The Contract

by Sarah Fisher

  Johnson snorted. "How far they get very much depends on how wily Peter Howard really is. But it doesn't matter, we've got what we want." He tapped at the keyboard. "Damn," he sighed under his breath.

  "What is it?" said Max.

  Johnson shook his head. "The main screen hasn't come on."

  Max peered over his shoulder. The computer screen was blank except for a few random flashes. Johnson switched the machine off and on again.

  "What the hell is this?" he said crossly, and picked up the phone from Leonora's desk.

  "This is Johnson," he snapped into the mouth piece when the phone was answered. "I can't seem to get the computer at Deuvar on line. Are you having any problems that end?"

  The voice that replied sounded frantic. "Mr Johnson, I had intended to ring you when we got to the bottom of this. Our machines have crashed at the main office. We've got nothing here but blank screens. I don't understand what's happening."

  "What do you mean you don't understand?" asked Johnson with increasing fury.

  The man coughed. "Well, it would appear sir, that we've been locked out of the computer system. It started a few minutes ago."

  "Locked out? What the hell do you mean locked out?"

  As he spoke Johnson tried to remember what Peter Howard had told him about the whereabouts of the new copy of Magenta. He felt his colour draining. "I've left the key in the door, you won't be able to miss it." Peter Howard's voice echoed inside his head.

  He sat down heavily in his armchair. Peter Howard had copied Magenta and then left the copy somewhere inside the computer system. The effect was like leaving a key on the inside of the door. They couldn't get back in. The new Magenta was effectively locking them out. The new key had become operational and had at once begun to encrypt the information in the computer system into a new code. A code that you needed the key to break – a key that was safely hidden inside the code which couldn't be used unless you had the key. It was a perfect, infuriating, impenetrable loop. Johnson rested his head in his hands.

  "Conniving bastard," he hissed between clenched teeth. There was no point going after him. Without the new Magenta Peter Howard was as powerless as they were. No-one could get into the computer system. Every scrap of information, every record, every deal, every contact and connection was lost inside a maelstrom of machine code.

  Johnson suddenly realised that the man was still waiting for an answer at the far end of the telephone line.

  "Pour yourself a stiff scotch and then go home," he said wearily. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning."

  Outside he heard the disturbing thud-thud-thud of a helicopter landing on the lawn. It seemed he had underestimated Peter Howard.

  Peter clambered unsteadily into the back of helicopter, dragging Emily in behind him. The passenger compartment was empty. Gratefully Peter slumped into one of the seats and slammed the seat belt across him and Emily did the same. It seemed like only an instant before the chopper was airborne.

  A disembodied voice rattled mechanically over the intercom. "Hold tight, Peter, we'll have you at the airport in no time; debriefing on the plane. Alright?"

  Peter closed his eyes. "Too damned right," he said quietly.

  He glanced across at Emily. Her eyes were bright with tears. The coat she had hastily dragged around her was pulled apart, temptingly revealing the delicate plains and curves of her body. She glanced at him for a second; it seemed that she could read his mind. Slowly she unbuckled her belt and slipped the coat back over her shoulders.

  He examined her, taking in the details of the bruises and marks on her vulnerable body. "Come here," he commanded. She looked down, her small features flushing in the strange light of the helicopter as she crept towards him.

  "Master," she murmured, dropping to her knees at his feet.

  He smiled and ran his finger through her short spiky hair, letting one hand toy with the glittering rings that pierced her tight nipples. He eased himself back in the chair, spreading his legs so that he encircled her. She shivered deliciously and then bent closer to press a kiss into his groin. He shook his head.

  "All fours," he hissed darkly. "I'm going to take back what is rightfully mine."

  She turned, revealing the delicious lips of her sex peeking out between the heavier curves of her buttocks. He undid the seat belt and dropped to his knees behind her. She moaned, opening instinctively for his explorations. He slid a finger into the wet creases that he had denied himself during their courtship, relishing the heat and tightness. Beneath him she mewled nervously. He grinned and undid his flies; she would be his whatever had gone on at Deuvar. He guided his cock into her, pressing deep until she gasped with fear. His fingers moved to cup her breasts, teasing and tugging at the silver rings. She arched back towards him, drawing him, compelling him to possess her. He sensed her submission. There was nothing she would ever deny him again.

  "Tell me -" he said as he forced her down hard onto the filthy oily floor. "Who am I?"

  "Master!" she gasped and ground herself onto his cock. "My Master!"

  "Do you think you're going to like your new contract?"

  Emily groaned softly. "Yes, master," and rubbed herself against him so that he could dip his fingers into her. A new contract, she thought, as Peter toyed with the glistening folds of her sex – and one that she hoped would last a lifetime.