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			DAMSELS UNDER GLASS: THE SERIES
			A Bug's Tale (Charlie's Story) ———————————————— by Van & Courier  ©2000
			Chapter 6

Janet had her Beretta and ID case back.  The holstered 9mm felt good clipped to the belt of her shorts, and the case in her left hip pocket served to remind her of her authority and responsibilities.  Aside from the clothes she was wearing, her badge and gun were all she had to bring to the investigation, not counting her wits, training, and experience.  Janet sighed.  This trip was supposed to be more of a vacation than a job... and here it had turned into a double kidnapping... with a side of Federal Super-Cop.

Dawn was approaching, and Janet and the Fed—Kat—had agreed there was no more to be learned at the floor of the valley.  Actually, Janet was rather impressed with her new partner.  Hi-tech toys and fancy kung-fu aside, she was smart.  Janet had pointed out the fake wolf tracks, had explained about the possible link to skinwalkers, and had suggested it was a false lead.

Kat had agreed immediately, then had shared her tentative conclusions.  Whoever the perpetrators were, they were skilled amateurs, not professionals.  They were after the SAARI technology and the experts who knew how to use it, Charlie and Fournelle.  (Janet noted Kat's use of Charlie's nickname, but said nothing.)  Kat added that Janet was lucky she'd been away during the abduction.  She probably couldn't have prevented it, and might have been killed.  Probably not, Kat had continued, but it was unlikely they had a use for a Navajo cop.  The SAARI technology couldn't be sold easily.  Kat doubted they could even find a buyer.  The kidnappers had a base where they felt secure, and they planned to use the SAARI equipment.  For the moment, Charlie and Fournelle were almost certainly safe—uncomfortable, possibly—but safe.  Yes, Janet was impressed.

Enough woolgathering, Janet mused.  She dipped her bandana (the bandana that had been stuffed in her mouth just hours before) in the clear water of the valley pool, wrung it out, and used it to tie back her long, straight hair.  She then took a drink from the pool and stood.  Kat was standing at the base of the cliff, the spot where the kidnappers had made their entrance and exit.  The camouflaged figure raised a hand, a suggestion for Janet to join her. A suggestion but not an order, Janet noted.  Unusually good people skills, for a Fed.  Janet walked over to the cliff.

Kat rummaged in a pocket of her harness and tossed Janet a small packet.  "Breakfast," she announced, looking not at Janet but up the rock face.  Janet opened the packet and discovered some kind of energy bar.  "We'll have a real meal later," Kat added.  "You scared of spiders?"

Janet, in mid-bite, looked at Kat in confusion.  "Spiders?" she mumbled.

"Step back if you are," Kat said with a sardonic smile.

Janet looked up.  A huge tarantula , its body as big as a dinner plate, was crawling down the cliff, trailing a silk thread as thick as a wire.  The spider was several different shades of tan, unlike any species Janet had ever seen before.  It continued down the cliff until if was even with Kat's head.  Kat handed the spider the end of her climbing rope, its legs immediately folded into its body, the dangling thread began reeling into its abdomen with an audible whine, and it rapidly bounced back up the cliff, taking the climbing rope with it.  Kat let the rope play out through her gloved fingers.

Janet stared in amazement.  "What?"

"A remote...  A robot," Kat explained.  "One of those assets I mentioned earlier."

"Our tax dollars at work?" Janet asked, still staring after the disappearing "spider."

"An interested private contractor," Kat purred.

"TESSERACT," Janet suggested.

"TESSERACT," Kat confirmed.  There was a pause, and then the rope continued playing out.  Then something was coming back down the cliff.  It was an empty climbing harness clipped to the end of the rope.  Kat unclipped the harness and tossed it to Janet.  "You know how to use it?" Kat asked, clipping the rope to her own, already cluttered equipment harness.

"I've done a little climbing," Janet admitted.

Kat smiled.  "That's what your file said," she purred.  The rope vibrated and Kat was pulled into the air.  "I'll send the rope right back down," Kat shouted.

Janet looked up towards the disappearing Kat and the brightening sky.  I probably wouldn't have been able to prevent the kidnapping, she mused, but I bet she could have.

Charlie rolled in the straw until she was brought up short by her collar chain.  She'd been dreaming about... something, but couldn't remember what.  She blinked her eyes, but was still in total darkness... and gagged, and chained hand and foot.  She sighed through her gag and flexed and stretched her limbs to the limit of their bonds. What woke me up? she wondered, then heard a hollow clang echo in the distance.  One of those barred doors, Charlie surmised.  Her stomach growled.  Maybe it's Bell Girl with my complimentary continental breakfast, she mused.

About a minute later Charlie heard the door to her cell being unlocked.  The bolt was slammed back, and the door creaked open, admitting dim, incandescent light (bright enough to Charlie's blinking, dark adapted eyes.)  Framed in the doorway was Teri, nude, in collar, manacles, leg irons, and gag, similar to Charlie's own restraints—and the Brunette Bitch.

The Bitch was dressed in black cowboy boots, black jeans, a wide, black belt with a large, silver and turquoise buckle, a tight, black tank top, and no bra.  Country Goth? Charlie mused.  I didn't know there was such a thing .  The Bitch moved into the cell and began fiddling with Charlie's collar. No, she's too tan for any sort of Goth, Charlie decided. Maybe she's President of the local Johnny Cash Fan Club.

The chain formerly at Charlie's collar rattled into the straw and the Bitch clipped a chain leash in its place.  "Morning, Shorty," the Bitch said.

There was a smile on the Bitch's lips—but it wasn't a nice smile—it was a mean, dangerous, scary smile—a Hannibal Lecter smile, Charlie thought.  Charlie tried to show neither defiance nor fear.

"Aren't we the cagey one?" the Bitch said, then hauled the chained pixie to her feet.  In seconds they were beside Teri in the stone hallway.

Charlie looked at her friend.  A little straw was stuck in her tousled brown curls and was clinging to her skin.  Fear haunted her eyes, but she appeared otherwise none the worse for wear. Strong Ter, Charlie thought, and smiled with her eyes at her fellow prisoner. We'll get out of this, Charlie thought, promise!  Teri smiled back—and they were both jerked by their collars down the passageway.

Charlie and Teri stumbled to keep up with the Bitch, encumbered by their leg irons.  The passageway alternated between rough, dressed, stone blocks and bare walls tunneled from the native rock.  Industrial lighting fixtures with thick glass and heavy grills were bolted into the ceiling every few yards and provided a dim light.  Adequate for dragging distressed damsels around, Charlie mused.

They came to a stout wooden door, and paused while the Bitch fumbled with a key ring.  Honest to God skeleton keys, Charlie noted.  The Bitch unlocked the door, and dragged her prisoners inside.  The prisoners found themselves in the center of a large, high ceiling, stone chamber.  Their leashes were removed, and their collars clipped to a rigid iron bar dangling from a heavy chain hanging from the ceiling.  The bound and gagged friends were kept about three feet apart by the bar.  They watched nervously as the Bitch cranked a small windless... and they were pulled up onto their toes.  Their difference in height left the bar at a decided angle, but they both found themselves equally immobilized.

The Bitch produced a wooden handled brush from a rack somewhere in the shadows, stepped behind Teri and began brushing the brunette's hair.  The Bitch's strokes were quick and rough, more like she was curry-combing a mare than brushing the hair of a woman.  Teri mewed through her gag and stamped her chained feet in complaint.

The Bitch took a step back, smiled at Charlie, and whacked Teri's rump with the back of the brush.  Teri's eyes went wide and she yelped through her gag.  "Stings, doesn't it?" the Bitch inquired, then walked behind Charlie, and gave the petite prisoner's rump three rapid strokes.

"Erp!" Charlie complained through her gag. What the hell did I do? she wondered, then noticed Teri's eyes, wide and wet above her gag.  Oh, clever Bitch, Charlie mused.

"Will you be a good little slave, Doctor?" the Bitch inquired, "or do I have to give Shorty here an even dozen on each cheek?"  Teri's nostrils flared, but she nodded her head, as much as collar, bar, and chain would allow.  "Gooood," the Bitch purred.  "Now," she continued, as she began brushing Charlie's hair, pulling the bristles through the captive pixie's short, black locks with rapid strokes, "you will both stand still while I make you presentable... for your new owner."

'New owner'? Charlie wondered.

The Bitch finished with Charlie, then resumed brushing Teri.  Charlie sighed through her gag, watching the brush fly, the straw fall, and the tears well in her friend's eyes.  Bitch! Charlie fumed.  When I get free I'm going to... Well, run... but after that...

Apparently satisfied, the Bitch retreated to the shadows... and returned, lugging a bucket .  She set it on the stone floor, near the prisoner's chained feet and straining toes.  Charlie and Teri looked down, as best they could, and saw a scrub brush floating in soapy water.

Uh oh, Charlie thought.  Bet it's cold, too.

The water had been cold, and so was the rinse water, and Charlie and Teri had been left dripping and shivering on their aching toes for what had to have been most of an hour... until they air dried... then the Bitch had returned, removed her glaring prisoners from the bar, reattached their leashes, and dragged them from the bathing chamber and back out into the echoing stone passageway.

Left, right, left, several short sets of stone steps, one gently sloping ramp, a ride in the strangest elevator car Charlie had ever seen—A mine elevator, Charlie decided—two pauses at gate-like doors of thick, heavy, iron bars, and they had finally found themselves before a massive wooden door set on huge bearing hinges.  The Bitch threw a lever on the wall, a large counterweight dropped on a glistening, oiled chain, and the door opened inwards, smoothly and quietly.  Charlie noticed the outward surface of the door was faced with native stone, and fit precisely into an irregular opening in the back wall of what appeared to be a storeroom of some sort.  She looked at the massive door and the visible portions of the opening and locking mechanisms.  It's not a secret door, Charlie mused, it's a secret bank vault door, and I don't think you could find it by tapping.

The prisoners were dragged through the door and into the storeroom.  Charlie looked back over her shoulder and watched the thick, secret door close.  The plug fit perfectly into the irregular native stone of the wall, and disappeared when the cycle was complete.  The storeroom was cluttered with cardboard boxes, wooden packing cases, trunks, and foot lockers, stacked in irregular rows.  The tinkling, clattering parade zigged and zagged through the storeroom, through a heavy but very conventional wooden door—

And out into bright, bright, midmorning sunshine.  Charlie and Teri blinked and squinted.  The Bitch gave her own eyes a few seconds to adjust, then dragged her captives out from under a vine-covered portico and onto the floor of a narrow box canyon.  The canyon, this portion of it anyway, was paved with large flags.  The canyon wall opposite was planted with bushes and vines, most of which were in bloom.  Charlie could see several hummingbirds flitting among the blossoms, green backs flashing in the sun, some with bright red throats.  The nearer side of the canyon was also graced with a hanging garden, and as they were dragged along, Charlie could see balconies with low stone parapets interrupting the canyon wall, and several sets of arched windows at many different levels, all set back into sheltered openings.  There were rough stone stairways linking some of the balconies and dropping to the canyon floor in at least three places.  More heavy wooden doors opened onto the floor from both canyon walls, most protected by rustic, vine-covered pergolas.

Charlie could hear splashing water.  They rounded a gentle curve in the canyon, and beheld a waterfall appearing midway up the canyon wall and falling to a large pool.  The pool fed a small stream which ran in a channel along the far canyon wall for several yards before diving under the flags and out of sight.  Elegant wooden lounge chairs were clustered near the pool, as was a large, stone table.  As they came closer, they discovered a pale figure swimming under the water.  The figure surfaced near the waterfall, and slowly, gracefully mounted a set of low, stone steps towards the splashing cascade.  It was the redheaded teenager, the Reluctant Kidnapper, as Charlie had begun to think of her.  Nude and freckled, the redhead stretched and luxuriated under the waterfall... then became aware of her audience.  Her eyes were carefully neutral as she watched the Bitch lead her prisoners past, but became sad and ashamed when she looked at the prisoners themselves.

The Bitch chuckled softly as the parade continued.  They left the pool and its freckled bathing occupant behind and followed the curve of the canyon around to an open, circular alcove.  A large wooden table with a half dozen chairs were centered in the alcove.  Seated in one of the chairs was a very attractive woman in her thirties with straight, red hair, fair, freckled skin, and an athletic figure.  She was wearing designer jeans, obviously very expensive cowboy boots, a Western-style, denim shirt embroidered with running horses, and a broad, very smug smile.

An expensive, tasteful place setting was arranged before each chair, hand crafted stoneware, heavy silver tableware, and fine linen napkins, all with a Southwestern motif.  The table groaned with platters and bowls of fruit, steamed vegetables, various fowl, meat, and seafood, casseroles and stews, baskets of bread, and fresh, hot tortillas.  Charlie's stomach growled, reminding her that it had been many, many hours since her last meal.

"Ahhh, ladies," the smug redhead said, "please join us.  Drake, make our guests comfortable."

'Drake,' Charlie noted.  The Bitch has a name.

Coils of rope were draped across the back of two of the heavy chairs.  The redhead sipped her coffee and watched as first Teri, then Charlie were seated and the rope used to bind their leg irons to the back of their collars under their chairs, then tight turns taken around their waists and chair backs.

"Delores is bringing the chorizo and eggs," the redhead said, "and then we can begin."

Charlie recognized the redhead's voice.  It was the stranger who had taken rude, groping liberties with Charlie's helpless person while she was being "unpacked".

Their binding complete, the prisoners watched as Drake settled into a chair; poured herself some coffee; selected a warm honey-dripping roll; and took a careful, deliberate bite.  She favored the hungry captives with a gloating smile as she slowly chewed the no doubt delicious pastry.

Your name may be 'Drake, ' Charlie mused, but you'll always be Bitch to me.

"I have the advantage of you," the redhead observed.

No duh, Charlie thought, squirming in her bonds.

"I know your names, Dr. Fournelle, Ms. Paretsky," the redhead continued, "but we haven't been properly introduced.  My name is Victoria McQuade.  Welcome to Copperhead Canyon, my home."

Charlie glanced about.  You live in a canyon? she mused, then looked up and saw a huge, terraced, adobe building perched atop the canyon.  Oh.

Victoria had followed Charlie's gaze.  "Copperhead Canyon Lodge," she said.  "The Lodge, the Mine," (she gestured at the openings in the canyon around them), "and about two million surrounding acres."

Lucky you don't have any grass to mow, Charlie observed.

"You've already met Drake and my ward, Jessica," Victoria continued.

"Ex-ward," Drake said, sipping her coffee.

Victoria smiled, her blue eyes sparkling.  " Ex-ward," she confirmed.  "Nineteen years young and no longer a minor.  You'll have to forgive Drake," she said coyly.

Like hell I do, Charlie thought.

"She's always been a little jealous of Jessie," Victoria said.

"Speak of the devil," Drake said with a feral smile.

Jessie, the Reluctant Kidnapper, was approaching the table, her wet, red hair combed back and her body wrapped in a damp towel.

"Sorry," the teenager mumbled.  "I'll go get dressed and—"

"No need for that," Victoria said pleasantly.

Jessie frowned.  "But I'm not—"

"Sit!" Victoria ordered.

Jessie quickly sat in the chair next to Charlie and stared at her empty plate... then glanced to the side at Charlie and Teri.  "Aren't... Aren't you going to let them eat?" she asked.

Yeah! Charlie thought.

"All in good time," Victoria said, "and when I say so."

Jessie's eyes returned to her plate, a blush coloring her freckled cheeks.

Poor kid, Charlie mused, squirmed in her bonds, sighed and glanced at her fellow captive.  Poor Ter... Poor me.

Victoria smiled at her ex-ward, then turned her attention to something behind her bound and gagged guests.  "Ahhh, here come those eggs," she announced.

Charlie heard a tinkling noise.  Bell Girl! she thought.  Charlie looked back over her left shoulder... and her eyes went wide above her gag.

 A beautiful, nearly nude woman was approaching.  Long, curly, raven-black hair, brown skin... She was Latina, and was wearing an almost comically minimal caricature of a maid's costume, a tiny lace bonnet pinned atop her head, and a skimpy, starched apron inadequately covering her loins.  The nipple of each of her bare breasts was pierced by a gold ring, each with a tiny, pendant, tinkling bell.  It is Bell Girl, Charlie mused.

Bell Girl was lugging a large, covered dish, but was mainly encumbered by the rest of her costume: manacles and shackles, all joined by stout chain locked to the rings of an iron belt.  The Latina was further restrained by a cage-like brank.  Gleaming steel bands encircled her forehead, her chin and the crown of her head, and her lips.  The band across her lips was wide, and completely obscured her lower face from nose to chin.

As the chained Latina drew near and passed her position, Charlie could see that other than a prissy, lacey bow, the apron gave the maid's rear no cover whatsoever.  Further, the steel belt anchoring her chains was very nasty.  It was tight and broad and looked heavy.  Charlie could see flashes of a steel shield in the front, under the apron, and although she didn't have much of an opportunity to study the details, there was a form-fitting flange of steel floating over and between the maid's dimpled buttocks, and it was lined with needle sharp points, all facing inward.  Poor Bell Girl , Charlie commiserated.  No sitting down on the job for Bell Girl.

"While Delores serves the food," Victoria said, addressing her seated prisoners, "I'll explain why you've been invited here."  She took a sip of her coffee then set the stoneware cup back on its saucer.  "I have a job offer for each of you," she said, "the proverbial 'offer you can't refuse'."