Detective Sara Delaney

Part 1 of 3: Richard Burrwell

When the phone awoke Sara at 7:02 am on a Saturday morning, she had no idea that one of the most difficult days of her life was about to begin.

She didn't bother to check the caller ID when she answered the call.

"This better be important," she said to whoever was calling.

"Is this Detective Delaney?" a man asked with a thick British accent.

"Speaking."

"You don't know me. But I know you. And I need your help."

The message was enough to fully awake the half-asleep detective. She sat upright in her bed and paid full attention.

"Who is this?" she asked, this time treating the call seriously.

"My name is Richard Burrwell. You may have heard of me."

Burrwell was a man who's appeared on the local television and newspapers a few times. Many loved him. Others hated him. He was a wealthy middle aged British man who's made a fortune in real estate, using very questionable ethics in the process.

"The name rings a bell," she replied.

"Good, because I have a job for you. Only for you. Not the department."

"Sorry. I don't do private work."

"I can pay you a lot of money," he said.

"Mr. Burrwell, I don't do private work."

"Well, I don't think you fully understand the gravity of the situation. My wife's been taken from me. And I think you're the only person who can help, given the nature of your recent investigations."

It only took a split-second before Sara made the connection in her head. Her division had been going after a highly secretive occult. They made progress and had a few strong leads, but ultimately, they didn't have enough hard evidence to bring charges that would hold up in court.

The occult was a sex based group that focused on their own religious beliefs. It was believed that they brought themselves to drug induced states and engaged in bizarre sexual practices.

It was also believed that the occult used mind control or hypnosis on its members, but none of that could be proved.

All those months of investigation seemed to go down the drain, but now, she might have a new lead in regards to the occult.

Sara wondered how a man like Richard Burrwell knew about her affairs in the police department, and how he obtained her home phone number. But then again, she'd rather not know.

"I'm listening," Sara said.

"I can tell by the sound in your voice that you actually believe me."

"You seem to know a lot about me already," she replied. "So, if you want to talk, let's talk."

"It's quite a long story, detective. Perhaps we should meet in person to discuss this. Would you mind?"

"I love long stories."

"Good. Have you got a few hours of time?"

"I've got all day," the detective replied.

As it turned out, Mr. Burrwell knew Sara's home address as well, which wasn't entirely surprising anymore. They made plans for someone to come pick her up soon.

When the call ended, she sat on the side of the bed and rubbed her face. Like many good detectives, Sara relied on her gut instincts. She was fairly young for a detective, but she had plenty of experience dealing with shady characters. And her gut instinct was telling her that Richard Burrwell was telling the truth.

There was a shakiness in the man's voice. A man like that was normally beaming with confidence and pride. But on the phone, Sara knew he was trying to mask his own fears.

Another thing that her instincts told her was that she was going to have to bend the rules. Plenty of shady figures want to go to the police but have their identities protected. It was understandable too. No one involved with crime would want to be associated with law enforcement. It was simply bad for business.

But this was different. A man like Burrwell wasn't a low level figure or a thug. He was a powerful man. And if he was going straight to a detective, and not the police department, then there must have been something scandalous going on.

Sara was no stranger to bending the rules. She was good at covering her tracks. Her philosophy was; whatever it takes. After spending years as a street cop, she was sick of watching criminals getting away on technicalities and loopholes.

After a brief sigh, she removed her tshirt and stripped away the rest of her clothes, tossing them in the laundry bin. She went to the bathroom naked. Her mind was preparing for a long day, but first, she needed a hot shower.

***

Nearly an hour later. The detective had been given a chauffeured ride to the manor of Richard Burrwell. It was a large beautiful home as expected.

For her part, Sara Delaney dressed in tight blue jeans, boots, and a sleek leather jacket. It was a typical outfit for her when she was off-duty. And her visit to Burrwell was very off-duty.

The entrance to the manor opened and Richard stood by the door. He looked much older than Sara had remembered seeing in the news. But he did look fairly fit for his age, as he stood casually dressed for the meeting.

When Sara walked up the steps, they greeted each other with a formal handshake.

"It's a pleasure," he said.

"Likewise."

"Come. Breakfast is waiting."

They had a private breakfast in the backyard of the estate. There were brief moments of silence as Sara could tell that the man was still finding the words to say. Judging by the look on his face, there was a lot on his mind.

She was careful not to rush things. After all, she knew that Mr. Burrwell was entangled in something nasty, and that he wanted to approach things in a delicate way. Otherwise, he would have gone directly to the police instead of contacting her privately.

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked.

"I have."

"Well, I love my wife very much. Her name is Margaret. We've been together for more than 20 years. We came to this country together nearly a decade ago. She's the absolute love of my life."

"And now she's in trouble."

"Yes," he said with a slow regretful nod.

"What can you tell me about the people that've taken her?"

"They can be ruthless at times," he replied. "I've heard stories of what's happened to people who attempt to disavow them."

"I'm assuming we're talking about the occult group. Why join?"

Mr. Burrwell gave a half smile. "Like most powerful men, sex has always been my vice. I've always been in search of the latest pleasures and thrills. Now it's become my undoing. When I first got involved with these people, I thought it was heaven. They had everything a man like myself could ever want."

Sara gave him a reassuring look. It was a look of understanding and sympathy. But really, it was an interview technique. She wanted the man to feel relaxed so that he would be more comfortable talking.

She had always been a natural at interrogations & interviews, and now more than ever, she needed those skills to help people who desperately needed help.

"Does this group have a name?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"How did your wife become involved in this?" she asked.

"It was my fault entirely. Margaret eventually found out about my habits. You see, she's very good at keeping track of me. She pleaded with me to stop going, but I couldn't. Instead, I begged her to join me. It was all part of my fantasy, I suppose, seeing her getting ravished by other men, or women. Now she's been indoctrinated by these people."

"What have they done to her? Is the process reversible?"

"It seems they've drugged her out of her mind. It can be reversed. I have the antidote. I have other connections and resources, so I know what I'm talking about."

Sara nodded. "If we work fast, I can get a warrant and put a small team together. Taking them down shouldn't be a problem if we have all the necessary pieces in place."

"I don't think you understand," Mr. Burrwell said. "I can't go to the police. Not yet, anyway. These people know things about me which could ruin my life. I could be jailed."

"Are they blackmailing you?"

"Not at all. It's just leverage. They always find leverage over people. It's their insurance policy. If they find out I've turned against them, they'll destroy me, simple as that."

It was a situation Sara was very familiar with. And she knew she needed to tread carefully since the man in front of her seemed to be the only key to bringing down the occult.

She tried to sympathize. More importantly, she tried to figure out other ways to get a warrant without the direct involvement of Mr. Burrwell.

"What have they done with your wife?" Sara asked. "Has she been kidnapped? Are they holding her for ransom?"

He shook his head. "Not quite. They've filled her head with nonsense. She's run away from me. But she says she will return soon. When I spoke to her on the phone, it didn't sound like her at all. It was her voice, but it wasn't her speaking."

Sara nodded. "Tell me, Mr. Burrwell, has your wife attempted to convince you to return to the sex group?"

"I think you already know that the answer is yes. She's been indoctrinated. And they're trying to do the same to me."

There was a sudden shift in the mood between them. Suddenly, things became frank and out in the open. They had gotten straight to the point.

"We've been trying to penetrate this group for some time," Sara said. "But we've never had any success."

"Of course not. I guarantee you that they can beat any lie detector test. That's because they believe their own lies."

"I'm assuming you have a plan," she said.

"I do," he replied, with a thick British accent. "But first, I have to ask, what's the furthest you've ever pushed your sexuality?"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why that's any of your business."

"It's relevant to my plan. You're a very attractive woman, Detective. How far are you willing to push your body to obtain a goal?"

It was a question which Sara had never been asked before. And one she never considered. No one in the police department would have ever asked her a question like that, because they knew they would get punched square in the face. But the way Richard Burrwell asked, it was for a good reason.

"I don't have an answer to that," she replied honestly.

"You better find the answer. And soon. The window of opportunity is tonight."

"And if we don't?"

"Then maybe we'll have to wait for weeks. Maybe months. By then, my wife will be gone. These people have their gatherings at sporadic times."

Sara gave him a hard look. "Mr. Burrwell, from this point forward, I'll need your full cooperation and honesty. Okay?"

"Okay," he nodded.

"Tell me your plan. It better be good."

"We'll go together," he said. "I'll take you with me. Help me get my wife out. We can save her. Then, do whatever the hell you want with your police."

Sara leaned back in her chair and thought. It was supposed to be a simple day. She had wanted to go for a long jog in the park. She had wanted to buy presents for her nieces. But suddenly, all of that was out of the question, and she was facing a job she wasn't prepared for.

"With your money, you can hire anyone," she pointed out. "Why me?"

"Your beauty. This group won't be able to resist the allure of someone like you. And because of your work ethic. I've read all your files. I understand your mind. I know you won't be able to refuse a chance like this."

"Actually, you're wrong. I don't know if I can do this. I'm sorry Mr. Burrwell, without the police, I can't do it."

"I will get you evidence."

Now Sara was interested. "Explain."

"I'm the king of real estate in this city," he explained. "I know people. I have connections. Bank documents, tax information, transactions, contracts, I can get them for you. I will also give you cash. Lots of it. You will be a rich woman overnight, and your career will reach new heights. Don't be a fool, detective. Take this deal and help me."

It was an offer which changed everything. Sara wasn't a greedy person. But she was practical. And she was tired of coming up empty handed against people who belong in prison. She became a police officer to make a difference, not to waste her time building cases that would never go to court.

"I won't take your money, for ethical reasons," she said. "But I'll help you with this. I also want all the evidence you can provide."

"Follow me."

***

The went inside the large manor and in to a private room. There were pictures of symbols and rituals. They were images which Sara was familiar with during the course of her investigation towards the group.

"They claim to have a link with spiritual beings," he said.

"Did you ever believe that?"

"Frankly, I never cared. It was only the sex I was interested in. But this group believes in everything they do and say. They believe in their cause and practices. That's what makes them so dangerous."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the particular drugs they use."

He nodded. "Yes, I believe so. And I have the antidote to their drug, if my source is to be trusted."

"That doesn't sound very convincing," Sara replied.

"I'm sorry, detective, but that's the best I can offer."

"An untested antidote to counter their drug?"

"It should work. If not, the effects of their drug should wear off. They won't attempt to hypnotize you or control your mind until later."

Richard Burrwell opened a cabinet and took out a small box, which he placed on the table. He opened the small box, which contained several syringes that were filled with a clear liquid substance.

"Here it is," he said, holding up a needle. "This should provide you with a layer of protection from their drug. At least, it should allow you to have a clear mind so you can operate effectively. I can't guarantee the potency."

"Do they give their drugs to everyone who enters their gatherings?"

"Yes. They give you a sexual stimulant to enhance the experience. It's why I hadn't been able to stop going. The drugs, the women, the sex. It was all too alluring for a man like myself."

The gravity of the situation was fully sinking in. Sara was being offered a chance to infiltrate the sex club, but in doing so, she would be exposing herself to a series of sexual situations.

She had a vague understanding of the sex club: The mass nudity, the orgies, the group encounters, the bondage, the dominance & submission.

Going undercover was something Sara Delaney had done many times in her career. There was no question that she was great at it. She had the nerves and the quick wit for that sort of job, which was why she was able to climb the ranks so fast. As a former Vice detective going undercover, posing as hooker most of the time, she helped the department to make some major arrests.

Now, she was being asked to cross a line that no police woman should ever cross. She was so focused on the task that she hadn't noticed that Mr. Burrwell had walked to the other side of the room and looked at photos on the wall.

"If you want to decline, I can understand," he said, looking at the photo of him and his wife. "But this will get done no matter what."

She noticed that the strength & confidence of the man was slowly eroding. What was left was a vulnerable human being.

"I'll help you," she said softly, almost in a whisper.

Mr. Burrwell turned to look at her. "Thank you."

Part 2 of 3: Detective Sara Delaney

At the request of the detective, assistants for Mr. Burrwell went out and purchased all the necessities she'd need for that night.

That included; hair dye, an assortment of cosmetic products, heels, and a beautiful black dress.

Sara Delaney grew up as a tomboy. Her dad was a cop, and so were two of her uncles. Maybe that's why she always acted like a hardened woman. She might have learned it. Or perhaps it was in her genes and she was always meant to be a cop.

It was always the dangerous assignment that made Sara reflect on her life. All those 'what ifs.' Life could have been totally different if she had made different choices. If she had listened to her mother, maybe she'd be a housewife by now, raising kids and staying home all day.

Instead, she was naked in Mr. Burrwell's guest bathroom, drying her freshly dyed hair. In order for the operation to work, she needed to look the part. And god forbid anyone at the sex party would recognize her, or at any point in the future. No, she needed a new appearance for the night.

Thankfully, she knew exactly what to do, and how to do it. It was the benefit of growing up with a fashionable older sister. Sara knew how to doll herself up and make herself look glamorous.

It was something she hated doing. Especially working in law enforcement. Attractive women don't get respect. And Sara was already a natural beauty. She usually tried her best to downplay her looks by not wearing much make-up and keeping her hair in a simple ponytail.

All of that changed as Sara applied the expensive beauty products to her face. The stuff must have easily been worth a few hundred dollars.

It was 2:17 pm, and Sara slipped on the black dress, admiring her appearance in the mirror.

The results were a major transformation. Her hair was down and it was dyed a totally different color. The beauty products brought out her best facial features and made her look like a model. The sleek dress showcased her toned figure.

Not bad for a cop, she thought, looking in the mirror. Not bad at all. She looked gorgeous. And she knew it.

***

She finally stepped out of the bathroom where Mr. Burrwell had been waiting patiently. He was sitting on a chair thinking, when his attention immediately turned towards the new appearance of the detective. He stood and marveled as he approached her.

"How do I look?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Simply ravishing," he admired. "Under any other circumstance, I would have purchased you for the night. Then my wife and I would gladly share you. Taking turns with you. Who knows, it can still happen if you're willing."

"I'm not for sale."

"That's too bad. With your beauty & attitude, you could make a lot of money. It's certainly a lot safer than your current occupation."

"Obviously," she replied. "But I'd rather do something meaningful with my life. You know, helping people, like your wife."

"Yes, of course, and I greatly appreciate this. I can assure you, that once this is finished, I will always be indebted to you."

"We have to worry about getting your wife back first. And bringing these people down."

He nodded. "In order to do that, we'll have to be prepared. Rather, you'll have to be prepared."

"Anything in mind?"

"Tell me, Detective Delaney, are you a submissive woman?"

"What do you think?"

He looked her over. "I think you prefer being the dominant. Whether in your professional life or in the bedroom. But I also think there's another side to you. A sexual side which you like to keep repressed to maintain your 'tough girl' image. Maybe you're open to surrendering your sexual power if the situation is right for it."

"You're not far off," she acknowledged.

"Have you been the submissive before?"

"Sure. I won't go into detail, but you're right."

"And how did you enjoy the power exchange?"

"I hated every second of it," she replied. "But maybe it was with the wrong person. Being treated like a sex toy isn't my thing. But like you said, I keep an open mind."

Mr. Burrwell gave a slow understanding nod. "Dominance and submission is an art. And believe me, the place we're going tonight, the people we're dealing with, they're experts at it. That's why they have so many loyal members. Their world is sex. And they are the gods."

Mr. Burrwell put his hands on the detective's bare shoulders. "I can't possibly thank you enough. However, this is very dangerous, as you are aware. If you want to pull out, I will understand. And I will pay for your time today."

"I guess you don't know me very well."