Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Damn, 13 weeks ... is that all, could have sworn she was almost ready to drop ...
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Imprisonment and Execution in Modern Singapore Part III of Barb's Singapore Saga
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
- Start date
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I can understand the confusion. It is caused by the overlong and overcomplicated story. Barbara was arrested on February 28, 2019. The next day we learn that Jeffrey was home with Kathy, who was 8 weeks pregnant and in the midst of terrible morning sickness. Five and a half weeks later she is at 13 weeks. She will make a delectable sex slave.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Indeed she will PrPr ...
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
You can't fault Barbara for her courage. For a hell of a lot of things, but not for her courage!Some malicious thoughts are worth the discomfort
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Istanbul International Airport, Tuesday, 12:25 PM – Singapore; 7:25 AM – Istanbul
The wait for the passengers in front of Trixie to exit the plane seemed interminable. It appeared that every person had packed their entire belongings in carry-ons. These were wedged so tightly in the overheads that a second person was often needed to pry the case out.
While waiting, Trixie was standing in the aisle, wedged between multiple smelly passengers. Don’t any of these people take baths, She wondered?
There was a quick pinch on her ass. By the time she could look back, the three men around her were all looking away innocently. Before the line got moving, she suffered two more pinches and a grope at her right breast. God, Please! Get me out of here
When she finally made it down the aisle, off the plane, up the jetway and out to the gate, Trixie began to wonder about how she would get her passport back. But as she passed the gate, (“Thank you for flying Turkish Air, Please come again!” – yeah, right!) two security men, uniformed like those in Singapore, approached her.
“Are you Beatrix Thomson?”
“Yes, I am. Do you have my passport?”
“Yes, we will give it to you in a moment. Please come with us.”
They gently, but firmly, took hold of her arms and guided her out of the gate area. The trio went down several long corridors on moving walkways until they turned and entered an area with a large sign announcing, “Passport Control.”
“Do I need to go here?” asked Trixie. I’m not staying; I’m just passing through to the states.”
“Sorry. It is necessary,” said the one guard.
Trixie was surprised to see the extent of the immigration area at the airport. There were over 60 booths (she did not know that there are almost 300 at this new mega airport). The security men steered her to a set of a half-dozen booths labeled “Special.”
“This is Beatrix Thomson. Her passport was confiscated by our agents in Singapore and sent along in this envelope with an explanatory letter,” the security man explained to the man at the booth, handing him a manila envelope.
The officious man behind the counter looked skeptically at Trixie and opened the envelope. Out came a typed sheet and her passport. Trixie reached for it, only to be slapped by the agent.
“Please, genç bayan. Do not do what you not been told!”
He proceeded to read the note. He must have been a slow reader, thought Trixie, because he took forever with the one paragraph.
“Why you in Singapore?”
“I had a job there with the US Embassy.”
He thumbed through the passport, again taking what seemed forever to read the few stamps on the brand new document.
“If job, why leaves so soon? Why come to Turkey?”
“I…I lost my job, and I’m going back to the US.”
The man held up a page of the passport to the light, skeptically examining it. “Very new passport.” He fixed her with a penetrating gaze and suddenly asked, “Is it real?”
“Why yes, of course.”
“We shall have to check.” He turned to the security men. “Onun bagajı?”
“Already taken from the plane’s baggage hold and delivered to the inspectors’ room #8.”
“Çok iyi. Take the fahişe there.” He handed the passport and note to the security guard, ignoring Trixie’s outstretched hand.
“Come with us.” The man said. Before Trixie could ask where they were going, they had taken her arms in theirs, more firmly now, and moved her to a wall with several doors. Over the doors, a sign said, “Inspection Rooms.”
They knocked and opened the door labeled SEKIZ (#8).
Inspection room #8, Istanbul Airport, Tuesday, 7:35 AM, Istanbul Time
The room contained a large table in the center, a desk with chairs in front and behind, and four more men. These consisted of two more uniformed security, a man in a navy blue uniform and a silver star on his shoulder, and an older, paunchy man in civilian clothes. The guard handed the papers to the man with the star who was clearly in charge. He glanced through the documents and then greeted Trixie in perfect British English.
"Good afternoon, Miss Thomson. I am Lieutenant Tekin of the Anti-Smuggling & Organized Crime Department, known as the KOM. It is similar to the organization you knew in Singapore as the CNB. This man,” indicating the older gentleman, “is the honorable Justice Yıldırım. He is here to ensure that everything is done according to the law.”
Trixie was too confused and frightened to take it all in. She had no idea what the KOM or the CNB were. Then she saw that her suitcase was lying on the central table. When she stepped toward it, one of the uniforms stopped her.
“Please, Miss Thomson,” cautioned Tekin. “Do nothing unless instructed. Is that your suitcase?”
She recognized the pink fluff tie on the handle that she used to find the bag on a luggage conveyor, “Yes.”
“Did you pack it or did someone else?”
“I did.”
“So, you placed everything in it?”
“Yes.”
“Was it in your possession and sight from the time you packed it until you checked it at the Turkish Air counter?”
“Yes.”
He nodded to the two men by the table. They opened the suitcase and began carefully examining the contents. Trixie blushed when they held up her sheer lavender teddy. She saw several smirks around the room. Then one of the men stopped and said something in Turkish to the Lieutenant. He, in turn, drew Trixie with him to the table.
The man pointed out something buried deep in the case, wrapped in a sweater. He lifted it and began removing the garment. When he did, he revealed a brick-shaped object about six inches long by four by two. It was wrapped in white butcher paper that, in turn, was covered with much clear plastic wrap that had been taped in place.
“That’s not Mine!” Trixie interjected.
“But Miss Thomson. You just told me you packed the bag, and it was not out of your sight from then until you checked it with the airline.”
Yes, but - that isn’t mine! I never saw it before! You must believe me.”
“Am I to believe what you said before? Or what you say now? I’m afraid you are not doing a good job of convincing me of your honesty.”
“Oh, God! I don’t know. But I never saw that before!”
“Let’s see what you wrapped so carefully and hid in your bag.” He gestured to the man holding the brick. He, in turn, began to unwrap the plastic carefully and then loosen the white paper. With that off, he held up the brick for all to see. They saw a clay or resin-like substance, black and shiny, with a gold stamp on the middle of the top.
“Congratulations, Trixie Thomson, “ said the Lieutenant, “It seems you carry only the best. ‘Afghan Gold’ hashish. I’d guess about a kilo.”
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Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Oh PrPr - I loved that! A whole episode about TTT, my favourite filly of them all ... and it leaves us with such potential for her immediate future - in fact maybe a whole new story's worth
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
The long-anticipated police interview with Josephine
Seratus Tiga Puluh Tiga – Two Days 20 hours
Office of First Minister of Home Affairs, Singapore, Tuesday, 4:00 PM
As he had been trained by his boss, Josephine’s receptionist formally announced her visitors:
“Lieutenant Musa bin Ibrahim, Chief Inspector, Parliamentary Guards and Detective Inspector W. E. Frost, Director, Police Special Cases Unit.”
Shanmugam rose carefully behind her desk and stood bent slightly forward.
“Welcome, gentlemen. I apologize that I had a small accident earlier today, making it impossible for me to come around and greet you. Please have seats.”
Taking his seat, Frost noted a pillow with an absorbent cloth on her desk chair. Josephine lowered herself slowly and carefully into her chair.
“To what do I own the pleasure of your company, gentlemen? Your Commander, Musa, was very reticent about going into any details.”
“The Commander is aware of the need for confidentiality in this process. We don’t want any slanderous rumors leaking to besmirch high-placed officials.”
“That is commendable.” Josephine wondered what rumors he might fear.
“We are attempting to wrap up our investigation,” said Musa, “and your name came up once or twice. We hope to ask you a few questions and settle the matter.”
“Naturally, I am most willing to assist you in any way I can. However, I know virtually nothing of the matter. I don’t see how I can help you.”
“You are most likely correct in that, Minister. Please let us ask our questions, and we can be on our way.”
“Go right ahead, Chief Inspector. I am at your service.”
“Thank you so much. As you may know, our case focuses on Jimmy Rogers, agent of the CNB. Our inquiries indicate that he was responsible for the detention and rape of Miss Jones. Unfortunately, his death in flagrante delicto means that we cannot question him. Therefore we are questioning anyone who might have knowledge of his actions and motives. Did you know Jimmy Rogers?”
“No. Not Really. We never met or spoke. I saw Rogers testify at Barbara Moore’s trial, but that is the only time I ever saw the man.”
“Are you…”
“Wait. No, there was one other time. At the reception at Changi before Moore’s caning, I saw him there. He was flirting with Mr. Hodges’ secretary then. Isn’t she the one he’s accused of raping?”
“Yes, she is. So you saw Rogers twice at a distance and never spoke to him?”
“Correct. That’s all there is to it. Though I do understand the ‘innocent’ Miss Jones’ has been convicted of drug dealing.”
“That is a matter not in our purview. What we are interested in, Minister, how Rogers chose to be in Parliamentary Square last Monday morning. We have determined that it wasn’t a coincidence. He was looking for Miss Jones and seemed to have known she would be carrying papers on the Moore case.”
Musa paused to let this idea sink in. Frost was sure that he detected a slight change in Josephine’s demeanor, a bit of tensing, a trace of concern. She hides her feeling well, he thought. Just wait, dicky bird, there’s more to come!
“Well, that’s a most surprising revelation. I had never thought of any connection. But, again, what has it to do with me. I never met the man.”
“We are trying to determine how he knew about the timing of the court filing. We are sure someone involved in the case must have told him.”
“That sounds a reasonable presumption. And I was certainly involved in the case. However, I must repeat the third time that I never met the man.” Josephine intentionally added a degree of impatience to her voice.
“So you have told us. I understand your confusion, Minister. Please bear with me a moment more, and we can finish all this. Please remember that information given to Police or Parliamentary Guards investigators in the course of an investigation is regarded the same as testimony under oath and false statements carry similar punishments as perjury.”
“Chief Inspector.” Josephine raised her voice with an intended air of righteous indignation. I have the idiot, she thought. Trying to scare me with a perjury threat. He has nothing! “I am well aware of the law, and I resent you implying that I would lie to you. Let me repeat as clearly as possible, so you will get it right. I never met or spoke to Agent James Rogers of the Central Narcotics Bureau.”
“I was not implying anything, Minister. I appreciate your emphatically stated response. However, I need to ask,” he pulled a paper out of his briefcase, “about this sworn affidavit by a court clerk who says that when leaving Moore’s trial, he saw you and Rogers standing nearby, engaged in conversation.” He handed the sheet over to Josephine. Frost was sure that her olive complexion turned noticeably whiter as she tried to scan the document while thinking of a response.
“I..well I..”
Musa interrupted, “While you think of how to explain that, I would also like an explanation of this.” He pulled out several more papers and handed them to the flustered Minister. “These are detailed logs of activity at the CNB. They show you in a meeting with Jimmy Rogers in his office from 3:48 PM to 4:16 PM, 28 minutes, on Thursday, March 20th. That was four days before Miss Moore’s trial and only 19 days ago. Do you still not recall ever meeting and speaking with Mr. Rogers?”
Josephine was struck dumb by this bombshell. She stared for a few seconds at the detective, her mouth open. Finally, she began stuttering an excuse.
“Oh, yes…no, I…I’ve been so busy with my office…I recall now…a minor issue…”
“So, you did know Rogers and had spoken to him on more than one occasion?”
“Well, yes. I suppose so.”
“Did you speak to him Friday, a week ago at Moore’s caning, at the reception that you earlier mentioned?”
Josephine thought desperately for a moment. There were no police there. Not these detectives. And the prison would never turn over their surveillance tapes without hard evidence for a warrant. There was no way they could prove this!
“No, I certainly did not! I told you that already!” She tried to put her power-tone in her voice. But these men were not the type to be easily intimidated.
“Then we need an explanation of this note. It was given to Rogers on that Friday.” He handed her the post-it, sealed in a heavy-weight plastic sheaf. Josephine took it in her now trembling hands. She saw her own note, her own handwriting, and her own instructions for Rogers. This was too much! She cried out, to no one in particular:
“My God, No!! He was supposed to destroy this.” She looked at the detectives, with eyes pleading for their agreement, ”If I told him to destroy it, shouldn’t I be confident that it was destroyed?”
Seratus Tiga Puluh Tiga – Two Days 20 hours
Office of First Minister of Home Affairs, Singapore, Tuesday, 4:00 PM
As he had been trained by his boss, Josephine’s receptionist formally announced her visitors:
“Lieutenant Musa bin Ibrahim, Chief Inspector, Parliamentary Guards and Detective Inspector W. E. Frost, Director, Police Special Cases Unit.”
Shanmugam rose carefully behind her desk and stood bent slightly forward.
“Welcome, gentlemen. I apologize that I had a small accident earlier today, making it impossible for me to come around and greet you. Please have seats.”
Taking his seat, Frost noted a pillow with an absorbent cloth on her desk chair. Josephine lowered herself slowly and carefully into her chair.
“To what do I own the pleasure of your company, gentlemen? Your Commander, Musa, was very reticent about going into any details.”
“The Commander is aware of the need for confidentiality in this process. We don’t want any slanderous rumors leaking to besmirch high-placed officials.”
“That is commendable.” Josephine wondered what rumors he might fear.
“We are attempting to wrap up our investigation,” said Musa, “and your name came up once or twice. We hope to ask you a few questions and settle the matter.”
“Naturally, I am most willing to assist you in any way I can. However, I know virtually nothing of the matter. I don’t see how I can help you.”
“You are most likely correct in that, Minister. Please let us ask our questions, and we can be on our way.”
“Go right ahead, Chief Inspector. I am at your service.”
“Thank you so much. As you may know, our case focuses on Jimmy Rogers, agent of the CNB. Our inquiries indicate that he was responsible for the detention and rape of Miss Jones. Unfortunately, his death in flagrante delicto means that we cannot question him. Therefore we are questioning anyone who might have knowledge of his actions and motives. Did you know Jimmy Rogers?”
“No. Not Really. We never met or spoke. I saw Rogers testify at Barbara Moore’s trial, but that is the only time I ever saw the man.”
“Are you…”
“Wait. No, there was one other time. At the reception at Changi before Moore’s caning, I saw him there. He was flirting with Mr. Hodges’ secretary then. Isn’t she the one he’s accused of raping?”
“Yes, she is. So you saw Rogers twice at a distance and never spoke to him?”
“Correct. That’s all there is to it. Though I do understand the ‘innocent’ Miss Jones’ has been convicted of drug dealing.”
“That is a matter not in our purview. What we are interested in, Minister, how Rogers chose to be in Parliamentary Square last Monday morning. We have determined that it wasn’t a coincidence. He was looking for Miss Jones and seemed to have known she would be carrying papers on the Moore case.”
Musa paused to let this idea sink in. Frost was sure that he detected a slight change in Josephine’s demeanor, a bit of tensing, a trace of concern. She hides her feeling well, he thought. Just wait, dicky bird, there’s more to come!
“Well, that’s a most surprising revelation. I had never thought of any connection. But, again, what has it to do with me. I never met the man.”
“We are trying to determine how he knew about the timing of the court filing. We are sure someone involved in the case must have told him.”
“That sounds a reasonable presumption. And I was certainly involved in the case. However, I must repeat the third time that I never met the man.” Josephine intentionally added a degree of impatience to her voice.
“So you have told us. I understand your confusion, Minister. Please bear with me a moment more, and we can finish all this. Please remember that information given to Police or Parliamentary Guards investigators in the course of an investigation is regarded the same as testimony under oath and false statements carry similar punishments as perjury.”
“Chief Inspector.” Josephine raised her voice with an intended air of righteous indignation. I have the idiot, she thought. Trying to scare me with a perjury threat. He has nothing! “I am well aware of the law, and I resent you implying that I would lie to you. Let me repeat as clearly as possible, so you will get it right. I never met or spoke to Agent James Rogers of the Central Narcotics Bureau.”
“I was not implying anything, Minister. I appreciate your emphatically stated response. However, I need to ask,” he pulled a paper out of his briefcase, “about this sworn affidavit by a court clerk who says that when leaving Moore’s trial, he saw you and Rogers standing nearby, engaged in conversation.” He handed the sheet over to Josephine. Frost was sure that her olive complexion turned noticeably whiter as she tried to scan the document while thinking of a response.
“I..well I..”
Musa interrupted, “While you think of how to explain that, I would also like an explanation of this.” He pulled out several more papers and handed them to the flustered Minister. “These are detailed logs of activity at the CNB. They show you in a meeting with Jimmy Rogers in his office from 3:48 PM to 4:16 PM, 28 minutes, on Thursday, March 20th. That was four days before Miss Moore’s trial and only 19 days ago. Do you still not recall ever meeting and speaking with Mr. Rogers?”
Josephine was struck dumb by this bombshell. She stared for a few seconds at the detective, her mouth open. Finally, she began stuttering an excuse.
“Oh, yes…no, I…I’ve been so busy with my office…I recall now…a minor issue…”
“So, you did know Rogers and had spoken to him on more than one occasion?”
“Well, yes. I suppose so.”
“Did you speak to him Friday, a week ago at Moore’s caning, at the reception that you earlier mentioned?”
Josephine thought desperately for a moment. There were no police there. Not these detectives. And the prison would never turn over their surveillance tapes without hard evidence for a warrant. There was no way they could prove this!
“No, I certainly did not! I told you that already!” She tried to put her power-tone in her voice. But these men were not the type to be easily intimidated.
“Then we need an explanation of this note. It was given to Rogers on that Friday.” He handed her the post-it, sealed in a heavy-weight plastic sheaf. Josephine took it in her now trembling hands. She saw her own note, her own handwriting, and her own instructions for Rogers. This was too much! She cried out, to no one in particular:
“My God, No!! He was supposed to destroy this.” She looked at the detectives, with eyes pleading for their agreement, ”If I told him to destroy it, shouldn’t I be confident that it was destroyed?”
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
In PrPr's world? Yes, some. However, it is tempered by a healthy dose of indiscriminate Sadism!
Or .... execution day could now turn out to feature a threesome!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Apart from PrPr, nobody knows.Or .... execution day could now turn out to feature a threesome!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Has old Frost finally worked his magic? Is their light at the end of the tunnel for Barb? How much shit is Josephine actually in? Can't wait to find out. Brilliant read as always PrPr ...