Empat Puluh Enam
Central Narcotics Bureau, Tuesday, April 2nd, 8:55 AM
Xiu Ying glanced at the paper for an instant and then tossed it dismissively onto his desk, where it landed in some spilled coffee.
“I do not feel bound by the orders of some court.”
Frost sighed in despair and rose to leave.
Musa rose also. However, instead of turning to leave, he calmly walked around the desk to where Xiu Ying sat. The Sergeant looked up at him, surprised. “What are…”
Before Xiu Ying could get the words out, Musa bent over, grabbed him by his suit lapels, and lifted him off the ground. He brought their faces close together and spoke barely above a whisper.
“You will show respect for the Parliament, its Courts and its Guards. If you do not, I will rip your balls off and feed them to you.”
He threw the man back into his chair, shattering it to sticks. Xiu Ying fell heavily to the floor. He struggled to regain his feet, his face as white as a sheet.
Musa bent over, his face close to Xiu Ying, who was still on his knees, and grabbed his tie, yanking it up to raise his face. The Inspector’s voice was still a whisper. “The head of the Parliamentary Security Committee has instructed the Commissioner of the CNB to cooperate fully. We expect you to do so. If you do not, I am authorized to take you to the Parliamentary Guard Headquarters and conduct an interrogation there. We are well aware of the standard questioning techniques of the CNB. Frankly, our interrogators find them crude and ineffective. I swear to you, my men will have you crying like a baby within ten minutes. And they won’t even ask you a question for another ten after that. By the time I’m ready to ask you questions, you will be begging to tell us your deepest, darkest secrets.” He released his grip on the tie and pushed the trembling man back to the floor.
“Now. Will you show us to those desks and files?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry that I misunderstood. You can see anything you want.” The Sergeant struggled to his feet and led them out to another office. Frost noted that he had a large dark stain on his trousers.
US Embassy, Singapore, Tuesday, 9:00 AM
Jeffrey Hodges was trying to function even while deep in despair and guilt. Of course, he had no way of anticipating that Jimmy Rogers would waylay, beat, and rape her. There was no way he could have known that the brief, therefore, would not get to the court in time. But he knew that if he had taken it, rather than Amanda, his perky, sweet intern would be her usual cheery self, looking forward to this afternoon's hearing, and he knew the brief would have been delivered.
He had sent the precious brief this morning by messager (with two armed guards) to the court with a letter explaining the happenings of the day before. But the messenger had returned and reported that the court clerks had read the letter, but still refused to accept a late filing.
The hearing was at two. Jeffrey was panicking. He had no idea what he would say.
Attorney General’s Chambers, Singapore, 10:00 AM
Lee Cher Leng sat comfortably in his desk chair, with William Koh sitting across the desk. Lee was laughing uproariously. Koh joined in, but without the full enthusiasm of his supervisor. Lee had just made a particularly nasty remark about the rape of Amanda Jones. Both men had seen her at Barbara Moore’s caning reception, and, as most men, immediately lusted after her. Watching Lieutenant Rogers almost fuck her at the party had reinforced their desire. Thinking of her being stripped and raped by the disgusting Rogers was both arousing and humorous, if you ignored the humanity of the victim. And, naturally, Jimmy’s death, in flagrante delicto, was particularly ironic.
When Lee stopped laughing, William came back to the purpose of the meeting.
“It seems we are prepared for the Appeal Hearing this afternoon?”
“Moore than prepared for Moore,” said Lee, laughing again. The Appeal never had much chance. What judge in Singapore in their right mind would overturn a unanimous judgment led by Justice Betar-Gisber? But now, with no brief filed, Mr. Hodges will be flailing around the courtroom like a fish on a hook.”
“Yes,” said Koh. “But I can’t help but feel it’s a bit unfair. You know, that poor Jones’ rape should screw up Moore’s chances.”
“Fair? The law’s not about fair, Koh. It a street fight where any weapon is allowed, and the only thing that matters is winning. And, if we win this case, both of our careers shall be most favorably impacted. I say, good for those CNB scum getting their rocks off on that cock-teaser! She handed us a win with her over-sexed little body. The only better outcome would be if both of us had a shot at her hot pussy.”
Cell 22, Death Row, Changi Prison, Tuesday 10:10 AM
Finally, at lights out, the guards had removed Barbara’s shackles. They’d left the collar and the leash tied to the wall. Barbara had lain a long time trying to sleep. The memory of the hours with An.
She couldn’t get out of her mind the way the quiet, refined, and high-educated Chinese man harbored such monstrous evil and misogyny. He hadn’t just hurt and degraded her body; he had gotten into her mind and terrified her with his sadism.
Mid-morning, Imran, with two other guards, entered, untied her leash, and gave the usual order, “Inspection Stance.”
For some reason (perhaps the lingering humiliation of the prior evening), the degrading process seemed worse. Barb’s eyes watered with tears.
Then, to her horror, Imran ordered her into the hellish stress position that she suffered through before. Fingers spread on extended arms against the wall, legs back, and spread with a cane under her soles to force her on the balls of her feet. Imran tapped her breasts with his truncheon as a reminder of the consequences of moving.
They drew the cruel hood over her head. Barbara softly pleaded for release.
Imran answered, “So you’d like us to shorten this, not keep it up until every muscle and joint is screaming in pain?”
“Yes, please, sir.”
“Is it OK, if we buttfuck you?”
The casual, obscene suggestion took her back. But she couldn’t stand this position very long. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you want that? Tell me you want it.”
“Yes, sir. I want it.”
“Do you really want it? Beg for it.”
“I’m begging, sir.”
“Make me believe you, slut. Say what it is you are begging for.”
“Please, I beg you, please, fuck me up the ass!”
“If you insist,” Imran said to laughter from the other guards. Barb heard zippers lowered and the rustling of clothes.
“But stay in that position until we finish. I suggest you make it as good for us as you can to speed the process!” Hearty laughter from all save Barb.
Fifteen minutes later, Barbara lay weeping on her mat. Her arms and legs ached, her feet were cramping. Worst was the sore, tearing feeling in her ass, accompanied by the feel of semen oozing out. Imran had ordered her not to wipe it up until he returned and gave her permission.
Cell 22, Death Row, Changi Prison, Tuesday 11:15 AM:
Later, Imran returned with the two guards. “Inspection stance.”
Barb stood, legs spread, feeling the gross discharge trickle down her left thigh.
“Have you wiped yourself, bitch?”
“No, sir,” Barb whimpered.
“Good, show me. Scoop some up.”
Barb stared unbelieving at the man. She couldn’t process such depravity. Imran drew his truncheon and tapped it on his palm, smiling broadly.
Barb gave a deep sob and reached down behind with a hand, scooped some of the slimy mixture, and brought it up to her tormentor.
“Looks good, bitch. Bring it to your face. Look at it, smell it.”
Using every bit of her willpower, Barbara brought her hand close and looked down at the mess, mixed white and brown. The smell, though not very pungent, revolted her with the knowledge of what she was holding.
“OK, slut, you may go clean yourself and rest. You have more work this afternoon.” With that, the guards left her alone.
Central Narcotics Bureau, Tuesday, 1:50 PM
Frost and bin Ibrahim had been digging through the desks and files of Rogers and Jiang for several hours. Both had a desire to make sure that nothing was missed that might shed light on their case. Every paper, every item was scrutinized at least one by each detective. They had sent out for lunch and worked straight through. Now they were coming to an end. A dozen files had been set aside for further reference back at Guards headquarters. Frost turned to bin Ibrahim. “That about wraps it up, I think.”
“Yes, I don’t think there is much more we would find by further review,”
“Let’s sit and talk about our impressions,” said Frost.
“My inclination, precisely!” said Musa with a smile.