|The Necrophiles Have Your
Pt. VIII: The Screw Up
by Willailla ©
She was scared, but at the same time, excited by the prospect of having an expose to end all exposes. Her name would become a household word. There would be book rights. Slews of articles by her and about her and maybe even a movie deal.
As her head spun with all the possibilities. A black sedan abruptly pulled up to the curb in front of her. The rear door opened and a muscular, blond headed man, in a dark suit, ordered her to get in.
"OK, guys, this is it." Matt Larsen said. "Let's get rolling. But stay back and keep a low profile. We don't want to alert them. Remember we've got helicopters and spotter planes discreetly observing them, so we're not in any danger of losing them."
A few minutes later, the driver called back over his shoulder to where Matt and Jake sat. "They're turning into an underground parking lot, sir."
"Damn!" Matt exclaimed.
"What's the matter?" Jake asked, suddenly alarmed.
"They're going to switch cars, the bastards"
"You can't let them, Matt! We've got to stop them!" Jake cried.
"It's all right, Jake. Calm down. As long as Janet's wearing the wire we can home in on it and keep track of them. These assholes aren't as smart as they think."
* * *
"What are we doing?" Janet asked, as the sedan pulled into the underground parking lot.
"Just taking a routine precaution," the blond-headed man smiled, "in case somebody's following us.
There were five men in the car with her. Three up front and one on each side of her. Janet was beginning to wish she'd never undertaken her crusade.
When they were inside, they pulled up next to a gray Caddy and got out. The blond-headed man went over to the driver and said something. The driver glanced at Janet, then nodded, backed out and drove off.
"Is anything wrong?" Janet asked, beginning to feel uneasy.
"No," the blond said. "Everything's going according to plan, Mrs. Turner."
Janet's mouth opened, but no sound came out. They knew who she was!
They had formed a loose circle around her. Even without the spiked heels, she couldn't have outrun them. All of them looked like they worked out on a regular basis.
"How did you know who I was?" she heard herself ask in a dazed voice. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she frantically realized that she had to stall for time. She knew, hopefully, that their conversation was being monitored, soon help would be on its way. Don't panic. Just stall them for as long as possible, she told herself. But she was scared. Suddenly, really scared. She felt her legs tremble.
"Oh, The Followers have been aware of your meddling for a long time. You should have stuck to your daily, routine reporting instead of sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. You've alarmed and angered some very rich and influential people. Now I'm afraid you'll have to pay the price."
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, not relishing any of the possible options her vivid imagination was conjuring up.
"Um, that'll be up to The Followers, but if I were you, I'd forget about any long term plans I'd made." He chuckled. The others grinned. Their eyes moved over her, and she knew what they wanted to do.
"Oh, and by the way, you can forget about being rescued. We relaid the frequency of your transmitter to one in the Caddy. Right about now your FBI buddies are engaged in a wild goose chase. By the time they realize it, it will be too late for you."
The blond took her by the upper arm, and they led her to a green, steel elevator door. Inside, he ran a key card through a slot. "That'll take us to the penthouse, Mrs. Turner, which," he added ominously, "is completely sound proof."
Janet wanted to beg them to let her go, to strike any bargain, to do anything they wanted, to fall on her knees, but she was intelligent enough to know it would do no good. Besides she had nothing to bargain with. They could take what they wanted.
High up, the elevator door opened onto a Spanish tiled foyer. The blond pressed a button next to an intricately carved door and Janet could hear the faint sound of chimes inside.
The door opened and the blond shoved Janet inside, roughly. Then they turned and went back to the elevator. Fadela was playing from the speakers.
To Be Continued...
|Click on the name for contact info and more works by Willailla.|
© Copyright 2000 by literotica.com.