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From: Vulgar Argot <vulgarargotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Secrets of Kings, Chapter 2 (tags at bottom to avoid spoilerage.)
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Date: Wed, 28 Jul 2004 05:10:04 -0400
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The Secrets of Kings, Chapter 2
by Vulgar Argot
(tags at bottom to avoid spoilerage)

Ioke woke with a headache and a faintly metallic taste in her mouth.
Opening her eyes, she noticed no change in the darkness from when they
had been closed.

Somewhere in the distance, there was the muffled sound of crying and
whimpering. Going up on her knees, Ioke felt around herself. The floor
underneath her was cold, metallic and textured. Someone had laid a
couple of thin blankets underneath her, but they had done little to
prevent the aches and pains she felt in every joint of her body right
now. Tentatively, she reached around herself without rising, but
couldn't find a wall in any direction.

The crying seemed to be coming from several directions at once, both
close and far away. It didn't sound like it was muffled by coming
through any walls.

"Who's there?" asked Ioke. "Are you all right?"

"I'm here," came a call. More followed, but Ioke focused on the first
one. Staying crouched over, she crab walked towards it, feeling ahead
of herself as well as possible so as not to run into anything.

As she walked, she felt a bit unsteady on her feet. Smelling the air,
she mostly detected a strong metallic tang and a musty smell like
clothes stored too long. She also smelled the unmistakable scent of
fear. Taking another breath, she found the smell she was looking for.

The ocean.

She had no idea how she'd gotten there, but she seemed to be at sea.
Her last memory was of reporting for a new temp assignment at a firm
she only knew by a three-letter acronym. They hadn't had a lot of work
for her or the other temps to do and, around lunchtime, she'd started
to feel dizzy and laid down in the break room. She supposed she must
have passed out.

"Where are you?" she called again, knowing she was close.

"Right here," said the woman who had first called out. She was almost
within arm's reach.

"Are you all right?" asked Ioke.

"I think so," said the other woman. "But, I shredded the shit out of
my stockings."

"Sheila?" Ioke asked. Sheila was a temp Ioke had worked with at
several different jobs, including this last one.

"Ioke?"

"Yeah," said Ioke.

"What are you doing here?"

In spite of herself, Ioke laughed, "I don't even know where here is.
Do you?"

"No," said Sheila. "I was just coming back from lunch and somebody
grabbed me from behind. I think they drugged me."

Ioke held her head, "I think they drugged me, too." Calling out, she
asked, "Who else is here?"

Following voices, Ioke managed to gather up six women in total.
Including herself, three of them had been temping at the same firm the
last thing they could remember. They all told similar stories--either
of feeling dizzy and lying down or being jumped from behind. The other
three were all college students. Two had been snatched out of NYU
dorms, one from Washington Square Park in broad daylight.

"Is anyone hurt?" Ioke asked. When she got a round of negative
responses, she said, "Let's follow the wall and see if we can find a
door. There should be one. If we were dropped from a height, we would
have bruises or worse."

"Who?" asked the one who had identified herself as Gayle. She sounded
to be on the verge of hysteria, "Who's doing this to us?"

"I don't know," admitted Ioke. "Let's find a door."

As they felt their way around the wall, Ioke kept them talking. Some
of the women were close to going to pieces. She kept them focused on
the problem of finding the door and figuring out if there was any
commonality among them.

It wasn't hard. They were all a year or two out of high school. As she
kept them talking, Ioke realized that they were also quite
well-spoken.

"Sheila, how were your grades?" she asked, her hands inching across
the wall.

"My what?"

"Your grades," said Ioke. "When you were in high school. How were your
grades?"

"4.0," said Sheila. "I was valedictorian."

"I was valedictorian, too," said the girl who'd identified herself as
Paula. There was a general murmur of assent. Only one of the girls
hadn't done as well in school, but she was clearly intelligent.

"What does that mean?" asked the one who'd said her name was Rebecca.

"I don't know," said Ioke. "But, it seems unlikely to be a
coincidence. Were any of you contacted by a man named Sean Medeforte?"

This round of responses was generally negative. But, Gayle said,
"Wait. I know that name. An agent of his contacted me right after I
graduated. But, I turned him down. I...You don't think he's involved.
Do you?"

"Who's Sean Medeforte?" Sheila asked.

"A very rich, very eccentric man," said Ioke. "He made me...a job
offer right after graduation."

"What sort..."

"Hang on," said Ioke. "I've found a door. And I think I see some light
around the edges."

She was right. Barely differentiated in the darkness, a hint of light
showed through a crack between the wall and the door. She pushed and
it gave a little.

Gayle stood next to her, feeling the door. Ioke couldn't see her, but
she recognized her breathing. It was fast and ragged at first, but had
slowed to where Gayle was now breathing slowly and deeply, clearly and
deliberately masking her initial fear. She said, "The hinges are on
the inside and not very strong. I could probably break it open."

"No," said Sheila. "What if there's someone outside waiting for us?"

"Then they know we're in here," said Gayle. "There's no point in
waiting for them to come in."

"Wait," said Ioke. She'd found the handle and tried it, "I don't think
it's locked. It just seems stuck."

She jimmied the handle back and forth until it came back with a thunk,
the door popping open. Stepping out, Ioke had to blink a few times to
get her eyes to adjust to even the low light of a full moon. Looking
around, she confirmed what she had expected. She was on the deck of a
ship. They'd been inside a shipping container. Somehow, it seemed a
lot smaller from here than when she'd been gathering up the other
hostages.

One by one, the women stepped out. Against all expectations, there
didn't seem to be anyone around. As they emerged, Ioke couldn't help
but notice something about them. All the women she'd been locked in
with were uniformly beautiful--tear-stained, tousled, and scared, but
clearly beautiful. Ioke had noticed how pretty the women she'd been
temping with were this morning. Now, she saw that the other three were
too--far too beautiful to be a coincidence. She didn't like what that
correlation implied.

Examining each of them briefly, she picked the one who looked the
least scared. Not only did Gayle not look scared, she looked angry and
determined.

"Gayle," she said. "Come with me. I need to assess our situation--see
if there's anyone on this ship who will help us. The rest of you wait
here. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"I can't go back in there," said Paula, starting to panic. "I'm
terrified of the dark. I thought I was going to die in there."

Sheila shushed her, taking her shoulders and comforting her. Ioke
said, "If you have to stay outside, stay close. I don't know who's out
here, but I doubt you want them to find you wandering around."

Paula laid her head on Sheila's shoulder. She was still crying, but
she nodded. Of the six girls she was leaving behind, Sheila seemed the
most put-together.

Ioke pulled her aside, "Listen, try to keep them calm and thinking as
a group. If we're going to get out of this, we can't be at each
other's throats."

Sheila nodded, "Do you have any idea what 'this' is?"

"I have some ideas," said Ioke. "But, they're all pretty far-fetched.
I'd rather not say more until I get back."

As they were moving among the cargo containers and away from the other
girls, Gayle asked, "So, what's your far-fetched idea?"

Ioke nodded, "I think we've been taken by white slavers."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Gayle. "You do realize the
problem with that theory."

Ioke chuckled mirthlessly. She was mostly Hawaiian with a little bit
of Japanese in the mix. Gayle was the color of mocha latte.

"Maybe they're equal opportunity white slavers," she offered.

"I'm glad you can joke at a time like this," said Gayle.

"It's a survival trait I learned from a friend, although I do wonder
if he didn't have his banter punched up a little in rewrite."

Gayle raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"I went to school with Thule Roemer," said Ioke. "I had kind of a
crush on him, actually."

Gayle nodded, "I can see that. Was he a good enough friend that he
might come looking for you?"

"I doubt it," said Ioke. "We weren't good friends until last summer.
And, he's been so busy at MIT that I haven't really heard from him
since September."

"My boyfriend is a cop," said Gayle. "I don't know if he's going to be
much help either, though. I think we're going to have to get ourselves
out of this one."

Ioke sighed, "I think you're right."

Just then, she heard footfalls. Signaling to Gayle, she faded into the
shadow of one of the containers. Gayle followed.

"I still say it's bullshit," said a man holding an AK-47 assault
rifle. "We don't get paid enough to do this if there's no pussy."

"There's pussy," said the man standing next to him, smoking. "But it's
for the prince. That's Grade A pussy--too good for a smelly Frenchman
like you."

"Fuck you," said the Frenchman. "And fuck the prince. It's not like
he's going to notice if we skim a little for ourselves."

"Maybe not," said the other man. "But the captain wasn't kidding when
he said he'd throw any man overboard who laid a finger on them.
Besides, once we get to Santo Perdido, you can get all the pussy you
want, cheap."

Ioke couldn't hear what the Frenchman's response was because they'd
walked out of range. She turned to Gayle.

"I wish we'd been wrong."

"Me too," said Gayle. "We need to get some guns."

Ioke gave her a hard stare, "You're not going to go all Die Hard on
me. Are you?"

"Under Siege," said Gayle.

"What?"

"Die Hard was in an office building," said Gayle. "Under Siege was the
one on a boat--with Stephen Segal."

Ioke just stared at her.

"Sorry," said Gayle. "My boyfriend loved those movies. He'd never
forgive me if I couldn't tell the difference."

"Your boyfriend the cop?"

"No," said Gayle. "My boyfriend in high school. He wanted to be a
Green Beret."

"I don't suppose he remembers you fondly enough to want to come save
us?" Ioke asked.

"Not a chance," said Gayle. "Besides, he was a psycho. When I broke up
with him, he held me hostage for three days. When I first woke up in
the dark, I was afraid he'd somehow gotten out and was behind this."

"Any chance?"

"No," said Gayle. "He's not what you would call a team player.
Besides, it sounds like we're being delivered to someone."

Ioke nodded. She started to look around for anything that would give
her a clue as to what to do next.

Following her, Gayle asked, "The offer that Sean Medeforte made you.
Was it, strictly speaking, a job offer?"

"No," said Ioke simply.

"Were you going to do it?" asked Gayle.

"I hadn't decided," Ioke admitted. "I was filling out the paperwork,
but I hadn't made up my mind whether or not to send it in. What about
you?"

Gayle shook her head, "I couldn't. I have a boyfriend."

"Me too," said Ioke. "But..."

"You were considering it anyway?"

Ioke nodded, "I love Kale, but all he ever thinks about is when he
finishes college so that he can move back to Hana and never leave."

"Hana?" asked Gayle. "Like in Hawaii?"

"Yeah," said Ioke.

"Sounds good to me," said Gayle.

"Yeah," said Ioke. "It's starting to sound better and better, all
things considered. Growing up there, I probably didn't appreciate it.
But, I want to see the world. And, it's only six years."

"Look," said Gayle. She pointed towards the railing. A man was
standing there, smoking a cigarette. His gun was strapped over his
shoulder and across his back.

"Let's take him down."

"You're serious?" Ioke asked.

"I'm serious," said Gayle. "We've got to get ourselves out of this. If
they figure out we've been wandering the ship, they'll lock us back in
that container and throw away the key. We've got to strike now before
they realize there's a problem."

Ioke looked doubtful, "But, we don't know how many of them there are
or if there's even any place to hide once they start chasing you."

"And I would love to know all that," said Gayle. "But, we don't have
time for a lot of recon. Listen, I'm going to get that guy's gun
before he finishes his cigarette. Will you help me?"

Ioke considered for a second before she said, "All right. What do you
want me to do?"

"Just wait here," said Gayle. "I should be able to take this guy. If
I'm wrong, rush him."

Ioke nodded. Gayle started to creep towards the man standing at the
railing, using whatever she could for cover. Just as she broke cover,
Ioke saw two more men approaching. She wanted to call out, but doing
so would definitely alert the men to her presence.

There was about thirty feet of open deck between the last bit of cover
and the railing. As Gayle was about a third of the way across it, the
smoking man flicked his cigarette and started to turn around.

Gayle crouched to throw herself at him, but Ioke could clearly see
that she would never make it in time. Fortunately, Gayle seemed to
realize it too. Straightening up, she started to run towards him
calling, "Excuse me. Excuse me, please."

It might have worked. The man looked at her, puzzled, but his hands
didn't go for his gun.

"Excuse me," said Gayle. "I don't know what's going on. I'm not
supposed to be here."

The man smiled at her. Even from thirty feet away, Ioke could see that
it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was a smile that she'd seen once
before--the smile of a man with rape on his mind.

"Please be greedy," Ioke whispered. "Please don't be the sharing
type."

"Hey, guys," the man called. "Look what wandered away from the herd."

The other two men emerged from where they'd been standing. They moved
with the easy grace of professional predators. Ioke's heart sank.

Seeing them, Gayle made a good accounting of herself. She reached the
first man before he could react and punched him in the gut. As he
fell, she extracted a wicked-looking knife from his belt.

But, it was clear to Ioke that she was overmatched. Gayle was tall,
probably about five-ten. Both men had at least four inches over her.
They approached her without taking out their guns. They weren't afraid
of a girl with a knife.

For all that, Gayle managed to cut both of them before the man she'd
sucker-punched grabbed her feet, sending her sprawling backwards onto
the deck. A second man sat on her and plucked the knife out of her
hand.

He looked up at the third man, as if seeking permission. The third man
looked down at Gayle and said, "Let's make this quick."

The second man nodded. Gayle was dressed in a grey skirt and
cream-colored blouse. Her hose were shredded from her capture and
running around the deck without any shoes. He reached down and tore
the front of her blouse open with enough force that one of the buttons
rolled to Ioke's feet.

Ioke closed her eyes and braced herself. She desperately wanted to go
back to the shipping container and pretend she'd never left. Instead,
she stepped out where the men could see her.

In her best commanding voice, the one she'd used to hold court at
Mannsborough High this past year, she shouted, "Stop that."

The third man, the one still standing, altered his path and started
running towards her. He had a rapist's smile. It took all of Ioke's
courage not to run. If she ran, she was prey. Instead, she stared him
down as best she could.

"Stop it," she said, trying to sound irritated. "We're not for you.
We're for the prince."

That gave them a moment of pause. Then, the man advanced on her again.

"Lay a finger on me and the captain will throw you overboard," she
said.

The man paused again. Hesitantly, he took another step towards her.
Ioke said, "If you touch me, you'd better kill me. Otherwise, I'll
make damned sure the captain hears about it."

"I could just break your jaw," the third man offered. But, he made no
move towards her.

"And hers?" Ioke asked, her voice dripping with contempt. "Are you
going to break our wrists too so we can't write? Do you think the
captain won't notice we've been roughed up? Don't be stupid."

The man seemed to consider this. When he walked the rest of the way
towards Ioke, the smile had changed. Still, it was an effort not to
pull away when he took her chin in his hand.

He roared with laughter, "If he's anything like his father, the prince
is going to like this one. I never met a more spirited woman than the
ones the king keeps. You'd better take them back to the container. And
be glad she didn't cut your balls off."

The two men grumbled, but helped Gayle to her feet. For some reason,
she was glaring at the one man who hadn't laid a hand on her. He was
bleeding where she'd cut him on the arm but paid it no mind.

"Kaffir," she muttered angrily when they pushed her next to Ioke. All
three men had their assault rifles out now.

"I don't understand," whispered Ioke. "What's that mean."

"It's like 'nigger,' only worse," said Gayle. "It's Afrikaans. That
big bastard is South African."

Ioke nodded. She didn't understand how a racial slur could get her
angrier than an attempted rape. There weren't many slurs for native
Hawaiians. She'd been called a "chink" and a "gook" by people who
couldn't tell Asians and Hawaiians apart, but it clearly wasn't the
same thing.

"Walk a little faster," said Gayle. Ioke obeyed, hoping the other
woman wasn't about to try anything stupid.

"Brace yourself," Gayle said. "If they start shooting, drop to the
deck." Before Ioke could react, Gayle grabbed her by the shoulders and
threw her off to the right while dodging to the left.

A moment later, there was a burst of gunfire. Ioke would have dropped
to the deck if she hadn't fallen there when Gayle shoved her. She
rolled and looked up. The man they'd first seen smoking was standing
over her, gun inches from her face. Before he could say anything, Ioke
said, "I'm not moving."

There were more sounds of gunfire, getting farther away. Ioke hoped
Gayle had made good her escape.

"Get up," said the man. "Keep moving."

Ioke did as she was told, being careful not to do anything that might
set off what must be a very itchy trigger finger by now. When they
were back at the container, she turned slowly to face him.

"I need to talk to the captain," she said. "It's important."

"I'll give him your message," the man with the gun said. "Now, get
in."

                                   -=-
                                   
When Gayle got back to the spot where she'd narrowly escaped being
raped, the sounds of pursuit were far behind. Crouching down, she
found the knife that had been taken from her, still lying on the deck
where it had fallen. Not slowing her flight, she scooped it up.

It wasn't a gun, but it was a start.

                                   -=-
                                   
Thule woke, alarmed not to hear an alarm clock. The sun was high in
the sky. It took a moment of panic before he remembered that finals
were over. It was the first day of summer vacation--if the summer he
had planned could be called that.  Dawn must have gotten up at some
point in the evening because she'd stripped out of everything but the
t-shirt she'd been wearing the evening before.

He checked the wall clock. It was just after nine a.m. He'd been
asleep a little over thirteen hours.

"Good morning," said Dawn curled up against him. "You were wonderful
last night. I should take advantage of you in your sleep more often."

Thule let his hand fall to stroke her bottom, "I think I prefer you
wait until I can remember it."

Dawn kissed his chest, "How's your memory working this morning?"

Thule laughed and groaned, "I promised I would meet with a client at
ten thirty. And, I have to follow up with Kale."

"What do you have to follow up with Kale on?"

Thule paled, "Oh, Jesus. I just assumed you knew. Ioke's missing."

Dawn sat up, "She is?"

Thule nodded, "Yeah. Kale thinks she was kidnapped. I'm sorry, Dawn. I
was so tired when I got in that I just..."

Dawn put a comforting hand on his chest, "Don't beat yourself up,
Thule. If you'd told me last night, I just would have stayed awake
worrying about it."

Thule nodded, "I've got one of my people on it. But, I want to follow
up on it personally. I've also got a pallet full of things I've been
letting slide during finals. I need to deal with some of these things
before they go from super critical to super-duper critical."

"So, you'll be free when?" she asked.

Thule winced. This was starting to sound remarkably like a
conversation he'd had with Marigold right before she decided to go
traipsing off to Africa. Thule regretted that conversation. He'd been
tired and short-tempered and Marigold had seemed determined to
misunderstand his situation.

"I could be done by five tonight," he said. "After that, I'm yours for
the evening."

Dawn nodded, "Are you going to be busy all summer?"

"Not all summer," said Thule. "I've got about four weeks worth of work
to clear away. Then, I'll be free except for the weekly status
meetings."

"Four weeks?" asked Dawn. "That's like a month."

Thule sighed, his sense of deja vu intensifying, "Very much like a
month."

"So," said Dawn. "That would leave us like six weeks before classes
started up again."

Thule nodded, "That's right."

Dawn made a thoughtful face, then said, "I have a proposition for
you."

"I'm never averse to being propositioned," said Thule.

"Make me your assistant."

For a moment, it sounded like a good idea. Then, Thule remembered a
troubling detail. With regret in his voice, he said, "I already have
an assistant."

"All right, then," said Dawn. "How about your factotum?"

Thule laughed, "That's just another word for assistant."

"Protege?"

Thule laughed harder, "This is going to be the sidekick talk all over
again, isn't it?"

"If by that you mean am I going to keep pestering you in my charmingly
perky way until I get what I want, the answer is yes."

"I really can't justify putting you on payroll..."

"Who said anything about payroll?" asked Dawn. "Thule, I'm staying in
this gorgeous house instead of a dorm room. You and Jonas are paying
for me to go to college. You gave me your car. I'm not looking to get
paid. I just want the chance to spend time with you. And, before you
say it, I know it's going to be work. I want to work. I don't want to
get to September and still be majoring in undecided. I have a great
opportunity here to see if this is something I might be good at."

Thule wanted very much to say yes. As many people as he'd been around
lately, he'd been terribly lonely since Marigold left. Setting his
mind to clearing away the obstacles to what he wanted, he realized
that there were no obstacles. He was the boss. It might cost him some
credibility initially, but Dawn had never been anything but reliable
when the chips were down. This was the girl who, not that long ago,
had painted herself to look dead and climbed into a car trunk for him.

"Did you say 'intern?'" Thule asked.

Dawn shook her head, "I said protege. If you called me an intern,
people might think I was sleeping with you."

                                   -=-
                                   
Thule and his new protege emerged from the residential wing at fifteen
minutes past ten a.m. He noted with some amusement that Dawn had not
only brought a business suit, it was apparently the only article of
clothing she'd hung up before collapsing onto his bed. Thule smelled a
set-up, but didn't mind. He was looking forward to working with Dawn
at his side.

Not only did Dawn have a business suit, she had a navy blue business
suit with a vaguely mannish cut, a long skirt, a starched white
blouse, and pearls. Thule thought that the pearls were a bit much and
said so.

"I just want to look like I'm taking this seriously," said Dawn. "A
little bit of overkill is a good thing. Besides," she turned and, with
a deliberate motion, angled her leg to show how the skirt was
strategically split and that she was wearing stockings that came to
just above the knee. "I love this skirt because it's pretty much
impossible to do that by mistake. Now, let me finish my hair so that
the sexy librarian look is complete."

As they emerged, Jake was the first one to see them. His reaction
couldn't have been better. He glanced at them, took two steps, did a
double-take, made a 180-degree turn, and stared, his jaw actually
hanging open.

"Dawn?"

She gave Jake a smile that Thule could only consider enigmatic, "Brute
Squad, you like?"

"Wow, you look...uh. Thule, doesn't she look..."

Thule nodded, "Yes. She definitely looks."

"Great," said Jake. "That's the word. You look great. Are you working
here now?"

She nodded, "I'm Thule's protege."

"Of course, I'm Simon's protege," Thule added. "So, that makes you a
protege's protege."

Dawn shrugged, "You've got to start somewhere."

"Jake, do you want to sit in on this one? I could use a read on this
guy."

"I would," said Jake. "But, I need to get on a train to New York. I
just stopped by to pick up some files. I saw Matika in the kitchen,
though. I think she's free."

Thule checked his watch and said, "Great. Now, if I can find her
before Medeforte gets here..."

"I'm on it," said Dawn. She headed off in the direction of the
kitchen.

"That's uh..." said Jake.

"I know," said Thule. "I'm not used to seeing her dressed
professionally either."

Jake laughed, "I'm still not used to seeing her without axle grease on
her face."

A blonde head appeared around the door that led to the main
entranceway, "Front gate says Mr. Medeforte's car just pulled up."

"Masha," said Thule, "what are you doing here on a Saturday?"

"You have a meeting," she said. "You need your assistant."

"It's good to have you here," said Thule. "Why don't you get set up in
the main study."

"Already did," said Masha. "I just wanted to let you know that Mr.
Medeforte was on his way up the driveway."

Thule nodded and followed his assistant to the study. Dawn and Matika
trailed in behind him. Thule was glad to see that Matika was in slacks
and a button-down shirt. She had a habit of working late into the
night and showing up at morning staff meetings in her sweats. She was
hardly the only one, though. A lot of people put in a lot of overtime
to try to make the business work. Thule was hardly alone in losing a
lot of sleep.

The main study was done up in polished wood and dark leather. In
between chairs, couches, and love seats, there was enough room to seat
twenty comfortably. If people sat on the floor, he'd had as many as
thirty-five meet here. It was also the only room in the house that was
swept for bugs every morning and before and after every meeting. It
wasn't cost effective to do more than one room most of the time.

Thule sat in his favorite chair. Masha sat on his right, Dawn on his
left. Matika took a book down from the small shelf hidden behind an
antique Chinese rice paper screen where the actual readable books
were. Thule noticed that it was Heinlein's "Number of the Beast."

"I never got that one," said Dawn. "My brothers had everything RAH
ever wrote at home. I loved some of his stuff. But, I never got the
point of that one."

"Me neither," said Matika sitting on one of the love seats on the edge
of the room. "Supposedly, it makes a lot more sense if you've read a
lot of golden age science fiction. I've reread it like four times, but
I still only get about half the references."

"Rereading it again?" asked Dawn.

"Not really," said Matika. "If I sit here and look like I'm not paying
attention, even if it doesn't fool them, they tend to forget that I'm
here. Then, nobody bothers to pay attention to where I'm looking or
what I'm doing. Jake's better at it than I am, but I'm getting better
at being scenery."

Dawn giggled, "Jake--scenery?"

"He does this great 'big, dumb thug' routine," said Matika. "Even I
forget he's not dumb when he does it sometimes. My shtick is 'vacuous
window-dressing.' You'll have to tell me how I do."

Dawn looked indignant, "I thought I was your vacuous window dressing,
Thule."

"If you check your contract," said Thule. "I think you'll see that
your official title is 'arm candy.'"

Dawn smiled, "I can live with that. But, for business purposes,
'protege' will do."

"Suit yourself," said Thule.

A pair of guards entered dressed in the smart black uniforms of
Hausman Physical Security. One of them said, "Mr. Sean Medeforte is
here. Should we show him in?"

Thule nodded, "Yes, Najiyah. Thank you."

Thule wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting of Sean Medeforte,
but it wasn't the singularly unassuming man that entered the room.
There was nothing wrong with the way the man looked. There was just
nothing extraordinary. He was about six feet tall, of medium build,
had neatly coiffed brown hair and brown eyes. His suit was finely
tailored, but well-made enough that it didn't need to look expensive.
He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties.

Highlighting his ordinariness was the trio of women who trailed in
after him in neat formation. Dressed for business, none of them would
have looked out of place on the cover of Vogue. But, they moved with
purpose and Thule could not help but note the gleam of intelligence in
their eyes.

Dawn seemed to notice too, sitting up straighter, uncrossing and
recrossing her legs.

"Mr. Roemer," said Medeforte. "Nice to finally meet you."

"Mr. Medeforte," said Thule, keeping his voice cool and professional.
"Please have a seat."

Medeforte sat directly across from him, his entourage finding seats
nearby. Indicating them one by one, he said, "This is Melinda, my
personal assistant, Alma, my advisor and bodyguard, and Ai, my
business protege."

Thule nodded, indicating his own team, "This is Masha, my personal
assistant and Dawn, my business protege." He could see Dawn and Ai
sizing each other up across a distance of less than twenty feet. At
the same time, he was sizing up Alma, a compact Hispanic woman who
couldn't be older than twenty-five. She certainly didn't look like a
bodyguard.

With a slight motion of his head, Medeforte indicated that he wished
to be introduced to the entire room. Thule went on, "Over there is
Matika, a strategic analyst." Realizing Medeforte was still waiting,
he said, "At the door are Najiyah and Andrea, who will be providing
physical security."

"Excellent," said Medeforte. "Now that introductions are made, why
don't we get down to business?"

"Yes," said Thule. "Apparently, your need for this meeting was
somewhat urgent. What can I do for you?"

Melinda rose and handed Thule a thick manila envelope. Medeforte said,
"Do you know what I do for a living, Mr. Roemer?"

"My associate told me you were in international finance," said Thule.

Medeforte nodded, "That is correct. More specifically, I broker loans
for sovereign nations and extranational organizations that need
large-scale financing. I also provide investment opportunities for
those same organizations that allow them to stabilize wealth that
would otherwise be in flux."

"That description sounds suitably vague," said Thule. "It could
describe the World Bank or Adnan Khashoggi."

"Closer to Mr. Khashoggi," said Medeforte. He did not admit it, but
said it matter-of-factly. "Let me answer another concern I'm sure that
you have. Like Mr. Khashoggi, I operate within both the confines of
international law and the laws of the nations in which I do business.
The matter that I need to discuss with you will not involve you in any
sort of criminal activity."

Thule nodded, "I'm relieved to hear that, Mr. Medeforte. However, why
are you paying so much for this meeting if this matter is all above
board?"

"I approached your firm through normal channels," said Medeforte. "And
was told that you would be unavailable for at least six weeks. I
wanted to make it clear that my need was...pressing."

"Why me specifically?" asked Thule. "I don't usually handle this sort
of thing personally. I'm not particularly qualified to do..."

Medeforte raised his hand, "I thought you would be sympathetic to my
plea. Members of other firms that I have approached have raised
certain moral objections. May I finish my explanation?"

"Please," said Thule.

"As I was saying, I am an international financier. In fact, it would
not be braggadocio to say that I am the international financier that
people who need to raise a certain amount of capital think of first if
they think of anyone else at all. I have a certain gift for getting
disagreeable people to agree and a head for figures. My organization
puts together less than two dozen deals a year. But, they are large,
intricate deals and require some of the sharpest minds in the world to
prepare and manage. In order to find those minds, I have an extensive
network of agents who seek out the brightest young women in the
English-speaking world. Every two years, I add the brightest two or
three of them to my organization under a fairly generous contract."

"Forgive me for interrupting," said Thule. "Did you say young men and
women?"

Medeforte smiled and shook his head, "No, Mr. Roemer. You heard me
correctly. With a handful of exceptions, I hire only women."

Thule nodded, but said nothing.

"You have a question, Mr. Roemer," said Medeforte.

"Why?"

Medeforte laughed, "Because I am a very wealthy man, Mr. Roemer. With
the package I offer, I can hire nearly anyone I want. Why wouldn't I
choose beautiful, intelligent young women?"

Thule raised an eyebrow, "Beautiful?"

"You've met Melinda, Alma, and Ai. Do you disagree with my
assessment?"

Thule didn't have to look again, "No. Not at all."

"Which one of them do you think is most beautiful?"

Thule was stunned by the question. Barely managing not to stammer, he
said, "I'm sure that I couldn't..."

"Very well," said Medeforte. "I consider Melinda the loveliest of the
three. I admit a certain weakness for blondes, though. Melinda, are
you the most beautiful of my employees?"

"No, Mr. Medeforte," said Melinda immediately. "That would be
Estrella."

"Not the choice I would have made," said Medeforte. "But a good one."

"Thank you, Mr. Medeforte."

"I wasn't questioning your assessment," said Thule. "I was just
wondering why, in a business as sensitive and delicate as yours, you
would use it as a hiring criterion?"

"Mr. Roemer, what do you do when the workday is done?"

Thule chuckled, "If that ever happens, I'll let you know."

"Ah," said Medeforte, smiling, "I thought you would understand. My
work is my life. There is no time that I am not working or ready to
work. As a result, all aspects of my life must be rolled into my work.
Melinda, what are the conditions of your contract? Stick to the major
points, please."

"My initial contract is for seventy two months, more than seventy of
which have passed. During that time, I am being trained in finance and
business management. I also have access to the resources of Medeforte
University at Jayanesia for whatever additional education I may seek.
My annual salary is calculated to work out to one million dollars a
year after all taxes have been paid on it. At the end of my contract,
I will be paid an additional six million dollars completion bonus and
provided with a generous severance package. Until that time, I am on
call at all times although I rarely work more than twelve hours in a
single day. In addition to administrative tasks, I am available to Mr.
Medeforte socially and sexually."

Thule had started to suspect where the recitation was going.
Apparently, not everyone had predicted it or, at least, been willing
to believe it could end up there. Matika's book dropped to the floor.
And, as such things happened at moments like that, it landed flat on
the cover, echoing loudly across the room.

Neither Thule nor Medeforte's head moved, but everyone else looked
towards her.

"So," asked Thule. "I hope that doesn't answer the question of what
you want from me. I have a good head for figures, but I'm not half as
pretty as Melinda."

Medeforte chuckled. It was the first display of emotion he'd shown so
far. Thule marked it as a small victory.

"This year is a recruiting year for my firm," said Medeforte.
"Everything was progressing normally. And then, suddenly, my
candidates started vanishing."

"Vanishing?"

Medeforte nodded, "Yes. It's been quite vexing. Three girls in
Baltimore, one in Washington DC, one in Newark, and three in New York.
What little investigating I've done suggests that they've been
kidnapped."

Thule nodded, "Go on."

"You recently purchased a subsidiary firm called Bonderman
Investigations. I would like to secure their resources to investigate
this matter. I have two goals. The first is to make these kidnappings
stop. The second is to gather enough evidence to convince any
potential investigators that I am not behind these kidnappings. Of
tertiary concern is to find out where the leak is in my operation."

"Are you certain there's a leak?" Thule asked.

"How else would my list have gotten out?"

"If your list's gotten out, there's a leak," said Thule. "But, it's
possible that someone may be using similar selection criteria to yours
and, therefore, overlapping with your list of candidates."

"A good point, Mr. Roemer. My tertiary concern, then, would be to
determine if there is a leak in my organization and, if so, where it
is. Melinda has a proposal for financial compensation for your
services. I have been generous in the sincerest hopes that this will
not require negotiation."

Thule accepted a slim folder from Melinda, who smiled at him warmly.
Opening it to a list of figures, he glanced down only briefly.

"I'll have my business manager go over these, but I see no reason to
think they won't be acceptable." Somehow, he managed to say it evenly
and without staring.

"Excellent," said Medeforte. "I have reason to believe that whoever is
kidnapping these women will strike in Boston next. All of the details
my organization has collected are in the manila envelope you're
holding. I need to be getting back to Jayanesia, but Melinda will be
staying behind in Boston. Consider her at your disposal for the
duration of the investigation if you have any questions."

"I do have a couple of questions for you now, Mr. Medeforte."

Medeforte inclined his head, indicating that Thule should continue.

"Was one of your candidates this year a woman named Ioke Nahalu?"

"Yes," said Medeforte. "Why do you ask?"

"We went to school together," said Thule. "Her fiance contacted me and
believes you are behind her kidnapping."

"Ah," said Medeforte. "You will have to satisfy yourself and the
aforementioned fiance that I am not."

"And if you are?"

Medeforte smiled, but there was nothing behind it, "Then I imagine you
will do what you have to do, Mr. Roemer. However, I certainly hope
that I am not. I do quite a lot of business in the United States. It
wouldn't do to run afoul of its laws."

Thule nodded, "Thank you, Mr. Medeforte. I'll get my people right on
this."

"I expect you will, Mr. Roemer," said Medeforte. "But, you had another
question."

Thule, who had momentarily forgotten that he had, in fact, had another
question said, "It was a small matter."

"Nonetheless," said Medeforte. "If it can facilitate your
investigation, I should answer now. I may be difficult to reach in the
future.'

"It doesn't directly effect the investigation," said Thule. "I just
wondered why you chose me. How did you know I wouldn't decline your
case on moral grounds?"

"Well, Mr. Roemer. I think it would be obvious," said Medeforte,
indicating the room with a sweep of his hands. "You are building a
harem of your own. Aren't you?"

                                          -=-
                                          
Thule gave his staff a lot of credit for not snickering at him in
front of Medeforte. However, wanting to avoid dealing with their
response for a few minutes more, Thule escorted Medeforte out of the
study.

"I have some things I'll need to get off the plane," said Melinda.
"Can you arrange it, Ai?"

"Certainly," said Ai. "Mr. Medeforte still has some business to attend
to with the Bank of Boston. But, after that, I..."

"Medeforte?" came a shout.

Thule looked in the direction that the shout had come from, already
knowing who he would see. What he didn't anticipate was how quickly
Kale could move. He was already barreling towards Medeforte, too close
for Thule to intercede.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. Alma came seemingly out of
nowhere. Dropping to one knee, she caught Kale's outstretched arm and
executed a neat judo throw. Kale, caught by his own forward momentum,
sailed across the lobby, turning in midair so that he was head over
heels when he hit the wall.

Having moved to stop Kale, Thule found himself completely out of
position to stop Alma. By the time he got to her, she was straddling
his chest, her arm across his windpipe, cutting off his breath.

"Don't hurt him," Thule shouted. Alma ignored him.

"Alma," said Medeforte quietly. "Let him up, please. I don't believe
he is still a danger."

Alma nodded, throwing her leg back over Kale and rising. Still, she
watched him warily.

"Mr. Roemer," said Medeforte. "Who is that?"

"That's Kale," said Thule. "Ioke Nahalu's fiance."

"Ah," said Medeforte. For all the emotion he showed, Thule might as
well have told him that Kale was the paperboy. "I don't believe Alma
did any serious damage to him. If she did, let Melinda know and my
organization will pay for any necessary medical procedures."

Before Thule could answer, Lin Xiao emerged from the guest wing. When
she saw Medeforte, she did a double-take, "Mr. Medeforte?"

Medeforte favored her with a small smile, "Lin. It is nice to see you
again. I must be going, though. Good day."

                                          -=-
                                          
Thule had made a tradition of providing and attending brunch for
employees who worked on Saturday and Sunday mornings. For the first
time, he considered deliberately skipping it. But, he thought he might
be able to get away with focusing on talking to Kale about Ioke's
disappearance.

"You know, boss," said Matika. "If I'd known I was going to be part of
a harem, I might have asked for more money."

There was general laughter around the dining room table. Thule
actually found himself blushing, something he would have sworn he was
physically incapable of doing. Still, if that was the worst of it...

"I might have asked for less," offered Helene. The laughter turned to
hoots and hollers.

Dawn raised her hands for silence, glaring at them. For a second,
Thule actually believed she was angry. Then, she said, "This is not a
mob, people. I'm in charge of the application process."

It took a long time for the rowdiness to die down. Thule found himself
thoroughly embarrassed. But, at the same time, he was glad to see that
his company could joke around with each other, even if it was at his
expense.

He might have put a stop to it sooner if Kale had seemed anxious to
talk. Instead, he looked pensive and even cracked a smile once.

When they finally got to talk, Kale did not ask the question Thule
expected. Instead, he asked, "Who was that woman who threw me across
the room?"

"That was Alma," said Thule. "She's Sean Medeforte's bodyguard."

Kale let out a low whistle, "That is some woman."

The Secrets of Kings, Chapter 2
by Vulgar Argot
(MF rom, nosex, caution)

--Vulgar Argot
  http://storiesonline.net/library/author.php?id=2020
--
"Vulgarity begins when imagination succumbs to the explicit."
  --Doris Day

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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