48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 51: Julie

48 Hours on Blue Bayou, Part 51: Julie

Le dénouement

Chapter 175: A "Small Problem"

Julie thought the jumbo jet's take-off had been a little abrupt. There was the usual rush down the runway, gathering speed. But the pilot had pulled the aircraft up quite severely as he left Hong Kong' airport. Probably showing off this latest version of the jet's class, she thought. The view from her window was limited because the wing was the most prominent feature in sight. It took her a few moments to notice that there was a plume of vapor, or something, coming out of a small area of the wing.

She watched it for several seconds before she realized this was definitely not normal, even for an advanced model. Her mind, knowing the plane was carrying the tons of fuel that would be needed to take them over the Pole to London, visualized a spark setting off a supernova explosion. Her finger trembled as she pushed, and pushed again, the Stewardess Call Button.

The stewardess took one look at what Julie pointed to, gasped a Thank you, and ran from the Coach cabin forward. Julie had never seen a stewardess run, and it made her vision of a supernova larger.

A moment later, the cabin speakers crackled into life and a calm voice welcomed the passengers. It then added a few words. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're having a small problem with one of our wing fuel tanks. It seems to be venting jet fuel. This is probably not going to do the environment much good, and it might also make it hard for us to fly all the way to London, so I'm going back to the airport to fix this problem. It will take a little while to get back into the traffic pattern, so just sit back and relax. I don't think we'll have time for any food or beverage service, but we'll get that done afterwards."

Julie couldn't help adding That's if there is an afterwards. She wondered if her Owner and Master, Igor, was getting more information in the First Class cabin. It was too hard to be separated from the man she loved at such a time. She closed her mind and, as a slave often must do, settled down to wait.

The pilot came on in a few minutes to announce that they would be dumping some fuel into the ocean "to even the weight of the aircraft," whatever that meant, and that they had secured a place in the traffic pattern that would have them on the ground in ten minutes.

Julie wondered if "on the ground" was an aircrew euphemism for something bad.

As it turned out, the fuel got dumped and the plane landed without anything unusual. The passengers broke out into applause as the aircraft rolled to a stop at the end of the runway. Julie's window now showed enough fire trucks to service a moderate-size city. Hoses sprouted from the trucks as if by magic, wrestled into place by teams of firefighters. And then, everybody just stood still.

Two workers pushed a ladder against the wing and a woman in a colorful jumpsuit climbed up and onto the wing. She walked confidently up to where the plume had been, looked into a small hole, and waved to all the firefighters. Julie could see how each one's posture relaxed, and her supernova vision evaporated. One by one, the hoses went back into their trucks and the fire trucks peeled away from the plane.

The pilot came back on the speaker saying, "OK, folks. It seems someone left the gas cap off the tank when they fueled us for the trip. We're going to get a new cap and some fuel to top off that tank and we're good to go. We'll let you deplane for the little while this will take. Thanks for your patience."

A tug came out and pulled the plane to the gate area they had recently left. The passengers left the plane and Julie joined Igor to watch as several mechanics swarmed over the wing, with another squad checking over the rest of the airplane. A fuel truck rumbled up to the plane and its thick hose was plugged in.

Julie and Igor watched the refueling together until a stewardess led an airline officer to them. Julie didn't catch anything after the stewardess remarked, "This is the lady who reported the venting."

The officer broke out into a wide grin and announced how pleased he — and the airline — were that Julie had called the stewardess. "We've got some room up forward, if you'd like to join us there," he finished.

"Up where?" Julie was confused by the terminology.

The officer's grin widened a bit more. "Up to First Class, ma'am. Just a bit of a Thank you for your help."

Julie blushed and caught Igor's eye. He took her hand easily and answered for her. "Thank you, Sir. I'm sure my assistant would appreciate your kindness."

There was a momentary flicker in the officer's grin, but he nodded and said he'd make the arrangements. Ten minutes later, after several maintenance folks had signed a batch of papers, the call came to reboard the flight and a stewardess showed Julie and Igor to adjoining seats in First Class. Another stewardess brought the few packages Julie had stowed in the compartment above her former seat.

The plane started up and headed for the runway. This time, the take-off was not as spectacular and Julie settled in for the long trip, this time next to the man she loved.

It had been a long trip getting to this point, she mused. More than a year ago, there had been the vacation cruise on the Blue Bayou, a small cruiser with a few other couples. They had been attacked by pirates and everyone had been taken captive. She didn't know what happened to the crew or the men, but the women had been stripped and "trained" to act as slaves. A day later, several craft had arrived, with perhaps a dozen "visitors" joining them.

The visitors turned out to be buyers, and the slavers auctioned each woman off. Julie never knew what price her buyer had paid, but he took her to Hong Kong where she learned about slavery from Martin, her Owner, Igor, his Executive Trainer, and Pat and Anne, former First Slaves in The Enterprises, Martin's worldwide business empire. Her "training" had not been brutal, but many of the lessons had been learned at the end of a whip, crop, or cane.

Now, Martin had deconstructed The Enterprises, with trusted lieutenants running regional conglomerates. Some of the slaves had been "sold along," while others had been moved to the regional operations as "office staff." Martin had fallen in love with Niamh, the slave he had acquired almost by accident, and had freed her. They had left a week ago to move to Ireland where Martin had a new headquarters. It had been an emotional departure for Julie, as it had been for most everyone.

Chapter 176: Igor's Return and Story

Julie remembered the few weeks leading up to that departure. Igor, who had bought her from Martin when he took the opportunity to establish a new House of Slavery in England, had left her to learn what her new Master would need in his First Slave. She had been with the Chief of the Concierge Service when Anne's call came. Her grinning mentor gave her the news that Igor was expected back from England in the morning. Did she want to be part of the team greeting him at the airport?

No thought was needed! She had met her recent "client" at the airport and no longer doubted her ability to manage the assignment. She was anxious, however, about making a good impression on her new Owner, the man who would be taking her to his new operation in the UK. That she was also in love with this man — well, that was just the extra fillip.

She made Igor's apartment clean and fresh that afternoon and was ready the next morning when the Security crew called. She huddled on the floor of the lead SUV as the caravan departed. The crew were in a good mood and the banter flowed easily, including debates about whether The Enterprises' former Training Executive would have gained or lost weight eating British cuisine for the past weeks. Julie knew how her Owner kept to a fairly standard diet and vigorous gym workouts, so she offered the view that Igor would probably not look any different from their memories.

A crewman suggested, "Kid, would you like to lay some odds on that?" Everyone knew that Julie was a slave and greeted this awful double-entendre with boisterous laughter that caused the slave to blush and the suggestion to evaporate. In any case, as a slave, Julie didn't have anything to bet with. She kept silent for the rest of the trip.

Igor appeared at Passport Control and waved to the Greeting Team. His smile, however, seemed to be directed particularly at her, Julie thought. He shook all the men's hands first, coming to his slave only after a word for each of the Security crew. Julie knew that going to Position One was unwarranted in such a public place, but her curtsey was as deep and regal as she could make it.

"Thank you, my dear slave, for your welcome," her Owner murmured. "You were the first one I saw, and it made the trip worthwhile."

The crew took care of Igor's baggage. His briefcase, containing items he'd worked on during the trip, seemed to float into Julie's care. When he entered the lead SUV, Julie was right there at his feet, feeling the warmth she always did with the man who had been her main Trainer in slavery.

As expected, Igor had a few funny or outlandish tales about his trip and each was greeted by the Security crew with appropriate laughter, groans, or expressions of disbelief. It seemed only moments before they were unloading at The Enterprises' headquarters.

A large banner proclaiming "Welcome Home!" decorated the entry. Julie guessed that it had been put up by the Chief of the Concierge Service. The woman, who had taught her so much of what she needed to know to be Igor's First Slave at his new enterprise, was among the crowd and smiled as she pointed to the banner, sharing a giggle with her "student."

After so many of Igor's friends and co-workers had shaken his hand, slapped him on the back, and said their greetings, Martin, Charles, and Edward stepped forward to greet their colleague. Anne and Pat, as slaves, had followed at a respectful distance, but Igor strode over to them with an outstretched hand and wide smile. It was evident to all how highly he valued their service over the years and each of them felt a small pang that Igor's return was just a prelude to his coming permanent departure.

Martin had gathered the senior team together in the Executive Floor kitchen, where Julie and Niamh took care that everyone had the coffee or tea they wished. Martin gave a quick rundown of what had been developing among The Enterprises' projects while Igor had been away and Igor thanked him for the update.

"Although I'm not formally part of this team," he said, "I appreciate learning how the projects and people I've worked with are doing.

"Now, let me tell you all about what happened to me in Merrie Olde England. It started almost as a disaster. When I arrived, I called the hotel where I had reservations but they told me that they had no record of me in their computers and, anyway, the convention they'd already started had filled the hotel and there was no room at this inn for me. I wandered out to the cabstand and asked the guy running it to suggest a place where I could park for a few days. He said "No problem," whistled up the next cab, told the driver where to take me, and we left. It turned out to be Claridge's.

"Art deco doors at the entry are just the start of how luxurious this place is. Everyone knows this is where the royals and celebrities stay, so I was a bit worried about my chances. I braced the Desk Manager with my problem. I didn't have to say two sentences before he broke in. I suspect he knew I was on a budget from the name of the hotel where I wasn't going. He said, 'Sir, we can take care of you for as long as you need to be in London.' And, that was that. They got me installed in a nice room and I started calling the people I'd made appointments with. To a person, they were impressed where I was and, I think, it got conversations going better than I expected.

"I spent the next day at the realtor's office — what the UK folks call an 'Estate Agent' — whom I'd contacted from here. He had some ideas for the town I'd need as a base, but no specific properties to show me. It was another disappointment and I was ready for something strong by the time I got back to Claridges. I got into their Fumoir bar and picked a spot at the big marble horseshoe bar. The gentlemen at the bar were friendly and suggested I try The Duchess cocktail. It's mostly absinthe, I guess, but it hit the spot right then. We talked for a few minutes until another guest came in.

"He was a big guy and dressed in a suit. We started talking and he turned out to be the owner of a meat-packing factory in a nearby town. He asked why a Yank was in London and I explained my cover story: I was looking to set up a Bed and Breakfast hotel in a small English town, maybe in an old castle. He laughed as soon as I said this and I wondered if my story had some defects only a Britisher would spot.

"Well, it didn't turn out that way. He told me I didn't want an old castle. 'They're cold and drafty, the plumbing usually doesn't work, and it's hard to run wires for electricity in stone walls.'

"I asked about some town's Manor House and he suggested that was still way Up-Market in terms of clientele, price and size. I couldn't really say the size was needed to cover a slavery enterprise, could I? This gent opined that British Bed and Breakfast hotels are almost always small-ish and family run. He suggested that it would be much better to set up a 'Country House Hotel.'

"Then he mentioned that there had been another guy looking to start a BnB in his town, even to renovating a local manor house. He didn't have any luck with getting guests, however, and had closed the place down a few months back. This guy figured the place was up for sale and could be gotten at a good price if I wanted to try my luck there.

"I didn't want to fall for such an obvious ploy, but we talked a bit more and he told me about some of the rehab and fixings the prior owner had installed. They all sounded good, but expensive. Turns out, this guy suggested, that the bigger reason for failure wasn't so much the lack of guests as the money-hole the owner had dug with the remodeling.

"Anyway, he told me there's some cultural event coming up in another day and why don't I come look his town over? My realtor hadn't got me set up for anything that day, so I agreed. He said he'd pick me up after breakfast and give me the ten-guinea tour. He must have seen how this flew past me so he laughed and explained that, before the UK went on the decimal system, pounds were divided into twenty shillings. A 'guinea' was a pound plus an extra shilling to give something for a professional fee.

"The trip turned out to be through and around very nice country and the folks I met at the hundred-and-someteenth celebration of King Edward the Seventh's visit to the town back early in the last century, were friendly and welcoming.

"I had a tour of the renovated house from the caretakers and it seemed almost completely in tune with what I'd been thinking of. Lots of acreage around the main building, lots of rooms with some large spaces on the ground floor, and a basement sporting two dungeon cells, fitted out just like when the house was built.

"One caretaker said that that part of the renovation had taken the most time because the former entrepreneur wanted it to be as realistic as possible. Well, he got realism! Stone floor, stone walls, and stone for the ceiling, along with chains fitted every few feet. Should be quite suitable for any of our future 'guests.'

"But the biggest surprise was at the party after the formal ceremony and celebration. By the way, the local high school band that played a few patriotic songs was first rate. We'll have to get them to perform for our paying clients. My guide — his name is Higgins, if you could believe it — spent most of the party pointing out the movers and shakers in town and how each of them was there with a beautiful young woman or handsome young man who just doted on them.

"I was a bit tired by the end of all this but Higgins invited me for some kind of snack at his home. I met his wife, a beautiful woman who seemed like a nice lady, and she served some sandwiches. Higgins had some liqueur he'd like me to try, so I went along to his study.

"He gave me some of the stuff and I was polite enough to compliment him on it, although I didn't see what the fuss was about it. Then, he asked me what I thought of all the young people around the movers and shakers from the earlier party. I was not really following him, but I made some general comment and I saw I'd disappointed him.

"I tried to revise my remark, but he moved on to a new story. Seems he recently had a colleague in the meat-packing business retire and he'd bought some of his assets. He went to a window overlooking his back yard where he pointed out a truck he'd gotten at a bargain price. Well, it's always OK to compliment a guy on getting a bargain, isn't it? I looked out and got a huge shock. The truck was still painted with a familiar name and logo: F.C. Meat Products it said in large lettering across both doors and beneath it in smaller script, "Prime Quality -- Farm Fresh -- Organic.

"Higgins started laughing and I turned around, probably blushing, but thoroughly confused. He told me he was sorry to startle me, but he had to be sure of me. It turns out, he'd just taken delivery of the truck and was talking to Freddie Clegg, who was the guy retiring from the business, about this guy he was going to show around his town. He mentioned my name and Mr. Clegg told him he knew me, had even had me as an intern many years ago.

"Well, you can see where this is going. Higgins was pointing out those 'adoring friends' because they are all slaves to the bosses in the town. Freddie Clegg had supplied most of them and the bosses were all worried about their slaves now that Mr. Clegg was retiring. Higgins said that they've had slaves in this town for a few decades and the insiders considered it just part of the local perks. The slaves Mr. Clegg provided were all very well trained, he said, and he wanted to know what part of Mr. Clegg's enterprise I was planning on conducting.

"I took a second for some sips of the liqueur and decided to explore this town a bit more. I asked a few questions about how they managed to have slaves accompany their masters and mistresses to public parties, and Higgins made a production of describing how the old-timers made sure to introduce any newcomers to the delights of holding slaves, so that the people who run this town have the practice pretty well bottled up. He added that there are similar 'arrangements' in lots of the towns. I got the idea that I'll have a ready market for any slaves I can produce. When I asked Higgins, he grinned and confirmed that all I have to do is put a word in the right place and people will show up for an auction, if that's how I want to do it. Or, people can let me know what merchandise they are looking for and we can arrange the deal even before I pick up the unit.

"Higgins finished by remarking that 'We're quite civilized about this, and nobody thinks it's anything unusual.'"

When Igor finished his story, there was a burst of questions. He answered them all with an ease that showed his comfort with his new enterprise. He had met several of the town's elites and they confirmed Higgins' report. He had called Mr. Clegg and they both laughed at how his exploratory visit had turned into a foundation-building effort. Mr. Clegg said he'd drop Igor's name in a few "interesting places," for which Igor was appreciative. Before he left, Igor had arranged with local lawyers, accountants, the Country House Hotels Association, as well as the local business association to incorporate and establish The Castle BnB, a name that met with general approval. He had also had a few calls from some of Mr. Clegg's Operations staff who were interested in continuing this line of work.