Mock Rape, Inc.

That brought him back to the phone again. He disassembled the wall jack where the line entered his apartment. Everything looked normal and there was nothing extra there that shouldn’t be. He took his phone apart with the same result. It looked perfectly normal inside--no extra parts. There was one other possibility. Malcolm grabbed a few tools and headed for the basement.

In the basement, Malcolm removed the cover from the phone patch panel that served the whole building. All the connections were neatly labeled by apartment, a red and a green wire connected to each. Malcolm quickly found his own connection. There was an extra pair of grey wires attached to Malcolm’s line. They ran out the top of the box and disappeared in a mass of wiring. Malcolm painstakingly traced them to the opposite end of the building. Here they departed the main mass of wire and led to a ledge up next to the ceiling. Malcolm got a ladder and searched the ledge. A small tape recorder lay there. Malcolm examined it. It was battery powered and input activated. Malcolm realized that the machine sat inert unless a call was in progress. The batteries could easily outlast the tape. Malcolm looked at the tape. It was set at the beginning. The tape had been rewound or changed recently. The machine ran at half speed and the tape would hold 90 minutes of material. It would take him quite a while to fill a tape of that length. That meant the tape could be changed quite infrequently, although it might be changed more often to provide current information. That left a wide window for tape changing schedules.

Malcolm started to remove the recorder, then stopped. He wasn’t sure he wanted to announce his discovery to whoever had placed it there. Best to leave it. He returned to his apartment. At least he knew how. There was still who and why. Most disturbing was the fact that they knew where he lived. How had they found him? He always struck randomly after receiving a contract and never took his clients to his apartment. It would take some doing for one of them to track him down. Even if one of them succeeded, the result was decidedly odd. Why would a customer track him down and then make arrangements for someone to rape his other customers, all of whom had so far assumed it was part of the deal. It made no sense.

Malcolm was absolutely certain no one knew what he did except for his customers. One of his customers had to be the source of the problem. There just weren’t any other possibilities. But it still didn’t make sense. Malcolm’s customers were women. His adversary was male. Even if one of his customers had told a boyfriend or husband about her experience and he had decided to get in on the action, it would require collusion on her part to locate him. It just didn’t feel right. But what else was there?

Returning to his computer, Malcolm perused his customer list. Nothing jumped out at him. There was one other approach. He had to find out when the tapes were changed.

Claire was filling out the survey she had received from Malcolm. It had arrived promptly, enclosed with a cashier's check for $500 and a new application form for a future adventure. She finally was getting around to it. Normally she hated surveys, but this one provided the opportunity to relive her experience. It asked a number of questions about the specifics of her experience. Claire concluded that either Malcolm did exactly the same thing with each customer or he had tailored this questionnaire specifically to her. She decided it must be the latter. The questions were essay type rather than multiple choice. Claire liked that. It was nice to be able to say what she thought for once, rather than circling a bunch of numbers. When she finished, she put it in the return envelope, applied a stamp, and set it next to her purse to be mailed in the morning.

The survey caused Claire to examine her feelings once again. She had enjoyed what Malcolm had done to her, but that was also what troubled her. It had been done to her. She had been tied up and not an active participant. Maybe, she thought, it was the same attraction as going to a restaurant, where you sat down and everything was done for you. No, it was more than that. She longed to call up her best friend and discuss the experience, but she was way too embarrassed to do that. There was no way she would tell anyone she had paid to be abducted, tied up, fucked, spanked, and everything else. She couldn’t even think of a good way to bring it up as a hypothetical situation without Melissa asking where she was going with this. It wasn’t anything she would want to do everyday, but it did have its attractions. She wondered if she could afford to do it again.

It was Saturday morning. Malcolm was just returning from the store. As he entered the building, he passed a phone company guy who was just leaving. Phone company? Saturday? He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t see a phone company truck in the lot. He dashed up to his apartment and grabbed his binoculars. The guy in the phone company uniform was just getting into a green Toyota.

Malcolm went to the basement. He had checked the tape machine every evening. The tape in the machine was a different brand than the one that had been in it last night. He returned to his apartment. Perhaps next Saturday he could accumulate some more information.

On Thursday, Malcolm got Claire’s survey form in the mail. She had mailed it the previous Thursday, but it had taken a while for it to wend its way through the byzantine mail system he had set up. He examined the envelope under a strong light and a magnifying glass, but could detect no sign of tampering.

After opening the envelope, he read Claire’s survey form. She had been pleased with her experience and had even made a couple of constructive suggestions. He felt fairly certain he would be hearing from her again. Experience told him that her desire for a repeat performance would grow rather than diminish with time. She should be good for another $1000 and a couple evenings of entertainment. It was just a matter of how soon she could scrape up the money to do it again.

On Friday afternoon, Malcolm went to a theatrical supply and obtained a beard and a wig. On Friday evening, he rented a car. Saturday morning found Malcolm sitting in the rental car about half a block from his building. He had a good view of the parking lot through his binoculars. Malcolm glanced at himself in the rear view mirror. The combination of wig and beard was a bit much and he considered removing the wig, which was nearly as uncomfortable as the beard, but decided to keep it. The change in hair color it afforded was worth it. No one was going to look that closely and he was certainly unrecognizable to the casual observer.

About ten a green Toyota pulled into the lot. The telephone guy got out and went into the building. A few minutes later, he came back out and drove off. Malcolm followed.

Malcolm’s plan was to simply follow the guy home. He didn’t intend any contact at this point, but finding out where the guy lived would be an important step. Malcolm memorized the license number on the Toyota, but didn’t really have any way to follow up on it. He didn’t have any friends at the DMV or on the police force.

After about three miles, the Toyota pulled into the lot of another apartment building. The guy went in and returned a few minutes later. Malcolm wondered if the guy had stopped off to buy drugs or something. A mile further and it happened again. Malcolm was now truly puzzled.

When the Toyota stopped a fourth time, Malcolm pulled up next to it, got out and looked through the window, then drove off again before the guy returned. He stopped again at a safe distance. Malcolm was amazed. What he had seen on the seat of the Toyota were two boxes of tapes labeled ‘in’ and ‘out’. This maniac was spying on a bunch of people. This cast things in a whole different light. Could it be that he had somehow been chosen randomly and that none of his customers was involved? There was no way to know, at least not yet, but Malcolm would never have guessed that he was a random target. Now it seemed a distinct possibility. He continued following the Toyota.

After a stop at a fast food drive through, the Toyota stopped at a small ranch style house in a slightly shabby neighborhood. A van was parked in the driveway and there was a large cinder block garage out back. The guy carried the fast food sack and both boxes of tapes inside. Malcolm hung around and watched for another hour, but nothing happened. He was pretty sure he’d found where the guy lived and was afraid he himself would arouse the neighbors’ suspicions if he sat there too long.

Malcolm returned home and put on some coveralls and a toolbelt; he kept the beard and wig on. He returned to each of the buildings the guy had visited and examined the phone lines. In each building there was a pair of grey wires attached to one of the lines. In two of them, the lines were labeled with apartment numbers and one of them was even labeled with phone numbers. Malcolm took down the information in his notebook, then returned home.

Malcolm changed to regular clothes again and drove to the library. In the reference room he looked up the address in the cross reference. Manfred Mann? Diddy dum diddy doo? Well, at least he had a temporary name. He might be able to find out the guy’s real name later. He also now had a phone number. He called the number from the pay phone on the first floor, but there was no answer. Just as well. Malcolm didn’t want to arouse any suspicions at this point with a strange phone call. Besides, Manfred might recognize his voice from the tapes.

So now what? Malcolm returned home and pondered the situation. He was making progress. He had found out how and had a handle on who. He still didn’t know why or what to do about it. He decided more surveillance was in order.

About noon on Sunday, Malcolm packed himself a lunch and drove over to Manfred’s. The green Toyota was parked in front. He drove around until he found an inconspicuous vantage point and watched. It was becoming apparent why private detectives charged so much. This was really boring. By seven in the evening, Malcolm couldn’t take it anymore. He started his car and headed for home. Just as he passed in front of the house, Manfred came out and got in his car. Malcolm circled the block and followed at a discreet distance.

Manfred drove to the second apartment building he had visited yesterday and went inside. Malcolm noted he was not wearing the phone company uniform. He also carried a small valise.

Malcolm sat and waited. An hour later, he had not come out. Three hours later, he had not come out. He considered going in and nosing around, but was unwilling to risk contact at this point. He didn’t know enough. Malcolm waited some more. He got out of his car and stretched and walked around. More waiting. Finally, at 3:00 AM, Malcolm gave up and drove home. It looked like Manfred was pulling an all nighter. At home, Malcolm set his alarm for 5:30 and went to bed.

When the alarm went off, Malcolm got dressed and drove to the building where he had left Manfred. It was 6:00 and the green Toyota was still there. At 6:30 Manfred came out of the building and drove away. Malcolm didn’t follow him. He had another idea.

Malcolm knew the apartment number of the phone that was tapped in this building. He pressed the buzzer next to the door.

“Wait,” a female voice shrilled from inside. “I’m not ready. I didn’t know you were coming back. Please, give me just a minute. Please.”

“Ma’am?”

“You’re not...Who are you?”

“You don’t know me, ma’am,” Malcolm called. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“No! Go away.”

“Please, I think I could help.”

“No, you can’t. Just go away.”

“You’re being blackmailed, aren’t you.”

“What do you know about that?”

“I have a similar problem. We should talk.”

The door opened a crack. A face peered through the crack. “Who are you?”

“As I said, you don’t know me; nor do I know you, except that you and I both have a problem named Manfred.”

“Is that his name? I never knew.”

“Whatever you do, don’t let him know you know it. He’ll want to know how you found out. That’s why I’m not going to tell you who I am. May I come in?”

“Might as well. You couldn’t be any worse than him.”

The door opened and Malcolm stepped inside. He was confronted with a middle aged woman who would have been quite pretty under normal circumstances. At the moment, she appeared rather disheveled. She looked haunted. She wore a clingy long sleeved robe and stockings with no shoes or slippers. It didn’t look like she had much on under the robe.

“I won’t ask you what he’s got on you, since I wouldn’t answer that question myself,” Malcolm said. “But I would be curious to know how much you’re paying him.”

“I don’t give him money. I pay in other ways.”

“So I see. The straps of your gag are still imprinted in your cheeks.”

“It was very tight. He doesn’t like for me to make a lot of noise when I’m being punished.”

“How often do you see him?”

“I’ve never actually seen him. He calls me before he comes over. Then I have to stand with my back to the door, put on a blindfold, and wait. The things he does to me!”

“How frequent are his visits?”

“Once or twice a month. It varies. He doesn’t keep a predictable schedule. I’m forced to adapt my life to his visits. What about you? What’s your problem with him?”

“He represents a threat to my business. I’m looking for a way to put a stop to it.”

“How did you find me?”

“I followed him here.”

“What are you going to do about him?”

“I’m still working on that. I thought I’d see what I can learn from you. How did all this happen?”

“I got a phone call one day. This guy told me what he knew about me. I asked him what he wanted. When he told me, I told him to go to hell and hung up. An hour later my doorbell rang. When I answered it, a guy in a Halloween mask burst in and put a canvas bag over my head. I screamed and threatened to call the police. He said that would be fine, he’d like to talk to them about me. Then I was tied up and given a very painful education. Since then, I’ve done whatever he says. I’d do almost anything to make him stop, but I’m afraid, too.”

“When did it start?”

“About nine months ago.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what he looks like, where he came from, how he found me, or anything. All I know is the voice. He does seem to have a slight accent.”

“That’s not a lot of help. I need to discover his vulnerabilities. He knows how to get to each of us. How can we get to him?”

“I don’t really know anything you could use.”

“Well, pay attention during future visits. See what you can learn.”

“I don’t want any future visits. Can’t you stop him before he comes back?”

“I’ll stop him, but I don’t know how soon. You can stop him any time you want. Just call 911.”

“But you don’t know... He could destroy me.”

“It sounds like maybe he already has. Anyway, you’ll probably have to put up with him a few more times. See if you can get him to talk about himself, but be subtle. Act like you’re trying to ingratiate yourself rather than pumping him. Try flattery.”

“I’ll try.”

“OK. I’ll be in touch.”

“How can I reach you?”

“You can’t. He can’t make you tell him what you don’t know. But that won’t stop him from trying.”

“Oh my god.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m not telling you anything. It shouldn’t be a problem unless you let slip something you aren’t supposed to know. Goodbye, Grace.”

“You know my name.”

“It’s on your mailbox.”

Malcolm’s encounter with Grace was not as productive as he had hoped it might be and he wasn’t sure it had been worth the risk. Grace wouldn’t be able to tell Manfred much, but she did have Malcolm’s description. That would probably be enough for him to figure out who it had been. It was probably only a matter of time until Manfred realized he was being pursued. Malcolm hoped to put that realization off as long as possible. Grace probably wasn’t that great a risk. If she screwed up, Manfred would undoubtedly try to extract more information than she possessed. She was obviously frightened by that possibility. She would be discreet.

Today was Monday. Malcolm didn’t have a temp assignment today, so he had time to make further inquiries. He called the phone company and asked for installation.

“Manfred Mann, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir. He’s out of the office.” The receptionist didn’t seem to regard the inquiry as a prank. “May I take a message?”

“No, I’ll call back.”

The call yielded two pieces of information. Manfred apparently really did work for the phone company and they knew him by that name. Perhaps it really was his name.”

The mail arrived about ten. He scrutinized it for tampering but didn’t find any evidence. He returned the rental car, then went by his business mail drop. There were two envelopes. They also revealed no evidence of tampering. Each contained a new contract from a prior customer. Malcolm began planning two new abductions. Since there had been no phone contact, he didn’t expect any interference from Manfred in either case.

Malcolm had temp work the rest of the week. He drove by Manfred’s on his way to and from work each day, but didn’t learn anything new. He needed to be more careful driving around Manfred’s house in his own car, so he didn’t linger.

Friday night, Malcolm rented another car, a different kind this time. He drove over to Manfred’s, but the Toyota was gone. He hung around until after midnight, but nothing happened. Malcolm got bored and went home.

Saturday, Malcolm followed Manfred around again. The routine didn’t vary. Manfred swapped all the tapes, then picked up some food and went home. Malcolm retraced Manfred’s steps and checked all the phone taps and machines. The last one had been moved. Malcolm double-checked his notes, but there was no doubt. Last time the tap had been on apartment 316. Now it was on 317.

That provided another large piece of the puzzle. It was now obvious to Malcolm how it worked. Manfred would tap a phone, listen for a week or two, and if nothing interesting turned up, he would move on to the next line. That was how Manfred had found him. The process wasn’t exactly random, but neither had Malcolm been singled out. Manfred had simply stumbled on to him. The first tape from Malcolm’s had probably knocked his socks off.

Sunday, Malcolm kept vigil on Manfred’s from about 3:00 to midnight. Nothing happened. Malcolm went home. Malcolm was annoyed. This surveillance crap was boring and slow. It would be more expeditious to set Manfred up. The only question was how.

He thought about having someone call him using someone else’s name. Bad idea. It would not only result in Manfred abducting some woman who couldn’t identify him, but would make it clear to Manfred he had been set up. If Malcolm used one of his real customers for the purpose, she would probably think it was part of the package.

If possible, it would be better for one of Manfred’s other victims to nail him. The problem at the moment was that he didn’t know which of Manfred’s taps were active blackmail and which were merely exploratory. The only one he knew for sure was active was Grace.

Grace was a weak reed. If Manfred suspected anything whatsoever, he could easily extract from her everything she knew. Making her part of a plot would be asking a lot of her. He suspected she might not be up to it.

It was now about 3:00 AM. Time for Malcolm to go to work. He had the next two days off from temp work and there were women to abduct. He drove to the house of one his customers who had recently sent in a contract. He had copied her keys on their last encounter. He let himself into the house and crept silently to her bedroom.