rattle, then she swung it wide. She stood there in a pink sarong, her ash-blonde hair in a ponytail. She might be considered pretty if she wasn’t so thin, but that’s what came of a macrobiotic diet, he mused. Like him, Linda was English, another ex-pat who wound up here, scratching around for a living and looking for the big score. Unlike Eric, she had a unique talent.
Eric followed her through her tiny living room to her kitchen/dining room. In place of a breakfast table, she had a computer table set up against the far wall. A large monitor glowed on top, while a small laptop lay open to the side.
“I’ve been checking him out, like you asked, and he appears legit,” she said, lighting up a cigarette. Eric’s nose wrinkled and he wondered how smoking was in keeping with her other health habits, but he said nothing.
“Here, I’ll show you. She blew out a plume of smoke and clicked on the laptop. Images came up: An assessor’s report on the Casey ranch, signifying his two-hundred-thousand acres were valued at eleven million dollars.
Eric whistled. “Got any pictures of him?”
She scrolled through until she found a driver’s license databank, then called up an entry for Reginald Casey. He squinted at it on the dimly lit laptop screen.
“Can you put it on the big screen?”
She did and the man he’d met in the bar jumped up on the nineteen-inch monitor. He checked the vital statistics and nodded.
“Bloody good. Now, one last thing. He told me his wife died recently. Damn! What was her name? Belinda, Bertha? Something like that. I want to know if he was telling the truth about that.”
“That’s going to take a little longer. This is just what I’ve got so far. I’ll call you when I get something.”
“Good.” He peeled off a couple of bills, and left them on the table, thinking this was just what a man might do when he visited a prostitute. Only Linda’s information, if true, would be better than sex.
Eric left, smiling. It appeared this Casey fellow was legit. Eric could almost taste that fifteen-thousand pounds.
CHAPTER 16
BEN
From the café, Ben called Bernie with the news. “I may have a nibble.” He described Daltry and gave him what information he had about him. “If I vanish, that’d be the place to start.”
“Hey, be careful. Don’t do anything foolish, just to get a story.” Bernie’s voice crackled over the line.
“Don’t worry. I’m watching my back. The local reporter has agreed to send me some names of Bangkok VIPs. I’ll ship them on and maybe we can find a link to stories on the sex trade.”
“Okay. Be careful, Ben.”
Ben waited a full day for Daltry to contact him. When he didn’t, he went back out into the streets, trying to find a new connection. He had a taxi take him back to the Patpong area where he went into a different club. He watched some shows and made some small talk with a few lowlifes, but nothing happened.
He decided he needed to step up his efforts. Time was slipping by. If he really were Reginald Casey, he’d try to buy his way into the right shady pocket where white slaves might be found. Of course they’d be cautious. He just hoped their greed would open doors for him.
He returned to the Soi Cowboy. In a few minutes, he was facing the same big bouncer he’d met the previous night. “Hey, remember me?”
The man gave him a broad smile and nodded. He spoke no English, but he remembered money. Ben slipped him another fifty, thought briefly about asking for a receipt, and was ushered inside.
This time, a different young, naked Thai woman was kept in a harness that forced her to stay on her hands and knees, her back straight. Her head was held up and something in her mouth kept it open, probably a ring gag. Her knees were forced apart and she wore knee pads. But Ben’s attention became riveted on a German shepherd tied up near the front of the stage.
“Oh great,” Ben muttered to himself. “I’ve come on animal night.”
Her “manager” was a short, heavy-set Thai, who directed men up on stage to beat off on her for a small fee. Ben assumed it was the warm-up act. He couldn’t bear to see what came next, so he headed to the bar for a beer.
He sat at the bar, sipping his beer, keeping his back to the action. He could hear the dog barking and men cheering. Ben wondered if he shouldn’t be expressing interest in the show, just to keep up appearances. Then again, as Reginald Casey, he wasn’t here for a dog act. He figured he just wasted a fifty. Maybe when the act was over, something else would appear that would be closer to what “Reginald” was looking for. So far, all the girls he’d seen had either been willingly performing small sex acts or had unwillingly been performing big ones. He thought he might have better luck if he could find a manager of a girl who willingly performed big ones and question him about female farongs.
“Not your cup o’ tea, mate?”
Ben turned to see Daltry standing beside him. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He wondered why Daltry hadn’t tried to contact him sooner. “No, I’m not into animal acts – unless I’m at the circus.”
“Too bad. That dog is considered the Rin Tin Tin of Thailand.”
Ben turned to see the dog with its paws on the back of the poor girl. She shrieked as she tried to shake him loose. He turned away. “No, that’s all right.”
Ben took a sip of his beer and tried to change the conversation. “I forgot to ask the last time we talked – What do you do?”
“I’m in the import/export business,” he said vaguely. “And you’re the rancher, right?”
“Right.”
“What do you raise, beef?”
“Yep. More than two thousand head.” Ben hoped he had the right amount of pride in his voice over his imaginary herd.
“Wow. How many acres?”
“Two hundred thousand, give or take.”
Ben found himself already growing tired of the small talk. He took a sip of his beer, waiting for Daltry to make the next move.
“So you’re looking for something, um, Western.”
Ben looked at him sharply, as if he were suspicious. “Maybe. Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“On who you really are. The way I see it, you’re either a cop, a crook, or on the level. Which is it?”
Daltry gave him an easy grin. “I could say the same to you.” He paused. “Would it make any difference if I said I was on the level?”
Ben laughed. “Probably not any more than I just said I was a rich rancher from British Columbia.”
Daltry laughed with him. “So I guess we need to prove our credentials. May I see your driver’s license?”
Ben eased his wallet out and passed over the card. Daltry studied it, seeming to memorize the details. He looked up. “Anything else?”
“How about my Cattlemen’s Association card?” He handed it over. Daltry took it as well, examining the well-worn document.
“Okay,” he said at last, handing everything back. “Why don’t you go back to your hotel whenever you’re done here, and I’ll be in touch.”
“You said that before. What’s the holdup?”
“Just being cautious.” He turned to go.
“Wait, how do you prove who you are?”
“I can’t. In fact, I even gave you a phony name, but,” he added before Ben could protest, “I can prove what I’ve got. We’ll be in touch.”
“I leave in three days.”
Daltry nodded and left.
Ben turned back to the stage. The dog was barking loudly now and everybody cheered him on – except the girl.
CHAPTER 17
ALICE
Alice’s first trip to the toilet had been nearly as harrowing as being examined by the doctor. Slime coated the area around the hole in the floor and the smell could knock her out if she breathed. She had watched Colleen relieve herself earlier, so she knew the drill: Hold your breath, run in, squat, pee, run away, breathe.
“Run flat-footed,” Colleen had warned her when Alice had mentioned she had to go. “Otherwise, you’ll slip and fall on your ass.”
Alice approached the disgusting corner thinking about all the germs that must be fermenting there, just waiting for a small cut or scrape, so they could invade and sicken the body. She examined her feet to make sure the skin was unbroken.
Steeling herself, she held her breath, duck-walked over to the corner, faced the wall and let fly. She looked down to see her arc of urine had missed the hole, so she tipped her hips down to center it. When she was done, she backed up several steps, then turned and nearly ran for the other side of the room, her breath bursting from her lungs. Her feet stank and she wished she could wash them or at least wipe them off.
She couldn’t imagine having to relieve her bowels over that disgusting mess. Since they hadn’t had much to eat, that wouldn’t be a problem.
Alice noticed it didn’t take long for Susan and her to become nearly as dirty as the other girls. Wrapped in blankets, sleeping on the floor, they soon had a layer of grime, mixed with streaks of dirt. When she pulled her lank hair in front of her face, she could see it was becoming greasy with body oils.
“Hey,” she said to Colleen. “If we’re supposed to be red-hot sex slaves, why do they keep us in this disgusting state?”
Colleen waggled her head. “Don’t know. They seem only interested in degrading us.”
“I think that’s part of their strategy,” Susan put in. “They break us down first, so we no longer think of ourselves as independent women, then later we’ll do anything to please them.”
“Gaaah. I’m afraid it’s working,” Barbara said. “I can’t believe the stuff I’ve done, just to stay alive. I can’t keep this up.” Tears flowed from her eyes, leaving streaks on her cheeks. “Listen, if I don’t make it and one of you gets out, would you contact my parents for me? Tell them what happened?”
“Nonsense,” Alice told her, putting an arm around her. “We’re all going to get out. I know my parents are looking hard for me, all our parents are. Sooner or later, some police are going to bust through that door and we’re going to be free. You’ll see.”
The thought seemed to cheer Barbara up. She glanced over at the door as if it might happen soon.
“God, I’m so thirsty,” Susan said, her eyes slipping over to the silent cocks on the wall. “I’d give anything for a tall glass of water.”
“I thought you were on strike,” Alice said before she realized how petulant she sounded.
Susan wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But I figured it might be better to try and stay alive. You know, for my parents.”
Alice wasn’t surprised that Susan seemed ready to fold so quickly. This place had that effect on all of them.
“You’ll get your chance to drink, don’t worry,” Colleen said, the “I-told-you-so” clear in her voice. “You guys thought it was pretty disgusting when I drank yesterday.”
“Yeah, but that was before I fully realized what we were in for. I was just shocked. I’m sure you were too, the first day.”
Colleen nodded and let the matter drop. Alice knew they were already well into the training. Things they considered disgusting yesterday now didn’t seem so bad. Anything to stay alive.
When the green light went on about an hour later, all four girls rushed over to the three cocks. Even Susan grabbed one. Alice noted that all the girls tried to avoid catching sight of themselves in the mirrors.
Alice couldn’t help but notice there always seemed to be at least one less item than there were girls. Three blankets, three cocks, and so far, only one meal per day offered to the most eager participant. They were being trained all right – trained to step on the backs of their fellow captives to please their masters and earn rewards.
Alice hung back and let the three girls have the cocks first. They all began sucking and licking the large plastic phalluses, their thirsty throats working hard to entice a mouthful of water from them. The scene was comically obscene: Three girls, on their knees, sucking mightily on cocks in order to slake their thirst.
After a minute, Alice could see each of them being rewarded, but no one let go. In fact, it seemed they were all trying to go another round. “Hey, my turn!” she carped, realizing she sounded exactly like Colleen had when she had wanted Alice’s blanket.
Barbara looked up, mumbled an apology and slipped the cock from her mouth. Alice saw how it was coated with her saliva but it no longer mattered. She had to have a drink. The other two girls were sucking away toward their second mouthful.
Alice separated her revulsion from her thirst and bent over the cock. It was slightly larger than the average man’s, but not impossibly so. When she thrust it inside, she was surprised to discover it wasn’t hard, unyielding plastic, as she expected, but a softer, more realistic material. More like a real cock.
It tasted foul and she realized it was the residue of the sperm flavoring Colleen had warned them about, plus Barbara’s sour mouth. Nevertheless, she began to suck and lick in earnest, trying to figure out what technique would satisfy the beast. She looked up once to see herself: a dirty, naked blonde, her breasts jutting out, nipples erect, mouth bulging around the dark-toned cock, looking like a true whore.
She sucked and even deep-throated it until she felt a small vibration, down inside, perhaps from the other side of the mirrored wall. In a second, she was rewarded with a brief blast of tepid water that tasted bitter, followed by another, smaller one a half-second later. Just like a real man, she thought. Except a real man wouldn’t quench her thirst.
She pulled back, gasping ,and Barbara asked to have another drink. She let her, then took over Susan’s cock when she left. The saliva and odor no longer bothered her – she had to have another drink before the light went out and the cocks turned silent again.
Alice got her second drink just seconds before the light blinked off and the cock suddenly felt dead in her mouth. She looked over to see Barbara pounding her fist on the mirror, sobbing. “I didn’t get my second drink! I didn’t get my drink!” Suddenly, she turned her anger on to Alice. “I knew I shouldn’t have given up my spot! I’da had two drinks by now! You all got two drinks, didn’t you?”
Her gaze shot from woman to woman and when no one would meet her eyes, she had her answer. “I knew it! I knew it! You all got an extra squirt! You cunts! You can bet the next time the water’s turned on, one of you will just have to miss out, because I’m not going to give up my cock!”
She suddenly seemed to realize just how petty she sounded. Being territorial over a plastic cock. She put her hand over her face and sobbed, then ran into a corner, far from the others. Alice, Susan and Colleen just stared at each other, not sure how to respond. Alice knew they were being changed and it wasn’t a pretty sight.
CHAPTER 18
BEN
Dressed only in his underwear, Ben sat in his hotel room and fumed. He was running out of time. He had just two days left and he’d felt abandoned by the damn Englishman. He worried that Daltry had checked him out and his story had fallen apart. Perhaps they found a picture of the real Casey. Or perhaps someone at the FBI blew his cover. Anything was possible. Daltry probably had run in the opposite direction.
He hadn’t really accomplished much here. Maybe if he stuck around another week. No, that’d be far too risky. Once the records were corrected, he’d be on borrowed time. Damn!
Maybe there never were any American girls here. They did make a pretty big leap of logic: missing girls, slave traders? It was impossible. Smith was right, the girls were all dead, buried in unmarked graves in scattered locations around the U.S. There was no conspiracy.
He picked up the packet the reporter had sent over of prominent Thais and looked at the faces again. They didn’t seem like the slaver type. They all appeared rather harmless, middle-aged men. Perhaps that’s exactly what they were.
Ben went over to his computer and called up the file that Bernie had given him before he left. In it, there were a few faces of men suspected to be slavers. He noted that a few of the names and faces appeared in both lists, but that didn’t prove anything. It was all a tissue of facts, held together by hopes and conjecture. Without solid proof, it was worth nothing.
Ben didn’t have the energy to go out and visit any more clubs. He decided to eat in the hotel restaurant and have some good American food, if he could find any.
He dressed and went downstairs. He had a drink at the bar, feeling morose and useless. This was going to be the biggest failure of his career. How was he going to explain it to Bernie? Smith would sneer at him, if he happened to run into the bastard again. Ben ordered a scotch and sat there, thinking that maybe this was all he needed for dinner.
