When I was out of the tub, MB left the bathroom, leaving me alone just long enough to dry myself off.
And when she returned, she carried pajamas with her.
One of those cozy, old-fashioned flannel things you wear during icy winter nights. “Maybe you want to wear this,” she said, and without waiting for my answer, she put the top around my shoulders.
I didn't want to contradict her.
Firstly, I didn't want to break a hidden rule again.
And besides, for once I found the prospect of no longer being naked very tempting.
The thing was really soft, like rabbit fur, and felt wonderfully warm and comforting to wear. “Wonderful,” she said when we were finished. “Now a kiss goodnight and off to bed.”
She laughed and I half expected a slap on the bottom.
The whole situation felt surreal!
Opposite the bathroom was the door to the bedroom.
MB led me inside, and it took my breath away for a moment when I saw how luxuriously decorated it was.
But I had little time to admire the details and just took in the atmosphere as she walked me to the bed.
She crouched down in front of me as I sat on the edge, put her hands on mine, became a little more serious than she had been the whole time, and yet kept her lovely smile. “Hanna,” she began, “...you've been through really terrible things. And you’re confused and upset and hurt and angry.”
She paused and stroked my hands. But I knew she didn't expect me to respond. So I remained silent. “Please don’t be mad at me,” she finally continued. “There was a very, very mild sedative in your tea.”
That explained a lot! “You wouldn’t sleep a wink otherwise!” She added in an almost pleading tone. “And it’s important that you recover from the hardships you’ve been through.”
I wasn't mad. Not on her.
I actually wasn't mad at all.
I was just incredibly tired.
The torture, then the bath, of course the tea, the cozy pajamas, MB's soothing touch, the lulling atmosphere around me, the inviting bed...
All of this came together now. “I’m not mad at you,” I said quietly, and actually had to stifle a yawn.
She smiled at me with relief. “That’s good,” she said. “You’ll sleep well, I’m sure.”
She stood up and watched me wrap myself in the flowery-smelling duvet. “And I promise you on my life that nothing bad will happen to you again.”
And I knew she meant it exactly as she said it.
Even before I had fully awakened, half lost in my dreamless sleep, I was aware of his presence.
I felt a slight panic trying to spread through me, and I took a little more time than usual before I allowed myself to move or even open my eyes.
But at some point, I realized that whoever was in the room with me had to know that I wasn't sleeping anymore.
So I took another deep breath and opened my eyes, and then slowly sat up.
He was standing close to my bed.
Tall, athletically broad, dark.
He was about my age, or at least older than one would guess at first glance. But it was hard to tell in the dim light.
Not my type, although you would probably call him handsome if you were less judgmental than I was at that moment.
And I didn't even blame him for coming into my bedroom without asking!
It was probably his anyway.
Serious, dark eyes looked into mine. His gaze was firm, but much more curious than threatening. “You wanted to talk to me,” he began bluntly, “so it’s a good thing that I want to talk to you too.”
Okay, I thought. Classic opening.
I sat up further, tried to put on a somewhat neutral face, and ended up sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him.
And I hated how I had to crane my neck to keep my eyes on him.
“Come,” he said, “we can talk over breakfast.
“There is coffee...”
He said that as if he knew exactly how much I'd missed one since I'd been in this...facility. And I still had a terrible craving for a cigarette! “So You’re the Pezak,” I said calmly as he held out his hand to help me get up.
He must have noticed that I was still a bit unsteady on my feet. My body was one big sore muscle with bruises.
At least the pain was somewhat bearable. I wouldn't even have to grit my teeth to do that.
Only the middle and ring fingers of my left hand were still stiff and reluctant to move.
He smiled briefly and not particularly humorously. “So You found that out. That 'Pezak' is a title and not a name.”
His tone was calm, extremely polite, and otherwise neutral.
I shrugged “Your assistant helped with that. Whether on purpose or by accident, I don’t know.”
He smiled again, a little less pinched this time, and put a hand on my shoulder, which I didn't like at all! “MB, let You know, shall we say.”
Then he made a sweeping gesture, as if to describe the room to me. “She has also agreed to make her apartment available to You for the duration of your stay. I hope You feel comfortable in it.”
I looked around to give myself a few seconds to process that sentence and think of a response. “For the duration of my stay? What does that mean?”
He smiled a third time. And this time you could almost call it 'friendly'. “Well,” he said, and began to gently push me towards a small bay window, where I could see two comfortable armchairs and a table with the promised breakfast, “You certainly don’t want to leave us right away.”
I took a step in the direction he was pushing me. “Don’t I want that?” I asked with just enough irony in my voice to be noticeable. “No,” he replied, “But how long You stay will be entirely up to You.”
When we arrived at the breakfast corner, the Pezak built up in front of me, full height and width.
It wasn't directly threatening, but there was something that smacked a lot of alpha male about it.
I don't know what he was trying to achieve with this behavior. But it neither frightened me nor impressed me in any way.
While I was still in bed, I had decided that fear wouldn't help me, so I blocked out any hint of it from the start.
Interestingly, MB's promise helped me with this. “So that means,” I looked at him as calmly as possible, “if I want to go now, then I can go.”
The question had been so predictable that he didn't bat an eyelid. “Of course,” he replied, “I’ll have your things brought, and I’ll arrange for you to be driven home if you wish.”
This could only be a lie, or a trap!
There was no way they – whoever “They” were – would just let me walk away after my cover was clearly blown. “I just want to urge you to listen to what I have to say to you first. I already know what you wanted to tell me. We don't need to waste time with this. But you should know the danger you are putting yourself in if you leave us without listening to me first.”
He had indeed spoken very forcefully. Without raising his voice, but with an energy that could almost have been called passion.
As he spoke, he had his hand on my shoulder again.
I still didn't like it, and struggled with myself not to vigorously wipe them away. “I’m going to leave you alone for half an hour. Consider it during this time. Have breakfast if you want.”
He looked over my shoulder and took his eyes off mine for the first time. “There are some clothes in the closet behind you if you want to change.”
With that, he left me there.
And I stayed behind.
Suitably confused and full of questions.
It least I had coffee!
Coffee!
I finished the first cup without concentrating on anything else.
What a treat for a junkie like me after at least two days of abstinence!
Then I refilled and checked out what breakfast had to offer.
Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, some fruits.
I ate a few strips of bacon and then picked up a few banana slices while summing up: 1. My cover was blown, I was very sure of it. How else could the short guy who beat me up know what my old name was? Not even all my friends knew it. And only 2 people in the agency. D was none of them. 2. What…or who had betrayed me? A mole? The mysterious C2? D? I myself? 3. We were dealing with an organization that had at least some democratic characteristics. In any case, I had never heard of any criminal gang where there was a “separation of powers”. 4. “Pezak” was a title, …or a rank! How could the agency have missed this? Apparently there was no big secret about it. 5. This Pezak knew what I had wanted to offer the organization. I believed him. Did he get the information from the same source that exposed me?
I paused and looked into the closet.
It was well stocked with all types and styles of clothing.
Jeans and T-shirts, skirts, dresses, trouser suits…
I tried a few things on, and they all seemed to be my size. 6. Was that a coincidence? Never!
And the last one for now: 7. What danger did the Pezak speak of? And was it a warning, or rather a threat? And what would it cost me, if I listened to what he wanted to tell me? Nothing, probably, except a little time.
Whether he would actually release me in the end certainly had nothing to do with it.
The moment I decided to stay, I found the right outfit.
I smiled at the thought of wearing it for my “meeting.”
And just like that, half an hour was over and the Pezak entered the room just as I was adjusting the completely ridiculous dress.
He looked at me with wide eyes.
Very nice! I like to freak out guys like that! “Interesting choice,” he finally commented, already getting his expression under control.
It was just a small victory that I had achieved. “I thought it underlined our different positions in this game quite excellently,” I replied flippantly. “So you’ve decided to stay for now?” he ignored my objection.
I just nodded, and he acknowledged it with an almost relieved: “Good!”
“Let’s sit down,” he continued, pointing toward the breakfast nook.
And only then did I notice the silver ring, the collar, he held in his left hand.
We sat down in the breakfast corner, and politely again, he waited for me to sit down first.
Which gave me a chance to arrange my legs without awaking “basic instincts”-vibes with that show.
Still, I was acutely aware that this tiny scrap revealed as much as it barely covered.
But that was the point, right?
However, the Pezak wasn't impressed enough for me to notice.
He casually placed the collar on the table. I tried to ignore it just as casually.
Then he sat down too.
And again he made eye contact, cleared his throat, and then it was his turn to surprise me: “I want to apologize to you before anything else, Agent Clothels,” he began, and I almost choked on the last sip of my coffee.
So I had confirmation that I had been exposed, okay.
Shit.
But...what was with the apology?
Before I could say anything back or even react - except for a deep, sharp breath - he continued: “Just like you, we have been tricked. This is something that only happens very rarely. And it took us far too long to discover our mistake.”
He took a short break. Less to give me the opportunity to respond, but more to give me a chance to digest what was said. “What happened to you with the committee...,” he breathed deeply, “I, and everyone involved, are terribly sorry,” he finally concluded. “And you have to listen to how this happened so that you understand the danger I was talking about earlier!” he continued urgently and then just looked at me.
Okay, “just” isn’t quite right.
His expression was a wild mix of...regret, shame, anger, and...compassion!
(try that in front of the mirror!)
And I knew he was now waiting for me to say something.
But I was thunderstruck, clung to the chair and the coffee cup, and didn't know what to think or what to respond.
What did it all mean?
So I replied exactly this: “What does that mean?”
He nodded and cleared his throat again, which I found pleasantly...normal. A little bit of his cocky demeanor disappeared. “What happened in this corridor,” he finally began, “was not...directly...intended for you.”
And with a believably apologetic look, he continued: “But I need to elaborate a bit to explain this.”
I didn't understand anything anymore!
All of my nice thoughts from a few minutes ago crumbled into little puzzle pieces that seemed to have nothing to do with each other.
It wasn't easy not to completely lose my composure!
This damn torture, this...humiliation, the pain, the fear...
This all had been an accident? “I...I...don't understand,” I stammered and felt my previously somewhat stoic expression slipping away.
He looked at me understandingly. “Please allow me to explain it to you,” he then said.
And I nodded.
“Okay,” he said, sounding relieved. “Before I begin: Please ignore the collar. I had it with me when I realized it was time for our meeting and could no longer keep it safe. It has nothing to do with our conversation or with You.”
I didn't buy it, but I still nodded a quiet “okay”.
That thing could not be ignored, as prominent as it was in front of me and ... I have to admit: as nice as it looked. “Good,” said the Pezak. “So, what do You know about our...organization beyond the OITC (*) files You were given when You were briefed on Your mission?”
I felt like, 'What's this supposed to mean now?' on the tongue. But I wanted to make this...'meeting' at least somewhat productive for now. “The information from the OITC is comprehensive. Comprehensive enough to be able to get an idea for my assignment.”
He smiled at my answer and nodded.
'Idiot,' I thought. The way he carried himself, he probably knew these files better than I did. “Well,” he said, “this information is as extensive as it is false. But of course the OITC knows this. It’s just that most of their…agents don’t know.”
I frowned and he smiled again, clearly aware that I didn't believe a word he said. “But let’s start with Your mission before we delve deeper into this topic,” he continued, undeterred. “You have every reason to distrust my words. Anyone would do that if they were You. Rightly so. But I can prove each of them beyond a reasonable doubt.”
'Good luck with that,' I thought but said nothing. “You were sent here with the task of offering us a deal involving stolen surveillance technology. Very valuable, very secret technology. As far as Your contact suggested, it was supposed to be data on the latest developments in the field of miniaturized probes.”
I nodded, unnecessarily, to acknowledge him. “What You don’t know is that when You entered this building, You were carrying one of these probes.” “That’s not...” I tried to protest.
But he raised his hands placating and interrupted me in a friendly way “I can show You the video footage that was taken while the tube was being implanted into You. I can also show You how You - and please forgive me for saying this - excreted it in Your cell during Your first use of the toilet.”
He cleared his throat and looked at me apologetically: “There is also a corresponding video. And if You insist, rightly, I will provide You with that too.”
I was...I don't even know what I was. It was quite a lot at once.
The idea that there was a recording of me pooping out a miniature surveillance probe was...'bizarre' wasn't strong enough to describe it.
The idea that this thing had been implanted in me without my knowledge was...so terrifying that I simply didn't want to believe it.
I was...horrified.
And I guess you could see that.
The Pezak still found it best to ignore it: “Your mission was not to sell us these ominous data, which - by the way - can be bought at every second flea market in Beijing for a long time. You were sent off with completely worthless information. It would not have been a loss for the OITC if we had taken it from You by force. Your mission was successful for Your employers the moment You flushed the toilet.”
His last words had become very serious, and with each syllable the contempt he felt for my employer became more noticeable.
And he wasn't finished yet. Not by a long shot. “In case You’re wondering why we are so well-informed. We are, thanks to the person known to You only as C2.”
I finally put the empty cup down. Also, so as not to drop it.
Not only that I was exposed and that the whole mission was called into question.
Apparently, C2 had it no better than me.
Had they cheated C2 the same way they had cheated me, if that was even true?
And then, what about D? “I...,” I began, because the Pezak paused again, which gave me the opportunity to do so. “How am I supposed to believe all this?”
He nodded, this time understandingly. “And what about C2?”
I didn't want to bring D into play yet “C2 was our mole in the OITC,” he said simply, and then continued without pause, despite my obvious surprise. “Apparently, C2 was also the OITC mole in our organization. A double fraudster. C2 was the contact person who introduced you to us. C2 also provided us with the false information that ultimately led to your meeting with the committee.” “What about C2?” I repeated, actually just to say something and stop his flow.
It became too much, and I felt how I started to lose composure. “C2 has now been handed over to the authorities.” He answered, very matter-of-factly, in the tone of a press spokesman and then added: “There are still one or two government organizations that you can trust.”
I must have stared at him with my mouth open. “Are you saying you work for the government?” I actually managed to ask.
He shook his head slightly. “Oh no,” he then replied, “not that. However, there are a few interfaces for a certain kind of...collaboration.”
He cocked his head a little. Almost as I had seen MB do, and then continued: “But I think it’s high time you get some history lessons. From OITC’s past to the present.”
It was now absolutely necessary that I pulled myself together!
I was on the verge of losing whatever support I had had until then. “One minute, please,” I asked.
I needed time.
It wouldn't help me or him if I didn't take it. “Of course,” he replied immediately, and I was suitably relieved.
What The Pezak had served me had systematically and thoroughly dismantled my world view.
And my biggest problem was that I had less and less doubt about what he said.
He and his cronies had me in their hands. If they wanted me to, I would disappear somewhere, never to be seen again.
Only he didn't sound like someone who would do something like that.
There was no reason for him to lie to me.
And I now expected further information that would have a similar explosive power as what had been uncovered so far.
I would make my life easier if I reset what I thought I knew to “zero” and assumed he would tell me the truth.
Of course, I had to check it. Later.
But for now it was easier to follow this working hypothesis than to doubt every piece of new information. “Okay,” I finally said.
And “Good,” came back from him. “I will be as brief as possible, but please stop me if you have any questions,” he began, then continued without a pause: “When the OITC was founded in the 80s, the aim was to create an instrument with which the regulations and agreements of the then emerging global market could be controlled and monitored.
You know that.
You also know that the OITC handled highly sensitive, often top secret and just as often very valuable information and data.
As is human nature, at some point this information was misused by OITC employees for self-serving reasons.
There were rumors about it. Some investigative articles have been published in the media.
Committees of inquiry were set up.
There were one or two condemnations. You will know that, too.
What you – and most other people - don’t know is that those behind the founders of the OITC planned this very abuse when they helped create the agency.”
He paused and suddenly rose from his chair with a quick movement.
You could tell how upset he was, even though the story wasn't new to him.
There was nothing threatening in his demeanor, but I still flinched as if preparing for an attack. And I felt dwarfed by his towering figure.
He noticed and took a step back with a “sorry.” Nevertheless, he didn't sit down again, but continued. “These backers had a vested interest in controlling the global markets, whose potential they had foreseen before anyone else.
These...people, all of whom now hold key positions within the government, and who have controlled - not only - the OITC from the beginning.
Everyone now sits in the cabinet of a president who, when she was still a senator, initiated the founding of the OITC.”
He gave this bomb the appropriate time to drop.
And I was suitably thunderstruck.
The developments of the last few years had long since turned me into a biting cynic when it came to politics.
But this was more than even I thought possible.
There were plenty of other reasons for me not to vote for this president.
However, the fact that she was possibly the head of a criminal organization was not part of it.
It felt like I had reawakened in a bizarre parallel universe.
And the Pezak had not finished yet. “In 2005, what went down in the annals of the OITC as the “Lindstrøem affair” occurred,” he continued mercilessly. “Neither you nor the rest of the public ever found out about this. An OITC analyst at the time, Petur Lindstrøem, had found a method to manipulate fishing quotas on a global scale.
On the one hand, no other control body would have noticed it. Secondly, it allowed the fishing mafia to act as they wished. And thirdly, it made this analyst and the OITC a fortune.”
I don't know why, but I felt like he was nearing the climax of his remarks. Maybe it was his voice or his eyes that had become icy. Or it was simply the fact that he was now focused on a specific case. “This crime was uncovered, somewhat by chance, by another OITC analyst. Her name was Veronica Pezak.”
Now I couldn't stay in my chair anymore.
The tension that had built up in my body over the last few minutes needed to be released.
I almost jumped up and stood in front of him.
And for the first time, I was grateful for high heels that made me seem at least a little taller.
He frowned, but otherwise remained unmoved. “Are you saying…” I managed before he interrupted me. “Listen to me, and you’ll find out what I want to say,” he said harshly.
So I stayed upright, but remained silent for the time being. “Veronica Pezak reported her discovery to her superiors. She was appeased and warned to take care of her own tasks. She escalated her information to the next level of the organization and was once again appeased. And threatened. She and several like-minded analysts and agents then left the OITC.”
He paused and looked at me even more seriously than before. Then he continued: “After she left, Veronica tried to contact the media.”
He paused again, and it became clear that it was difficult for him to continue speaking. “She disappeared....She, her husband and their two-year-old son. No one ever saw them again.”
Another pause, accompanied by a deep breath. “It was then, after this tragedy, that the network was born, for which I work today as one of Veronica Pezak's successors. As one of many Pezaks.”
To say that I was shaken by Pezak's comments would have been quite an understatement.
But I refused to give in to this unproductive emotion. Because I felt something building up inside me that I didn't really have a suitable name for.
The point was: I believed him.
It was an instinct. But it was strong. Unshakeable, almost.
And this certainty triggered horror. Horror at the nature of the OITC and their crimes.
And it was immediately joined by anger. Anger at how I - and many others - had been deceived and used.
And then, very quietly, almost unnoticeably, a vague feeling of fear crept in.
And while I was trying to process my emotions, the Pezak had continued to speak: “We are not an organization,” he had explained. “We are a network spread across the globe. A network of like-minded people who put a stop to the OITC and its backers. We steal their data, we thwart their deals, we take out their henchmen,...and we will avenge Veronica Pezak and her family.”
There was so much resentment in that last sentence that a cold shiver ran down my spine and I felt my hands instinctively clench into fists.
My anger broke through, along with the fear that was now clearly visible:
What he had told me made it impossible for me to ever return to the OITC, or to be safe from it anywhere else!
For the moment, I managed to control myself: “Are you telling me that you and your network...are the good guys in this fucking game?” I snapped at him.
He looked at me with little surprise. He must have realized what his comments meant to me. “I can only talk about myself,” he replied calmly. “And I'm just a small part of something that nobody knows in its entirety. That's how our network works. Each Pezak, like me, is only connected to three other, ever-changing Pezaks. This changes with every new task that the network takes on.”
He paused again and seemed to be thinking about how to proceed.
And then decided on the wrong one: “You don't need to know exactly how it works and it would be too complex to explain it in detail now!”
And I freaked out.
Everything that had been building up inside me since I had entered these buildings erupted in a single explosion. “You bastard,” I screamed at him. “You let me be abused! You let me be tortured and raped! You destroy my life and feed me to the OITC, and then you want to fob me off with something like this!”
Every fiber of my body was tensed to the max and finally that too was released.
I went at him with both fists, trying to catch him somewhere where it would hurt...
...I'm still embarrassed to this day by the ease with which he fended off my attack, grabbed my wrists as if his hands were vice grips and held me at exactly the right distance. “Don't do that!” he said quietly. Very calmly. And with so much menace in his voice that it took my breath away, despite the turmoil inside me.
I tried to break free from his grip, but to no avail. “Don't do that!” he said again. This time ... reassuringly. “I still owe you a lot of explanations,” he then said, almost kindly again. “And you'll get them. But for now, I'd suggest we refrain from any more outbreaks of violence. There's been more than enough of that already.”
I went limp in his grip. I noticed how my knees went weak; how all my resistance suddenly collapsed.
I had to sit down again!
Urgently!
“I need a drink,” I said, ”and a cigarette!”
I had sat down on the arm of the chair after assuring myself that I was peaceful, and the Pezak had then released my wrists.
My tantrum had given way to what I knew would be momentary fatalism.
The situation sucked. I had been screwed from top to bottom.
But that was the way it was now, and nothing was going to change that.
Not even a fight with a guy who felt like he was half a meter longer and 60 pounds heavier than me. “Something high-proof, I guess,” he said without hesitation, and I nodded. “No problem,” he nodded back.
And he pulled a phone out of his pocket and turned away, typing a message with quick fingers.
Then he turned back to me. “Are you ready for an explanation, or do you want to wait until after the drink?”
He wanted to know. “Get on with it,“ I mumbled,” I might then have even more and even better reasons to drink.”
He nodded again and then started to give me a few more reasons. “No Secrets - No Limits“ is one of the companies I run to finance my activities as Pezak,” he began. “Officially, it's a 'communication center'. And basically, unofficially, it is. However, its beginnings were more mundane. As you rightly suspect, it was a brothel, albeit not an ordinary one.”
A short pause followed, signaling to me that the first 'blow' was about to come. “But after I took over both “No Secrets…” and a company, well-known to you, named “Adventure Lands” two years ago, I combined these two ... business ideas. ”
And indeed: that worked!
I sank a little deeper into myself. “ Adventure Lands!
The kinky adventure playground for adults, to which I owed a very special experience! >>>(See “Wild Woods” @ dA)<<< But he didn't give me time to brood about it. “We offer adults the opportunity to live out their fantasies in a safe and supervised environment. There are no prostitutes or clients here, only customers. If you want, you can still call me a pimp, but I'm fine with that.”
And again he interrupted himself. Just at the right time, because someone knocked on the door. “Ah, there she is,” said the Pezak and then: “Come in, please, dear!”
>>>(See “Wild Woods” @ dA)<<< NOTE from tanuno Friends, I will soon be posting the story of our agent in: “Wild Woods” that mentions "The kinky adventure playground for adults, to which I owed a very special experience!" .
