Parker: A Bangkok Slavers Story 3

Philip Kennedy paced back and forth nervously in the hotel room. Despite the air conditioning, the young man was sweating profusely in the humid Bangkok air. Every few minutes, he glanced over at the locked briefcase which sat on a table beside the bed, checked his watch, and then resumed pacing.

"Don't get so worked up. Nothing's going to happen until the exchange tomorrow." Kennedy's eyes narrowed as he looked at the other man in the room.

Crawford.

The FBI agent.

"Easy for you to say," he answered angrily. "It's not your fiance on the line."

"I know how you feel."

"You don't have a fucking clue how I feel."

Crawford's face went blank.

Nikki.

"I do know."

He reached up and patted the 9mm Browning he'd arranged to pick up once he had cleared customs.

I didn't want to go back, but I really needed the money.

Candyland was packed. I had deliberately chosen a busy time, hoping to avoid Janice in the crowd. No luck. She was sitting on the couch in Vopat's office next to Tam when I walked in. The brunette - Amanda - was on all fours, naked but for her leather collar and wagging brown tail, her pretty face buried in the redhead's crotch. Melissa was set up the same way between Tam's legs. The two novice whores lapped and slurped hungrily. Tam's riding crop explained their enthusiasm. Vopat sat behind his desk, a smile on his face as he watched his two new recruits demonstrate their obedience.

"Have a seat, Joe."

I was tempted to turn around and walk away, but I didn't want to look like a complete idiot. And, as I said, I needed the money. Trying to ignore my surroundings, I sat down and stared at Vopat across his desk. "You owe me," I told him. "50,000."

He nodded, still smiling. "I pay. You know that, Joe. But first, we make comfort and talk other business."

"Vopat..."

"I insist, Joe."

He clapped his hand.

Tam giggled.

Annie walked into the room. Her face was heavily made up under wild, blonde hair and she was dressed in the standard bar girl outfit: thong bikini, cheap plastic pumps... but for her pale white skin and blue eyes, she was just another bar girl. Just another whore.

"Vopat want Annie?" she asked. Her british accent sounded ridiculous when she spoke like that.

"Serve our guest," Vopat told her, nodding at me.

"Vopat...". What the fuck was he doing? "No. I don't want..."

He ignored me. "If Joe not come in ten minutes, I give you to Tam for punishment. Twenty lashes."

"Twenty five," Tam called, bringing the crop down Melissa's bare ass for punctuation. The blonde girl yelped, let out a couple of muffled barks and then buried her face back in her mistress's pussy.

I stared at Vopat as the ex-stewardess scurried over, slung one long, bare leg over my lap and began to grind her hips into me. "You not like Annie," she pouted, thrusting her breasts in my face. "Annie make you come good." Her expression changed to a leer. "Annie fuckee fuckee." She reached down and began to rub my hardening cock through my pants. Vopat grinned. He knew I didn't want to do it, but he also knew I didn't want to be responsible for twenty five strokes. I stared at the desperate blonde slut writhing and whimpering on my lap, the last part of my (...blondesmilingfaces...) dream flickering through my mind like (...neverforgetnever...) an obscene movie.

Danielle.

"You fuck Annie?"

I gave up.

"On your knees," I told her. I felt sick to my stomach. "Suck."

Her face hardened as she dropped to her knees and coaxed my cock free from my pants with experienced fingers. I couldn't help but moan as she sucked it in and slowly swallowed it down her throat until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. Eight months at Candyland had made a talented cocksucker out of the ex- stewardess.

"Now," Vopat smiled. "We talk business."

Turned out they needed me again.

Something had gone wrong with their plans to pick up the ransom money and they needed someone to go through the motions of exchanging the girls for the money. Purely for show.

I wanted nothing to do with it.

I said so.

Annie let out a gasp of fake passion from my lap.

Vopat offered me a hell of a lot of money.

I agreed to do it.

Janice giggled as I stiffened and came in Annie's mouth. The blonde woman moaned and sucked it all down like the experienced whore she was.

The pickup took place the next day.

I made one last check before going in. The van was parked half a block from the street amidst the piled garbage in an alley just off Joytown. Almost the real world. The three girls were in the back. Melissa and Amanda were naked except for their leather dog collars and red ball gags. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs and their ankles were fastened to a welded metal bar which ran the length of the floor. They moaned quietly as the vibrators - Janice's idea, of course - buzzed and hummed inside their aching pussies. The redhead was crouched on the floor, one eye on the girls the other watching the back entrance to the restaurant through a blackened van window. One of Vopat's goons sat in the front seat behind the steering wheel.

I hadn't wanted to bring either Janice or the two girls along, but the redhead had insisted. She wanted to be in on the kill, she said. And the girls were insurance... in case something went wrong. The thought of something going wrong made me sick to my stomach. Ten million dollars in ransom money is serious stuff.

"Well?" she asked.

Bitch.

I shrugged and got out of the van.

A nondescript door in the alley led to a small restaurant / bar. The place was empty except for a couple of locals and a drunken tourist pawing the review section of the Bangkok Post, no doubt drooling over their reviews of the local sex acts.

And Kennedy.

I spotted him immediately. A short, heavy man with a weak chin, overdressed for the weather.

I walked up to his table. "Kennedy?" I asked.

He nodded nervously. I could smell his fear.

Couldn't blame him, I guess.

"You have it?"

Fuck.

I felt like a character in a B movie with lines like that. Still, it did the trick. He nodded and pulled a small briefcase out from under the table. After glancing around - no one was paying us the slightest attention - he undid the catch and opened it a crack. "It's all here," he told me.

I stared at ten million dollars worth of uncut diamonds.

"Shut it," I ordered, looking around. Now *I* was nervous. It was dangerous to be holding that kind of money. "Follow me." I led him out the back way into the alley. I paused, looking around. The van sat there, just as I'd left it.

No one in sight.

"There." I gave him a shove towards it as I reached into a pocket for a blackjack. The plan was to knock him unconscious and leave him in the alley.

Without the briefcase, of course.

I had it halfway out of my pocket when I felt something cold and hard against my temple.

A gun.

Then a voice: "Don't move."

Crawford looked up from the newspaper as the two men walked towards the back of the restaurant. Was that Jackson? The tall, beefy man with the receding hairline somehow didn't fit his mental picture of the man. Looked more like an ex-football player gone to seed rather than some kind of diabolical white slaver.

Still...

The FBI agent dropped the magazine and followed them out into the alley. The heavy man pointed to a van with blackened windows and gave Kennedy a shove towards it. Crawford drew his Browning, took a couple of quick, quiet steps and placed it against the kidnapper's temple.

"Don't move."

The man froze.

"Move your hands away from your pockets. Now." Slowly, calmly, the kidnapper let his hands fall away until they hung loose and empty at his sides.

"I'm not armed," the man said quietly.

Crawford snorted. "You won't mind if I don't take your word for it, will you Mr. Jackson?"

The man started at the name and Crawford felt a wave of excitement wash over him. This really was Jackson. He knew Jacqueline Astor... knew how to get in contact with him. The FBI agent trembled in anticipation; he couldn't wait to question the man, particularly here, away from any legal limits on police action. He would...

No. Crawford swallowed and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. First things first. There would be plenty of time for questions later. He glanced at the van. "Kennedy," he called out, "Check..."

He fell silent.

Where was Kennedy? He...

"Drop the gun."

"What?" The FBI agent looked around. Kennedy was a few feet away, a .38 Special in his hand.

"I said drop it," the man repeated.

Stunned, Crawford opened his hand and let the Browning drop to the pavement where it bounced once and skittered away. Jackson leaned down, reaching for the gun, but froze as Kennedy turned the revolver on him. "You too," he called out. "Don't move... either of you."

Jackson straightened up, his hands in the air.

The van door slid open...

"Drop the gun."

I looked over. Kennedy was holding some kind of revolver... pointing it at the guy who had ambushed me. There was a clank as the man dropped his pistol to the concrete. What the hell? Then it dawned on me: Kennedy had been in on it from the outset. He and Janice had planned it together!

I bent down and reached for the pistol, but Kennedy turned the revolver on me. "You too," he said. "Don't move... either of you."

Fuck.

I straightened up and put my hands in the air.

Just what the hell was going on?

The van door slid open and Janice slid out, a silenced Walther PPK in her hand. Where had that come from?

"Hello Philip," she smiled. "I see you've met my friend Mr. Jackson." Christ. With the way my name was being tossed about, I'd have to start using a new alias. She smirked at me as she took the briefcase from her fiance and put it in the back of the van. "Don't look so surprised, Jackson. You didn't really think I was going to give a third to that weasel Vopat, did you?"

Bitch.

She looked at the other guy. "And you must be Agent Crawford." Janice smirked. "I heard about your sister."

'Agent Crawford?' A fucking FBI agent? In Bangkok?

"Quit fucking around, Janice." Philip's hand was trembling. Not a promising sight when a that hand's pointing a gun at you. "Let's do it and get the hell out of here."

The redhead sneered at her fiance's nerves, but nodded. "Take them around behind the van. Do it there."

I reconsidered. Maybe a new alias wouldn't be necessary after all. It didn't look like I'd be around much longer.

"Move it."

It's a funny thing. Even when you know you're going to be shot, you always obey the man who's about to kill you. Gun's are like that. I glanced in the front of the van as I went past. Vopat's driver was slumped over the wheel, his brains spread out all over the inside of the windshield.

Maybe not so funny...

Crawford smelled the blood stench and cordite before he saw the body slumped up against the gore-stained dashboard. Kennedy was an amateur. Maybe... Out of the corner of his eye, the FBI agent caught the brief hesitation... the inevitable moment of revulsion as Kennedy saw the body and froze.

Crawford whirled and...

I was about to start begging when something metallic slammed against the side of the van behind me. I turned. Kennedy and the mystery man - Agent Crawford, Janice had called him - were struggling for control of the revolver.

A shot rang out.

That was enough for me. As far as I knew, they both wanted to kill me and I didn't want to wait around to see who won.

I ran past them around the side the van and straight into Janice, who was running towards the struggling men. The redhead tried to raise her pistol in my direction, but I was too close. I barrelled into her before she could shoot. She let out a cry as we both tumbled to the ground. The Walther went flying.

Half winded by the impact, I struggled to my feet. Janice was on her hands and knees, gasping for air. I'm a lot heavier than she is. I reached down, dragged her up by a fistful of hair and slammed her against the alley wall. She hit the bricks with her shoulder, bounced off and fell to her knees. I moved after her, but she stumbled to her feet and staggered away out of the alley. I lumbered along behind, but she started to pull away.

I'm not all that quick on my feet.

She might have made it if the old mercedes hadn't come screaming around the corner and squealed to a stop directly in front of her. The redhead tried to halt, but slipped on some garbage and slammed heavily into the side of the car.

Another shot rang out behind me.

Then another.

Tam lowered the window, her blue eyes shining with excitement. "Get in, Joe. Fast. Bring the bitch."

I didn't need to be told twice. Janice was trying to crawl away, so I kicked her in the stomach. She groaned and fell gasping against the side of the car. I pulled open the car door, grabbed her by the back of the neck and half threw her inside.

"Hurry!"

I dove inside as Tam pulled away.

Another shot rang out, shattering the back window and showering us with glass. Tam let out a high pitched scream, laughing with excitement as the mercedes turned a corner and picked up speed.

Crawford lowered Kennedy's .38 as the car turned the corner and disappeared from view. They were gone. Jackson was gone, and with him the one real lead he had concerning the whereabouts of Jacqueline Astor. Swallowing, the FBI agent turned and walked back into the alley.

Kennedy lay sprawled on the ground beside the van, a large part of his head spread out on the concrete. Crawford opened the van door and looked inside. Melissa and Amanda looked back at him, eyes wide with hope. The briefcase lay on the floor. The FBI agent smiled reassuringly and climbed inside to free them.

At least he'd accomplished something...

Hender hung up the phone, wincing.

"Stanford's pissed."

Crawford shrugged wearily. "Can't blame him. Hard for him to believe his daughter set the whole thing up."

"Do you think they'll ever find her?"

"Doubt it. Bangkok's got a lot of places to hide, and she's probably long gone by now."

"At least he got his diamonds back."

"Yeah," Crawford nodded. "He'll get over it."

"How about you, Harrison?" the FBI official asked, studying the younger man. "You were close this time. Are you getting over it."

Crawford fell silent for a moment, thinking about how it had felt with Jackson before him, full of information about... her. Dr. Jacqueline Astor. To have that slip through his fingers was...

"Ah shit." He had managed to get the girls out. "There'll be other times. I'm fine." He looked over at his superior and shrugged. "Fine as I'll ever be."

He thought about his sister.

Next time.

I took another mouthful, enjoying the burning sensation as the scotch trickled down my throat and flooded into my stomach. Face comfortably numb, I leaned back on my bed and closed my eyes as the evening's events came back to me.

It had started off badly.

There had been a small package waiting for me at the club. It had contained a small, glass jar with two tiny pieces of flesh floating in some kind of clear preservative. I couldn't identify them until I'd read the note:

"Loose lips sink ships, Joe. Donald had a big mouth. Do you?

Love, Jacqueline

PS. No more warnings; no more contact. You understand."

I understood.

Perfectly.

God, that woman scared me.

Things got better.

Vopat cornered me and slipped me an envelope full of money. Another 25,000 baht, he told me, as a bonus for a job well done. His way of buying me off after tricking me with the kidnap scheme, but I didn't care. Together with the 50,000 I'd gotten paid originally and the 25,000 I'd been paid for acquiring a new girl for the doggie show, I now had enough money not to work for Vopat for a while.

Maybe even go into legit business.

We'd see.

As I'd predicted, Tam's doggie show had been a big hit. The crowd had gone nuts when Janice - now "Jan-Jan" - and Mandy - a petite blonde named Amanda Boyd I'd picked up in a hurry to fill out the act from a friend named Carol Brookmere back in the U.S. (one of Carol's "office girls"; but that's another story) - did their bits with James and Philip, the two german shepherds. Tam had even added a nice bit at the end where the two girls licked and sucked their canine partners clean after they'd finished sucking the dog cum from each other's gaping pussies.

Inspired.

The audience kicked and stomped and screamed for so long that Tam led her pets on stage for a short encore. The sight of proud, haughty Janice Stanford in a leather leash and dog collar, smiling happily while barking and wagging her fluffy red tail at the crowd of lowlives and losers cheered me immensely.

Two shows a night.

Seven days a week.

Janice would be a busy girl...

One more thing.

As I sat drinking in the lull between shows, I spotted Annie doing her bar slut routine for a disinterested customer. I'd been thinking about her a lot lately... and about her resemblance - yes... there *was* a resemblance - to Danielle.

It had been giving me nightmares again.

Time to do something about it.

I downed my drink, got to my feet and staggered over to her as her mark turned away in favour of a young, Thai girl. She let out a little scream as I grabbed her, dragged her into Vopat's office and shoved her up against his desk. She steadied herself and looked over at me, blue eyes fearful under her long, blonde hair. I let my eyes roam over her made up whore's face and then slowly down her body, taking in the sagging, well used tits, barely covered by the white, yellow-stained bikini top... the red marks and bruises up and down her pale arms... the thin, almost transparent bikini bottom... the trickle of dried cum on the inside of her thigh...

"A-Annie please you," she stuttered, uncertain of the situation. "You like Annie? Make fuckee fuckee?"

"You're name's not 'Annie'," I growled at her. "It's Roxanne Bodwell. You're english; used to be a stewardess. I kidnapped you and your daughter nine months ago and sold you as sex slaves to the lowest, scummiest club in Bangkok."

"No..."

"You and Sarah were on display as lesbian fuck toys for six months before Vopat sold your daughter off the most corrupt army office in Thailand. He's probably fucking her brains out in his private estates right now."

"You... bastard...".

"And I'm the guy who did it to you. I sold you. I put you here. You're a fucked out whore. Your daughter's a whore. And you'll both be whores for the rest of your lives."

Tears streamed down her face as she stared at me.

"And now, I'm going to fuck you 'till you bleed. And know what, Roxanne Bodwell? There's not a fucking thing you can do about it. 'Cause that's what you're here for."

She started to scream, but I grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her stomach into Vopat's desk. The blonde woman let out a strangled groan and doubled over, gasping for air. "The world's shit, Roxanne," I growled, wrapping my fingers around the slender bikini string and ripped it from her bruised thighs. "And you're in it." I buried my cock to the hilt into her pussy with one furious shove. I was as hard as I'd ever been, and dry as a bone, but she had been so well used, I barely felt a thing when I went in.

Didn't matter.

This wasn't about her. Something burst deep inside, sending shards of images tumbling through my skull in a torrent of unwanted memory...

... until I no longer knew who I was...

... Danielle, laughing and playing with little Cassie in the morning light... (...looksalotlikeher...) ... looking up at me as I came up the... (...looksalot...) ... red ribbons ...

... Cassie... little Cassie, crying at the window while black smoke tumbled and swirled around her... (...neverforgetneverforget...)

... police light, red and blue spashing against grey, smoke- blackened concrete and twisted glass shards... (...blondesmiling...)

... and... underlying it all... a single fact... a realization... I'd somehow avoided... ignored... obscured... for almost twenty years... (...neverforgetneverforget...)

...a single, unescapable fact...

... Danielle... Cassie ...

... they were never...

...never... coming... back...

...it didn't matter what I did... whether I rescued Roxanne and her daughter...

... Danielle ...

... or whether I slit their throats and dumped them in the gutter...

"... NEVER!... FUCKING! ... COMING! ... BACK!"

I heard myself screaming as my senses snapped back to the here and now. It didn't matter. Tears scalded my cheeks as I pounded each ugly, twisted spike of a word as deep as I could into Roxanne Bodwell's squirming, unwilling cunt.

(... notcomingback ...)

Nothing mattered.

(... nevercomingbacknotcoming ...)

I came hard after a few more crude thrusts and left her gasping and sobbing on the floor of Vopat's office.

Vopat stared at me, a look of surprise on his face as I stormed out of his office doing my pants up, but wisely didn't say anything as I snatched a almost full bottle of cheap scotch off the bar and marched out into the warm, dark Bangkok night.

Back in my room.

The bottle of scotch lay empty beside me on the bed and I felt a familiar sodden darkness overtake me, dragging me down into sleep. Thinking of Roxanne... Sarah... Danielle... I felt a brief stab of fear that I might dream.

But I didn't.

Slept like a baby.

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