Russell Twyce

Chapter 13 of Loki’s Trojan

Forget-Me-Knots on Ancient Ruins

[private_Chevron]“People seldom examine the whole set.” Lyra split the ring and took the door key. Bob hadn’t used this one lately and probably wouldn’t notice it was gone. After stashing her treasure, the female crept into the room and slipped the slightly lighter fob back into the warden’s abandoned pants.

I should do the lipstick deception under the sheet whilst beside him. If he awakened, she could employ maneuvers to mask her actions. A few tension-filled minutes later, she stirred in her slumber. The action covered her one hand secreting her lipstick tube into the join of the mattress and headboard. She watched for his waking, and didn’t have very long to wait.

“You’re not getting away from me so quickly.” Today, the CEO didn’t scramble up to scan for scattered condoms. Instead, he rolled onto his side and trapped the girl under his arm.

“~I do have a plan B.” Lyra mumbled and smacked her lips as if her mouth was dry but was unconcerned of the arm at her waist. “Party?” She pulled one arm free to pantomime sticking a needle in his arm. Will the thought of getting buzzed before the business day chase him away?

“Boinkee instead.” Bob lifted his one hand to make a donut hole with his thumb and forefinger. His other closed to a fist with the pointer finger repeatedly plunging like a piston into the loop. It was a universal sign that was unmistakable in any language.

He had to remove his arm to perform the two-handed gesture: the girl rolled away from his hold. She stood quickly and squirmed her legs tightly to indicate some bathroom urgency.

“Wait!” With a speedy motion that outdistanced hers, Wall shot out his hand and locked her wrist. “Me first. You take way too long.”

“~You don’t know that I understand English.” Lyra cocked her head as if trying to comprehend. “~You have to play our game by the established rules and use baby talk, charades or the dictionary.”

“Me,” he pointed to his own chest and then at the toilet, “pee-pee”.

“Well little buddy,” Bob already had himself in hand, as his shoulder nudged the bathroom door closed, “did we play hide-the-sausage again?” He looked down at the red smears that matched the shade of her smile. “I sure hope you enjoyed yourself because again, I don’t recall it at all.

“Ahhh,” what should’ve been just blissful bladder relief, “OW,” had a painful precursor: something tore free and preceded the golden stream. “Do I have the clap?” Then he remembered taking a sly precaution.

“Something here is bogus.” After leaving the Jacuzzi, the stoned nerd had plugged his penis tip with a dollop of Vaseline to prevent his catching any diseases: just in case he was too frenetic to reach for a rubber.

“My ejaculating night should’ve dislodged it.” Bob’s pondering mind took his attention from his aiming and warm wet droplets on his shins alerted him to the fact he was currently hitting the toilet seat.

“My come-bob-u-later is covered in lip marks?” He had to adjust his pointing anyways, so Wall bent over to take a close inspection. “This just looks like a haphazardly drawn line that’s been finger smudged.”

“That bitch has been pulling some fast ones over on me!” A realization of how completely he had been conned hammered his ego in a staccato of telling blows. “A knee in my nuts was probably no accident and crushing them again on the couch could’ve been purposely done.”

“That slut shot me up with heroin just to put me to sleep.” For what he knew, she mightn’t have even had her period when she claimed.

“She can clean up my mess or sit in it for all I care.” Bob observed the puddle he had sprayed on the seat. “She could’ve had a rich master but she has piddled on her only meal ticket.”

I got you again! Lyra was poised beside the bathroom door. No sooner he had stepped past the lintel, than she was brushing past. The girl smiled sweetly at his frown, in the instant before slamming the door in his face. He’s such easy picking, for my manipulations.

“~Oink! What a swine. It was a stool, vomit and now its urine.”

“You’ll rue the cloudy day you decided to rain on my hospitality.” Bob stood facing the closed door and staring thunderbolts through it. When he heard the shower start, he stormed off to his private office.

The CEO further vented some of his anger by spinning the deadbolt to her enclosure, with vehemence. “My slave isn’t going anywhere until I’ve paid her back—measure for full measure.” He patted his pocket and was rewarded by the reassuring jingle of keys.

“Wait a minute.” His hand still rested on the jagged bulge in his pants. “Where did I last see her needle kit?” It had been in the kitchen and she was currently in the bathroom. The junky can enjoy her withdrawal until I decide otherwise. He slipped back and snatched her supply. “The game from now on will be ruled by my one-sided referee.”

…

[The tender doe has the grizzled stag keeping a party animal’s hours.]

Tariq pried open his eyes and focused them on his cheap watch: it read one thirty. I assume it’s in the afternoon.

[You danced with your sweetmeat until dawn—now pay the piper.][/private_Chevron]

“Let me empty my mind of cobwebs before you fill it up with fluff.” He staggered to the fridge and drained a bottle of water. “I’m on nights because that’s when she can reach me: I’ll sleep when Bob’s in his office.”

[What if you miss something the irritating hemorrhoid is up to?]

“Good point.” Tariq winced. “I’ll forget about napping all together.”

[Your harem dreams have made you one mixed up camel-jockey.]

“Why are you ragging on me about her?” The man trudged his way to the small bathroom. “You sound like my older sister when I went through puberty.” He couldn’t resist taking a long glance in the mirror. “I’ve seen units with the same mileage looking far worse for wear—and you shut up.”

[I didn’t say anything.]

“I heard what you were thinking.”

[Liar! I can look into your thoughts but it’s one-way glass.]

“Why am I a mixed up camel jockey?” Tariq’s mind reversed.

[The featured film in your nocturnal theater had a Christian theme.]

“Jericho haunted my dreams.” The Iranian flushed, rinsed his hands and then plugged in his kettle. “Yum-yum,” he opened a jar, “the hype says this will instantly become coffee.”

[Why did you buy it? This is Seattle: there are far more cafés and java franchises than hooky-playing police officers to frequent them all.]

“It always struck me as odd for a sheik’s corporation,” Tariq changed the subject as he spooned some mystical brown powder and stirred, “would rest its faith in a firewall named for a Biblical battle.”

[Isn’t that name and it function also slightly oxymoronic?]

“At least!” The hacker chuckled at the irony. “What foonbone names a security barrier after walls that collapse to the sound of trumpets?”

[private_Chevron][Are we going to hear some loud bugle blasts today?]

“I’d like recreating the boom of Krakatau.” Purportedly, that Javanese volcanic island exploding made the loudest sound ever heard on earth.

[Krakatau was just a pop next to Odin’s cutting an over-ripe cheese.]

“This java is truly sludge.” The Iranian stared at the vile liquid in his cup. “Maybe it’ll be palatable after it grows cold.” He tickled his mouse and the screen sprang to life. “Let’s take a tuning-fork at the fortifications, to see if there are any acoustical changes since I last sang on the ramparts.”

Tariq put out his first tentative probe and the target system immediately shut him down. He took another sip of coffee and grimaced at its taste.

“A trumpet in the background would be appropriate,” with a download, he had Dizzy Gillespie playing, “and I can use all the help I can get.”

[Are you stalled in a thorny rut or a horny buck thinking about the rut?]

“That’s probably why I was fretful in my sleep.” The flustered hacker pulled his fingers away from the keyboard. “I have no idea how to crack in to where I must and just as few clues on how I’ll liberate Lyra.”

[You worked as the system administrator: you should know it cold.]

“I spent my time trying to find how to break into the firewall,” the ex-IT man smiled sardonically, “precisely to ensure that it was me-proof.”

[You were stalled, but now you’re purposely stalling.][/private_Chevron]

“I know,” it sucked to be arguing with a presence that knew his mind better than Tariq did, “but I have days to do what I couldn’t do in months.”

…

I would cut her clothes away with a razor knife while Sergey chained her ankle and then I’d push her overboard. Bob’s mental imagery played out a juvenile violence fantasy. The ship would be moving so she would drag over a reef and her blood would draw the sharks—like in that Bond movie—except she wouldn’t escape in the end. A slice of reality then intruded on his imagining: Wall didn’t currently have a boat.

“That situation is unacceptable.” The nerd mumbled. “I ought to have the world’s biggest yacht and with the second largest as my spare.” His glance to his side found the event coordinator frowning at his inattention.

Drowning while being chewed by sharks is too quick and painless for her. As background noise to his mental vignettes, Wall heard the keynote speaker rumbling like a diesel generator at a remote cabin—where the girl was tied naked to a tree as wolf bait. I’ll bite her in choice places before the timber wolves finish her off. The CEO would’ve gladly ditched out, but this symposium was going to net too many buyers for him to miss it.

“Just hold on.” The geek put his cell phone to his ear after pretending to get a vibrate ring. “I’ll find somewhere I can talk.” He apologized with a nod to his disapproving hostess and she pointed a door that led outside.

“Frigging Russians or Ukrainians or who the hell cares what they are.” He kept the phone with the dead air at his ear. I should be allowed to talk to myself whenever I want without having to make any pretense to hide it.

“I’ve earned the right to a lot of stuff that never quite works out as I want.” One was Sergey not giving a free replacement for the defective slave. [private_Chevron] She should’ve had a warrantee. Bob bemoaned the mobster having pressed to have that one back in trade and with a web portal link thrown in as a deal sweetener. Wall had been forced to agree or be stuck with the girl who had abused him. “I’m required to provide an Internet advertisement so guys can leave my portal site and drool over a girl that I had—but didn’t take. Where is the justice that extreme wealth is supposed to buy?”

Fine, I see I have only two minutes. Bob looked into the door’s small window at the woman signaling him with that many fingers aloft. “I also have two days to get revenge for everything that mafia whore did to me.” In two days, one of the mobster’s underlings would make the swap. “And I’m wasting one of them at this piece-of-crap gab fest.”

“What can I do to her in one day that makes up for my living hell from a solid knee to my gonads?”

I’ll have a surgeon sew a set of testicles onto her: so I can kick them and let her know exactly what it feels like. So what if it wasn’t medically possible yet. I’ll fund research into female-to-male gender operations and she’ll the unwilling test subject. Bob realized the retaliation wouldn’t be practical in the short time frame but adolescent daydreams generally don’t have plausible plotlines.

“At least she’ll be going through withdrawals.” He had her medicine in his suitcase. “Tonight I’ll try only using half of what she injected me with. I’ll have a better knowledge of how to get the proper service from my next slave.” Sergey had assured him this one was broken in better. “I won’t make the same mistake of coddling my next one.”

The CEO scuffed his foot at a clod of dirt on the cement. “This is Lyra.” He crushed the lump under his toe and ground it into powder. A spider was near the door and he squashed it. “That was my slave girl too.”

Looking back into the glass, Bob could see the hostess inside dancing in her seat and showing him one finger. “I have one digit for her too and it isn’t that one.” Wall had one minute before they wanted him inside and only one day to get into the girl he should’ve had all along. “There won’t be even one single minute of it wasted. I’ll tie her to the bed with barbed wire and do what I should’ve done on day one.”

He shut his phone and opened the door. Smile for all the nice jerks: I better make this speech a good one: to be worth what I gave up to give it.

…

“~You’ve been awfully quiet lately.” Sergey confronted his top man: then switched to English for practice. “One might even call you taciturn.”

“Why speak when there is nothing that requires talking about?” The Anaconda regarded his boss with the scowl he had worn since the girl left. You forced a newly learned word into our conversation but incorrectly. His uncommunicativeness wasn’t habitual before: it had become so.

‘Reticent’ described him better. The Anaconda was unwilling to talk or reveal all the facts. His allowing Sergey to live with the knowledge of the earlier intimate injury from a woman had cost Victor part of a lifetime in service to a lesser man. He wasn’t going to repeat that mistake.

“Perhaps two men should chat just because they are such very good friends with a long history.” The chief mobster viewed his pet Anaconda. Something had changed in the enforcer’s demeanor but perhaps it was only a continuation of a subtle shift in his behavior that began when the girl was taken. “Howsoever, at this timorous juncture we have much to discuss.”

“I suggest you mean tumultuous.” Anaconda would’ve left the word unchallenged but didn’t want to participate in a conversation that smacked of fear or hesitancy. He had neither apprehension nor fright. I could kill the Obshina with bare-hands in seconds if it served my newer objectives.

“The client is dissatisfied with our merchandise.” Sergey grinned expansively and punched his subaltern’s shoulder. He didn’t realize how close he stood to his impending mortality. “I’m sending you on a vacation and perhaps, it will lighten your mood.”

“The female?” The ex-Spesnaz commando glowered. Worse than the pain of loosing his manhood was his morning upon waking to the reality. After tearing his hand free of the pantyhose bonds, his fingers had explored his un-manning wound. Even that was not as bad as later in the bathroom.

“My friend, I never expected you to fail in any way but I believe you performed her indoctrination too successfully.” Sergey chuckled wickedly as he imagined the atrocities performed against her. “She hasn’t satiated the rich American and she’s ridiculed him.”

“I am to dispose of the defective product?” The disfigured man’s dark emotions surged. I’ll kill her slowly on a toilet seat. Anaconda recalled his first morning’s urination. It was a spray of buckshot from a gun sawed off at the breech. I had to sit to finish—like a female!

“Get ready to go and we can discuss more details when I have them.”

The Anaconda’s stride was parade square crisp as he marched away. His decision of what would happen to the woman was already locked and loaded in his mind. A need for vengeance wins over lingering loyalty. I’ll follow Sergey’s orders but only insofar as they coincide with my desires.

…

[Your thoughts now are as convoluted as your semi-erotic dream was.]

“I’m switching back and forth between watching the doings at Wall Soft, while unsuccessfully trying to burrow into the Jericho fortress. I’m also too concerned about Lyra to make any progress.” Tariq took sip of his now cold cup. “I need an inspiration—and better coffee.”

[Then stop whining and go get a decent shot of caffeine.]

The programmer dumped his half empty mug into the sink on his way out: he moved on autopilot because his brain was absorbed in his thoughts. That security firewall resists my every attempt, as I knew that it would.

“I’ll have a large latte with skim milk and no foam.”

[Keeping your figure trim to impress the female?]

“A chocolate chip cookie and what else?” The youth taking the orders had a vast assortment of facial piercing. The dozen or so studs and rings partially obscured the tiny headphones that were also wedged in his ears.

“A skinny latte: hold the foam.” Tariq elevated his volume and tapped his finger on an inverted stack of large-sized cups. “The coffee’s flavor comes through the slim milk better.”

[Omit the cream completely and you’ll have the full taste.]

“Then it wouldn’t be a latte.” The programmer watched as the staffer poured whole milk into the stainless steel carafe: the youth hadn’t heard a word over tunes blasting in his head. “Trumpets made the walls fall!”

[I missed something.]

“So did I until just now.” He cheerfully took his drink despite it’s not being what he originally wanted. It was still better than his earlier swill. “The firewall I’m trying to breach is watching for hack attempts. I’ve been using innocuous routes to try to get in. Presumably, those have been duly recorded. Had I been successful I could’ve deleted evidence afterwards.”

[What’s changed in your approach?]

“I’m going to make as much noise as necessary to flood the files. Plus, my brass band will be playing slightly off-key.” This is hard to explain in non-technical terms. “I’ll send numerous assaults but each will contain a non-equating equation. The firewall will note and save them but unsettled files should make stack errors. Sub-routines will try resolving the conflicts by reprocessing the data—that still just doesn’t quite add up.”

[I assume there is a breach created somehow.]

“Processor chips can only work so fast and people using the secure net still need to access the outside lines. With the incoming system swamped Jericho may lag in handling outbound traffic: if a gate delays—I’m in.”

[It’s like waiting for an apartment building door to open from the inside and catching it before it swings shuts.]

“This had better work on my first attempt.” Back at his workspace, the programmer found the email from Kiev. “Lyra is running out of time.”

“Warm up the brass section.” Tariq took the time to download more Dizzy Gillespie tunes. Sheik Ghazi, you’ll bear the full brunt of my current foul humor against Bob Wall. “It’s going to be loud and butt-ugly nasty.”

…

“This better be good!” The fearsome Sheik frowned down at his IT manager. His towering height over the tiny man was made more imposing by the underling being seated. “You pulled me away from a lovely lady.”

“There’s been a system crash.” The diminutive man trembled because his news definitely didn’t fit the label of ‘good’. “It was the maximum.”

“The maximum is a seldom achievable superlative,” the Arab held his ominously looming posture, “it’s as saying a car is the fastest or a woman is of ultimate sexiness.”

“This computer attack was far too brutal for a lesser description.” The computer man wasn’t used to human confrontation and his fear dripped on the blotter in the form of sweat: the office gossip hinted that bin Omani had actually killed employees that angered him. “I don’t know how a hacker could’ve cause worse damage than this one did.”

“Your duties,” Ghazi’s caustic words sprayed out complete with an acid rain of spittle, “were to prevent digital intrusion.”

“Achieving the ultimate in security,” the small man arrived at his terror saturation point and drew resolve from it, “is as impractical as finding a female who is too good in bed. Even with my administrator access, I don’t think I could’ve equaled such an excessive plateau of devastation.”

“Describe it for me.” Ghazi’s aggression subsided in the shadow of the impending revelation. Trepidation the IT man previously had—transferred back to the employer. As a barracuda leery of a mackerel, the sheik shied away from the desk. “Give it to me in detail.”

“The hacker collapsed our firewall. I don’t know how, as there are no records remaining. Once inside the security, he must have gained access to password files but that can’t be checked either.”

“How do you know that if the logs have been altered?”

“From the actions he was later able to perform, he needed to have total permissions and those could only be obtained from the root directory.” The information technologist wiped perspiration from his forehead. “Sir, I didn’t say the assess history registries were changed. They are gone.”

“A vandal broke into our system but deleted evidence of his actions?”

“Not quite—I mean. Mr. Omani, I’m afraid to tell you everything.”

“Was it your fault?”

“The hacker froze the duty tech’s monitors: he was unaware until it was too late. By the time I responded here, the system was long gone.”

“Then tell me straight out or you will have reason for your dread.”

“All the data is gone.” The tech manager had used his laptop plugged directly into the storage devices: that was the only way left to find out.

“How much information will be lost when we restore it?”

“Our backups were done for each of seven days, then the weeks worth went to a file until each month ended when a compilation was then stored.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“After first erasing the data, the hacker must’ve spoofed the system into running consecutive backups corresponding to the appropriate dates. If he didn’t use high-security erasing protocols then we might eventually be able to reconstruct some of it. I haven’t been able to determine that yet.”

“Why?”

“The server computers are also destroyed.”

“Was he physically in the building?”

“He wasn’t here but short of smashing the boxes with a hammer—he couldn’t have done more harm. After the data was wiped out, he worked on the hardware. I suppose he set drive heads bouncing on the spinning hard disks. They are pitted and irretrievable. Then he must’ve fed looping equations into the processors from random access memory. The chips ran continuously and built up heat until they fried themselves.”

“Then he left the network?”

“There was really nothing left to leave. It would be like his talking on a phone with someone in a city obliterated by a nuclear bomb.”

“What do we still have left of Omani Corp’s computer system?”

“The computers in personal offices that were to be switched off at the time of the incursion should still be operational.”

“This is going to cost a fortune.” The bin Omani CEO dropped his face into his hands and unconsciously voiced his thoughts. “I have to replace the whole infra net and rebuild the data from my subsidiary companies.”

“I’ve been getting calls from subordinate IT people. There is massive damage in your group’s networks too. They’re all tied into this main hub.”

“All!” Ghazi looked up: his usually tan Arabic skin was chalk white.

“The hacker did the maximum damage.” The system administrator had to carefully guard his expression. Perversely, he had to take his hat off to the talented hacker. Fire fighters often found themselves in awe of a gifted arsonist and the IT tech had witnessed a masterpiece of digital vandalism. “His devastation didn’t miss a trick and that was after breaking a complex firewall touted as frangible only with divine intervention.”

“Is there any way—no matter how expensive—of finding who did it?”

“The FBI, Internet backbone providers or maybe Wall Soft would be your best source. Truthfully sir, even knowing if he is traceable is above my league of expertise.”

“Wall Soft?” Ghazi heard the paragraph but only absorbed one snippet.

“Their software is the platform on which most others run.”

The shaken Sheik staggered from the small office. He was too stunned to consider whether he should kill or fire the messenger.

“This will cost millions!” Sheik bin Omani underestimated. The final bill would ultimately come in at quadruple the amount of his lost ship’s worth. “Bob Wall the geek will sorely regret his poor choice of enemies.”

…

‘Did you and he have problems since we talked?’ Tariq answered his page after only a second and immediately went to the important business.

‘I think everything is still the same as ever,’ Lyra typed quickly, ‘but I don’t know much time I have: Bob didn’t show up but his office is empty.’

‘The CEO attended a geek speak in Chicago and stayed over’

‘Why did you ask if we had troubles?’ Bob frowned this morning but I was shutting him out again.

‘A swap is arranged.’ Tariq showed her a copy of the email. While she took several minutes to absorb the contents, he used the computer access to eliminate his previously left evidence.

‘Bob must’ve figured out what I’ve been doing.’ Retrospectively, his features responded too quickly, for my brushing past to have been the only reason. ‘Today he also took away my needle kit.’

‘May I ask you a personal question?’

‘Yes, but I’ll answer that one before you have a chance to pose it. No, but I don’t know why not. The drug just seems to have no effects on me.’

‘That’s not rare. I’m the same. I found out after a knee surgery, when given morphine to kill the pain—it didn’t even blunt it.’

Thoughts of the heroin reminded Lyra of the man she really should’ve killed when she had the opportunity. Anaconda will take revenge and I’m dead or worse than. She wanted to out type her fears: her fingers hovered but refused to budge.

‘Are you still there?’

‘I’m thinking.’ The girl pecked. ‘Your news is devastating me.’

‘Then I’ll get you out of there.’

‘Can you do that?’ Her dashed hopes elevated slightly.

‘I’m not an army.’ The programmer realized his rashness. ‘You saw what happened last time I tangled with them alone.’

‘Then this chat is probably my swansong.’

‘I’m not giving up and neither are you.’ Do you know why Bob would want to send you away? Could he change his mind? Do we want him to? Tariq’s mind cycled through questions but none fit what he most needed to know. ‘Can we buy some more time?’

‘My dealings with Bob are like a teetering stack of raw eggs. It’s too convoluted to elucidate but any one discovery breaks the remainder.’

‘Your command of English amazes me: I’ve never even heard a native speaker say elucidate. I can’t detect an accent in your typing either.’

‘That’s humorous: Bob doesn’t know that I speak one word of it.’

‘A helicopter will arrive at Bob’s office where you’ll be exchanged for another girl.’ He recapped information she already had from the email. ‘You’ll fly to Sea-Tac airport and transfer to a jet bound for Detroit.’

‘That could be a switch. When I came here from Ukraine we avoided immigration by having another plane as a decoy.’

‘What date was that?’ With the information, Tariq checked in Bob’s files. ‘This destination is true. I found billing information from that other journey. They’ve set up the same ploy to bring your replacement but both those flights terminate before you’re due to take off to Detroit.’

‘If the Anaconda shows up to pick me up, it doesn’t matter where the flight is going to, because I won’t land in one breathing piece’

‘Was he was the pig walking on his hind legs?’

‘That was Sergey. Next to Anaconda, he’s a cuddly teddy bear.’

‘What would stop him?’

‘A legion of crack troops probably couldn’t even slow him up.’

‘If I try to rescue you here in Seattle, we have only several brief and very poor opportunities. However, Sergey must have a reason for your going to Detroit. I could follow and find a better opportunity.’

‘I’m scared and I’m quivering. I can’t even think straight.’

‘Can I help?’ I’ll try pushing support through the link we seem to have.

‘Talk with me and tell me something I don’t know about you.’

‘I have a spirit in my head that thinks he’s a Norse god. He latched on during my afterlife journey. He’s a parasite sucking out my one-liners.’

‘LOL—really?’ The girl took her hands away from the keyboard and found they weren’t shaking so badly anymore.

‘I’m afraid so. That makes me a schizophrenic.’

‘It doesn’t if he’s real. Can he summon a militia of Vikings?’

‘He’s as useless to me as running-shoes are to a rattlesnake.’

‘What were you doing last night in Bob’s computer?’

‘This is what’s being delivered to Asia,’ Tariq opened a video box for her, ‘instead of the newest version of his program.’

‘It’s funny,’ Lyra recalled her lashing out at Bob by ruining his pens, ‘but it’s also a bit childish.’

‘On the surface and by only seeing the one incident—it is juvenile. I’m stirring up animosity between two big players.’ The programmer quickly outlined the attacks he reciprocally made on bin Omani.

‘A big corporation doesn’t go to war another over only a few incidents. If anything they might be scrambling to avoid further conflict.’

‘Do you want to hear an old man’s reminiscing?’

‘I don’t recall your being overly ancient—but sure.’

‘One night, in my teens, I snuck out my basement bedroom window.’

‘Was it to meet a girl?’ Lyra interjected. ‘Was she cute?’

‘If you must know, yes and yes. But that’s not the tale’s point.’

‘Juicy bits like that makes a story better.’

‘I didn’t get home until the wee hours of the morning.’

‘What were you doing with her that kept you out so late?’

‘I’ll let your prurient mind fill in that blank in my recounting.’

‘Ooh, you just made this narrative really nasty.’

‘You’re incorrigible.’ Tariq blushed at the flirtatiousness. ‘Anyways, I climbed into bed. And before you ask—I was alone. At least, I thought I was. Soon I felt something crawling under my covers.’

‘The teenybopper wanted more so she followed you home.’

‘Spiders had crawled in the window that I had left open for my way in. I found more of them in my search—actually they were harvestmen: folks here call them daddy-long-legs.’

‘If I was that particular girl,’ Lyra upped her risqué ante, ‘I would’ve been there to assist your hunt.’

‘If you were there with me,’ Tariq met the bawdy bet and raised it, ‘an arachnid invasion might’ve passed unnoticed.’

‘I’m liking this chronicle even more now. Please continue.’

‘I tried to sleep again but was wary. I soon felt another moving on my body and I rummaged my whole room again.’

‘I’m having trouble understanding how this equates to Bob and Ghazi.’

‘I’m getting there now. The second search produced the last crawling critter of the evening but I still didn’t sleep a wink. Every time I felt a hair flutter or if my active imagination detected a tickle, I was up and looking.’

‘They’ve discovered bugs. Each will check for a creepy-crawly when they experience any of life’s unexpected happenings. You’re a genius.’

‘I’m just a man.’

‘That’s a fact I’m also extremely well aware of.’

I have a number of possible responses in mind. Tariq’s fingers locked up. Who can blame her for just being lonely?

‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes. The worst thing I can do now to both of them—is nothing at all.’

‘It also leaves you free to be my knight in shining body armor.’

‘That’s my principle job.’

‘Meet me in Detroit.’ She made her choice. ‘That has the best chance.’

[A rattlesnake parasite that thinks he’s a Norse god!]

“I was checking if you eavesdropped on my private conversations.”

…

“~I’ve read this magazine so often I could recite it from memory.” The slave was curled up on the couch when the software CEO shuffled in.

“I have some special fun planned for tonight.” Bob stopped walking and looked at her. Was it possible that she was faking a nil command of his language? English wasn’t an obscure tongue like Finnish where only Fins mostly spoke it. Every place in the current world had some English in the vocabulary, for technical terms and to accommodate tourist trade and international business. Unless she was raised in an inaccessible corner of rural Ukrainian, the girl should’ve at least known a few English words.

“~Then I need to defuse those anticipated ploys.” The heroin bereft junky shouted at the man that took her drugs. She threw the magazine at him but it didn’t connect. The periodical was worn from overuse and the staples ripped free when she fired it. The blizzard of loose sheets lost their inertia and fluttered harmlessly. The cloud of paper dissipated to show her pointedly demonstrating her need. “~Addicted girls are uncontrollable.”

“Isn’t it here?” Bob lied for his own benefit and he pretended a search under the chair’s cushion. Should he just give it back to make her docile or withhold it for more punishment? Though easily predictable, Wall hadn’t anticipated this complication. “You’ll get your precious stuff back after I get what I want.” He abandoned his ridiculously unconvincing searching.

“~We’ll try your game,” she dropped to her knees and clasped begging hands, “~until we play mine instead.”

“That’s what I want first.” Bob unzipped his fly as he stepped forward.

This isn’t a playful contest anymore. The determinedly reluctant girl pressed her lips so tightly together they started to turn white. I can up the stakes as well. She tilted her head back slightly while defiantly thrusting her chin forward. As he can see, nothing is going into this mouth until the drugs are forthcoming. Lyra roughly shoved his hips away.

“Why don’t you just do things the way I want you to?” The Wall Soft CEO stood his ground a pace from her and glowered. “If I don’t get you under control first, you might savagely bite it.” He pointed to the bedroom and then signed a needle squirting. “I wanted you to suffer withdrawal a bit longer but I think I’ll be better served if you are passive.”

The girl urgently nodded her acceptance of the proffered deal. This is happening at too fast a pace but I can’t think of how to slow it down.

“That’s better,” he swept a hand gesture telling her to lead, “but once you’re under my firm control it’s going to get nasty for you.”

“~Do you think telling me your plans ahead of time is wise.” Jabbering eagerly in her own tongue, Lyra scurried towards the bedchamber. What has he brought with him? She noticed a shopping bag he had set down by the office door on his way in. I don’t have time for a peek just yet.

“Why didn’t you just behave like this from the start?” On entering the room, Bob found her already seated on her knees on the middle of the bed. Her face had a sultry smile and she was patting a spot for him to sit beside her. “Is it possible I’ve been wrong about your toying with me? All the while, you just wanted me to be forceful.”

“~Where did you get your shrewd insight into my female mind?” Lyra had her hands roaming his upper torso before Bob had finished taking his semi-seated position. I’m still not certain how I’m going to gain the upper hand. She snatched pillows to prop his back. “~I have the dreadful notion I’ll have to let you get further than I’ve yet allowed.”

“You like a powerful man who takes what he wants and I want these.” Bob went straight for the goodies. His arm swung over to cup his palm and splayed fingers on her right breast. “That’s a nice titty!”

“~Your foreplay is subtle but tremendously effective.” Lyra dislodged his groping hand by jumping and twisting to straddle his hips. This is the same position as when I tried making jam from his squashed berries. “~Too bad they aren’t as susceptible now as they were then.” No matter. I have other devices. In tandem motion with both hands, the fervent female pulled his front shirttails free of his belt. To follow up, Lyra employed all the strength and speed she could muster, to rip her hands up and away. “~You’ve now got the ravaging wench you so greatly wanted.”

“You really mean it this time!” His shirt was torn asunder with several buttons even flying free to ping off the walls. Bob dreamed about this kind of action and it was finally becoming reality.

“~It’ll keep getting better until it unexpectedly grows worse.” Smiling coyly, the girl leaned her face down as if about to kiss his lips. He grabbed my breast so his is now my fair game. Her target shifted and the slave’s teeth chomped hard onto her master’s left nipple.

“Ayee!” Those are sensitive. Moisture welled in his eyes in response to the sharp pain. Watch out Bob! She’s trying to wound you again.

“Grrrr!” Lyra released her clenched teeth as quickly as she had latched on. “~Didn’t you like my gentle nip?” Continuing to growl menacingly, the wild pussycat moved her snapping teeth higher up towards Bob’s face. The girl sustained her catty playacting by fully extending her tongue. The lioness then gave her enraptured prey a long lick from the tip of his nose to between his eyebrows. “~I’ll have to wash my tongue off with soap.”

“That felt incredible!” The shock of his bitten nipple was completely rinsed away by the velvety wetness of that sensational lick. His shoulders sagged under her two hands pressing her weight onto them and her bright blue eyes were staring intently down into his.

Lyra beheld his pale grey orbs for a long pause. Then, she scrunched her eyebrows as if racked by a sudden and intense pain. I’ve contrived him through some pleasant emotions. Now, he can have a taste of the reverse. She sat back onto her heels and pulled her elbows tightly into her sides. Lyra forced her body to shudder as violently as possible. Can he see how badly this junky needs her stuff? “~Does this make you feel heartless?”

“You’re earning your fix.” Should he ease her suffering? Bob watched as she flipped off him to adopt a dejected perch on the edge of the mattress. She deserved it for what she did to him but how could they keep the tempo in between bouts of her symptoms? Her back was turned and he observed several more spasms. “I’ll let you have your needle now.”

“~Remember, I don’t speak your language.” She spoke in a muted voice and her head remained turned away.

“Take it.” Bob pulled the kit from his pocket and tapped her with it. The relieved girl took the gift and hugged it to her breast. “Shoot up right here so it doesn’t take long.” He patted the bed and made needle gestures.

“~I don’t think so.” Lyra nodded in full agreement. I need him to make a motion to distract himself. The girl smiled and tugged at the kit’s zipper to peek at the treasure within.

The software CEO moved to sit upright: he placed his hands beside his hips to lever his legs over the edge of the bed.

“~That’ll work.” As quick as a scorpion tail from a hiker’s sneaker, the female jumped to her feet and nimbly outdistanced his hampered reaction to grab. As she reached the door, Lyra turned and looked back. Her finger and thumb tip held close together foretold that she would be quick about it.

“I thought it was clear you should do it here.”

“~I have another idea.” Lyra smiled wickedly at the man on the bed. She pantomimed removing a shirt and pants then pointed at Bob. That’ll give him something to occupy both his mind and his time.

The CEO aped back her stripping motions and pointed at himself for confirmation. Lyra nodded and grinned excitedly. She held up the kit between her two fingers and with the other hand, she confirmed the wait wouldn’t be lengthy. On her way out the door, she gave it a quick tug to allow it to partially close behind her.

“Little Bob is actually going to get boinked this time,” Software Wall set to finishing a disrobing the girl had started, when she ripped his shirt, “and nothing is going to stop it.”

“~We’re into the danger area now.” Lyra confirmed her misgivings for her mirrored reflection. “~Unfortunately, I haven’t seen a pathway out.” Bob has used more of this. She looked at the contents as she administered a small heroin shot into the sink’s drain elbow. I’ll time this to the very minimum of apparent necessity. I want time for a look at what he brought in his shopping bag. “~Prudence demands I know what is hidden there, before he can use it against me.”

Without a noise to mark her arrival and only a few minutes after her departure, Bob looked up to find the slave girl standing in the door. Her hand was wagging a naughty finger but her smile said this bad was good.

“~You brought me a brand new weapon.” A puckishly grinning female brought the bag into sight. With dramatically exaggerated motions, she peeked inside. Sinful boy! Her smile turned into a big round ‘O’ of mock shock and one hand covered it as if surprised at a sensual delight.

“I already know what’s in there.” His ears flamed a brilliant pink with embarrassment. Still, the CEO couldn’t resist giggling at her antics with it. He watched her dip two fingers in the bag and draw out a leather handcuff that was trailing a black cord. “I bought them in a dungeon shop. I didn’t know you were going to be so compliant today.”

“~I don’t intend to be yielding at all.” Around her sultry voice, Lyra prolonged her pantomime show. She looped the thong around her crossed wrists and held them up above her head. Does it appear as a slave girl is tied to a whipping post?

Software Bob watched her arched back and jutting butt writhing as if fighting her bonds in slow motion. Tantalizing gyrations were periodically punctuated with a twitch and a gasp as if in quick pains. Her acting was so realistic he could almost see the lash falling. She looked as a 1940’s pinup girl set into motion. Wall took a deep breath and followed it with a sigh when she finished her satire. “That was erotic in the extreme!”

“~That was just little a nibble of sweet jelly before a spoonful of bitter medicine.” Now he’s going to get the feature performance. Lyra started to dance. I don’t have music but hopefully he won’t notice that minor detail.

“Give me a show like on the boat.” The CEO had an ear-to-ear grin that almost made his face hurt. “And it’s got to have a happily ever after ending, cause I’m already naked.”

“~I performed there to save a decent man’s life. Now, I’m dancing for my own existence.” Her choreography melded from one erotic flow to the next. He can’t take his eyes off me, even to blink. She stripped quickly but artistically down to only her bra and panties. “~Now I’ve captured you, I can get to the real point.” She sang words to her dance’s rhythm.

Bob’s tongue couldn’t have spoken even if he had words to match his thoughts. I’ll call off the trade: I can’t give up this gem. Her show had now brought the scantily clad slave to the edge of the bed. She brought her chest to a whisker distance from his right hand. I can’t help but touch her. He extended his arm slightly to brush his palm along the side of her breast.

“Eeek!” She squealed an obviously feigned indignation and playfully slapped his the back of his hand. Lyra put her finger up to her head and pretended to think: her face brightened with an idea. Briefly stopping her performance, the girl skittered to the bag and extracted one of the cuffs and a cord. I don’t want to scare him off, so will start with just a hint of bondage. She placed only one wrap of cord around the offending hand and looped one wrap around the bedpost. We both know he could pull free of that in an instant—but this is only the beginning.

“This is fabulous!” With his wrist symbolically held, the girl smiled her appreciation and resumed her teasing. Her body was theoretically safe from his grasp so she pulled a section of her bra partially aside. His eyes received a reward in the partial sight of the taut swell of her one breast. He could easily move his hand and caress but Wall wanted more of this show.

Inexorably and without a full realization of what was transpiring, Bob fell under the mesmerizing woman’s spell. Over the next twenty rapturous minutes, the girl wove her beguiling magic. She would lure until he was moved to touch and then would secure him further before granting another minor gratification. The restraints gradually became tighter.

“I could watch you all night.” Sometimes she was on either side of him. Then in another minute, the girl was on the bed dancing above him. Her expressions and Russian words seemed mischievously sexy, impishly sultry, and all between. “The best part is knowing you’re mine in the end.”

“~I already own you because you’re solidly attached to the bed posts.” For a grand finale, Lyra positioned herself with one knee in each of Bob’s spread eagle armpits. With his head propped up on a pillow, his face was perfectly positioned for a full on look into the ‘V’ of her sex. The dancer hooked her thumbs into her panties and prepared to tug them down onto her thighs. I’m tempted to maliciously show you what you’re not going to get. Instead, she stood, stopped dancing and performed a curtsy.

“Encore!” Bob Wall tried to pull his hands together for a well deserved round of applause. “Hey, these are too tight for me to move them!”

“~You’re a captive audience but the show is now over.” Lyra hopped off the bed and bent to scoop her discarded clothing.

“This isn’t funny. Cut me loose.”

“~I recall your saying something about nasty things happening to me later.” Lyra checked and tightened the cuffs even further. “~I feel much safer with you just as you are now.”

“I’ll have Sergey punish you.” The CEO strained at his bonds. “Why am I threatening when you’re to stupid to even understand English?”

“~I’m dumb?” For the first time she considered showing her fluency, but held back. “~You’re tied to a bed—when your plan was for me to be.”

“Let me loose—pretty please with sugar on it?”

“~I’ll give you shot to put you out of my misery.” Lyra fetched the kit and readied a needle. Though he could move his elbow joint, Bob didn’t resist. “~You’re starting to like this stuff—that is really being the fool.”

…

“Many new duties have been appended on my job description,” Collin watched the helicopter tilting away, “but I never expected palace eunuch to be one of them.” The CEO’s message, ‘I’m unavoidably tied up,’ asked him to perform the requested function at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“~I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” The diminutive girl tugged the man’s jacket sleeve and sheepishly grinned at his attention.

“You appear to have been in recent accident.” Hersker beheld her face. One hand was holding flyaway blond hair from the departed helicopter’s rotor wash. Her body seemed thin enough to blow away in a stiff breeze.

“My boss asked me to make the exchange for him, but he neglected to mention what I was to do with you.” The asshole took the new woman to the office where he had collected the other one. Wall still wasn’t here and neither was there any indication of what Collin should do with the charge.

“Bob left a person unattended in his office but I can’t bring myself to so.”

“English nyet.” Oksana Gagarin smiled expansively at her escort. This wasn’t the same man as on the ship but she wasn’t disappointed about that.

“Russian Nyet.” Collin broke his eye contact with her and he looked at the door to the apartment.
“I suppose our only option is to seek for where Wall is tied up—or barring that, we get you settled into your new home.”

“Is anyone in here?” After several unanswered knocks, Hersker opened the green door and shouted. A walkthrough brought them to the bedroom where Collin stopped short. Wall was sleeping spread eagle naked and tied to the bedposts. He was breathing peacefully and didn’t appear to require immediate medical attention: in fact, he was even smiling.

A motion in the corner of Collin’s eyes or maybe it was her closeness to his elbow, caused him to turn his head. The blonde Ukrainian woman’s eyes flickered about the room and then she tiptoed to the slumbering man.

“~He’s just stoned.” Oksana’s fingers found needle tracks.

“So, what do you expect of me now?” Collin asked the comatose boss. Since the answer wasn’t forthcoming, the exec returned to the living room.

“~There’s no television!” Oksana drew a picture of a set in the air and turned an imaginary knob.

“~The magazines aren’t in my language.” She picked up several and then threw them back onto the coffee table.

“I’m sorry.” Hersker couldn’t resist intently watching her through the minor outburst. I’ve never seen anyone as emotionally exposed as she is.

“~How do I keep from going crazy?” The girl searched cupboards and nooks: disappointment showed in each negative discovery.

“I wish I could understand your words,” Collin said, “but I really don’t need to.” A human can’t exist in an intellectual void: even Bob couldn’t be so intentionally cruel. “I have to do something to rectify this.”

“~I’ll die.” Tears formed in Oksana’s eyes. “~I’ll kill myself.”

“You and I are going shopping.” The asshole could have some guards follow to protect a valuable asset from possible escape—and to tote the purchases. “Bob isn’t awake enough to contradict or uphold my decision. First, we’ll find a place to have some breakfast. Then after the stores open, we’ll buy a TV, magazines, books and a video game platform.” He mimed each item for both her benefit and to relish the delight so evidently shining on her animated features. Most men would probably choose the outgoing Russian as the beauty, but I personally find this one more appealing.

“How could Bob text me about a bound condition, from that position?” During what became a five-hour spree his thoughts returned to the bizarre apartment scene. “I suspect the CEO underestimated his outgoing slave.”[/private_Chevron]

“The strongest typhoons aren’t the most damaging.” Collin offered his wisdom to the non-comprehending young junky. “The ones that sneak into existence from a mild appearing tropical storm reeks sudden devastation.”

Chapter 12 of Loki’s Trojan

Predators and Prey on Digital Reefs

Bob pulled his fingers from his keyboard and swiveled to his safe. He entered the combination and twisted the handle.

“This is now worthless.” The CEO removed the insurance policy for his boat and tossed it into his out-basket for filing. “In fact, the premiums paid and the total purchase price were all a waste.”

He was about to close the strongbox, but his eyes fell on the slave girl’s passport. The edge of a tarnished silver dollar poked out underneath and Wall picked it up. He flipped it and it came up tails.

“If only it had been tails.” Bob reminisced on when he had gained the coin: it was likely the only time he wished the dollar hadn’t come to him. At a summer camp, Bob and Lindy had found the coin in a grassy glade. After she had lost her pocket money by flipping for cash, luscious Lindy agreed to play for clothing instead, and the fun really began. Finally, Bob was down to his underwear and she had just lost a flip for her panties.

Wall recalled how she had looked, but he had an even fresher vision of a similar sort. He used a remote to pause the video of the stripped lawyers at an especially revealing frame: it was a shot of Lauren Smyth with only a leaf covering her sex. The newscast would’ve censored this scene. Collin had diligently procured an unedited copy.

“Lindy looked just about like that,” with his eyes on the TV, Bob idly spun the coin on his desk, “and I should’ve lost my cherry that afternoon.”

Lindy had stood to strip off her panties, but she grabbed a poplar leaf before turning around. She kept the small cover on her clam and sat down.

‘We can play one more flip,’ she had offered, ‘for who is slave master.’

[private_Chevron]“All she made me do was to clean up her dorm room.” Bob recalled how he had masturbated for the rest of the summer, over mental imagery of Lindy as his utterly obedient slave. “I would’ve ordered much more.”

“I have the sex slave girl I’ve wanted ever since.” Wall tossed the coin back into the safe and locked it, but his eyes were already on the apartment door. “She should be finished dancing to her rag-time tune.”[/private_Chevron]

…

“Isn’t it about time to pull the plug for the night?” With regular surfing through the Wall Soft CEO’s computer, Tariq had the man’s routines timed almost to the second. The hacker had to snoop while Bob was working, as he invariably powered off when away from his desk.

[I like the guy they call the Asshole in their interoffice notes.]

“My over-a-shoulder view of Asshole’s unfolding investigation had me spellbound today too.” The hacker subconsciously checked back over his. He had set up a wireless network and was working in a small bistro across the street from his apartment.

[Is he more than just an unfriendly-looking sail on the horizon?]

“The Asshole is a looming sphincter of doom that could rectum all our schemes.” The Iranian smiled at the crazy man looks on the staff’s faces, in response to his self-mutterings. “From information the hind-ring was seeking, I’m guessing he’s suggesting dropping my Low-Key Trojan from the bundle. My hope is the Wall Soft CEO is too greedy to exercise due caution, before my Greek champions can safely climb out.”

[I’m flattered you named Loki after me]

“I can’t picture Erik the flatulent and his Norse raiders climbing into a wooden horse’s butt like Homer’s Iliad heroes did.”

[There’s more akin than unlike in all faiths. Zeus and Odin both used the same lightning bolts as the Christian’s one god did.]

[private_Chevron]“According to Scandinavian lore, you tricked Odin’s blind son Hod into throwing a mistletoe dart that struck and killed Balder the fair. How about you connive Thor into laying a hammering on Collin the butt-pain?”

[If you only wag the tale of legends then you myth the real point.]

Tariq pondered for a pause. Doubtlessly, wag also means to gossip. That made Loki’s implication more poignant than swishing like a puppy’s tail. Fables aren’t factual: they’re parables with a moral—like in the bible.

[Religions have always been the same messages but told in a manner that suited listeners, of the various eras.]

“Until now, I explained you away as a schizophrenic sub-personality. I suspected you were most likely triggered by brain damage suffered in my drowning episode. But you’ve just said something I couldn’t have possibly known on my own knowledge.”

[I didn’t. Death granted you more wisdom than you’re yet aware of.]

“Whoa!” Tariq instantly forgot the verbal/mental debate as the monitor screensaver kicked in: the geek had neglected to power down his box. “Wall’s system is mine.”

[Why the big deal? You’ve been snooping in his data for days.]

“But I could only search his files and stuff open on his desktop. A screensaver running means he’s away or at least he’s not paying attention. Now, I can risk running his applications. The uber-boss at Wall Soft has the permissions to access anything and the authority to make whatever I want happen—in real time.”

[Without being caught in the act?]

“It’s not quite that easy.” This work was now too complex for this venue and the programmer headed home. “If the idyllic fish currently on his monitor suddenly swim away, then a shark is near and I’m its lunch.”

[If you can’t do the time—then don’t do the crime?]

“Are reruns of Colombo being featured on an afterlife TV channel?” [/private_Chevron]

…

[private_Chevron]“~At what point does a humdrum routine find terminal tedium?” Lyra idly paced her cell. “~I should’ve started carving grooves in a wall to mark the passage of days, months and years.” She arrived in the kitchen and on passing the counter, decided to have a snack.

“Can you make me one of those too?” The slave master caught her in the act of fixing herself a sandwich.

“~You take it.” Lyra hurried to set it out on a plate for the man she seemingly adored. “~Something revolting made me lose my appetite.”

“Thanks.” Bob followed like a utility trailer to the table.

“~Can I get you some nice Hemlock,” the girl pantomimed drinking from a tumbler, “or maybe a sip of Draino?”

“Just some ice water will be good.”

“~I opened this stuff at least a week ago and the smell turned me off. Maybe it’s gone poisonous in the tin.” Lyra returned with some Clamato. “~What is taste appealing about mixing seafood and tomato juice? If you come back here in the morning I’ll put a squid in your coffee.”

“Have you learned more English?” He trailed his hand up her leg.

“~You don’t provide me with any books or fresh magazines.” The girl playfully slapped his fingers away and then wagged hers at him as if he was just being prematurely naughty. This prison doesn’t have a television set or even a radio. How can he expect me to do nothing but wait for the pleasure of his company? “~Why don’t I cut off your dick and mount it on the mantle? Then I can worship it constantly—as you presumably want.”

“I should tape record what you’re saying,” Bob munched and slurped between words, “and then I can read transcripts of the translations.”

“~By tomorrow, that egg salad mixed with clam and tomato cocktail should give you a deadly case of gassy farts.”

“Let’s party tonight.” He stressed the only word she should recognize.

“Party.” Lyra parroted it and acted out squiring a needle in her elbow. “~I thought I’d have to somehow trick you into that.”

“Heroin wasn’t as bad as I expected. In fact, it was quite enjoyable.” The drug made his recent problems less worrisome and now, he had even worse headaches to escape from. “Let’s do it again.”

“~Idiot, why do you suppose the drug is addictive? If liquor tasted like turpentine and sent imbibers strait to hangovers without giving the state of inebriation, would there be as many alcoholics?”

“We can make love first if you want though and party later.”

“Yes party.” Not likely. The girl rushed off to bring the kit. Standing there talking was dumb on my part too. She almost blew an opportunity while giving him a lecture that he didn’t understand.

“Give me less this time.” He pinched his fingers together to indicate a smaller amount. “I want to wake and still recall everything we did.”

“~I’m the expert and you’ll get as much as you got last night.” She nodded to confirm her comprehension of his request. “~Maybe you need some extra in case I perform that penis amputation after all.”

“I do wish I understood Ukrainian.”

“~I would like to start speaking your language in front of you.” But I won’t do that while I’m treated as a slave. She prepared his shot and he took it without any hesitation.

“~Truthfully, I simply wish I had anyone to talk with—except you. Thai people say khik mach mach and it means think too much. It’s not good to spent too much time in one’s own head.”

“Now let’s quickly go and have sex while I’m getting high.” He took her by the wrist and pulled his prize wench toward the bedroom. “I did remember the first part of the other night.”

“~I’ve got a better idea.” Before he reached the bedroom door, Lyra suddenly changed direction and dragged him towards the bathroom. “~We have a perfectly good Jacuzzi tub that we haven’t even touched yet.”

“I’m such a lucky man to have you,” Wall spun the taps while the girl fetched some bubble bath soap, “for my intimate amusement.”

“~Will you still bless your good fortune when you’re peeing through a stub?” I shouldn’t even think such things. It brought the Anaconda to mind and made her shudder. That snake still alive somewhere.

I can delay my stripping and climbing in with a neck massage and a back scrubbing. She preplanned as he quickly undressed. If worse comes to worse, he’ll be like Sergey in the hot tub but as a seal with a limp flipper instead of a hairy walrus.

“This hot water is too damned relaxing,” Wall climbed out long before she needed to join him, “and I really have to pee.” He gestured what his need was and signed that she should head for the bedroom.

“~I suppose that you’re high enough now for that to be safe.”

A few minutes later, he was on the bed wearing a towel while Lyra was only beginning to disrobe. Bob soon lost the ability to focus well and the closer she came to being nude, the less he could recall why he wanted her that way. Then colorful darkness overwhelmed his eyes and all was good.

“~If only you weren’t so utterly selfish.” She looked at his peacefully sleeping face. The young woman was human and had desires for intimate relations. I would slash my wrists in despair before my lover was a master.

“~I’d better get to work before I do something I might regret later,” in a dimly lit room, Bob’s expressionless face seemed to transform into that of the Arabic man, “~involving a knife.” Lyra shook herself free of reverie to rummage Wall’s pants for the keys she expected to find there.

…

[Is the digital reef still devoid of cyber predators?]

“My bits have avoided nasty bites.” The hacker’s eyes flicked down to his tool bar to confirm the monitor in the Wall Soft CEO’s office was still displaying the serene aquatic backdrop.

[You’ve been cyber-diving for 3 hours. Are you spearing anything or just sucking your air-tanks dry?]

“Throwing bin Omani into higher prominence is a top priority and this ploy is aimed appropriately. I can also ink the water so Wall doesn’t know which tentacle belongs to whose octopus but I’m concerned that Hersker is snorkeling too closely and he might see through my deceptive murk.”

[His name translates to master in Norwegian.]

“The Master Asshole is tenacious but the nerd is still the boss.” The programmer sipped his coffee.

“Hopefully, I can tweak Wall’s ire past the point where he ignores the adept sphincter’s sound advice.”

[That’s a good theory. Where is the lab experiment to prove it?]

“Bob has half-a-ton of porn files saved on his hard drive. Erotica is a interesting subject in many respects.” Tariq had briefly delved into it when he first looked at the Internet. “Serious collectors start thinking about the images, and by extension the subjects, as personal property.” The Iranian opened up the file with Soviet Slut’s recent production. “Wall just went a quantum step further when he actually bought a featured starlet.”

[Freya really is incredible though.]

“I understand the allure the girl presented but it shows that pornography is a weakness for Bob. I can capitalize on that.” Tariq called up a release schedule for Wall Soft’s product line. Boxed copies of the latest upgrade version were already circulated in North America. The ones destined for Asian Markets were in production. “Most tasks have been accomplished but burning the disks is held until last to preinstall up-do-date patches.”

[That’s where the horsefly enters the ointment.]

“Where it burns like Ben-Gay lotion under Bob’s fly.” The hacker had been tempted to include Bob’s own collection as a specific insult but his ultra-savvy asshole made that far too risky. Instead, Tariq had found a nice assortment of porn with an Arabic theme.

[The feature film ‘Vixens in Veils’ stands as my favorite.]

“With some creative intrusion, I’ve can overwrite the CD master with Saudi flavored erotica. That will appear on retailer’s shelves across Asia, as soon as I have them delivered.”

[Via bin Omani Shipping?]

“The Sheik has filed a suit against Wall over his sunken ship. Software Bob should have a viable case against his nemesis as well.”

[How near are we to finished?]

“I’m at the critical phase. I’ve had to worry about the shark entering the water and have been poised to quickly close the applications.” Fortunately, Bob Wall had remained occupied away from his desk. Tariq had renamed the porn files to appear to match a Wall Soft installation disk and configured it. “The next step is the upload: I’ll become exposed.”

“I can’t leave a back-trail for our butt-sniffing bloodhound to follow.” The programmer would upload, transmit to the production facility and then replace the original at the source. “Later, if I manage to gain another unsupervised access, I can overwrite the master after the CD’s are shipped.

[Fire the harpoon!]

“Bob Wall’s wrath at bin Omani could make Ahab’s hatred of Moby Dick seem as just mild dislike.” The saboteur tapped his enter key. “Cross your flippers!” His eyes flicked between the screensaver status icon and a progress bar but he had nothing to do except wait, sweat, and guzzle java.

…

‘I can decide my stance and then spend sufficient funds to sway reality.’ Collin Hersker’s mind paraphrased Bob’s audacious statement. “Is he able to really do that with money, or is it more likely just his imagination with a walloping spoonful of wishful thinking?”

“Why am I doing this to myself?” The executive taxied his chair from his file-strewn office table, back to his desk. He glanced at the sapphire crystal face of his 18k gold Breitling Bentley. “Because, I like the things I can buy with the money.”

Collin flexed his fingers over the keyboard. In the back of his mind, he knew trinkets of wealth weren’t his motivation. He casually spun a ring on his pinky finger so that the diamond cluster faced outwards. Those were distractions he bought to avoid introspective musings—and treat successes.

“Having funds enough to alter reality.” Wall’s sentiment remained in Collin’s thoughts. “I suppose that’s really why he hired me. When dollars alone aren’t enough to buy the desired alteration, a stable of tame political figures could make up the difference with a few law modifications.”

He swiped his mouse across the blotter, but the screen did not respond.

…

Lyra moved silently through the office and shifted an end table to serve as her impromptu ladder. She fumbled slightly as the lock was at her full arm extension but the key slid into the socket. Success!

“~The key fits perfectly.” She twisted but the mechanism didn’t budge.

“~Maybe I need better leverage.” Stepping down, the young woman piled a stack of books on the table. That would give her a higher reach to exert more force. The stymied escapee ascended her wobbly platform.

“~Even with the additional torque the deadbolt isn’t pulling free.” This isn’t the right key. It fit the same style of lock barrel but the tumblers didn’t match the serrations. Frustrated tears blurred her vision whilst she replaced her furniture rearrangements. “~I thought I was so close!”

What does this key open? Her eyes fell on her gilded cell’s door.

“~From this direction the deadbolt is a toggle but from the other side a key is required.” Bob needs a way of getting out if someone accidentally locks him inside. She tried the disappointing key in the deadbolt housing. ‘—Snick—.’ It turned like lubed clockwork.

After her brief foray in the lintel of her apartment entry, Lyra returned to the CEO’s office. A motion from the desk caught her peripheral vision. A bright blue parrotfish glided across the extra-large monitor screen.

“~Bob left his computer on this time.” She scurried to park her butt in the plush chair. “~Can I access the Internet and send a plea for help?”

“~First, I have to see if there is a screensaver password to crush my hopes again.” She took hold of the mouse and stroked it on its pad. A big yellow angelfish had joined the parrot but both suddenly vanished to show an accessible desktop. “YES!”

“NO!” On the other side of the city, Tariq yelled. Wall couldn’t have possibly caught me with my boxer shorts further down around my ankles. Shutting the hack off would loose his work and the incriminating files were prominently displayed on the office screen.

“~Bob left his computer running a long upload function.” Lyra clearly saw the progress bar and the filename. “~No, he couldn’t have done that.” The indicator was moving too fast to have been in progress since Wall left. He must have a macro set to run at a specific time. “~I should interrupt the instruction mid-run and cause some minor annoyance—like the pens did.” She hovered the mouse pointer over application termination button.

[Run away and live to fight another day?]

“It’s her.” The hacker-returned-from-death felt oddly certain about the fingers on the unseen keyboard. “I’ll wait and if I’m wrong, then in about four seconds, with a click on a remote mouse, my schemes will implode.”

“~I have the key to Bob’s office.” Lyra’s fingertip applied a pressure on the pointer button but she didn’t fully press it. Doing a small harm to an upload now, could loose me another opportunity later. After tracking her mouse arrow up to the tool bar, Lyra opened an Internet browser. I could send an email to the FBI and tell them I’m a prisoner? Maybe the INS would act quicker to evict an illegal alien. “~On the other hand, Bob doubtlessly has the clout to block any actions by authorities.”

“~I have no clue of who to request assistance from.” In truth, in the past weeks I’ve had no solid indication the world exists outside of my small habitat. Lyra typed the web address of her favorite Ukrainian web portal. “~I can solve that dilemma at least with some pleasurable surfing.”

“I knew it!” The Iranian-Canadian hacker followed the typing and saw the Cyrillic lettering that now filled the browser box.

“~Having mental stimulus again feels like an orgasm.” Simply reading something new on the screen had her body tingling. A sudden feeling of wellbeing brought her fingers from the keyboard and she sat back.

‘An angel kissed me alive.’ A text box opened and typing appeared.

‘A seraph knows,’ Lyra keyed in her response after a shocked pause, ‘when it’s not a hero’s time to fall.’

‘Without your divine interventions my span would’ve been over.’

‘I needed a champion to retrieve my clipped wings.’

‘Now that’s what I live for.’ Tariq pictured the female and as he typed the words: he knew they were true. I thought I had but one main reason to return to life. He knew it was a good one too but that, like his dream girl’s face, disappeared from mind on his awakening. I have acquired another.

[Life gains new purposes as you live it.]

‘Can you help me?’ Lyra Droski saw the keys as only a blur through the moisture welled up in her eyes.

‘I’ll certainly try my best. Tell me about your situation.’

The Russian slave girl spent the next minutes typing a brief account of her history and current environs.

‘Can you access that computer when you want to?’

‘I currently have a way to get into the office after hours but I have to be lucky for Bob to leave his computer on. He has boot up security enabled.’

‘Hold on a second. I’ll get you the password.’

‘How?’

‘Even most experts think of computers as being complex tools. But a programmer knows they are incredibly stupid robots that only understand the difference between off and on. Your average light bulb is smarter in that it knows off, on and degrees of dimness in between.’

‘I don’t understand your point.’

‘For a password to allow access, the computer needs a file to compare the input against, to get a yes or no answer. I know where the information is stored and how to read it.’

‘That makes sense.’

‘So does the computer geek’s password. It’s boinkbob.’

‘If he has even a two track mind then they both run parallel.’

‘Are you coping all right there?’

‘I’m much better now with your moral support.’

‘You have that and anything else.’ Tariq paused briefly in his typing. ‘It’s strange, I feel so close to you, but I don’t even know what to call you.’

‘It’s Lyra but I’ve never really had a name.’ I never tell anyone that! ‘I snooped in some Wall Soft files and I’m guessing your name is Tariq.’

‘You’re correct to a point but I suppose I’m akin to you in that my real name isn’t mine anymore either.’

‘I’m concerned we’ve said too much.’ She felt secure in trusting him with one of her innermost secret but scrolling up the textbox showed what they talked about. ‘After all, this is Bob’s computer.’

‘After we’re finished, I can utterly eliminate all the evidence.’ Tariq’s empathy for her brought a claustrophobic impression of what her existence must be like. Everything around her belongs to a man who surmises that he owns her body and soul too. ‘How are you hanging in?’

‘I’ve been growing depressed but I still have trump cards,’ the girl felt confidence renewed, ‘you’ve given me hope, to play them with finesse.’

‘If you need or want to contact me just click on the site administrator’s icon.’ Tariq gave her a web domain address. ‘I’ll set an audible alert and will open up a text box within a maximum of five minutes.’

‘Can we just chat for a while?’ Lyra dreaded the conversation’s end. ‘I haven’t had anyone to talk to for a long time.’

‘I’m yours for as long as you like. You’re the expert on how much time you safely have.’

‘I wish I could’ve watched Bob’s yacht sinking.’

‘It didn’t just sink.’ Tariq hesitated while thinking of a picturesque way to describe the event: she deserved to get as much pleasure as possible from it. ‘The boat’s bottom was ripped out, as if two dolphins wielding chainsaws had cut the waterline away. The crew bailed out like Norwegian rats and the whole bay was carpeted with floating debris.’

‘ROFLOL.’

‘I think I heard your giggle all the way from here.’

[ROFLOL?]

She said ‘Rolling On Floor Laughing Out Loud’. That acronym word has been around since the Internet’s bronze age: your afterlife linguistics department is somewhat out of date.

The lighthearted discussions continued until the girl finally decided she had best prepare for her captor’s awakening.

‘Good night Tariq.’

‘Sweet dreams. I’ll put everything back to exactly as Bob left it.’

…

“I’m just overtired.” When his mouse failed to reactivate the screen, Collin Hersker remembered he had turned off the box while he had worked with the paper files. He switched the power on and watched the boot-up. It really does go faster with that Handshake Lite interface. He normally didn’t watch, but rather turned on the power and then fetched a coffee.

[Asshole alert!]

“That was certainly close,” the hacker saw the executive’s access open up, “but the asshole just missed crapping on my capers.”

[What happens now?]

“A 22-hour production run will burn twenty thousand copies of smut.”

“Nothing seems pressing,” Collin took a quick peek at his email and his digital in-basket, “so why do I have a feeling I’ve just missed something?”[/private_Chevron]

“Once the disks are sealed into jackets, they will be collated into boxes with the manuals.” Tariq logged out. “Six days from now a courier will collect the shipment and two weeks later, they’ll be distributed in Asian.”

[Catapulting Wall’s corporate image right up his Pacific Rim hole]

Chapter 8 of Loki’s Trojan

One Bad Death Deserves Another

The corporate jet they boarded at Kiev’s airport was big enough to have carried every pimp, prostitute and thug in Sergey’s operation. Along with Lyra were only the head mobster, his girlfriend, and two of the Anaconda’s elite thugs. On this flight, the aircraft’s crew outnumbered the passengers.

After her tally of fellow travelers, Lyra’s eyes lingered on her friend. Oksana hadn’t spoken yet today and now she could see why. Though the weather was overcast, the blond wore dark sunglasses but seen from closer, the lenses couldn’t hide her facial damage. A purple bruise, like a puddle of spilled plum jam, had poured to the bottom of her cheekbone. Her lower lip was swollen plump as if collagen injected and ruby red lipstick was smeared on fresh scabs where the tender skin had split on her teeth.

“~Are you okay?” Lyra slipped from her seat to join the slender junky: she held the girl’s hand in her lap. She is shaking like hummingbird wings.

“~I—uh.” In her current state, Oksana couldn’t frame a reply.

“~I have some but it might not be strong enough to do much.” Lyra whispered and covertly slipped her needle kit into the girl’s pocket. “~Just the action might be of some help.” The daughter had seen her mother take shots of almost nothing just to stave off withdrawal, even marginally.

Lyra watched her friend stumble to the lavatory, then looked at the trio of thugs: they had clustered around the bar to chug vodka. That swine is beneath loathing. He beat his girlfriend over a situation she had no part in, and withheld her drugs, presumably because she winced whilst being hit.

[private_Chevron]“~Were you trying to overdose me out of my misery?” Oksana joked as she returned to her seat, looking quite stoned and cheerful. “~After you told me it was weak, I was tempted to use more than usual.”

“~Didn’t you?”

“~No and it’s a good thing because yours is fine.”

“~You’ll treat your new master with the respect he deserves.” Shortly before landing, Sergey took a seat next to Lyra. “~If you displease him, you will be punished. Do you clearly understand that?”

The girl nodded. My jailer will receive the deference that he merits.

“~I have methods to make what happened to Max seem as a picnic in the park.” He leaned his face menacingly near and his whispered breath was foul from tobacco. “~You had best remember that too.”

“~I don’t know how to pass through American immigration.” Lyra tried to sound suitably frightened and changed the subject. “~I don’t have a visa and the Anaconda—uh,” she feigned a stutter and dropped her eyes to her lap on mentioning him, “~had my passport.”

“~That’s all been handled.” The mafia don grinned at her naiveté and with his imagining of the torment she had endured—Oksana he supposed, got the milder treatment. “~We’re flying directly to SeaTac Airport in Washington State. Another jet took off from Montana. We’ll perform a deception as we taxi in. The decoy will pass immigration while we appear as a flight which took off and landed within the continental United States.”

“~That’s very clever.” It must be extremely expensive too. It showed how easily the right amount of money could transcend any laws.

…

“Hot diggledy dang.” Bob fanned his face with a freshly delivered fax.

“What makes Ned Flanders a happy camper?” Collin irritably replied.

“My already favorable negotiations have just turned lop-sided.” Wall pulled several stapled pages from a folder and wafted a cool breeze at his hireling with it. “After this is signed, sealed and delivered—it’s mine!”

“That has to be a costly hit to the old cash reserves?”

“This,” Wall wiggled the fax, “makes it far less pricey than first feared. Cash is such a versatile tool and a big-ass hammer in the right carpenter’s hand drives the quickest nails.”

“May I have the magical mystery tour?” Hersker’s eyes dropped to the papers that had such an amazing effect.

“You can peruse it,” Bob tucked his treasure into a thin manila trove, “after John Hancock has signed it.”

“That will be worth more than any document endorsed by him.” Collin noted a bemused look and explained his quip. “The term John Hancock for a signature, stems from that man being a signer of the Declaration of Independence. But he didn’t affix his name on much else, so the very few existing copies of his John Hancock are extremely valuable.”

“I knew that.” Bob lied.

“Am I to suppose,” the CEO’s giddiness had been infectious and Collin found himself thrilled as well, “that the true reason for my employment has been shuffled back onto a front burner?”

“The price is cheaper than imagined and the Handshake Lite upgrade’s swelling popularity, has dollars streaming into the coffers. You’ll soon be busier than a one-legged man at a butt-booting competition.”

“I see your helicopter is waiting.” The Asshole nodded to the window.

“I’m off to my yacht for a private talk,” Bob watched his employee leave before he finished his sentence, “and soon afterward, I expect to be horizontally bouncing like a legless coxswain in a pogo-stick marathon.”

…

The Ukrainian passengers deplaned and transferred onto a helicopter. The extended range jet from Kiev had followed the sun across both the North Atlantic Ocean and the North American Continent. After crossing half a world worth of time zones, it was technically only a few short hours since they left home. The journey’s last leg was a just a short hop over the Puget sound to a sheltered bay where a white boat contrasted sharply with the verdant green of the shoreline and the inky black of the choppy water.

Lyra walked away from the flight deck danger area with her shoulders hunched over, as she’d seen in some movies. I hope the spinning blades lop his stupid head off. The gawky man who met them, stood tall as he ushered his guests from the craft—but her private wish for a beheading didn’t come true. Stragglers from the ship’s crew boarded and buckled in, then the Bell Jet Ranger’s pilot re-spooled the engines and departed. I’m now left with a swim to my freedom—if I can’t steal a life raft.

“I’m Sergey Yanderiev,” the bear shaped man made his introductions with elation, “and this sweet plumb is Lyra Droski.” The Obshina shoved the slave girl at her new master. “She is all yours—with my condiments.”

Compliments maybe? The fluency Sergey mustered didn’t quite catch up with the English he relished. Lyra silently scoffed as she bounced off Bob’s arm. The geek wobbled from the minor impact more than I did.

“We were going to talk about,” Sergey showed his host a black-toothed crocodile smile, “my porn site’s ranking in your search engine.”

“Uh, yes.” Bob tore his eyes away from ogling the girl. “I wanted to discuss something else too. I need you for one other duty today.”

The Wall Soft Chief Executive Officer led the group off the flight deck and to where the ship’s resident steward had set out a wheeled bar, stocked with an assortment of drinks and snacks.

“~Come in out of the brisk wind.” Lyra towed Oksana onto the main deck and from there they ducked into a windowed anterior cabin space. “~From here we can keep an eye on the gangsters and the rich jerk, while we have a quiet talk.” Both women had seen his picture before and knew who Wall was. Lyra really couldn’t care less how wealthy he was. To her, Bob was an aging pervert, yearning for the age of Roman debauchery—complete with his own personal sex slave. My name means ‘money’ in Italian and I’m worth more to me than any capital he can boast.

Lyra moved from the nook and looked around at the room. This area appeared to be a place for people to gather out of the weather. The salon had a large washroom complete with a shower: that was most likely for guests to wash off the salt after a swim. Lyra found and opened an outer hatch in the washroom and saw a companionway along the boat’s edge.

The ship was moored in a bay and on either side there was dense forest. I’m not even sure if the shore is part of the mainland or an island. Surely there couldn’t be any escape possible by that way. Just in case though, she walked partway to the stern and noticed there was a platform close to the water. I could slip unseen into the sea from there. A lifesaver ring was positioned that she could use to make good an escape. She dipped her toe into the water. “It’s quite chilly but not prohibitively cold.”

“~Do you have any family?” Oksana was standing by the door.

“~I have one sister named Oksana.” Lyra brushed past her to see what, if anything was happening outside on the rear deck. The mafia bodyguards were just watching the two American security guards, who were observing them back. Do the four of them think that the cold war isn’t over yet?

“~What is your sister like? Is she older or younger than you?”

“~Just look in a mirror and guess your age.” Lyra teased. “I lost my mother in the Boxing Day Tsunami and the Anaconda killed my boyfriend. Now, I don’t have anyone but you.”

“~That’s really beautiful.”

“~I mean it though.” Lyra looked quizzically at her. Beautiful wasn’t a good word to describe a lovely sentiment. Oksana isn’t as bad at Russian, as Sergey is with his English vocabulary.

“~Your endearment was touching,” the blond girl giggled and pointed, “~but I meant where the rainbow is underneath of that leaden cloud.”

“~It is quite scenic.” Lyra viewed the sun shining in slated rays and strained to see a detail in the vista: a small boat was coming towards them. From here, it looks like the pot of leprechaun’s gold at rainbow’s end.

…

“The software skinflint has more money than medium-sized nations.” Tariq growled. “One should think he could at least send a chopper for me.” The day had been as unsettled as his thoughts were, while he traveled across the channel. The water taxi had even passed through a squall.

“Ten more minutes to the yacht!” The boatman called over the wind.

“Peachy,” the Iranian muttered sarcastically, “but I’m more interested in how long it’ll take to get back.” I wish I hadn’t come out here at all—much less by boat. He reflected on the start of this trip. If it hadn’t been Lauren driving him there, he wouldn’t have stepped off the dock. “Tariq, you’re too old to let a woman turn you into an adolescent.” Truly though, males never outage that particular affliction so recrimination was pointless.

Pondering back over the past days gave the Iranian warmth despite the chill wind. I rarely saw Lauren’s cool side and last night the sheets were nearly set ablaze. His memory went on to replay the other details.

‘Jonathon said we have an extremely attractive offer on the table.’ She had tickled his chest hairs and whispered the numbers into his ear.

‘That amount is suspiciously generous.’

‘You will need to prove that our screen capture isn’t a put-up though.’ Lauren had added. ‘The CEO wants to see it come up on his computer.’

‘I need proof too:’ the Canadian’s thoughts were on how much cash he’d spent on wooing the lady lawyer, ‘of whether his checks are rubber.’

‘You should jot the keystrokes down.’ Her fingers had walked down to his stomach and then under the sheet. ‘You are in safe hands with me.’

‘Just now, your fingers do feel somewhat more than just secure.’ Tariq wrote the combination on hotel stationary and sealed it in an envelope. It didn’t really matter anyways. The programmer had only withheld the code on the chance that it might mow a path to the green pasture of her panties.

“With that wild slice, she made the code sequence redundant anyways.” He broke from his reverie.

“Women are enticing traps we daft men can’t avoid springing. A Burmese tiger pit needs camouflage or the clever cats won’t step on it but a lady snared me, even when I saw the wire loop.”

“Say hi to Bob for me,” the water taxi operator shouted down from the helm, “and tell him that his overpriced software really bites.”

“Wait for me by the fantail.” Tariq called to the wheelhouse, as the gap between the boats narrowed: the boatswain answered with a salute.

Why do I have such a bad expectation for this visit? The Iranian man attended to transferring boats. I should’ve just stayed in bed today.

…

“~I want a better view.” For no other reason than intuition, Lyra felt positive about the approaching launch. As the small craft drew nearer, she excused herself. “~Cover me if needs be by saying that I’m showering.”

Lyra locked the washroom door behind her then stripped to her bra and panties. She entertained a fuzzy notion of stowing-away on the other boat.

She ducked out the outer hatch and slid her feet down the hull, while holding onto the gunwale: her intent was to go hand-over-hand to the stern, with her legs dangling in the water. Instead, her toes found a thick strip of molding: that was better. While crab walking along the hull, she could observe: all the men’s faces were turned away and to watch the arrival.

As she neared the fantail, her walkway drew close to the upper deck. Now, I do have to lower my legs into the water. She went sternward as the water taxi maneuvered and stopped where she could peer around.

Suddenly, a wake wave trailing the small craft unexpectedly struck and the girl emitted a slight gasp as her body was slammed against the hull. Please don’t let anyone have heard that. She offered a silent wish for luck and looked up. A set of eyes had locked onto hers.

Why is a girl hiding beside the ship’s transom? If she didn’t want to be seen then he wouldn’t give her away. He made a hand gesture of pushing his forelocks off his forehead. In the motion, Tariq obscured a sly wink.

Thank you. Lyra transmitted a facial expression message to the oddly recognizable newcomer. Her eyes rolled towards his boat to silently ask to boarding permission. His nod was hidden in his tugging off a lifejacket.

Tariq stepped away from the sight of the girl and up onto the yacht’s aft platform. Why would she need subterfuge of stowing away? His mental question was answered by a first look at the welcoming committee.

The nerd looks positively effeminate in comparison to the rough types surrounding him. Three bodyguards had pistols in shoulder holsters.

A loud engine roar from behind him made Tariq spin about. I ordered him to stay. The launch captain gunned the throttles and pulled away. The escaping girl didn’t have time to cross—and now I’m trapped here too.

…

“The one-hundred years war lasted that long, because England profited from sacking France.” On a high-definition television and with surround sound speakers, the Pakistani politician seemed to be making her speech in the same lavishly appointed den where two men were playing chess. “It is not a war, but money is causing of our troubles with Afghanistan. Until corrupt profiteering along the border is stopped, we’ll have no security.”

“That view might get her elected,” Bernard Stryker shifted a pawn—in more ways than one, “but it won’t make her many influential friends.”

“Zafira Abdi is hardly a model of incorruptibility.” Sheik bin Omani smirked as he surveyed the game: his strategy was still intact.

“Abdi has strong a pedigree for leadership, and she was the president before the coup.” Bernard used a remote to mute the volume but continued to study the screen. “Zafira is also a beautiful woman—if one is into that heavy eye makeup style, and her popularity is dangerously on the rise.”

“As you astutely noted,” the Saudi took a sip of espresso, “her rhetoric may bring votes from the well, but the bucket spills out many enemies.”

“Simply waiting for a fortunate occurrence is hardly pro-activity.”

“I concur.” Ghazi bin Omani shoved his bishop to where it threatened Stryker’s queen. “I’m able to deal effectively with powerful women.”

“Will this game you love so much ever teach you subtlety?”

“You’ve never bested me at it yet.”

“Winning would put my abilities in plain sight,” Stryker abruptly stood and crossed to the television, “but in five moves, when that sly rook places my king in checkmate, will you be utterly certain of who was the better?”

Sheik bin Omani angrily slashed out a hand and spilled the pieces.

“Wouldn’t we make a handsome couple?” Bernard ignored the Arab’s outburst. Looking dapper in his Sayville Row suit, he posed beside the TV image of the Pakistani lady. “I should like to meet her—before a tragedy.”

Now, the three surviving men watched the black and sparkling water as the bubbles quickly diffused. There was still some air rising, but distance and depth were dispersing it over a wider area.

“Crap!” Sergey found voice with an astute comment.

“Vlad?” The now singular elite thug plaintively asked the water.

“Vodka?” Bob offered.

Chapter 2 of Loki’s Trojan

Flotsam in a Rip Tide

“Lyra Droski.” A young woman who closely matched the exotic female in Tariq’s fantasy nightmare flipped through her newest passport and said the name as if tasting a succulent flavor.  Her sculptured chin rested lightly in a cupped palm and her graceful fingers touched her high cheekbones as her sapphire eyes read the fictitious Eastern European surname.  “~Tell me about my father again.”  She spoke in the Russian of her fake nationality but in truth, Lyra had never lived there.  She and her mother were multi-lingual and used any known at a whim.

“~You know how much pain that story gives me.”  Jinder Droski was of Anglo-Hindi extraction.  Her hair was deep mahogany, her skin was of a polished teak hue and her almond-shaped eyes were coconut brown.

“~You’ve never explained to me why it hurts.”  The daughter had one-quarter heritage from India but little of that showed.  Lyra’s waist-length hair was the exact tone of her mother’s flesh but her clear complexion was as coffee with a triple dollop of cream liqueur.  The description with an alcoholic flavoring was apt as her burgeoning beauty was of intoxicating intensity.  “~Other parts of your life were horrid, so what could be worse?”

“~Do you mean having my innocence snatched from my violently murdered family or my living in a harsh world of virtual slavery, forced prostitution and drug addiction?”  The mother’s ironic voice betrayed no horror at that.  Although she was now working independent from organized crime or pimps, chemical dependencies still ruled her life.  “~Let me just teach you more Tantra instead.  I won’t have you unprepared as I was.”

“~Why not both.”  As the girl negotiated, she stripped to the buff to perform body techniques and mental routines.  Some Tantric instruction may even extend the session of reminisces.  “~How could experiences with my father be worse than those nightmares?”

“~Feel the tingling of your imagination traveling over your skin in flows of energy.”  The exercises Jinder taught had originated in India and included sexual instruction as well as a variety of moves and meditations.  She called it Tantra but the mother was schooled in a number of eastern spiritual disciplines that were not connected with any particular faith.  “~Worse is the wrong word.  I couldn’t take the happiness I had with your father.  That makes my memories of him less easy to deal with.”

Chapter 1 of Loki’s Trojan

A Dragon’s Maw

Is a body, or perhaps a soul aware, when a trauma is destined to occur? Some philosophies surmise it may be. Folk have reported feeling pain in a potion of the anatomy that will later be lost or damaged. The Buddha is purported to have known the instant of his own death, 90 days in advance. If there is such a precognizant cusp, can a spirit take certain steps to make minor preparations or to pass on necessary information? By a function of this prescience or just fortunate coincidence, a small family enjoyed a brief span of harmony and reconciliation on the brink of calamity.

Tariq Awi’s Iranian family had immigrated to Canada when he was ten. His primary schooling was done in Ontario and there were no other Iranian people in the community they had settled in. Short of speaking Farsi in his parent’s home, and his skin’s olive tone, he was almost as Canadian as ‘How’s it going, eh’.

“Let’s unpack a few boxes,” the man flashed his strawberry blonde wife a sly wink, “in the bedroom.” His randy grin was a sneaky hint of more in his suggestion, than just crates from the relocation. Marriage to a girl from south of the Mason-Dixie Line had given Tariq the ‘Hey, y’all’ Americanization as well.

“Oh, alright!” Brenda Awi’s words were spoken in an exaggerated sigh but the implied mild annoyance didn’t fool her mate, as he had spotted her coy reciprocal smirk. The deception was intended for their daughter’s ear but it didn’t really hoodwink her either: the petite and blue-eyed pre-teen’s eyes twinkled as her parents left.

The couple crept away to the master bedroom for some long precluded intimacy. With the daughter still awake in the other room, the experience felt like the two were frisky youngsters escaping from a camp councilor’s scrutiny and that hint of naughtiness gave the lovemaking a flavor of it being their honeymoon again.

Afterward, they snuggled like pewter spoons in a picnic hamper but neither slept right away. That was slightly unusual, as men tend to slumber so well in passion’s afterglow: as opposed to it making women more alert.

“I wish my job felt as right as our first time in this city just did.” Tariq opened the dialog but regretted his choice of topic before the words were finished flowing over his teeth. It had been in a moment of après sex male vulnerability when his wife had first won this argument.