No-LIMIT-Rooms 06 English

"Oh, and because you think Johanna is injured and weak, she can't watch what she says, let's interrogate her? Seriously Ronja: Recovery wishes look different!", I decided to go on the offensive.

Stunned, she stared at me, "No, of course not! By the way, you look quite fit."

"But I'm not. My labia was torn!"

Ronja almost dropped the cup. The coffee sloshed onto the table.

"Shit!"

I nodded. "Fortunately, probably no permanent damage, but I'll be out for at least two weeks for anything that has to do with down there. Friday they'll pull my stitches."

"Do you at least get compensation for pain and suffering?"

Well, in a way, yes, when I thought about the money from the show. But actually Ronja was right: There should be more than just being allowed going back into the apartment and getting what you were entitled to anyway.

"That's still being negotiated. As soon as Rebecca gets back."

"Oh, where is she? She's been missing for two days too!"

I could have slapped myself. Ronja was good. Well, apart from Isabell, surely no one knew more about the apartment building and its residents. No, not even Isabell, I corrected myself in my mind.

"Not there at the moment. Ask Diana if you want to know where she is."

"Geez, you're cagier than an oyster!" she complained.

"Well, they're not sewn up!"

We looked at each other, then we both had to start laughing. The mood became more relaxed.

"It's good to have you back, Johanna!" Ronja affirmed Ronja. "I was really worried about you. And I missed the Kumiho story, too. It was something new!"

"Thank you. As it stands at the moment, Kumiho is to go on as soon as I am fit again."

"That would be nice. By the way, Linda misses you too and was sad that you disappeared without a greeting."

"I can really only apologize for that. I didn't intend to just disappear like that. I assumed that we would continue to meet on shoots!"

"So it's the third level after all! What's that down there?"

"You mean besides the laundry?"

"Yes, of course!"

"I could tell you," I replied, with an initially deadpan expression on my face. "But then I'd have to eliminate you, I'm afraid!" My subsequent smile should make it clear to her that it was a joke.

"Ew!" she stuck her tongue out at me, shaking her head. "Very well, let's not do that. So? You and Isabell?" Her smile seemed genuine.

Exaggeratedly, I sighed, "I guess I can't avoid the house gossip about Isabell and me that easily, can I?"

"No, that definitely needs details!"

Barely 10 minutes had passed after I had dispatched Ronja and sent her out again, when the doorbell rang again and it was opened from the outside. This time it was Isabell. And my darling had gone shopping!

I greeted her warmly with a kiss and took one of the two bags from her. Then we put the food in the fridge and ate a half-melted ice cream: delicious.

"Ronja was just here!", I began when I was almost finished.

"Oh. So, what did she want?" Isabell put the spoon in her mouth and licked the ice cream down with relish.

"She wanted to know what happened in the AI room and what's going on at the third level."

"You didn't tell her anything, did you?"

"Not that."

She looked at me questioningly. "What then?"

"That you and I were practically engaged. She was then satisfied with that."

Isabelle's expression was gold! I had to take cover from splashes of ice when she snorted with laughter.

"Sorry!" she said when she caught herself. "You'll save us the wedding bann with that. I think everyone in the house will know tomorrow!"

"Only Tomorrow?" I smiled. "Come, let's sit outside on the balcony."

We grabbed the chairs and sat outside. It was no longer hot, but the sun was shining warmly.

From the outside, I closed the door and sat very close to Isabell, holding her hand and leaning back as if to bask.

"What is it about you and the girls down there? And how come you're a dominatrix there now, too?"

42 Doubts

It was a longer conversation, which ended with both of us noticing a beginning sunburn on us, and we fled inside cursing. Inside, we didn't say another word about it because of the possible monitoring, but made ourselves dinner.

In the meantime, Isabell had also thought about Rebecca and the whole corporate construct and found her own role in it extremely stressfull.

All the girls down there had basically ended up there because Isabell had either spied on them and ratted them out to Rebecca, or because Isabell was indirectly responsible for them getting caught doing something against the company. Well, they weren't innocent lambs, if I listened to Isabell like that, but still: Basically, they had only had the choice between the cellar and real prison.

The perfidious thing about it: It had been Rebecca who had set Isabell on the girls in a targeted and clever way. Of course, thanks to the seamless monitoring, she already knew which one to target and how. And my occasionally naive Bella suspected no evil. After all, it was for the good of the company and everyone else in the house.

Now it was also clear to me why Rike had called Isabell an officer and confidant of Rebecca.

There had been girls who probably wouldn't let themselves be blackmailed. Isabell knew from one of them that she was now turning tricks on the street to earn money for the next fix. She had tried to deal in the house. Wrong house!

She had never heard from others again. But since they were all foreigners, that was not particularly surprising.

Rike was the only one Isabell had caught and was still allowed to live and work in her apartment.

However, one thing was interesting: in none of the cases had the security service been involved. The illegal monitoring didn't seem to be done by them. But then who was doing it? Rebecca certainly had other things to do than stare at monitors non-stop.

External contract services? Overseas monitors, possibly India? Low labor costs, anonymized surveillance. They didn't even have to speak an European language if automatic speech recognition programs with code word filters were listening in. I had already heard something similar. This was good in several respects: For one thing, there were monitoring gaps, not everything would be detected. For another, these data streams could be intercepted and evidence of blackmail could be found there. That might interest the BKA.

We ate early because Isabell was still on duty down in the basement. The Doms took turns down there. Each one was only responsible for a few hours a day, most of the time on standby.

Isabell couldn't tell what the covencoven really was.. But because her suspicions were aroused, she would now listen more attentively to the clues and remarks of the others and also try to find out something herself.

I had a computer and of course my pad. Therefore, I would immediately watch again whether I could still get to the recordings from the basement. Even if I could not save the recordings directly, it was possible for me to film them with my cam.

We were quite silent during the meal. Both of us were now thinking about what we had to do.

I would go online right away and update my status. With the help of my new cell phone, I could also call Walter without having to walk across town to the cell phone stash. The only thing I still had to do was charge it, the battery only showed half full.

Isabell, for her part, would try to make life a little more pleasant again for the girls down there.

Then we finished and Isabell said goodbye to me until night. She would not be back until after midnight, but would spend the night with me. We were both looking forward to that.

As soon as Isabell left, the first thing I did was log into my computer and update my status on Facebook.

Then I grabbed my cam and my company pad and sat on the balcony again. Using the headset, I logged back into Hal. Fortunately for me, the security hole had not yet been closed. Without a problem, he played me the recording of my interrogation. This time in full length.

"Damn, she fell asleep!" Rebecca was visibly pissed.

I hung unconscious in the restraints, Q was still standing by the Dalek, but had now closed the maintenance hatch.

"Is she all right then?" It was the first time I heard Q's voice in this recording.

"Yes, pulse, respiration, all fine, Hal is monitoring vitals. She just fell asleep. At one point it looked like she was going to wake up, so I gave her something else. I think that was too much. Well, at least she doesn't seem to be a cop."

"That would have been very unlikely, though."

"Yeah, but she must have gotten that damn brochure from somewhere. Someone wanted her to get into the Rooms. And he didn't know that we individualized the brochures and a code was needed to even know about the Rooms. So none of us in the house."

"Who then?"

"I just don't know. After all, my only idea was that it was from the authorities, as unlikely as that seemed."

"So what now? Are you going to send her away?"

"Of course not. She going to the rooms. She's a real masochist, we can always use her. But we have to keep a very special eye on her."

"Well, then it's just as well that I just gave the Dalek the new update. How much longer will she be unconscious?"

"Why?"

Q pointed at the robot in front of him. "More tests!"

"Oh, anything else besides the suspension? What else do you want to test?"

"Precision control. We'll run them down and take precise measurements. And I'll calibrate the sensors, maybe put some clamps on them and have them removed. So far, after all, we've only had dummies to test. We couldn't do that with a real person."

"Let's do it then. Let's do something else useful with her while she's hanging so pretty right now." Rebecca laughed.

For more than an hour, the Dalek was driven around me, its arms guided to my body, positions on the floor measured and my frame moved with me in all positions. Even the tubs that had hot wax in them a few days later were tested. Everything was measured to me. Now I also realized why Rebecca wanted me for the first show: I was already programmed in. But at least she hadn't learned anything else.

But what happened at the end frightened me deeply.

"So, I'm through so far," Q reported.

"Good, then we just need to find a credible reason why she fainted. Q, can Hal give her a head wound so she gets a mild concussion?"

Q looked up in surprise. "This is fucking dangerous!"

"Just do it!" shouted Rebecca in a commanding tone.

Q winced. He searched around a bit until he came back with a metal tube. He let the Dalek grasp while the rack turned me back to horizontal so that my head was at a comfortable striking height. Around my forehead were the clamps, holding him in place. Q had the Dalek first slowly bring the tube up to my head, then slowly take my arm back. On his pad he typed in something. Meanwhile, Rebecca returned with a first aid kit.

"Should I really?" Q sounded a little nervous.

"No confidence in your design? You are the most brilliant engineer I know. If you're having second thoughts now, we can forget about the shows, too. Come on, show me what the AI can do. Laceration and mild concussion, that's all!"

He nodded and tapped on his pad. Without further delay, the robot delivered a blow to my head. The sound went through and through me as I watched.

Immediately after, Hal's emotionless voice came on, declaring a medical emergency and announcing an emergency release. I was lowered to the floor and Rebecca attached a bandage to my bleeding head.

"As soon as she's back upstairs, you call the doc and tell him that an applicant fell by the break room on the first level. And ambulance transport is needed!" instructed Rebecca Q. After Q and Rebecca lifted me onto a stretcher with wheels, the recording ended.

If I had seen the video in its entirety last week, I would have knocked Rebecca out! Maybe she wasn't the mafia, but she wasn't squeamish in her choice of means either.

It boiled up inside me again. By now I wasn't sure if I really wanted her to recover. And I wasn't sure how Isabell would react when she saw this. But I knew one thing: If this recording went around the house, the AI Room would be dead. Possibly the rooms, too.

I pressed the recording stop of my cam. While I was still removing the card, I suddenly had doubts: Why had Rebecca kept these recordings? Did she possibly not even know that this recording existed? After all, it was not supposed to be broadcast live to the rooms from there, as I had understood.

Rebecca was manipulative, sadistic and ruthless, but by no means stupid! She would not make such a mistake. She would have stopped the recording or deleted it. At the latest the moment I discovered the back door to Hal.

I put the headset on again and logged into the AI.

"Hal, the Johanna Blauert file on 07/26/2019, is it a hidden file?

"The file is a hidden file."

"Hal, who has write access to this file?"

"Write access there is for everyone with administrator access, with the exception of Rebecca Golmert."

Thoughts just shot back and forth inside me. Who, why, what for?

"Hal, who created the file?"

"Information not available."

"Hal, why is information not possible?"

"File does not exist."

What? No, no!

"Hal, when was the Johanna Blauert file, dated 07/26/2019, deleted?"

"File Johanna Blauert, dated 26/07/2019 is not available."

Someone knew I had figured it out and started covering tracks. It wasn't Rebecca. But who else?

In the meantime, it had become dark and cooled down on the balcony.

I shivered, not only because of the chill.

I returned into the apartment and hid the SD card in the handle of my whip again, inconspicuously of course and in the blind spot of the surveillance cameras.

My mini cell phone was also charged by now and I slid it back into its book spine hiding place.

As I pushed it in, a thought suddenly occurred to me: If Holger had already lied to me during the introduction to the Rooms, what else? My sister?

Was Holger who he claimed to be? To my own shame, I had never asked myself this question.

About four months after my failed show at Club Hydra, he suddenly approached me. To my horror, he knew my real name: Laura Zamora. Earlier he had shown me a Russian diplomatic passport and referred to himself as Lieutenant Piotr Babich of the FSB.

I already knew that the Federalnaya Slushba Besopasnosti is a department of the Russian secret service and is also responsible for investigating organized crime.

I had had quite a lot of contact with Russians in Berlin and, of course, through my foreign language studies.

His recruiting interview had been quite short, but convincing: They had had me on their radar since my trip to Russia because I had asked so many questions about the Russian mafia. So they had done some research on me, and found out that I was wearing a false identity. At first, they thought I was an agent of German reconnaissance. Yes, they had actually used that term, but then finally just classified me as personally involved.

After my performance at Club Hydra, they decided to recruit me to infiltrate the apartment building because they suspected an illegal connection to Russia there. Ishould find out for them what was going on and they would look for my sister.

It all seemed so logical, I hadn't had any doubts, until now. Didn't the FSB have better technology? Well, the German BKA was short of equipment, but one of the best secret services in the world?

And then Sascha: He studied german in the fifth semester. Not exactly a candidate for a top spy in the FSB. Not to mention his behavior the other day. Why didn't they just invade at Rebeccas themselves? They had to have the appropriate equipment and experience?

But who but the secret service could have found out so much about me? As I pondered, I went to the bathroom and began to apply ointment to my sunburn from the afternoon.

When I looked in the mirror, I noticed the small birthmark on my forehead again. As often when I noticed it, I thought of Nadine. We were fraternal twins, so we had a different appearance. I was a little taller, had lighter hair and blue eyes, unlike Nadine's gray-green eyes. But both of us, funnily enough, had this little birthmark on our foreheads, in the same place, right in front of our temples.

Nadine, that's what this was all about! That was the only reason why I had taken everything upon myself, traveled to Russia and pursued the Mafia, ready to kill if necessary, in order to free my sister. Of course, this could attract the attention of the Secret Service.

Energetically, I shook my doubts out of my head: no human could have known all this about me.

However, I could only hope that now that I had given the FSB access to the Rooms' computer, they would not lose interest in me. After all, I had actually fulfilled my main task: They knew what was going on in the apartment building, had gotten some names from me, and could tap into Rebecca's PC.

Restless, I lay down on the bed and zapped through the TV channels. But I couldn't concentrate on the program. I was too agitated.

Secrets and conspiracies, nothing seemed clear and simple here. Who belonged to the coven?

Besides, if Rebecca did not recover in time, how would I get to Cyprus?

And finally, how could I trust her now and pretend to be an obedient slave?

Finally, I heard the door open. Isabell came back.

She looked quite tired and weary.

Alarmed, I asked her.

"Hi, sweetheart! What's wrong?"

"Twenty! She is not well. She's now heard what happened to you, and didn't believe me that you were up here and fine. She almost freaked out! I was able to calm her down a bit, but it wasn't easy."

It was not surprising that the rumors arrived in the basement a little later.

"Did they find out about Rebecca's accident?"

Isabell shook her head. "No, nobody knows anything about that down there. Not yet. As soon as it's around up here, they'll know down there, too. Any news?"

"No, no message. But I didn't expect it. She was supposed to stay in a medically induced coma until tomorrow anyway, until the brain swelling went down, if I understood that correctly."

Isabell nodded wearily and then disappeared into the bathroom.

Should I tell her about the rest of the video now? I decided against it.

When she was finished in the bathroom, she came to me naked and cuddled up to me. Tenderly we caressed and kissed each other. It was absolutely nothing sexual this time. It was love and the need for closeness and comfort.

We awoke at seven. When we woke up, we cuddled a little before we freshened up and sat down at the breakfast table.

Isabell had work to do in the basement again in the late afternoon. She received her instructions from Diana.

"What's the deal with your pay, anyway?", I asked curiously over breakfast. "I mean: You're not performing at the Rooms, after all, nor can you do your shows to the extent you're used to?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I've never really looked into it that much, but for my cellar work I receive a fixed salary. As Rebecca's slave, I never had to worry about anything like that. She made me a meticulous schedule for each week, and I stuck to it."

Puzzled, I lowered my cup, from which I had just begun to drink. "When did she stop?"

"After I told her it was over and I didn't want her to be my mistress anymore, I wanted to be with you!"

I pondered and did the math. "Does that mean she had also predetermined our meetings and time together?"

"Yes."

"And you told her all about us?"

Her expression expressed despair. "Please, don't be angry with me. I really didn't mean anything by it. She was my mistress!"

I lifted my cup again and began to drink thoughtfully. Isabell was more naive than I had thought. Yet she was absolutely not stupid. Had she chosen Rebecca as her surrogate mother because her own family had previously taken all the decisions away from her?