Chapter three

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Rebecca Carpenter struggled to take even breaths through her nose as the van sped to its destination. Any notion that she might have been able to free herself from the ropes that bound her, and somehow overpower the woman driving the van had quickly been dispelled. Escape!! Becky could barely move, let alone escape. She pushed her hands downwards in an attempt to work on the binding around her wrists, but her fingers could find neither knots nor a loose end to work on. So she just lay there, chewing at the sock gag and feeling her breasts heave in an out against her bound legs.

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'Just drop the gun,' the woman standing behind FBI Special Agent Amanda Thornton, repeated. The woman was breathing heavily. She too must have made her way here at speed.

Amanda heard more footsteps behind her and a second gun push into her back. The owner of this gun, no doubt male, was also breathing heavily. But in contrast to the woman, he was heaving.

'Do as she says, big tits,' he spat, the best he could in the circumstances. "Or I'll splatter your fucking insides all over the tarmac.'

Amanda watched as both the men in front of her clambered into the maroon Mercedes and sped off. As she lowered the gun, a female hand came around from the right and took it from her. Now Amanda saw the deputy's uniform.

'Shit,' she muttered. 'I'm F.B.I. Special Agent Amanda Thornton, and there's a kidnap in progress.'

'Then, why didn't you fucking announce yourself before you drew your firearm,' the male deputy asked, jabbing the gun into her back again.'

'I was just about to, arsehole,' Amanda stated angrily, not quite sure if this was actually true.

'What did you fucking call me?' the male deputy stuttered, his voice rising in anger. 'You've just earned yourself one thorough strip search, big tits. And I'm looking forward to being there.'

'Can it, Keith,' the woman deputy intervened. She held up a steel cuff and snapped it around Amanda's right wrist. 'Sorry, ma'am,' she said, dolefully, 'but you'll understand, we can't take chances.'

Amanda smiled as supportively as she could, as her two hands were drawn back behind her and the second cuff locked in place. They turned her around, and marched her towards a side road. As they approached it, a squad car came into view. Amanda was soon pushed up against it and turned around so that she faced forwards. Now she got her first good look at the two deputies. The woman was about her own height, five foot nine with henna-red hair, pulled back from a very attractive face and fastened in a bun. Her sharp jaw line pulled one's eyes upwards towards sparkling, green eyes. Beneath, her uniform hugged a shapely body. Amanda reckoned her to be about twenty-five.

In contrast, the man was a slob. He was probably the same height as the woman, but his slouch made him look shorter. And was probably about the same age, but his paunch made him look older.

'My, ID's in my left inside pocket,' Amanda offered, helpfully.

'Thanks,' Gina Scott said, reaching inside Amanda's jacket and pulling out the leather-covered ID wallet.

'She's telling the truth,' Gina said, examining it.

'Yeah, sure,' Deputy Keith Bligh said, snatching it from Gina's hand. 'Who's in charge here?' He looked at Amanda's F.B.I. card and then tossed the wallet on to the ground. 'Fake,' he declared.

'Look, arsehole,' Amanda said angrily. 'Up to now, you've been doing your duty. But, this is obstruction of justice. We need to find out where that van's gone and we need to find out now. Any more of this crap, and you're going to find yourself out of a job.'

Bligh smiled. 'Oh, yeah, big tits,' he sneered. 'And tell me which of us is wearing the cuffs? Now spread 'em.'

'She right, Keith,' Gina said.

'Don't get your bra in a twist, Officer Scott,' Keith drawled. 'I'm just gonna pat Miss Big Tits down to make sure she ain't carrying any concealed weapons. Then, we're gonna take her back to the station for that strip search I promised her. If she clean, we might consider her calling up FBI headquarters and proving her innocence .... In a day or two. Of course,' he drooled, 'in the meantime, we're gonna have to send all her clothes to forensics: even her panties.'

Amanda stood there while the deputy's wandering hands went inside her jacket and landed on her waist. Although she was wearing a shirt and sweater, she cringed as his hands worked upwards until they came to her chest. They moved behind her where they sought the outline her rear bra strap. When they located it, they moved forwards to her breasts. Amanda considered bringing her knee upwards into the deputy's crotch. But, as she was handcuffed and there were two of them she thought better of it. Beside her the female deputy stooped to recover her ID. That evened the odds.

She felt the deputy's hands on her breasts touching her through her sweater, shirt and bra. This time she brought her knee up sharply into his crotch, enjoying his squeal of pain. As he bent forward, she repeated the exercise, this time bringing her knee up into his stomach. She watched as the man doubled up. As soon as he became unstable on his feet, Amanda kicked him hard on the back of his nearest knee.

As he went over, Amanda turned towards the woman deputy. She was watching the scene from her stooped position, evidently unsure what to do. Intellectually, she was clearly on Amanda's side, but that moment of doubt had began to creep into her eyes. Then, she reached for her gun.

'No,' Amanda shouted. But the deputy seemed to ignore her. Had she taken the time to regain her balance first, then stepped back out of range, before unsheathing the weapon, she might have got the upper hand. But instead, she drew her gun while still half bent. Amanda waited until it was back out of its holster, and then kicked it away. Rather than straightening herself, the deputy seemed mesmerised by the arching descent of the gun. Amanda pushed her gently to the ground with her foot and then turned to see the male deputy scratching for his own firearm. Amanda gave him a swift kick in the groin and then pushed downwards with her hands until they slid over her butt. By the time both deputies had recovered, she had stepped through the cuffs and had her hands up front. She walked over to the male deputy and knelt with her right knee in his stomach. Then, she used her cuffed hands to remove his gun from its holster.

'Now,' she said, turning back to Gina Scott, 'let's get a few things straight.'

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'Ah, there's my daughter now,' Henry Sinclair Baxter said to his two lunch guests. 'Do you mind making your way through to the dining room, while I go and meet her?'

'Not at all, old man,' Paul Lesalle said smiling. After all, any time alone with Isla Lewis would be time worth spent.

Henry Baxter walked sedately out of the room. But as soon as he was out of sight he began to hurry. He had reached the forecourt just in time to see the Mercedes pull up behind the van.

'Did you get her,' he asked his daughter as she climbed out of the driver's seat.

Alyssa Baxter watched her father's expression darken as she told him about their near miss. But, he brightened as Joe Walker pulled open the van's rear doors and he saw the young woman trussed up inside. Suddenly, he was back in control. 'Um,' he said, as he sliced first through the chest to knee rope, then through the ankle to wrist rope, and watched her straighten. 'Dr. Lampton is as attractive in person as she is in reputation.' He ignored Becky's gagged mews as once again she tried to announce that she was not Dr. Lampton, and then turned to his accomplices. 'I've got that idiot Paul Lesalle here for lunch with some bimbo of his. Neither must become aware of Dr. Lampton's presence. Morgan, take Dr. Lampton down to the cellar and make sure she's uncomfortable.'

Alyssa Baxter suddenly looked annoyed. 'But father, can't I do that. You promised.'

Henry Baxter smiled indulgently at his daughter. 'There's plenty of time for that, Sweetie,' he said. 'I need you with Lesalle for now. After all, you are the lady of the house.'

Alyssa smiled at that complement.

'Joe. You may be certain that no one will trace anything back her. But to be sure I want you to get rid of the van. When you've done that come back here and relieve Morgan. I'm going to need your help later.'

Morgan tried to hide the worried expression, which was creeping across his face. Without him here to make sure nothing got out of hand, Joe and the Baxter brat might get up to anything with the captive. 'What about me,' he asked.

'I need you to go back into town and watch the FBI woman. I want to know what her next move is going to be.'

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'It seems to me that if the blame is to be laid at anyone's door, it's yours, Agent Thornton,' Sheriff Mike Wiseman said pompously. 'I mean, what do you expect my officers to do when they see someone brandishing a gun. Let her shoot them and then find out she's not in the FBI.'

Amanda scowled silently to herself. She might have accepted that the fat greying man had a point, if his eyes didn't keep floating down to her breasts as he spoke. 'Then, there's the question of the assault on Deputy Bligh. After all, if he was acting correctly, there was no way that I can accept your attack on him.'

Amanda fixed him directly in the eyes. She saw him fidget uncomfortably.

'And further,' he went on, 'your accusation that he verbally abused you and physically threatened you seems to lack corroboration. After all, you didn't hear anything untoward, did you Deputy Scott?'

Amanda turned to look at the attractive deputy. She had reddened slightly. 'N-no ...' she started, but Amanda knew it was time to change track.

'Look sheriff,' she said, 'it seems to me that you have a choice. 'If you work with me now, we can let the matter slide for a while. At the end of it, perhaps Bligh can keep his job. Make any more of it, or try to harass me in any way, and I'll see to it that you're out minus your pension.'

Wiseman laughed loudly. 'Agent Thornton, you know you've absolutely no jurisdiction here. And you can hardly interfere in the town's political process.'

Amanda kept staring him the eye and reached for the telephone on his desk. 'Don't confuse jurisdiction with power,' she said picking up the receiver. She pressed nine to get to the switchboard. 'Can you get me Mike Harrington,' she said slowly repeating his number. 'Yes, that's right, the State Attorney General.'

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Rebecca Carpenter feet were cold against the concrete as she walked on unbound legs. Her wrists were still tied and she was still gagged. Despite that, she would have run, except for two reasons. The first was the blindfold tied tightly across her eyes. The second was the large man's grip on her upper arm.

The man had tried to reassure her. Why, she wasn't sure. After all, he was one of those who had kidnapped her, tied her up, gagged her and now blindfolded her. Now he was leading her down some stairs to the cellar. The cellar was cold. Not quite as cold as outside, but chilly nevertheless. She felt herself guided down to the hard concrete floor. Then she felt rope around her ankles. Once again they were tied - tightly. Then rope went around her knees, just above the joint. She could feel its bite, even through her denims. More rope was applied to her ankles. This cinched the existing bond. She felt his hands on her feet, and her knees bending. The rope dug deeper into her thighs as her legs doubled. As son as her bare soles pushed against her palms, he tied the rope off, hog-tying her. Her breasts pushed against the concrete floor.

'Just tell them what they want to know, Dr. Lampton,' he said calmly into her ear. 'Then I can make sure that they look after you.'

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Rebecca Carpenter sat uneasily in a chair in a book-lined study. After an hour, painfully hog-tied on a cold cellar floor, she felt glad not only of the comfort of the chair but of the warmth too. And, although her hands were still tied behind her and her ankles were tied wide to the legs of the chair, at least the blindfold was off. The man in front of her appeared to be in his mid fifties. He was grey with a distinguished bearing, a goatee beard and a handsome face. Not your average, everyday kidnapper. The tall man was there too: not the one who had tied her in the van, but the second one, the reassuring one. But there was no sign of his accomplice or of the woman.

'Remove, Dr. Lampton's gag, please Morgan, the older man said.'

The large hands were remarkably deft at unfastening the knot behind Becky's head. As soon as the cloth came away, Becky began to push with her tongue at the revolting socks gagging her. Before she could get them out, the large man reached up and plucked them out with two large fingers.

As soon as the socks had been removed, Becky's jaw began to spasm.

'Water?'

She nodded yes, and the older man passed a bottle of mineral water to Morgan who held it to her lips. As soon as she had drunk, she screamed: loud.

To her surprise, the older man let her finish.

'Got that out of your system, Dr. Lampton?' he asked, smiling. 'No one will hear you,' he continued. The only people here who don't work for me are my two guests. And currently my daughter is showing them around the estate. So, if you want to scream again, be my guest. Of course, if you do, I'll gag you again. Only this time, I'll use your panties.'

Becky shuddered at the thought.

'I'm not Dr. Lampton,' she said, calmly. 'I'm Rebecca Carpenter and I'm staying with friends at a nearby house. They've probably missed me by now.'

The man smiled. 'Of course you're not Dr. Lampton,' he said sarcastically. 'Now. Let me tell you what I want. I know that the disk is no good. But I also know that you have the details of the Jupiter Virus in your head. Write them out for me and you'll be kept here in comfort and then released in a week or two. Refuse, and things will become very nasty. Not only will your stay here be rather longer than a fortnight, but I'll give you to my daughter as a toy to play with. She'll like that. But I'm afraid you won't.'

Now, there was fear in Becky's voice. 'I told you, I'm not Dr. Lampton,' she repeated anxiously.

For a second Baxter almost believed her. But then, common sense re-asserted itself. 'You fit her description,' he said, 'and you were meeting with that FBI agent. Now, my advice to you is to stop pretending and give me what I want. Believe me. It'll be better for you in the long run. Of course, if you're not actually Dr. Lampton that puts a completely different complexion on it. A less scrupulous man than I might actually see no reason to keep you alive. I'd probably just give you to my daughter anyway.'

Becky suddenly felt as if a ten-ton weight had been dropped on her head. There was no way out. The only way she could prevent him from ill-treating her was by convincing him that she wasn't Dr. Lampton. But, if she succeeded in doing that, she would receive exactly the same fate. She could only hope that rescue would come. In the meantime, the best way would be to stick with the truth. Perhaps, then she might discover that he was bluffing. After all, why would he hurt an innocent person.

'I really am Rebecca Carpenter,' she repeated.

'Dear, dear, dear,' Baxter replied, 'foolish to the last. Morgan, please re-gag the good doctor and stay with her. As soon as my daughter returns she can take charge.'

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Chapter Four

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