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Chapter 5: Considerations
"It could be a good idea," Freddie Clegg was leaning on the rail of the balcony overlooking one of his training rooms. In the room below, Sarah, a long-time, originally unwilling employee of Clegg Enteprises, was taking amusement from freeing two of their latest "guests" from the packaging used to ensure their secure transfer and safe arrival.
Elspeth Grant, "Ellie" as she was known, was standing alongside Freddie. They’d both come to see the new acquisitions. "Hmmm?" Ellie wasn’t really listening; she was more interested in the packaging used in the boxes that the girls had been imprisoned in. It was something new that the logistics boys had been trying out. Injection foam had been pumped in around the girls, providing a packing that at one time protected and confined them.
"Norman’s proposal."
"I thought you said it sounded a bit vague."
"Rick’s people did some research. The proposition stands up. The older one is at the top end of what we’d normally consider for age but Larry seems to feel we could place her. The other two are pretty much on spec for regular product. I know we’re not short of product at the moment but I’d like to do Norman a favour."
"Hmm," Ellie’s grunt was sceptical. To her it sounded like Freddie had already made up his mind. Her attention was soon drawn back to the squealing captives. Extracted from their crates, they were now starting to realise what was happening to them. The taller of the two girls was struggling spiritedly but when the tape covering her eyes was removed the site of the room she was now in seemed to subdue her.
"That’s all right, dear," Sarah greeted the puzzled captive. "This must all be rather different from what you expected."
What do you expect, wondered Freddie, after you have been grabbed and drugged and wake up to find yourself blinded, gagged and helpless in crate that holds you immobile? Possibly not a brightly lit room looking like an open plan office in any typical modern development. Possibly not to be greeted in a conversational manner by a girl not much older than you wearing an outfit that looked like she’d stepped out of "Mad Men", either. Sarah still favoured a rather retro look.
Sarah guided the girl across to the centre of the room and left her standing there. She was obviously trying to make sense of her surroundings, looking up to the gallery where Freddie and the others were looking down. The first girl’s companion seemed just as confused when she was freed from her crate. Freddie watched closely as the lid was removed and the top slab of foam prised away. It really was fascinating, the way that the material expanded to fit so exactly around the form of whatever was within.
The fit was so close that Sarah found it difficult to extricate her from the crate. It needs some sort of strap putting underneath the captive before they go in, Freddie thought to himself. Eventually, the second girl was standing alongside her companion and Sarah could peel away the tape that blindfolded her. Freddie smiled. The two college girls in their short tartan kilts, mary-jane shoes, white knee socks and white short sleeved blouses had just the right look about them. They’d certainly be popular when it came to the auction provided they could keep that "innocent but corruptible" look through their training.
"Now," Sarah began chattily, "I’ll just take off your kilts, if that’s all right. It’s just that the boys like to see what they’ve got and you know what boys are like." As she unfastened the waistband of each girl’s skirt, allowing them to fall around their ankles, Lucy and Jill began to realise just why they had been abducted.
"And the shirts, please," Freddie called down.
"Sure, boss," Sarah replied, wrenching open Lucy’s blouse before turning to Jill and doing the same. Jill tried to pull away, tripped on her skirt and fell, sprawling on the floor.
"Careful," called Freddie, "don’t bruise the fruit." He turned back to Ellie. "Nice legs, though." Ellie rolled her eyes; Freddie was as predictable as ever.
Chapter 6: Reviewing The Field
"Sorry to drag you away from the entertainment, boss," Rick apologised as he finished setting things up ready for his presentation. Larry, the organisation’s marketing director, nodded a welcome as Freddie came into the room.
"Don’t worry," Freddie responded, "business before pleasure. I was pleased with the new arrivals though. That’s a good source you’ve found."
"Belvedere? Yes. Those two might well turn out to be the first of several." Rick finished connecting his laptop to the projector and checked the alignment of the screen.
Ellie and Harry, Freddie’s director of operations, joined the party as Rick started up the presentation.
"Is the PowerPoint absolutely essential?" Freddie asked.
Rick sighed. "I’ve kept it to a minimum; just the main bullets."
"All right, on you go," said Freddie. He didn’t want to discourage Rick but sometimes he took forever to get to the point.
"Right, three targets with information provided by your source, Freddie. It's going to be a bit of a European jaunt if we're going to synchronise the collections as you suggest. All three spend most of their time out of the UK." Rick’s first slide showed a slightly built blonde woman in here early thirties. "First up, Denise Tallis; thirty two, currently residing in South-Eastern France." Rick clicked up a slide showing a group of comfortable looking villas surrounded by a high wall. "She’s living in some sort of gated community which probably makes an at-home collection unfeasible, or at least harder work than we would like, but she spends time at the local country club and golf course. I think you’ll find opportunities there, Harry."
Freddie’s chief of operations grunted and scribbled a note on a pad.
"Next one, Rani Satvaya, twenty six." Rick’s slide showed an olive skinned woman with dark, penetrating eyes, dressed in a traditional sari. "Originally from Dakha, built a reputation in Bengali movies and modelling, before she married. Put her money into a fashion business – adapting Indian and Bangladeshi fashions to a western taste, sort of fusion clothing. ‘Whose Sari Now’ she called it." Freddie groaned –it was the sort of joke Rick might have come out with unaided. "Now she’s moved into designer shoes; based herself in Italy, not far from Milan.
Harry nodded. "OK, easier for us than some places. How about the other one."
Rick’s next slide showed smooth blue sky and white washed walls, the typical architecture of the Greek islands. "Holiday snaps?" Freddie asked. Rick thought that was bit unkind; Freddie was keen enough to get off to his Aegean island hideaway at any opportunity.
"Alicia St John-Ferris. Twenty four, third wife of our friend Norman. That’s her there." The next shot showed a tanned, blonde girl walking beside a harbour. "She hung on to his name after ditching the marriage. It seems to help in the business."
"Business?" Freddie was encouraged by the look of her. He could imagine a few of his clients finding her worth bidding on. "That looks like Mykonos."
"She runs an art gallery. Very Chi-Chi, modern stuff designed to fit in some of the new up-scale villas that are going up now. She’s well connected cruises all the five star hotels; well known; nodded through by Maître D’s; that sort of thing."
"Conspicuous?" Harry knew what the answer was going to be.
"Oh yes. Known by all and seen around."
Harry looked depressed; he much preferred the ones that didn’t stand out in a crowd but given that physical attractiveness was often the main feature on the list of required attributes for a new "guest", he didn’t often get his wish.
"One bright spot with this one though. She’s bent. Big debts on the gallery, fences the odd archaeological artefact to keep the income up. Plus she’s played some big clients on a long line, flirty eyes that say I might but then never does. She may even have pissed off one or two of our clients, Freddie."
"Might help a sale certainly," Freddie responded.
Rick hadn’t finished though. "One other little problem with this. These ladies all know each other. They spend a lot of time sharing their grief over their previous husband, and I mean A LOT. Email, Facebook, twitter, mobiles, the whole electromagnetic spectrum practically. They run a sort of pan-global bitching club for ex-wives of the good Norman. They really haven’t let go, in spite of the fact that it's his money that’s keeping them comfortable."
"Can’t say I’m surprised," Freddie wasn’t sure he saw the problem with this. Norman was the sort of guy that was likely to provoke long lasting acrimonious feelings in a divorce. He wasn’t good at ending relationships. Actually he wasn’t good at keeping them going either.
"Well, maybe not but it means if one of these ladies goes off line the others are likely to go to ground or worse still start bleating to the authorities. It means we’re going to have to do three lifts virtually simultaneously at three different points around the Mediterranean."
As usual Rick’s planning was well thought through. Freddie turned to his operations director, "Harry, how is that with you?"
"I’m not sure. We’re short-handed at the moment. Two at the same time wouldn’t be a problem but I’m not sure about three. I’ll need to do some work."
"Unless you want to pick up the Greek end, Freddie," Rick suggested. "That’s your patch, after all."
That’s true enough, thought Freddie. He still had the villa on Agoras, although he hadn’t been out there for a while....
© Freddie Clegg 2011
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