“I… I’m so sorry. I was told to ask that,” trembling with both embarrassment and fear. He releases my neck and I lean forward to take a sip of water and then lean back and flick my errant hair back.
“Let me see your sheet…,” handing it to him. “That question’s not on here. Who told you to ask that question?” He hands the sheet back.
“Someone was at the newspaper office this morning. They flashed federal government credentials. Said it was a matter of national security.”
“I see,” looking past me to Jamie.”
“Probably from Senator Howard’s staff,” she says. “Father, you have a meeting with General Ferguson of the Air Force in three minutes”
“Have him wait till I’m finished with Miss Moore.” My hands start trembling, clutching my water bottle. The plastic bottle crinkles, drawing attention to myself.
“I don’t want to mess up your schedule,” anxious to get the heck out of there.
“No, no, no. Now, you’ve got me interested. I want to get to know you better. You say you’re an intern?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’ll be a senior at Portland State University.”
“What do you want to do after college?”
“Don’t know, really. Find a nice job in the area?”
“How would you like to work for me?” I’d want nothing more.
“I don’t have much of a science background.”
“What I have in mind doesn’t call for much knowledge of science at all.”
“Now you have me a little confused what kind of opening are you offering?”
“We can talk more soon. I’ll be in touch, Sasha.” He used my first name!
“Well, y…,you can reach me through the Clarion,” I stutter, standing and fumbling with my backpack.
“Sounds good,” shaking my hand firmly but warmly while guiding me to the door.
Chapter 3
Blood is racing hot and heavy through my veins as I step out into the foyer. Jamie greets a gray haired man wearing an Air Force uniform with three gold stars on his shoulders. They disappear into Mr. Tower’s office.
“Hi Ms. Moore,” says the brunette behind the reception desk. “If you’re all set the elevator will take you down and you can reclaim your things.”
“Thank you” rushing past her a bit light headed. The elevator doors slide open, anticipating my approach. I step in, backpack slung across my shoulder, and sag against the rear wall, basking in the afterglow of Jack Tower’s aura. The doors silently close and the car automatically descends. Well, that went a little less successfully than I’d planned. Wonder if he’s serious about that job offer and about contacting me. He probably says that to a lot of women. Womanizer. Oh, well, I’ll get back up to the Cove and write up my story for Brandon. He needs it for tomorrow’s Sunday edition. That line about Tower being a killer should make good copy. I’ll pump out the story quick, go home, shower, and then drop in on some friends. Maybe do a little clubbing in Portland tonight.
The elevator stops. I step forward but the doors don’t open. Weird. I look up at the floor level indicator above the doors. It reads “2.” Has someone stopped it so they can get on? I thought the thing operated on a program. I check the control panel to the left of the doors. There’s a magnetic card reader, an alarm button, a “call” button, and a button for each floor. I press the “G” button for garage level. Nothing happens. Press it several more times. Nothing. Freaky. I reach for the alarm button just as I hear a loud thump above. Looking up, I see a ceiling panel slide open.
“Don’t touch that button Ms. Moore,” a man in a black ski mask says, pointing a gun at me through the opening. “And don’t bother screaming. This car is sound proof.”
My heart leaps to my throat. I fall back against the car wall, raising my hands. The man drops down through the hole and replaces the ceiling panel.
“Who are you? What do you want? I don’t have much money… no, you know my name. What is this?”
“All your questions will be answered in due time,” he says, pulling out a ball gag. “For now I need you to be silent.” I close my mouth, clamping my teeth together. But, his hands are strong. Prying my jaws apart, he forces the gag into my mouth, its smooth surface slides through my teeth. It presses against my tongue and makes it impossible to scream and hard to breath. I squirm and pant short labored breathes through my nose as he fastens the gag behind my head. He spins me around, pressing my face up against the brushed aluminum wall. He crosses my wrists behind my back and straps them together. I feel my bladder release but give it no thought. I’m too frightened to be embarrassed. He spins me back around and looks me in the face with cold dark eyes. Tears stream from mine, blurring my vision. My knees are jelly and my whole body trembles with fear.
“Now, Ms. Moore, there is no need to be afraid. I mean you no harm. I am just a delivery boy. My job is simply to take you to someone who values you very highly. Now, if you’ll pardon my rudeness, this is only a matter of protocol,” pulling out a black hood, he slips it over my head and the world goes dark. “For, where you are going is a matter of corporate confidentiality.”
The elevator moves again. It ascends briefly - not long enough to reach the twelfth floor - stops, and the doors slide open. “Up we go,” he grunts, as I feel his shoulder bone press hard into my stomach. With a firm hand on my bottom he lifts me up and carries me out, turns and walks briskly down a corridor. I smell the same ozone tainted air again, the same smell that had greeted me up on twelve. But this time it’s hardly relaxing. A short ways down the corridor he stops, opens a door, hauls me inside, and lowers me onto a chair.
Chapter 4
“Here’s your eleven-thirty, mom,” my gravel voiced captor says.
“Thank you, Armand. That will be all,” I hear a middle-aged woman say. My abductor’s footsteps trail off, closing the door behind him. “Honest to Pete, I don’t know why he carries on like that.” I smell the faint scent of rose scented perfume and the warmth of a female body next to mine as the woman leans over me, unties the hood and lifts it off my head. “Oh, dear, I am so sorry, he gets a bit over zealous in carrying out his duties,” removing the ball gag from my mouth and tossing it in a trash can. She cuts the tie strap from my wrists and disposes of it. “Here, let me get you a tissue, dear.”
“What is this place?” taking the tissue and dabbing my eyes. I’m in a small windowless medical exam room. A large framed diploma hanging on the opposite wall says, Jack S. Tower, Harvard School of Medicine. I’m seated in a chair next to a gray metal desk at which sits the middle-aged woman. She’s tapping instructions into her laptop. She has long frizzy graying light brown hair that cascades over her shoulders. An easy smile plays around her full red lips. There’s a twinkle in her gray eyes. Her white lab coat hangs open revealing a red and gold floral blouse and a stethoscope hanging around her neck. “Who are you?”
“I’m Nurse Patricia, dear,” finishing typing and touching my hand warmly. “But most people here at Tower Intel simply call me ‘mom.’ You can if you like. Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little shaken. I apologize for that rough treatment, Lord knows how often I complain to Dr. Tower about it.”
I finally start getting over my fright. “Nurse Patricia, I’m a bit confused. I came here just to interview Mr. Tower for a human interest story for the Cummings Cove Clarion. We finished the interview and then I get abducted and now I’m here. Where am I and why am I here?”
“Oh, dear, the lack of communication around here never ceases to amaze me. You would think a world leader in information technology would learn a little inter-office communication, wouldn’t you. Haha. Well, first of all, you are Sasha Moore, right?”
“Yes….”
“Well, Sasha, this is the Tower corporate physical examination department. You have been sent here for your company pre-hire physical and related tests.”
“Excuse me, I never agreed that I wanted a job. I just said I’d consider it… if I even said t
hat much.”
“Well, when Dr. Tower insists… he insists. Anyway, what can it hurt? The tests are easy, just take a little time and then we’ll have you on your way. And then, when and if you decide to join the company we’ll have your files ready to go. What do you say?”
“Well, Nurse Patricia….I don’t know.”
“Mom, please,” touching my shoulder.
“You’re so nice, okay, mom.”
“That’s what I like to see,” hugging me tenderly. Shall we start with your temperature and blood pressure?”
“Why not,” removing my blazer and flopping my left arm up onto the desk. She clamps a plastic temp sensor to my middle finger and wraps a bladder around my upper arm, pumps it up, releases the pressure and takes the reading. “Slightly high. But after what you’ve just been through that’s to be expected. Now, before we go any further, I bet you’d feel much better if you changed out of those uncomfortable looking clothes and slipped on this gown,” placing a neatly folded blue garment on the desk. “You can just put your clothes in this laundry bag. We’ll have them cleaned and ready for you by time you’re finished.”
I stand up and step out of my beige slacks - a big embarrassing pee stain darkens their crotch, unbutton and pull off my white blouse, unfasten and drop my bra, step out of my wet panties, and pull off my pink and beige striped socks - tossing them all into the bag. I stand naked before mom, and reach for the gown.
“Ah… before putting that on, why don’t I get your measurements. Could you step on this scale, please?”
I follow mom to the wall scale on the opposite side of the closed door and step onto it. She holds a clipboard and with a pen she takes my readings.
“Height, five-feet-seven inches. Weight, one-hundred-seventeen pounds. There are a few other measurements I’ll need, so if you’ll come over here by the table,” grabbing a cloth tape measure. “Bust, thirty-four inches - these measurements are for your lab coat if you should join the company. Waist, twenty-eight inches. Hips, thirty-three inches. Good. Now take a deep breath for me, please,” putting the stethoscope into her ears and touching the cold silver end to my chest. “Good… again… good,” moving around and standing behind me. “Again… good. Again… good. Now while were at it, I might as well get your mammary exam out of the way. Will you raise your left arm, dear? That’s it, reach for the ceiling. Good.” Her hands are warm and knowing. After my left side she repeats the procedure with my right side. By the time she’s done I feel thoroughly relaxed.
“You feel good, dear. Now if you’ll just hop up onto the table.”
I move around to the end of the table, step up onto the lower drawer that she’s pulled out for me to use as a step, I pivot and sit up upon the white paper table cloth.
“That’s it dear, now lie back and relax, this will just take a minute,” raising the stirrups on either side of the table, she guides my feet into them. She then grabs a sterile speculum from the supply cabinet, wheels her chair over in front of me and proceeds to inspect my reproductive equipment. She is gentle and knowledgeable and professional, and when she is finished I feel glad to be in the hands of such a caring woman as Nurse Patricia.
“You are ship-shape, my dear. You can finally put on that gown now.” After slipping it on I sink down into the chair beside the desk. “Last thing, before seeing the doctor, we have a few questions regarding your medical history. “Have you ever suffered from dizziness, fainting spells, seizures or narcolepsy?”
“Only when extremely frightened, like this morning… no, just kidding. No, not that I’m aware of.”
“Good, and what would you say your pain threshold would be… on a scale of one to ten?”
“That’s kind of an ominous question.”
“Oh, this is just information we keep on file in case of an emergency. Should we ever have to prescribe medication, we’ll know how strong to make the dose.”
“Okay,… mmm… I would say, seven? Put me down for seven. I’m pretty strong.”
“I know you are,” rubbing my leg. “Okay, that should do it. I’ll let Dr, Tower know you’re ready and he’ll be with you soon.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Take care, honey,” leaving through the door and closing it behind her.
Chapter 5
“Sasha, nice to see you so soon,” Mr. Tower says, walking briskly into the room. He closes the door behind himself, stops at the desk, picks up my file and browses through it.
“Did I have any choice?” glaring at him.
“Everything we do is a choice of our own design. But, I must say, looking at these figures, you do look to be a perfect specimen. However, before I consider you for employment, there are a few simple tests I want to put you through. I need to be certain you’ll be able to withstand the rigors of life here with us at Tower Intel Tech.”
“Lucky me. Just for my clarification, exactly what is this position you’re considering me for?”
“You’ll start as a sub. We’ll see how well you do there. Shall we get started with the testing?”
“A sub? What the heck is that?” I scoff.
“Come with me and you’ll find out,” leading me to a small door in the back of the exam room. He opens it for me. Now he’s got my curiosity up, so I step through and enter an ominous looking square chamber. It’s largely empty and brightly lit and somewhat resembles a recording studio. In one corner sits an electronic device with a mess of wires and sensors dangling from it. Next to it is a supply cabinet with shelves of nasty looking black leather things and steel devices and chains. My jitters are back. I’m starting to regret this decision awful fast. Even more sinister, embedded into the walls and into the floor at various points, are sturdy iron rings. The far wall is all glass from waist level up. Behind it is some kind of control booth. Jamie is sitting inside it, at the controls of what appears to be some kind of recording engineer’s mixing board. Two assistants in lab coats stand near the supply cabinet awaiting Mr. Tower’s instructions.
“Sasha, meet Hans and Eric. They will be assisting you with your tests. Now, Miss Moore, if you would be so kind as to remove your gown.”
“Are you crazy?” wrapping my arms around myself.
“Hans and Eric can help you if you wish.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Begrudgingly, I untie the gown and let it fall from my shoulders, dropping onto the white tile floor. Eric stoops to retrieve it and places it in a corner. The cool air raises goosebumps all over my naked body. “Now what?” Sneering at Tower. He regards me rather clinically.
“I will administer a series of stress tests. Sensors will be attached to specific points on your body and Jamie in the control booth will monitor and record your vital signs, your galvanic skin response, your alpha and beta brain waves along with a multitude of other useful parameters. For this first battery of tests your limbs will need to be secured. Hans, Eric, will you attach the manacles? And, Miss Moore, if you will be so kind as to stand right about here,” guiding me to stand between two floor anchored rings. I comply in hopes that this nonsense will be over quickly. Iron bands are clamped around my ankles and chained to the iron rings. Similar bands are secured around each of my wrists and fastened to rings dangling from the ceiling. Once secured, Hans flips a switch and a ceiling winch pulls my hands upward, stretching my arms up and out diagonally in the shape of a “V.” Electrodes are next stuck to my inner thighs, to my lower abdomen, to my bosom, and at various intervals along the hairline on my head.
“Are you ready Miss Moore?” Tower says, standing before me, gloating at my nakedness.
“Go on, get it over with, villain.” I snarl.
He goes over to the storage cabinet, grabs something and then returns.
“We will start with the cat,” holding a thirty inch leather whip with nine tails. “I will administer up to fifteen strokes. Jamie will closely monitor your signs and signal to me when you’ve had enough. Any last words before I begin?”
“You really
are a killer, aren’t you?” I’m loosing it. Tears start leaking from my eyes in anticipation of the pain. I’m beginning to wish I’d never taken that call from Brandon this morning.
“Now, now, Sasha. Anger is very unscientific.”
With that he begins the strokes. The flesh on my back and bottom burn. The flood gates open on my eyes. My screams bounce off the walls and feed off each other turning the room into an echo chamber from the lowest region of hell. My body shudders, twists and contorts but has nowhere to hide from the pain. He counts out each stroke as he administers them. At one I curse him. At two my tears began to flow. At three I scream out to God for mercy. At four I curse God. At five I feel my skin break and my hot blood ooze from my lacerations. At six I whimper to Tower for mercy. At seven I wish I were dead. At eight I feel exhilarated and ecstatic. At nine… Jamie holds up her hand.
“That was a very admirable feat of endurance, Miss Moore. I’m very enthused by your effort. Eight strokes of the cat. Now let’s see how well you do with the prod.” He holds out his right hand and Hans hands him an electric cattle prod. He tests its power by pressing its trigger. A jagged two-inch-long blue bolt of electricity snaps between its twin brass tipped prongs. “As with the first test, I will continue until Jamie gives me the signal. Are you ready?”
“Just get it over with, scoundrel,” bracing myself.
Tower circles me, zapping various random parts of my anatomy. As with the cat, he counts out each jolt. And with each jolt, my whole body lurches, straining against the manacles that bind me. At one, I curse him. At two, I plead for him to stop. At three, my bladder lets go. At four, my sphincter releases. At five, I feel tingly all over. At six, my limbs spasm uncontrollably. At seven, I love Jack Tower unconditionally. At eight… Jamie holds up her hand.
Wicked Stepdad: Jack Tower Books 4 - 6 Page 2