by Nosbert


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CHAPTER THREE - International Co-operation


Fernando, still clutching the towel to his head, led the Interrogating Officer (whom I now knew to be called Pierre), Anthea, Suzette and myself up the stairs to his office. He was still a little groggy but made the journey without further assistance.

We were all taken to what I knew to be Hendry’s old office. As I entered I must admit I was expecting to see the same sparse furniture and austere surroundings as before. So imagine my surprise to find everything had been changed around. This was now very much a working office. There were desks, tables, a photo-copier, filing cabinets and computers all over the place. The room also had that dishevelled genuine office appeal about it. This, I could honestly say, was a place where real people worked.

Fernando sat himself down at a desk that was now over on the other side of the room and facing the big French windows that opened out onto the balcony. The four of us that accompanied him gathered up chairs from various corners of the room and formed a semi-circle before his desk. For the record, Pierre and myself sat at opposite ends of the semi-circle with the two girls between us, and with Anthea sat next to me.

I don’t know about the others, but I simply folded my arms and waited for the promised explanations to be forthcoming; and they had to be good.

As soon as we were all sitting comfortably Fernando began. He started with introductions. He addressed the Frenchman first, whom I guessed was just as much in the dark as I was.

“Pierre, I’d like you meet Mr. Woods… he’s the detective that broke Hendry’s drug smuggling ring for us,” said Fernando. He then turned to me and added: “And Woody, I’d like you to meet Pierre Renard… let’s just say for the time being that he’s a colleague of mine and we’re working on a joint project at the moment.”

I accepted Fernando’s brief explanation and nodded a short hello to Pierre who was sat on the other end of the row. The fact that Fernando got my name wrong I considered a bonus. I prefer to be called Mr. Woods rather than Mr. Sherwood any day.

Fernando went on to introduce Anthea to Pierre; explaining that she was once Hendry’s girl before he got put away for twenty-five years. He also came out with a little piece of news that, to be quite honest, took me completely by surprise. He told Pierre that Anthea was a major shareholder in the Parent Company that owned this club. He also revealed her share of that stake. She owned twenty-five percent of the Parent Company, with Hendry’s Club being just a small portion of that total investment. Apparently the investment stock went back some five years and was a little thank you gift from Hendry at the time. My guess was it was laundered money from his illegal drugs trade and he planned to get it back someday.

I watched Anthea’s face when these facts were being revealed, and I must say she looked as surprised as I was. In fact I’d go as far as to say that she had completely forgotten all about her little investment. But I wasn’t surprised; that’s Anthea where money was concerned. I think she much preferred to spend mine anyway.

The revelation also put things into context. I was wondering at the time why Fernando would want to get Anthea involved, or at least reveal a few secrets to her. If I’d have been in his position I’d have left her downstairs, or sent her back to the bar. But this explained everything. Technically Anthea was Fernando’s and Suzette’s boss, and if Pierre was also on the payroll, then that would include him too.

I didn’t like to tell them that any obsequiousness on their part would go straight over Anthea’s head. The only chance any of them had of gaining even the slightest bit of advancement in the Company was to flash a pair of handcuffs and a riding crop at her. 

At the time I kept my silence, but Anthea did respond briefly.

“Is it as much as that?” she asked and looking wide eyed with it.

Fernando nodded his head in response. I would imagine someone running a club this size would know all about the necessity to keep the major shareholders happy. So he would be well aware of Anthea and her stock holdings. But I could see that he had no intentions of being side tracked on this issue, and he carried on with the main reason for us all being there. He turned to me and began to explain:

“Woody, I’ll come straight to the point,” he began.

I didn’t interrupt and just let him get on with it.

Fernando continued: “You have here three nationalities; a Frenchman, an English woman and myself, a Spaniard. Let’s say we’re involved in a little bit of International Co-operation…”

I gave a wry smile.

“You mean Government Agents,” I interrupted, then assured them: “Don’t worry, I’ve known for sometime… and you have my word.. I won’t tell a soul.”

Fernando looked to Pierre and Suzette, then turned to me and nodded his head.

“Then we all know where we stand… but I must insist that nothing that is said at this meeting gets past these four walls,” asserted Fernando.

I nodded and agreed.

“That’s fine by me Fernando… you have my word on it,” I told him.

Anthea looked confused, but agreed anyway. However I don’t think that mattered, she would have forgotten half of anything that was said before she even walked out the room.

Anyway, Fernando seemed a bit more at ease now. He settled down in his chair, leant forward and placed his elbows on the desk. I guess, at long last, he was ready to tell his tale. He turned to me.

“Woody, are you aware that a Submissive Trade exists?… young girls being smuggled, mainly from North Africa, to become slaves in the clubs and brothels of Europe?” he asked.

I must admit I was vaguely aware of the problem, but not given it much thought. I’d come across it whilst searching for Judy Jones on my previous assignment, and I knew what lengths some unscrupulous people would go to in keeping the girls under lock and key. These girls had no passports and no citizens rights, and usually owed their landlords astronomical fees that could never get repaid. For the unfortunate girls that got themselves into this mess, it was a viscous circle with no way out.

I nodded my head. My thoughts turned to Fatima. Here was someone of North African appearance and working in a BDSM club in Britain. Though I would have put Hendry’s in a class above the seedy down-town low-life joints Fernando was alluding to.

“So this missing girl… Fatima… she’s must have something to do with this?” I asked.

Fernando confirmed with a nod to his head.

“Yes, Fatima was our plant,” he revealed, “she’s really a Spanish Agent… several months ago she was dispatched to North Africa and told to infiltrate the smuggling ring… she did so and eventually got picked up in Morocco… after that she was transported through Europe to eventually arrive in this country.”

“And you were here waiting for her to spill the beans as soon as she arrived?” I interjected.

I guess I shouldn’t have interrupted because Fernando seemed to loose his train of thought. He shook his head.

“Not exactly Woody,” he told me, “perhaps it would be better if I started from the beginning.”

I thought that a good idea too.

“Please do,” I said and told myself to listen and not keep butting in.

Fernando continued: “Originally I was assigned to Britain to investigate Hendry… we knew he had some dodgy dealings going on… I managed to infiltrate this club and take on the job of barman here… then Suzette and Bo joined me to make up the team… but before we could get anything going, Bo’s cover got blown… then you appeared and cracked the case for us… and that basically was the end of it… until… well I was due to return to Spain when a new assignment came through… my fresh orders were to track down Fatima and get her back to safety… Other agents were on the case at the time… It was known she’d arrived in Britain but could not be traced… somehow she’d got lost in the system.”

I’m afraid at this point I interrupted again.

“So you did your job and found her!” I said and probably stating the obvious.

Fernando nodded his head. For once I’d got something right.

“Yes, we found her,” he confirmed, “she was being kept in a cellar at some seedy joint in the East End of London… we were told she was an obedient and willing slave and could be purchased for a price,… so we negotiated and a deal was struck… Fatima was then released and transferred here and became our property.”

I think I found it amusing and gave a wry smile.

“So you got Fatima back and then she spilled the beans,” I said and going back to my previous suggestion.

Fernando looked pensive.

“Not exactly,” he said thoughtfully, “she wasn’t able to tell us much at all… at least nothing we didn’t know already.”

So I got it wrong again! Believe me, I’m not usually this bad when trying to weight things up.

“What did you want to know then?… what was she meant to find out?” I asked after collecting my thoughts.

Fernando put his hands together as if in prayer, then collected his own thoughts before answering.

“Our brief was, and still is, to find the ringleaders of the operation here in Britain… there is someone big over here shipping in the girls and supplying all the clubs… what we want to know is his name and how he’s managing to bring them in to this country… at the moment it’s all a complete mystery to us… the trouble is, this club, Hendry’s, is a bit unique in that it caters for a more affluent clientele,… this smuggling syndicate is flooding the lower end of the market, and there are literally thousands of small clubs and businesses out there all willing to accept young girls that can be kept as slaves for little or no money.”

I should have realised that there was more to it than finding Fatima. So now I knew. They were looking for a Mr. Big Time so they could break up his operation.

“So Fatima didn’t really reveal much and the trail went dead? Basically the operation came to nothing?” I surmised.

Fernando nodded his head.

I felt pleased for getting something right.

“That about sums it up Woody,” he said with a sigh, “Fatima reckons she spent most of her time cooped up inside a shipping container along with about a dozen others girls… when they were not in a container they were taken to safe houses… but it was always a quick transfer from container to a van… and they were always handcuffed and blindfolded before the transfer took place,… however, from the languages spoken she reckoned she travelled up through Spain and then France… she says she did two ferry crossings… one across the Mediterranean, the other across the Channel… but which ports she left and which ports she arrived at she could not say.

“A couple of things that might help… whilst being loaded for the second ferry crossing she managed to get a look out of one of the small holes in the side of the container… she reckons the holes were there to give a bit of ventilation…. and she says she saw a group of people outside talking in French… we therefore believe it to be a French port she left… and close to a safe house because she said there was only a short drive to the docks… Pierre got involved after that… the French Authorities assigned him to us as a gesture of International Co-operation.”

“The second point Fatima reported was when she finally arrived in this country… she says whilst being transferred from the container to the back of a large vehicle her blindfold was not on properly and through the corner of an eye she saw an old sailing ship in a harbour… but that’s it I’m afraid… that’s all we managed to get out of the operation… but like I said at the beginning,… consider this to be a little bit of International Co-operation… we have people all over Europe working on it… and all our countries want to put a stop to this.”

I guess things were now starting to make sense, at least until I started thinking about what happened down in the corridor. I asked the question that was burning in my brain.

“Then, if Fatima knew very little, why was she taken?… And by whom?” I asked.

Fernando looked pensive once more.

“Because she agreed to be a plant again,… and I assume she was taken by people working in the Submissive Trade,” he told me. “You see Woody, we’d worked out a plan that would hopefully lead us to the people at the top… we put out the word… we let it be known that Fatima was an undercover agent and that she had gained a lot of inside information on the smuggling ring, and that she even knew the identity of the people at the top,… we let it be known that she was now about to spill the beans as you put it.”

I guess I was becoming confused again. If they wanted to get Fatima abducted, which seems to be what happened, then why all the panic? They’d achieved their objective. Their plant was now firmly in the grasp of the smuggling ring, and if not found soon most likely going to end up at the bottom of the Thames wearing concrete boots.

“So the plan worked… the message got through… and Fatima got herself abducted,… great!..” I stated, then asked: “So where is she now?… and why all the panic?”

Fernando looked sad and pulled a distorted face.

“Because we weren’t ready for it… we didn’t expect anything to happen so soon… we only put out our message just before the show started… we didn’t expect anything to happen for a couple of days at least… but all the same, we were going to have Fatima watched and followed as soon as tonight’s show was over,” he said painfully.

I guess I smiled. I was thinking what a load of bundling idiots we’d got here. It seemed what little International Co-operation existed, it still hadn’t got its act together. What also concerned me was the speed in which everything happened.

“You say you only started putting out the message this evening, just before the show started?… Then that must mean there were people in the crowd working for this smuggling ring?” I suggested.

Fernando did not disagree.

“We’re not as strict now and don’t vet our clientele like we used to, so I guess you’re right… the message must have got through straightaway… and obviously too quickly for us to react… we made a right mess of it didn’t we?” he said sadly.

I didn’t want to disagree either. These were just a bunch of amateurs. But rather than bemoan the fact, I put my mind into gear and thought back to the moment when Pierre burst into the Ladies Changing Room. He had something in his hand. It just had to be a tracking device and it just had to be Fatima he was tracking, and I assumed that’s how they intended to follow her.

I turned to Pierre.

“Obviously now the priority is to find out where they’ve taken Fatima… We’re not going to find the culprits out of two-hundred people… and they’ve probably gone by now… so tell me Pierre, what were you doing with that tracking device you had in your hand?” I asked.

Pierre retrieved it from his pocket, switched it on and handed it across to me. There was a little screen with semi-circular lines across it, and a flashing pulse radiating from the centre. I was watching the steady pulse and weighing up the buttons when the Frenchman spoke.

“There is a small transmitter in one of Fatima shoes… it’s down in the changing room now… that’s what I was doing when I burst into the room… I was trying to track her down… the trouble is she never had time to change… her shoe’s still there in her locker,” explained Pierre.

I nodded my head. It all made sense now. Previously it was something else that concerned me. I was wondering how Pierre knew Fernando was inside the Ladies Changing Room? Now I understood: It was the shoe he was after, not Fernando.

I pointed the device in the direction I knew to be the changing room and watched the pulse beat straight down the centre of the screen. I watched it for a while then tried to summarise.

“So Fatima’s gone… whisked away without a transmitter… and you’ve no means of finding her?” I told them.

Amongst the glum faces Fernando interjected a glimmer of hope.

“There is another transmitter,… but it’s short range and it needs Fatima to activate it,” he explained.

I became both interested and concerned. As far as I could ascertain, poor old Fatima was completely naked when she got whisked away. She’d have to be clever to hide it, and I didn’t think Fernando nor Pierre were aware that the clothes she was carrying were scattered all over the pathway outside the emergency exit door. I recalled that the door had closed behind me when I helped Fernando inside, and as far as I was aware, no one had since been outside to look.

I collected my thoughts once more. As you can imaging I was most curious.

“What other transmitter?” I asked.

Fernando looked to Pierre. I saw Pierre shuffle uneasy on his chair. I think they were both getting embarrassed by the cock-ups, and I guess neither were too sure whether the transmitter was on her person or not. However, Fernando went on to explain.

“Fatima was wearing a collar about her neck,” he told me, “If the stud nearest the buckle is turned one complete revolution to the left then it starts transmitting a signal. If she’s managed to do that, then we can pick it up within half a mile radius. I guess our only hope now is to start scouring the streets of London in the hope of picking up the signal.”

I could see the impossible task set before them. London was a big city, Fatima might not have been taken there anyway, and she might not have had a chance to activate her collar. It could even have been taken away and disposed off. I was also wondering whether the signal could be picked up from the bottom of the Thames? At least that would locate the body. I was beginning to think this was the last we would ever see of poor old Fatima.

I wanted to help, but I could see no way out of the mess. My thoughts returned to what happened in the corridor below. I was thinking; perhaps Fernando could remember something that would give us a clue as to Fatima’s abductors. I was clutching at straws, but it was our only chance.

“Tell me Fernando, what happened downstairs in the corridor?” I asked. “Go through what happened… perhaps there are some clues there.”

Fernando shuffled in his seat. He looked uneasy. He tried to explain.

“I’d come up here to my office to make a phone call… I was explaining to my own boss that the word was now out… having done that I then went back down the stairs… as I reached the bottom I caught sight of a struggle in the doorway… I saw two men trying to abduct Fatima… I think one was wearing a hood, but I didn’t get a good look at either of them… I went to her rescue and got struck on the head… and the next thing I knew I was sat up against the door with you facing me.”

It was a simple tale which, judging by the size of the lump on Fernando’s head, rang true. I tried to sum up everything as I saw it, and I tried to get Pierre involved too, so I looked his way.

“I see,” I said pensively, “then from somewhere around the front of the building they made their getaway… Hulk on the door spotted them… perhaps tried to stop them… but he’s a bit slow due to his size, and they got away… he then telephoned you Pierre.. you say you were down in the Gentlemen’s Changing Room at the time… on hearing the news you immediately came running… took out the tracking device, made your way to the Ladies Changing Room, and that’s when we bumped into each other so to speak.”

Pierre nodded his head.

I think I’d summed up everything perfectly.

“That’s what happened,” he agreed. “I was just getting changed to announce our second act when the phone rang,… and like you say… I came running.”

The mention of the second act made Fernando remark out loud.

“Oh dear!… I’d forgotten about the second act,” he said and looked to the time on a clock on the wall.

Now let me explain; each revue evening consists of two acts, both of one hour duration. The first act starts at eight o’clock and goes on until nine. Then there is a one hour break, and the final show takes place after that between ten and eleven o’clock. The time was now a quarter to ten. There was about fifteen minutes left in which to organise the second show.

Fernando looked to Pierre.

“What are we going to do without Fatima?” he asked.

Pierre looked to Suzette who was sat by his side and remained silent up till now.

“We need a substitute… and fast,” said Suzette.

I was getting confused again.

“Why?… What’s happened?” I interrupted once more.

Fernando turned to me and explained: “Suzette and Fatima were going to perform a double lesbian act for the second show… but we’ve no Fatima!… and we’ve got an audience waiting… somehow we’ve got to keep things going as normal and make it look like nothing’s happened, otherwise I think our cover might get blown.”

I wasn’t into all this Secret Agent stuff, but I could see some logic in what Fernando was saying.

All went quiet for a few seconds before Anthea broke the silence. Never one to miss an opportunity for sex and bondage she came charging to the rescue like the cavalry riding over the hill. I guess she could see great prospects for herself, and for the first time since the meeting began she could talk about a subject close to her heart.

“Why don’t I take Fatima’s place?” she suggested.

Fernando, Pierre and Suzette looked to each other.

“It could just work,” announced Pierre, “but do you know what to do?”

I chuckled under my breath. Obviously Pierre didn’t know Anthea. It was like asking a fish whether it could swim.

“Just tell me the routine and I’ll do it,” said Anthea and bubbling over with enthusiasm.

Pierre turned to Fernando.

“It looks like we’ve got a second act after all,” he told him.

Anthea stood up and took Suzette by the arm. I guess she just wanted to get away from here. All this spy and intrigue stuff was probably getting too much for her.

“Well don’t just sit there… come on… let’s do it,” she said to Suzette as she tugged at her arm.

Suzette stood up and the two girls made for the door.

Seeing the meeting was about to break up, Fernando addressed Pierre.

“Pierre, I think you’d better go and finished getting changed so that you can make the announcement. You can come back afterwards and finish off this conversation,” he told him.

I don’t think Pierre wanted to leave, but he reluctantly agreed and followed the girls out of the room.

As the door closed behind them, Fernando spoke.

“Pierre’s only joined us today, so I guess we can continue without him,” he said.

I was thinking our little meeting did break up somewhat prematurely, but on reflection perhaps it was a good thing. I also read between the lines. Fernando wanted to speak to me alone, so I got straight to the point.

“Well Fernando, now you’ve let me into your little secret, what do you want me to do about it?” I asked.

Fernando gave a wry smile.

“Woody, we need an outsider on this case… you have a good reputation and I think our own cover is blown… we need to crack this ring… that is priority number one… we want to nail the guy at the top… and I think you can do it for us,” he explained.

I was flattered, but I must admit I was expecting something like this. But at the time my concerns still lay with Fatima, somehow she didn’t get a mention in Fernando’s statement.

“What about Fatima?” I asked.

Fernando thought for a while. I guess he wanted to put this the best way he could.

“As for Fatima,” he started, “well we’ve got other agents out in the field that can be called upon to find her… she knew the risks she was taking when she agreed to take on the job,… and hopefully she is quite capable of handling the situation herself.”

I weighed up the situation as Fernando called it. He wasn’t saying it in so many words, but the bottom line was; Fatima was expendable as long as they got the top man. I didn’t like it, but I guess that was how these guys operated. They all knew the risks they were taking before they even took on the job.

I resigned myself to the fact and switched my mind into considering the offer. Deep down I really wanted to take on the job. I was intrigued and my brain was already working overtime. I could see holes in their stories; things that just didn’t ring true. But I also weighed up my other commitments. I had Sandy to collect in Birmingham tomorrow, and Bruce and Jenny returning to my cottage in midweek, probably Wednesday. If the truth be known, I was looking forward to the return of the Australians. It was party time again, and besides, I was meant to be retired now.

I gave him a straight and honest answer. I shook my head. “Sorry Fernando, but you’ve caught me at a bad time,” I told him. “I’d love to help, but I’ve too many commitments of my own right now… perhaps in a few weeks time, if you’ve got Fatima back by then, perhaps I can make a fresh start and see what I can dig up.”

Fernando looked disappointed.

“Woody, there’s money in it for you… lots of money… you can name your own price… all courtesy of the European Union,” he explained.

I didn’t like to tell him I had more money than was needed, courtesy of a rich and grateful neighbour. Furthermore, having just discovered Anthea’s wealth, I was thinking of asking her to marry me. Sorry, I jest! I love Anthea dearly, but what would I do without Sandy? I must admit living as a threesome has lots of benefits, and I had no plans to change anything in the foreseeable future.

I shook my head again. “Sorry Fernando, but tomorrow I’m planning on returning to my cottage in the countryside and staying there for the rest of the summer,” I told him.

Fernando shrugged his shoulders. I think he knew that he was going to be turned down even before he made the offer.

“Anyway Woody, please consider it,” he replied. “If you ever change your mind,… I’m here and always waiting for your phone call.”

I got up and shook his hand across the desk.

“Thanks Fernando, I’ll consider it,” I told him, “but now I’ll go and watch the show. The second half should be about to start, and I wouldn’t like to miss Anthea’s performance.”

“I’ll see you around then Woody,” he answered, “forgive me if I don’t come down with you,… but as you’ll appreciate, I’ve got a few urgent phone calls to make… I need to get some of our boys onto Fatima straightaway… I think you understand?”

I did and wished him: “Good luck.”

Fernando smiled, but I guess I was leaving him disappointed.

“Thanks Woody, I’ll need it,” he said, then added: “and by the way, thanks for what you did for me down in the corridor!”

I felt a little embarrassed.

“Fernando, believe me, it was nothing,” I replied demurely, then made for the door before this conversation got too emotional.

As the door closed behind me I took stock of the situation. The first thing that came to mind was that I’d absently walked out of the room with Pierre’s tracking device in my hands. I went to hand it back, then had second thoughts; instead I switched it off and put it in my pocket.

I then started to piece together everything I’d heard. For the first time I was alone and with my thoughts, and one thing kept just kept coming back to me. If no one had done anything about it, then Fatima’s clothes would still be in a big heap outside the emergency exit door. I formulated a quick plan since time was running short. Before going to watch Anthea perform on stage I decided to go outside the back door and see what I could find. Perhaps I was clutching at straws, but at times of struggle, items do sometimes get dislodged.


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From Fernando’s office I made my way to the back stairs. From the top of the landing I could hear voices below so I hung back for a while. I listened closely and recognised the voices. They were Anthea, Suzette and Pierre discussing their routine. I then heard the door to the bar open and the sound of many voices drifted up the stairs. A ripple of applause then broke out. Eventual the door closed and silence fell. I assumed they were now all in the bar and it was safe to go down the stairs.

Cautiously I descended to the corridor below. I was right, the place was deserted. Quickly I moved on down the corridor to the emergency door. It was closed and held by a Yale lock. It needed a key to get in from the outside, but could be opened from the inside. I wanted to go outside, but also be able to get back in, so I slid the catch that held the lock open. I then moved through the door to the pathway outside. It was dark and orange floodlights were shining amongst the bushes and lighting up the back of the house.

Fatima’s clothes were spread out over the footpath. I must admit I didn’t get much of a look the first time round, but from memory I think everything was just had I’d first seen it. Basically the clothes were more bundled together rather than scattered, giving the impression they’d just been dropped then maybe kicked in a struggle. I didn’t touch anything at first but looked around. I guess that was just instinct. It’s in every detectives training not to disturb anything until forensics arrive.

What I did find was something not unexpected. Lying on the ground between the door and the clothes was a cotton pad. I doubted whether there would be fingerprints on this so I picked it up and put it to my nose. It was, as I suspected, soaked in chloroform.

I put the pad in my pocket and returned to investigate the pile of clothes. There was a skirt and sweater there, plus two sandal type shoes. I lifted up the sweater and found bra and panties lying underneath.

Seeing no further evidence lying around, I gathered everything up in my arms. I didn’t want to leave anything outside just in case they might be found by someone who might start asking a lot of awkward questions. It was my intention to collect everything up and deposit the bundle somewhere in the Ladies Changing Room. Where exactly I was not sure, but somewhere in an unused locker came to mind.

With my arms loaded I looked around to see if I’d missed anything. I guess I was looking for the baton. I was sure Fatima was carrying it when she passed through the door. Then something caught my eye. It was just a sparkle in the gravel, so I bent down to take a closer look. I moved all the clothes to one arm then fumbled amidst the loose stones. My fingers located an object and I picked it up.

Immediately on seeing what I’d found I gave a little smile. It was one of my own cufflinks. At least at the time I thought it was. It was gold, circular in shape, and had a small single diamond inset in the middle. I looked to my one arm that was free; my cufflink was there glinting at me. I then shuffled everything across to my other arm and looked to my other sleeve. To my surprise my other cufflink was there too. Now this I found very interesting. I now had three identical cufflinks!

Deep in thought I returned to the corridor, watched the door close slowly behind me, it was a very slow spring, then moved on to the ladies room. I tried the doors to several lockers before I found one that was not locked. The bottom portion was empty so I dumped everything inside. As I went to close the door a bottle on the top shelf caught my eye. I fetched it down and read the label. It said; ‘Chloroform’. I found this most interesting and wondered perhaps if this bottle had just been put to good use outside? But on further investigation I concluded that it could not have been. This was a brand new bottle and had never been opened. I put it back on the shelf. My only conclusion being that chloroform was a common substance at the club and used by more than one person.

On my return to the corridor I considered going into the bar through the door in front of me, but changed my mind. There were too many eyes that could be watching. Quickly I scaled the stairs to the floor above, crossed the landing and descended the main staircase over on the other side. I then entered the bar through the main doorway.

The show had just started when I entered, so I jostled my way to the bar. I deliberately stood at Claudette’s half and waited my turn, even though I could see a smaller queue waiting over on Sadie’s half.

Once served I found a vacant high stool and settled down to enjoy the entertainment.


                                                          * * *


Anthea and Suzette were well into their act when I settled down to watch, and I didn’t catch Pierre’s introduction. So I didn’t really know what to expect. But on reflection I don’t think that was necessary. What I was watching was a lesbian love scenario, with obviously one dominant and one submissive partner. Needless to say, Suzette was the dominatrix and Anthea the submissive, and somehow I could never imaging the roles being any different.

Both girls were well into taking their kit off. Anthea was down to bra, suspender belt and stockings - her panties were already gone when I looked up - and Suzette’s state of undress was not dissimilar, though her panties remained along with a black leather peaked cap.

Suzette’s underwear matched her leather cap; she was all in black, whilst what little remained on Anthea was white. I guess there was meant to be something symbolic about their choice of colours; a sort of good verses evil; black knight against white knight element at play here. But on reflection I didn’t think either girl had received much time to get changed, so this was probably what they were wearing underneath anyway.

Suzette carried a flail and was using it to beat Anthea into submission and basically forcing her to take off all her clothes. The whip was one of those that had about a dozen strips of soft flat leather attached to a short handle, and when it struck didn’t seemed to be doing much damage at all. It wasn’t even making much sound. So I guess you can call that symbolic too.

I had to smile though. I knew a much simpler method of making Anthea remove all her clothes. You just had to say to her; take off all your clothes, and she did it without question. However, on this occasion Anthea was proving stubborn and refusing to obey until being thrashed about a dozen times by the whip. I found this highly commendable and realised that what she was doing was completely against her nature and required a lot of will power. I wondered if all the other people watching the performance knew this?

Anyway, slowly piece by piece Anthea relieved herself of her garments, and every time she disposed of an item, Suzette responded likewise. This went on until Suzette was the only girl wearing something, and that happened to be that peaked cap of hers.

When this was done, and after Anthea had spent a few minutes cupping her breasts and flashing her tits at the audience, the hoist at centre stage was lowered. Now this was the same hoist mechanism that had been used in the previous act, complete with spreader bar and leather cuffs at either end; and it just appeared to drop down from nowhere and right on cue. Now I must mention here, I did notice something different about the spreader bar. There were now two cuffs to either end instead of one. I wondered if this was deliberate? Or something I’d missed during the first performance? Anyway, I was soon to find out.

I imagined Pierre must have had something to do with all this and was working hard behind the scenes, and trying his best to keep up with the action. I wondered if all this was written down on a script somewhere? Submissive; flashes tits at audience: Aside; hoist is lowered? But after watching the action a little more closely, I doubted it.

With the hoist lowered, Suzette thrashed Anthea all around the stage until she came to be standing beneath the bar. Why she bothered in the first place I’ll never know, because Anthea was standing in that very spot when the action began? (Forgive me, I’m being cynical here, and I shouldn’t be! I should just simply be reporting what I saw and leave any conclusions to you the reader! Sorry!)

Anyway, with Anthea shepherded into the right position for the second time, Suzette buckled her wrists to the straps at either end of the bar, then signalled for the hoist to be raised. As if on cue, Anthea began to rise until her feet were some two feet off the stage. The hoist stopped, Suzette sent Anthea slowly spinning, then set about flogging her some more.

Playing to the audience now, Suzette walked to the front of the stage and asked: “More?… Does she deserve more?”

She then held a hand to one ear and listened to the reply.

The crowd quite naturally responded by hooting and whistling, and baying for Anthea’s blood. Suzette obliged by returning to Anthea and administering a slow rhythmical beating of about a dozen strokes. She then returned to front stage and questioned once more whether she should repeat the dosage.

Of course the answer, by popular demand, was always; “Yes!” and quite naturally Suzette always duly obliged.

This sequence of asking, then beating, must have gone on for about a dozen times; then the villain of the piece stepped on stage. It was Pierre. He had changed his clothes, or perhaps this was how he was dressed from the start. But when I last saw him he was wearing navy blue trousers and a white shirt. Now he had a grey suit on, complete with dickie bow.

Suzette, on seeing Pierre walk on stage, looked shocked. She dropped her whip, tossed away her peaked cap, and fell to her knees. She then began to plead with Pierre to forgive her. I assumed the storyline was something to the effect that Suzette was meant to be Pierre’s lover and he’d caught her in the act doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. Oh what a naughty Suzette! It might not have been this scenario, but it’s the nearest I can get to any kind of explanation. Perhaps you’ve got better ideas?

Anyway, Pierre was obviously the master here, and was having none of it. Apparently Suzette had been a very naughty girl and had to have her comeuppance. Pierre looked to the hoist and saw Anthea swinging freely on the end. He then appeared to have a brain wave. At his signal the hoist was lowered, which in itself was remarkable and suggested someone else and not Pierre had been working the buttons all along.

Now, as all the action focused on the hoist, I saw the significance of those two leather straps to either end of bar. Anthea’s one hand was unbuckled and moved across to the other side. Her free wrist was then re-buckled so that she stood with arms together and attached to one end of the spreader bar. Next Suzette was made to stand at the other end, and her wrists were then buckled to the two straps over on the other side.

With both girls standing facing each other, the hoist was raised once more until their feet were off the ground. Now we were looking at two girls dangling from either end of the bar, and, in general, balancing each other out. If anything Suzette was slightly heavier, but it made little difference.

For a few seconds after that, Pierre disappeared off stage only to return with what looked like a couple of small chains and a great pile of small weights. He dumped all the weights on the floor beneath the girl’s feet, then held up the two chains for all to see. He was at great pains to point out the crocodile teeth clamps on the ends of both chains.

It wasn’t long before the audience found out what Pierre was intending to do with this little collection of chains and clamps. I think I knew anyway and I guess everybody else in the room did?

With the two girls turned to face each other, a chain was clipped to first Suzette’s nipple and then stretched across to Anthea’s nipple. The second chain was then applied in a similar manner, so that when the task was complete, the girls hung by their wrists from the bar, and facing each other with their nipples linked by two short chains.

It was now Pierre’s turn to play to the audience.

He walked to the front of the stage, held two weights up in his hands and started asking whether he should apply them or not?

Of course the answer was an emphatic ‘yes’, and Pierre duly obliged.

He returned to the girls and hooked first one weight over the centre of one chain, then did likewise to the other. Now the chains linking the nipples of the two girls hung in a definite ‘V’ shape instead of the previous gentle downward curve that existed from the start. It also drew the girls a little closer to each other as the weights pulled down on the chain.

The crowd cheered as Pierre stepped aside to reveal the results of his handiwork.

You’d think that would be enough punishment for the girls. I for one didn’t think they’d been that naughty. But of course I was wrong. Two little weights tugging on their nipples proved to be just the beginning of their chastisement, and not the end. Two more weights were recovered from a pile on the floor, then held aloft for all the audience to see.

Pierre kept nodding his head and asking: “Shall I?… Do they deserve more?”

Of course there could be only one answer.

“Yes!… Yes!… Yes!… More!… More!… More!…” bayed the crowd amidst a cacophony of wolf whistles.

Well you guessed it, more weights were loaded and the operation repeated time and time again.

It soon began to look very painful for the girls; and for Suzette more then Anthea. But give both girl’s their due credit, they stuck to it like true professionals: And as for the crowd, well, they were loving every minute of it.

I could also see what was happening now, and understood Pierre’s ultimate goal. With every additional weight attached to the chains, the girls bodies became drawn more and more closer together. That vee-shape in the chain forever closing, and the girls nipples progressively inching that little bit closer together.

In the end it needed ten weights in total to be attached to each chain, that’s twenty in all, before the performance finally drew to a close. The last two weights being the one’s that drew the girls tits together, or at least to the point where those vicious crocodile clips were touching.

It was at this point Pierre took his bow. I looked to my watch. The time was exactly eleven o’clock. Such perfect timing. I applauded along with the rest. I was impressed. But I do remember thinking; for someone reportedly acting as a Government Agent, and only appeared on the scene that day, Pierre did seem to have an incredible amount of inside knowledge of the BDSM industry. I was wondering were he acquired all this expertise?

As the girls were released from the hoist and the lights came up, the crowd hooted and whistled for more. I took this as my cue and turned to the bar before anyone else got there. I ordered myself another double whisky on the rocks. I also ordered a double martini with lots of lemon slices for Anthea. I guessed she deserved it after standing in at the last minute and giving such an excellent performance.

I was hoping she’d had enough bondage for one night and wouldn’t want to go through it all again when we got back to the hotel. But knowing Anthea, I knew that to be just wishful thinking on my part.

With thoughts of a long night ahead of me, I knocked back my whisky and had my glass refilled; this time to the top. I then settled back down on my stool and resigned myself to another breakfast of aspirins and black coffee in the morning.


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End of Chapter Three