* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Paperwork

It was nine o'clock in the morning when I finally got round to collecting my hired Jaguar from the back street where I'd left it. I was thankful that it was all in one piece and still had four good tyres. On several occasions I had been ready to collect my car, but whenever a lift became available an emergency call came in and I was put on hold again.
Anyway, the time spent waiting proved useful and I managed to get in several long chats with Harry Bell, mainly between cups of strong coffee to keep us both awake, and, as a result I began to appreciate what his operation was all about now. I could now see that I'd interfered with something that was none of my business, and I left Harry with a solemn vow that I wouldn't cross his path again.
As I drove back to my hotel I took stock of what I'd managed to achieve thus far. This was now the Friday morning of what had been a very busy and eventful week, but alas, for all my hard work and effort, I was nowhere nearer to finding Judy Jones than I had been a week ago. All I'd managed to do was get myself involved in a case that was none of my business. On leaving Harry Bell's office I'd been warned not to go anywhere near Hendry's place ever again. From now on the club was strictly taboo and off limits. Harry had a whole operation to pick up and revive and he did not want me meddling in his affairs anymore. I gave my solemn oath that I would not return.
It was after ten o'clock in the morning when I finally got back to my hotel. I hung the 'Do Not Disturb' notice on the door and lay down on the bed. I'd not had any sleep for thirty-six hours or more and was shagged out. I think I must have fallen asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. The next thing I knew it was nine o'clock in the evening. I been asleep for eleven hours. I took a quick shower, got a late meal in the hotel restaurant, then went back to bed.
That, I'm afraid is the story as far as Friday went, and I only mention it on passing, because, like all other aspects of this case, once more found myself being driven by influences beyond my control, and all because of a little paperwork.
Apparently my 'Do Not Disturb' notice had prevented my nosy cleaner from coming into the room. That, in itself is not very important. I didn't want her anyway. What was significant was the fact that sometime during the day I'd had a form pushed under my door. It was asking me to fill in times for the following week. The form wanted to know when it would be best for my cleaner to attend. I could also order breakfast and meals in my room if I so desired, and have my trousers pressed and my shoes cleaned for a little extra charge.
All this I gather was hotel policy. I'd not actually given a booking-out date, and therefore, and unbeknown to me, I was classed as a long-term guest, and that is why I was being offered this special treatment.
Anyway, let me tell you where this part of the story is leading, and what significance that form had on me.
By Saturday morning I was awake and ready to renew my challenge. The only trouble was, I had nowhere to go. I considered taking a risk and going back to Hendry's club. But with Harry Bell's warning, and his team now very much exposed, I didn't think that was a wise move to make. And besides, anyone found snooping or asking awkward questions at the club would surely fall under the spotlight, and the last thing I wanted was to jeopardise Harry's operation any further. And anyway, I'd promised to keep out of his way from now on, and I was not prepared to go back on my word.
I found a pen and started to fill in the form. I'd only got as far as writing down my room number when decided it was a complete waste of time and packed it in. Instead I decided to book out that morning and return to Birmingham. I needed time to clear my head, and was thinking that a change of scenery might very well do the trick. And besides I'd not seen Sandy since last weekend, and I still had my present for her that I'd bought in Soho earlier in the week.
Then suddenly a thought hit me. As I sat by the side of the bed staring at the blank hotel form, my mind returned to the time when I was asked to fill in a form for Hendry. I asked myself, why, if Hendry was such a form fanatic as Fernando had suggested, then where on Earth did he manage to keep all the paperwork? Certainly not in his office at the club, you couldn't store more than a couple of notepads and a few dozen paper clips in there. It had to be someplace else. But where? Could it be his home?
My mind turned to something Anthea had said. Something about getting access to Hendry's own personal dungeon via a secret door in his office. She'd spoken of a drinks cabinet and also filing cabinets, but unfortunately at the time I'd not been listening too closely. My mind had been focused on getting back to Hendry's and rescuing Bo. I wondered if this was where all the paperwork was kept, and if so, what information did he have on Judy Jones?
I changed my mind about booking out of the hotel and decided to stop at least one more night. Today was Saturday. It was revue night at Hendry's, and, if anything, all the action would be going on at the club.
Within seconds I had a new plan and fresh hopes. I grabbed my mobile phone and keyed in 'ANT' for Anthea. The number she'd given me appeared and I pressed 'Call'.
After a long wait a voice answered: "Hello, Anthea speaking."
"Hi, Anthea, remember me?" I said.
"Woody! Is that you?" she questioned.
"Yes sweetheart, it's me, lover boy in person," I said and trying to come on strong.
There was a giggle.
"Well lover boy, what can I do for you?" she replied.
"I'd thought that we'd meet up again. Maybe carry on from where we left off last time," I suggested.
"Anytime big boy, anytime. When do you suggest?" asked Anthea.
I decided to be cautious and enquire about Hendry's moves first. I was thinking of Harry Bell and the club, and not wanting to jeopardise the investigation any further.
 "What's Hendry doing tonight?" I asked.
I hoped the answer would be at his club and watching the review. However Anthea giggled once more and I wondered why it was so funny.
"Don't worry about Hendry, he's gone abroad," she informed me. "He said he'd got some important business to sort out and wouldn't be back for at least a week. So lover boy, the house is free for you to come and go whenever you please."
I was geared up for tonight. I looked to my watch and made fresh plans. It was ten o'clock in the morning and I had nothing else to do.
"I can be there in an hour," I told her. "Get the dungeon warmed up so that you don't get goose-pimples, and oh, find the key to that drinks cabinet, it might prove thirsty work."
Anthea giggled continuously whilst I spoke.
"I thought you said you'd handcuff me to the bed and keep fucking me until I shouted stop?" she reminded me.
I laughed along with her. I hoped I sounded convincing.
"That little luxury comes afterwards sweetheart, but only as a reward for being a good girl down in the dungeon first," I told her.
Anthea was laughing by now.
"Woody, somehow you always seem to smooth talk me into anything," she said.
"I guess I must," I told her, "so how about it sweetheart?"
Anthea's voice turned deep and sexy.
"Lover boy, you've got the remote. Come up to the house and let yourself in. I'll leave the front door open. I'll be waiting anytime," she purred.
"In about an hour's time then?" I suggested once more.
"Woody, I shall count the seconds down," she replied in that same sexy voice.
"See you in one hour's time then Anthea," I repeated.
"Bye lover boy," whispered Anthea, then ominously added: "I love you!"
"Bye," I said and put the phone down quickly.
Anthea was getting hot just being spoken to on the phone. I wondered what she would be like once I got there?
I lay down on the bed and folded my arms behind my head. I think I was feeling all hot and fuzzy too. It's not everyday one gets invitations like that.
Anyway, after a few minutes daydreaming, I got up, showered and splashed myself all over with body lotion and aftershave. I wanted to be at my sweet smelling best when I turned up at Anthea's.

* * *

 I arrived at the gates to Hendry's mansion and aimed the remote at a little black box at the side. The nearest gate slid smoothly open and I moved forward one car's length. The gate behind me then slid shut and the one in front opened. I drove out and set off up the long driveway to the house.
After turning a corner and leaving the tall trees behind me, I saw Hendry's house for the first time in daylight. It was huge and must have cost a fortune. I guessed it was laundered drugs money that built all this, and I prayed that Harry Bell would get the guy someday. I was still seething over the things he did to Bo.
The dogs must have been sleeping out back when I swung around in front of the house. They arrived barking and growling as I switched off the engine. Great clawed feet thudded hard against my side window then scratched down the paint work on the side. I wondered what sort of bill I'd get when I returned the car.
Tentatively I wound down the electric window. I just hoped that what Anthea had said was right, otherwise I was about to lose an arm. With one hand poised on the 'up' button, I slowly put out a hand. First one dog sniffed, and then the other. Then suddenly there was an immediate change. Tails started to wag and it looked like they wanted me to come out and play. From somewhere a ball appeared and it was dropped on the ground alongside the car. I breathed a sigh of relief and wound the window back up. Now all I had to worry about was the terrier inside the house.
I got out of the car, picked up the ball, and drop-kicked it as far as I could across the lawn. The two dogs, barking like hell, chased away in the distance. I took this as my chance and made haste up the steps to the front door and tested the handle. The door opened and I stepped quickly in.
I think I was expecting the sight that greeted me. There were marble statues in the hall, a huge winding staircase, and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Whoever designed the club had a hand in this as well. I guessed it was Hendry's influence.
As I looked upwards I first saw a hand on the rail and then a figure descending. I smiled. It was Anthea. She was dressed in a black lace negligée with red frilly trimmings, and on her feet she wore carpet slippers of matching red and black colours.
I whistled as she descended the last step. We met somewhere beneath the chandelier and kissed hard and long.
"Well lover boy, you made it on time," she remarked as we broke our clench.
"I rushed all the way sweetheart," I told her.
Anthea smiled.
"Do you want that drink first Woody?" she asked now that our little greeting was over.
On the way here I'd already decided to gain back some of the initiative. It seemed to me Anthea herself could be very dominant when she wanted, especially on her own patch with two big dogs as companions. I was not prepared to let this happen again. There was too much at stake, including my own skin if either Hendry or Harry Bell every got to find out.
"I want you, down in the dungeon, now," I told her, and trying to sound as stern as possible. I then added: "And from now on you must call me Master and only speak to me when I tell you. Is that clear?"
Anthea dropped her arms to side, lowered her head, and with big eyes looking up at me answered: "Yes Master, I understand."
The change in character was remarkable. Now she was my slave.
"Good," I said, "now take me to the dungeon."
Anthea led me down a long corridor to a doorway at the end. From a pocket in her negligée she extracted a small bunch of keys and opened up the door. I'd told her not to speak, otherwise I think she would have said 'this is Hendry's office'.
Anyway, we entered in silence.
The room was very similar to Hendry's office back at the club. The big desk was there, so was the high-backed leather chair which backed onto a window. The floor too was thickly carpeted. I looked beyond the desk and the chair. This time there was no balcony. This was the ground floor remember, so instead there were French windows that opened out onto a terrace. I looked outside. The lawns were extensive, but I could see no peacocks. I guessed the dogs must have eaten them.
My eyes drifted back into the room. The walls were panelled in a rich, dark mahogany wood, all electrical fitments were solid gold, and everywhere smelled of luxurious leather and strong scented wax polish. I whistled softly to myself. This was one big executive suite and must have cost a Hendry a fortune.
Bedazzled by all the wealth set before me, I looked around some more. It was apparent that this was also very much a working office. There was a telephone, a photocopier, and a PC computer, complete with printer and scanner, on a smaller desk over against the far wall.
Eventually my eyes turned to the wall behind the door, and I smiled.
In a row against the wall stood four mahogany filing cabinets and a matching drinks cabinet. On top of the drinks cabinet stood an ice bucket and a small dish with a full fresh lemon and a small knife on it. I guessed that Anthea had done a little preparatory work in advance. I moved to the ice bucket and raised up the lid. I was right. It was full of ice cubes.
Whilst I was investigating the ice bucket, Anthea moved to the farthest filing cabinet and inserted a key into the lock. I noticed that it was a golden key, the rest on the ring were silver. As she turned the key a faint motor hummed somewhere, and the cabinet, along with the complete mahogany panel behind, began to recede into the wall. It stopped with enough room inside to walk sideways past.
I joined Anthea and peered into the opening. The walls inside were painted white, lights were already on, and there were steps down. Needless to say, I was impressed. I'd never had discovered this secret entrance had I not been shown.
"Lead on slave. Take me to the dungeon," I told Anthea.
Anthea moved in front of me and began to descend the steps. I followed on close behind. The stairs turned about halfway down so that I was now descending beneath Hendry's office. I was also surprised at the number of steps. There were a lot of them and it was a long way down. At the bottom there was a door. The wood and frame looked new and modern, but it was all done in and old mediaeval style. The door was arched, covered in black metal studs, and had one of those small grills and hatch in it so that you could look out and see who was at the door.
Anthea selected another key, placed it in the lock, and turned. She then opened up the door and stood to one side in order that I could see inside.
I did so, then whistled softly to myself.
This was a dungeon that compared favourably with the one back at Hendry's club. It was a little smaller, but I could see that the same architect must have had a hand in both designs. The walls were in blocked stone, and the ceiling was vaulted and supported by several stone pillars. The end wall farthest away looked just the same too. Here stood a raised area that held a cage, brazier and two posts.
One thing was missing however. Unlike the club, there was no rack in the centre. I felt disappointed. It was silly of me really, but somewhere at the back of my mind I'd always envisaged a rack. My plan was to basically follow my pattern of the other night. I needed to get Anthea safely secured to something before drifting back upstairs and having a good snoop around.
Suddenly I found myself having to make a decision. I needed to find an alternative, and do it quickly. However, as you may have already guessed, I need not have feared. As I scanned the rest of the dungeon I could see that there were plenty of alternatives to choose from.
I turned to Anthea. She remained in the open doorway. She'd not even stepped into the chamber.
"Come in slave, close the door behind you, and do it quietly. Then take off all your clothes," I told her.
I was pleased to note that Anthea was still acting the role of slave, and doing it well. She pushed the door shut gently without a bang, then turned to me and spoke.
"Yes my Master, I will do everything you say my Master," she replied demurely and with her head bowed low.
Whilst Anthea removed what little she was wearing, I took the opportunity to have a little wander about the floor of the chamber. I must admit I was spoilt for choice. There were crosses, chains, and a great number of frames to choose from. In the end I opted for a hoist arrangement set centre floor.
High up in the arched roof was an electric winch that wound in a cable. On the end of the cable was a bar with leather cuffs attached to either end. A control panel on a long wire hung down from the ceiling close by. By pressing either the upward or downward button I discovered that I was able to wind the cable in or out.
Having chosen what piece of equipment to use, I turned to Anthea. She was naked by now and stood demurely with her back to the door.
"Find me a spreader bar slave, and bring it here to me," I ordered, then added: "And do it quickly slave, otherwise you'll be feeling the sting of the lash."
I guessed that there would be a spreader bar somewhere, but I could not see one.
Anthea scuttled away to a corner, and from a large, deep chest retrieved what I was looking for. The spreader bar was much the same as the bar on the end of the cable, with leather cuffs attached to either end. The only difference being that the bar was adjustable and could be moved in and out to suit all circumstances.
Anthea held out the spreader bar for me to take.
"Place it on the floor slave," I told her, "and then stand underneath the hoist. You're going for a ride upwards."
Anthea did as she was told and took up position directly below the winch. I think I detected a smile beneath the straight face she was trying to keep.
I lowered the cable so that the bar came to somewhere around head height. I then moved over to stand by Anthea's side. I couldn't resist it, but for a second or two I fondled with her tits. They were big, and firm, and round, and I loved every minute of it. After that, I took hold of a hand, raised up the arm and buckled the leather strap about the wrist. As I walked across to the other side I tweaked each nipple in turn. They were hard and protruding and I could tell that she was hot. After that Anthea raised up her free arm without prompting, and I secured the second strap about the wrist.
I knelt down on the floor and retrieved the spreader bar.
"Legs open wide," I told her.
Anthea complied.
I strapped her ankles to the bar and opened out the adjustment as far as it would go. When I'd finished her legs were at full stretch. I ran a finger between her outstretched legs, tracing along her crack from back to the front. By the way my finger slid gracefully over the moist surface I could tell that she was hot and horny, and loving every minute of it.
I returned to the winch control and pressed the 'up' button.
"Going up," I told her as the cable wound in.
I took my finger off the button the moment Anthea's feet left the ground. It took a few seconds for the cable to straighten itself out and for a while she gently twisted first one way and then the other.
I was going to leave her in this position, but I think the devil in me said give her another little tease. So I pressed the 'up' button again and waited until Anthea's fanny came level with my nose. Her feet were something like three feet off the ground when I stopped.
Having judged the distance perfectly, I moved forward and rubbed my nose against her mound. It was warm and fuzzy and I could smell her love juices. I extended my tongue and licked along her crack, before finally concentrating on her clitoris for a few seconds. If this didn't make her horny and wanting me when I came back, then nothing would.
I stepped back a little and looked up to her face.
"Guess what I'm going to do next slave?" I asked, "and you may answer me."
Anthea gave a little knowing smile.
"My Master is going for a drink?" she questioned.
My hand returned to her fanny. I ran a finger along her crack once more then teased the clitoris.
"However did you guess slave?" I told her. "You're quite right, it's whisky and soda time, so just hang around for a while will you whilst I go and quench my thirst?"
Before leaving, I spun her around and slapped her backside with my hand. She did about two full circles before slowly spinning back. I slapped her with the palm of my hand one more time as she slowly passed by in the opposite direction, and that's how I left her, twisting slowly backwards and forwards on the end of the long cable.
I set off up the stairs, and collecting Anthea's bunch of keys from the pocket of her negligée on the way out.
On stepping out of the opening I inserted the golden key into the lock of the filing cabinet and turned it in the opposite direction. Slowly the cabinet began to trundle its way back into the room. It stopped on the end of the line to form four filing cabinets a row.
There were labels inset on the front of each drawer. I was looking for employment records or application forms, or something that could be connected with Judy Jones, but any clues in that direction were not forthcoming. Most drawers were labelled with letters. Things like; 'A-H', 'I-Q' and 'R-Z'.
I started at the beginning of the row, at the cabinet nearest the door. I found a key on Anthea's ring that fitted and opened out the first drawer. These were bills. Mainly for Hendry's club, with things like beer, spirits and suchlike. I moved on down the row. The second cabinet seemed to be full of correspondences. There were copies of letters sent and received, and all seemingly relating to legitimate club business. There we requests for membership and return letters turning them down. I moved on again. The third cabinet also proved unfruitful. This was full of tax records, and a haven for the taxman should he ever turn up.
I think I was getting despondent by the time I reached the fourth and last cabinet. Anyway, I tried a silver key in the lock, and instead of trundling back into the wall, the drawers unlocked. I pulled open the top drawer and peered inside. I think I cheered as I saw what looked like application forms. These were exactly the same as the one I filled in when applying for membership. I search through. 'W' was near the back, and I found my form. I put it in my pocket. There was no point leaving incriminating evidence around, especially if the place was likely to get busted in the near future.
I moved on down to the next drawer, and bingo, this was it. It was full of employment records. I scanned through them for a bit, then realised that I had the 'A-H' drawer open.
I opened the next. This was labelled; 'I-Q'. I found the 'J's' and thumbed my way though to 'Jones'. I think I let out a bigger cheer when I found what I was looking for. I just hoped that with the entrance to the secret passage closed and the door below also shut, that Anthea didn't hear me. Anyway, I extracted the 'Application for Employment' form and placed it on the top of the cabinet. I then began to read what Judy Jones had written. Strangely, she'd  given her correct name and address. It read 'Judith Elizabeth Jones, The Burrows, Lower Clunley, The Marches'. I read on. It gave her date of birth and listed her hobbies as travel and speaking foreign languages.
Near the bottom of the form was a space reserved for official use. Here someone, presumably Hendry, had written: 'Good girl, keen and intelligent. Also speaks Spanish well'.
Finding nothing else of note, I took the application form over to the photocopier and made a copy. I then returned the original to the drawer.
I attacked the drinks cabinet next, pouring myself an extra large whisky and soda and then settling myself down in Hendry's chair. I put the photocopy down on the desk and stared blankly at it whilst I had a sip of my drink. I was sure there was something I'd overlooked. But what was it?
Then something hit me. Something so obvious I wondered why I hadn't spotted it before. I asked myself, if this was Judy Jones's handwriting, and if it really was her that had filled in this form, then where was all the neat writing? This was standard schoolgirl scrawl in block uppercase letters. It was all neat enough I suppose. At least it was legible, but it was nowhere near the super-neat, copperplate handwriting I'd seen on the Christmas card.
Now I really was confused. I asked myself another question; if Judy Jones filled in this application form, then who was it that sent the Christmas card to her parents? It certainly wasn't Judy Jones.
My mind drifted back to my first day on the case, and I recalled the note I'd seen at Sandy's, the one with the self bondage instructions written on it. The two handwritings had been so similar I remember asking at the time. I began to ponder. I asked myself, could it possibly be, that whoever it was that sent the Christmas card, was also the author of the self-bondage instructions?
I wasn't a hand writing expert, and the only one I knew was back at Police Headquarters in Birmingham, but there was another way of finding out. I knew somebody that had first hand knowledge of the note's author.
I took my mobile phone from my pocket and dialled Sandy.
"Hello, Sandra Miller speaking," came the answer after only a couple of rings.
She always gave her proper name over the phone even though I can't ever recall hearing anyone call her Sandra.
"Hello sweetheart, remember me?" I said on answering.
"Woody, where are you?" she asked.
I guess she thought I was on my way to her. I think that's the only time I ever phoned her.
"Still in London sweetheart," I told her, "but listen Sandy, I want to ask you something."
There was sigh. I think I'd raised her hopes by phoning and then knocked them down again.
"Fire away then Woody," she said eventually, "what do you want to know?"
I put my question to her.
"Sandy, remember those self-bondage instructions, the ones I read out to you whilst you had your little practice session?" I asked.
It didn't tale her long in answering.
"Yes Woody!.. Why?… Do you want a copy?" she queried. "I've still got it here somewhere."
Trust her to think of something like that. But I was encouraged to hear that the note was still in her possession. With my hands on both the Christmas card and the hand written note I could get them compared by a handwriting expert.
"No Sandy, I don't want a copy," I told her, "I just want to know who wrote it."
Sandy seemed to think for a moment.
"Well, it's a man that goes with Doreen. The regular that watches her go through her routine," she informed me.
I think if there was a degree in the 'Bleeding Obvious', Sandy would have got top marks for that answer.
"I know that already Sandy," I told her, "but I want to know a little more about him. What's his name? What's he look like?"
Again there was a pause. It seemed like Sandy was in deep thought on the other end of the line, and I wondered why?
"I'm not sure Woody… he's a foreigner I think… but I'm not sure," she answered hesitantly.
I was confused and could not understand. Here was a woman who'd performed naked and tied herself up in front of someone and didn't know his name or what he looked like.
"Sandy, can't you just describe him to me?" I asked with perhaps a touch of sarcasm to my voice. "Just tell me roughly what he looks like? That's all I want to know."
Again I got that hesitancy.
"Woody I've only ever seen him once and that was in the dark outside the club when I was about to drive home," she explained.
My mouth dropped. I think I was stunned into silence for a second or two.
"What do you mean Sandy? You've only ever seen him once?" I asked and sounding a little amazed. "I thought you were meant to be doing your self bondage act in front of him on the day I left for London?"
Sandy finally put me straight.
"Woody, I got a call from Doreen that morning, not long after you left. She said she could make it after all. So I didn't go. She said she needed the money, and I didn't mind. So I let her do it, and that's why I never got to see him," she explained.
Well at least that explained the confusion, the trouble was, I was getting nowhere fast and this was rapidly becoming a wasted phone call. In desperation I asked one final question.
"Sandy, can you at least give me a name? Anything that might help?" I pleaded with her.
There was a further long pause.
"It's Boris I think," she finally answered. "Boris Von something, but I'm not sure."
Suddenly my head went into a spin and my mind into overdrive. Surely this wasn't the same Boris I'd seen leaving Hendry's club on the night Bo got tortured? The one that was driving the silver-grey Mercedes? and the one the apeman went outside to wait for?
I had to ask another question.
"Sandy, did you see what car he was driving?" I asked. "You said you saw him when you were leaving the club."
Again I got that long and agonising wait before an answer was forthcoming.
"Yes,… at least I think so Woody… I think I remember seeing him getting into a Mercedes,… and I think it was a big one… and one with German number plates on it,… yes that's what it was Woody… I'm sure it was," explained Sandy.
By now I was on the edge of my seat and biting my fingernails. I just needed one more point clarified before I could be absolutely certain.
"The colour Sandy… do you remember what colour the Mercedes was?" I asked.
Again I had to endure that long agonising wait. I was becoming a nervous wreck by now.
"Err… a sort of silvery grey,… I think Woody," she answered eventually.
I threw back my head and whistled in the air.
"Sandy, you're the most beautiful creature in all of the world… and I love you for it," I said to her.
This time there was no pause in the conversation.
"Woody have you been drinking?" she asked and sounding concerned for my mental health.
"No Sandy, but I'm going to knock a few back now," I told her.
I put the phone down and finished off my whisky and soda. As I returned to the drinks cabinet to pour myself something ten times bigger, and with a lot less soda, I reflected on what my next move should be.
There was just one big question going through my mind: Who the fuck is this mysterious Boris Von something or other?
Harry Bell didn't know. He'd already told me so.
There was only one way to find out. I had to return to the dungeon and play my little interrogation game with Anthea. I felt sure that she would know at least a little something about Boris. I just hoped that she would be as co-operative as she was on the previous occasion.

* * *

End of Chapter Thirteen