tagNonConsent/ReluctanceAssassin Ch. 10

Assassin Ch. 10


Megan drove down I-95, holding to the speed limit. She was deep in thought. Everyone else was passing her, going at least 10-20 miles faster. 18-wheelers, SUVs, sedans, imports and domestics. Even senior citizens were passing her. Heads turned to look at the blonde woman driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand hanging lazily out the window.

Alan Wong and Hong Kong. Those were the only clues she had. She had paid a steep price to get those two pieces of jigsaw. Chuck had driven a hard bargain. If the tables were turned, she would not let him off easily. Rocky was the worst. She summoned every ounce of willpower to put the two of them out of her mind. Let bygones be bygones.

She had to concentrate on the puzzle. It was in Hong Kong that she took the laptop from the dead money launderer. Was Alan Wong linked to the money launderer? Did the laptop contain information of all his financial dealings? Why was the laptop worth killing for?

Hong Kong, formerly under British administration and now under Chinese control, had always been a freewheeling banking center. It made sense that Alan Wong was last seen in the same city as the money launderer she killed. But there were seven million residents in Hong Kong. And Alan Wong was a common name in Hong Kong. She could not simply fly there and check out the phone book.

The drive from Boca Raton to Key Biscayne, even keeping to the speed limit, would take at most an hour. How to narrow down the search? Megan kept tossing the name Alan Wong over and over in her mind, trying to come up with search terms that she could give to Ron.

Ron Peterson was not his original name, but he had learned to like it. He could hack into any server on the internet backbone, even highly classified ones like the NSA, CIA, or FBI. Even overseas internet servers were no barrier to him. His skills were so useful the government regularly contracted with him to hack into foreign government websites.

Unlike Chuck, Ron would do anything Megan asked without asking for anything back. A man of honor, he remembered that if not for Megan, he would not be alive. Although he found Megan drop-dead attractive, he would never ask for any sexual favors.

Ron could have lived anywhere in the world. But he loved being near a major metropolitan and diverse area. Fluent in four languages, he especially enjoyed the vibrant mix of cultures in the South Florida region.

During the day, Ron worked quietly as a lifeguard on the southern end of Miami Beach, more famously known as South Beach. But it was his night time activities that were most lucrative. After 10:00 PM Eastern Time, the quiet alleys of the internet superhighways became his playground. Downloading files containing the hidden activities of the Chinese military networks, especially the email accounts of senior officers of the People's Liberation Army, had lately been his bread and butter. Working as a Pentagon contractor, he had recently received a wire transfer in the mid six figures.

Megan was aware that Ron was grateful she saved his life. Although he would not demand it, what she was asking him to do this time was so big that she wanted to give herself generously to him. She saw the sign that told her she had to exit 41 if she wanted to use I-75 to Naples. She filtered one lane to the left to stay on I-95 to Miami.

Megan knew that Ron would be waiting for her holed up in his darkened apartment, all his computers fired up and ready to go, shades and curtains drawn. She had told him over the phone that she had only a name and a city. She did not want to tell him the name Alan Wong and the city of Hong Kong over the phone. Otherwise, he would be working hard on it before she arrived. Besides, she was not using a secure phone. She had already put him as some risk by calling him.

With only two variables, Alan Wong and Hong Kong, it was almost impossible to proceed. But Megan realized there must be other variables. She had been kidnapped and interrogated in Mexico. Mexican gangs were known for the trafficking of drugs, especially cocaine. So now she had two more variables. She set up a spreadsheet in her mind, with 4 rows and 2 columns. The first column contained the four variables V1, V2, V3 and V4. The second column was populated with Alan Wong, Hong Kong, Mexico and Cocaine.

Realizing she was making progress, she smiled as she passed Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport on her left. A Jet Blue plane was taking off and passed her overhead as she tapped on the gas pedal, bringing the car a tad over the speed limit. The freeway had expanded to five lanes. She was now in the middle lane.

What else could she put in the second column of her spreadsheet? What were the Mexican gangs also known for? Out of ideas, she twisted the rental car's knob randomly to find a radio station. The DJ was congratulating the Senate for the achievement of passing the Immigration Reform Bill. Megan looked at the drivers around her. Florida was full of immigrants, both legal and illegal. The politically correct term for illegals was undocumented workers.

Megan saw an F-150 with half a dozen men riding behind. She imagined they were either on the way to a construction zone or on the way back. Perhaps they were undocumented workers who had crossed the border in Texas or New Mexico or Arizona or California. Maybe they had utilized the services of Mexican gangs to cross the border.

If the men had used Mexican gangs to cross the border, they had likely paid for the trip in Mexico. Supposed there were some who were too poor to pay for the trip. They would have to pay after they arrive in the United States. But supposed there were some who were forced to cross the border. Hadn't she read about the kidnapping of young girls to work in the brothels in the border towns? She inserted Human Trafficking into her fifth row of her mental spreadsheet.

Five variables would be a good start for word associations among the humongous databases that Ron would be able to hack into. Megan turned off the radio and floored the gas pedal. She glanced at the side mirror, saw a small gap, and squeezed between a Mercedes and BMW to get to the HOV lane. The engine of her Ford Focus struggled until it reached the speed of 90 miles per hour. The skyline of Miami downtown flew past. She could not wait to get started.

Her excitement was dampened when 95 ended and she was forced to stop at the toll booth in front of Rickenbacker Causeway. She handed over the twenty dollar bill, which she kept between her breasts in her bra, to the wide-eyed retired man, who asked if she was having a good day. Of course, she said, avoiding eye contact. The man was not exactly skillful at conversations. He counted eighteen dollars and handed it over. She sped off without waiting for the change.

While crossing the bridge, with the gorgeous skyline of Miami on her left, her subconscious imagination gave her a few more ideas. Alan Wong was last seen in Hong Kong, which was now part of China. And China was a major trading partner of the United States. From Wall Street Journal, she had learned that China had a major trade surplus with the U.S. on products like toys and electronics. She added electronics, toys and China to the mental spreadsheet. Ron would have eight variables to start the search.


Ron left work early, as soon as he received the phone call from Megan. It had been four years since he had heard her husky voice. He told her Brazilian lifeguard girlfriend to cover for him as he rushed home from South Beach.

Ron drove at top speed across the MacArthur Causeway, which was unusual for him. Under normal circumstances, Ron was a meticulous and habit driven man. Every day, five times a week, he started his morning with a bowl of cornflakes with 1% skim milk and two slices of toast with peanut butter. Nothing fancy, but the same thing every weekday at seven in the morning.

From the short phone call, Ron knew that Megan was in trouble. Ron wasn't exactly clear who she worked for. But he knew enough to know what she did for a living. Not the details, but enough to know it was dangerous. In all the years he had known her, she would call only when she had ran out of options.

Before he left for work in South Beach, he had fired up all five of his powerful computers. Ron put together all his computers with parts he bought on the internet. He had soldered each chip to the printed circuit boards, dipped them in home-made chemicals in his apartment, and exposed them to the ultra violet light in a machine he bought from a bankrupt electronic assembly plant in Bloomington, Indiana.

She was already in her apartment when he got home.

"How did you get in?" he asked and immediately regretted asking. Of course she had her ways. It was not as if he had just met her in a club last night.

"How's your Brazilian girlfriend Gisele?"

"Did you mean was the sex as hot as rumored? And did she know I am with you now? Yes and no." Ron closed the heavy iron door and double locked it. He noticed the name 'Alan Wong' blinking in the screen of one of his computers, the one with the largest screen in the middle of the pack.

"Would she be jealous if she knew?" she asked as she rolled her five legged computer chair to the right, opening up a space in front of the giant screen for Ron.

Ron sat on a computer chair with a high back and slid in, close to her, their elbows almost touching. "Would you be jealous if it is the other way round?"

"You know I am not your typical lifeguard in the next beach."

He was surprised she knew so much. Still, she did not know enough and needed his help. He felt his pants warm up at the idea of superior knowledge, or at least access to superior knowledge.

"What are you looking for?" he made it sound like it was a natural transition.

She told him the variables in her head.

He typed each variable into a separate computer, rolling around the room without looking, the room lit only by the dim light from the computer screens. She pushed back her chair to get out of the way.

The center computer whirled and returned 256 hits on Alan Wong in Hong Kong. "I'm pulling up banking records to narrow it down. Is Alan Wong a high net worth individual?"

"He runs at least one factory in China. My guess is he is at least a multi-millionaire."

Several quick keystrokes later, the list had been narrowed down to just six. Ron hacked into their cell phone records, tracking their locations in real time. Five of them were in various parts of Hong Kong, one of them in Singapore. He hit the print button, got out of his chair and walked to the printer in the corner of the room.

"Let's see," Ron pointed to the first of six pages in his hand. "AW1 amassed his fortunes from real estate, so this is not our man if your intel is accurate." Ron had a habit of shortening names.

She moved close to him to squint at the printouts.

"AW2 made his money in finance. Possibly not the guy you want. AW3 is into gaming, especially casinos in Macau. AW4 is a car dealer, specializing in the imports of luxury cars BMW, Audi, Mercedes."

He glanced at her for the first time. Even in the dim light, he could see her see-through white sleeveless blouse, with a black bra inside. She buttoned only the middle of the five buttons in front, exposing generous cleavage and a rock-hard core. One of the bra straps had fallen off her shoulder.

Her head was down, her eyes reading every line of the printout. But she felt his gaze. She stood up and positioned herself between the giant screen and Ron, his eyes level with her bare stomach.

"Do you like it?"

He could now see that below the waist, she wore only a black bikini bottom, tied on both sides below her hip bones. He wondered if she stopped for gasoline along the way.

She was obviously dressed to tease. He could play the game as well. "What do you mean by it?" he asked.

She unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, letting it fall to the floor. Holding both his ears, she pulled him in until his nose was an inch away and he could smell her vagina.

"AW5 is a subcontractor for Nike shoes. His factories are in Malaysia and Indonesia. AW6, who is in Singapore, owns two factories in China, one in Shenzhen, the other in Shanghai." He was not reading, but was recalling from memory. His short-term memory was in the top 0.1% of the population.

"Find out more about AW6," she inched forward in her bare feet, spreading them slightly to lower her height. She gyrated her hips and rubbed her groin in his eyes.

With closed eyes, Ron stretched his hands around her and typed on the keyboard. The computer beeped. She turned around to look at the screen, releasing her grip on his ears. She bent over to be closer to the screen, a few strands of her hair sticking to his perspiring face, their faces so close she could feel his stubble.

Alan Wong's cell phone was located in a hotel in downtown Singapore.

"Get me on a flight to Singapore first thing tomorrow," she winked at him. He wondered why she did not want to fly out immediately.

The sound of clicking keyboard strokes. Then the soft purr of the printer as it printed out the boarding pass for flight from Miami to Singapore via Los Angeles.

"Do you have plans for tonight?" He asked as he handed her boarding pass to her. A simple question, but she paused before answering.

"I want to meet Gisele."

He heard her, but went to the kitchen, pouring Jack Daniels into two cubes of ice, then emptying the entire packet of white powder into the drink. He stirred and held it up, making sure she could see.

"Was that for me?" the tone was seductive.

"Yes, it would knock you out and then I can bring you to see Gisele."

She took the glass from him and drank, finishing it without breathing, crunching the ice cubes and swallowing, and then turning the glass upside down on top of his head.

"Are we all gonna have sex, like a threesome?" she asked as she swayed on her feet.

"I don't know, it's up to her."

"What's her favorite fanta-sea?" slurring badly.

"She likes to be the dominatrix."


"Wake up, bitch. Know who I am?"

A kick to the stomach landed on Megan, who was lying sideways. She opened her eyes lazily and saw a woman with long dark hair in a leather halter bra top and leather miniskirt. "You must be Gisele," she said in a matter of fact way. "I can see why Ron is deeply in love."

"Wrong answer," Megan was kicked again, this time from behind. "When you are asked a question, depending on who is asking, you start your sentence with 'Yes sir' or 'Yes ma'am.' Gisele's accent was an exotic mix of Portuguese, Spanish, and French. "Got it, cunt?"

"Yes, ma'am. Where is Ron?"

"He had gone back to work."

Megan tried to sit up, which was not an easy task with her hands behind. Her elbows and wrists had been professionally tied with a single loop of nylon rope. Her legs were free. She was still dressed in her bra and bikini bottom, the blouse held together by a single button.

"Want some help?" It was a rhetorical question.

Megan noticed for the first time there were two men standing behind her, both in black T-shirts, jeans, and military-style boots. They grabbed her blouse and hoisted her to her bare feet, breaking the button and opening her blouse. The two scantily clad women stood eye to eye.

"I heard you wanted to meet me," Gisele broke the silence.

"Yes, ma'am. Nice to meet you."

"Were you trying to fuck my man?"

"No ma'am. Of course not."

"Then why the provocative outfit?"

"No ma'am. The weather is hot. I did not dress to seduce Ron."

"Then why did you rub your slutty cunt in his eyes?"

"Did he tell you that? Or did you use a hidden camera? Is that how you get your kicks? If it helps you get wet, we could repeat the performance in front of you."

Gisele struck first, slapping her across the mouth. Megan had time to kick her shin and knee her between the legs before she was pulled back. Man Number One held her hair and neck. Man Number Two her tied elbows and waist. She was kicked and forced to go down on her knees.

"We're done talking with this whore."

Man Number One reached inside her bra to twist and pinch her nipple hard. When she cried out, Man Number Two forced a large ball gag into her mouth, securing the leather straps behind her neck. She was half carried and half dragged to the center of the room, where there was a billiard table.

"Bend her over," Gisele ordered in Spanish.

Her head was pushed down, nose flattened, waist pressed against the edge, legs spread. Gisele stood behind her and slowly untied the knot on both sides of her bikini bottom.

"Wiggle your ass and shake loose the bikini." She reached under her chest and located a nipple, raking in her nails until Megan complied. A rope was looped around her neck and tied to the opposite side of the billiard table. She was trapped and vulnerable.

Gisele produced a half inch bamboo cane, testing it on her own palm.

"You will be whipped until you beg to be fucked."

Two dozen whips later, her butt crisscrossed with welts, her gag was removed.

"Nod if you want these men to fill your cunt and mouth with hot semen."

She nodded. Although she could take more pain, she wanted to end quickly so she could catch the plane to Singapore.

A shopping bag was placed over her head, restricting her breath and cutting off her vision completely. She was released from the table, led to a bed, and tied spreadeagled face up. After receiving what was promised, a needle was stuck between her breasts, knocking her out.


When she woke up, Ron was driving her to the airport. He had a knowing smile on his lips.

To be continued next chapter ...

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