Trading Stocks for Bonds (How Linsey was Collared)
Her teacup chinked against its saucer. Not once, but five or six times in quick rattling succession. She was trembling and couldn't hide it.
"I can pay you back," Linsey Altmell pleaded with passion. "You know I can net that amount in just one year. I did it two years ago."
Apart from a security man blocking the door there was only one other person in the plush office at 6:30pm on a Friday evening. Ranulph Markham, her boss and chairman of Markham Brandham Stockbrokers sat on the other side of the large teak desk.
He frowned to indicate he did not share her optimism. "Miss Altmell, we're talking about eighteen million pounds! Perhaps there is more we haven't uncovered yet. You are not in Leeson's league, and this company certainly won't be going the way of Barings, but you have nevertheless wiped out almost one percent of my personal net worth. Miss Altmell, a schoolchild could have handled these accounts better than you did, although perhaps not as deviously."
Linsey gave up trying to drink her tea. The clattering of her cup and saucer only served to incriminate her further. She placed them carefully on the table and moved her trembling hands onto her lap.
Their eyes met. His, a sixty-five year old glazy blue, slightly baggy and wrinkled beneath; hers a vivid penetrating hazel, still glistening with the beauty of youth. She was not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but he thought her more attractive than most - a pleasant face, long brown hair, a slim body; and she knew how to dress well, an increasingly rare thing in the modern age. For her part, Linsey had always thought Markham rather good-looking in spite of his advancing years.
It had been hectic week on the markets and Markham was tired of talking prices and profits. He valued his weekends, putting aside financial matters to concentrate on his true passions. Closing up the file containing Linsey Altmell's catalogue of disastrous deals he declared to himself that the weekend had just started.
"Am I fired?" Linsey asked, perplexed at why Markham couldn't just come out and say it.
"No. I'm not firing you. That would be too easy," he replied.
She squirmed awkwardly in her seat and ventured another question: "So are you going to call the police?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Why bother? You might go to jail for a couple of years. Then you are released, you write a book and sell the film rights. Meanwhile I'm still eighteen million down. I might have to close one of my charitable foundations."
"So, you're going to keep me on?" She asked, smiling, but a little surprised.
"Yes I am... after a fashion. You are an attractive young woman, with a pretty face and a nice body. Miss Altmell, I intend to have you."
She became wide-eyed with shock and gave a nervous laugh, unintentionally mocking him. Her boss might be a rich and powerful man but she always regarded him as a gentleman not a sexual predator. This didn't suit the mild-mannered chairman at all.
"This is a joke, right? It's ridiculous! You're trying to blackmail me, and I have a witness to that effect," she glanced at the impassive security guard by the door then looked Markham squarely in the eyes. "You... can't... have... me," she snarled, "I resign!"
Her witness was Cormack, Head of Security at Markham Brandham. After two years with the firm Linsey still didn't know if it was his first or last name. Like 'Shakira' he used to joke, as only a man 6'5" tall and built like a boxer can. He was good looking, helpful and sociable, liked by everybody including Linsey, but everyone knew him to be fiercely loyal to his employer. He did not return Linsey's glance. Instead he looked at his boss, ready to carry out any instruction.
"You misunderstand me Miss Altmell." Markham said, appearing not to take offence from her comment or the implicit ageism. "I didn't mean to suggest anything as crude as bedding you. I'm well catered for in that respect already. What I meant was to
have you,
in the sense of
owning you.
Owning your body permanently."
Linsey was stunned into silence for several seconds. "This is sick." She said, rising from her chair. Cormack immediately moved towards her.
"Sit!" Ranulph Markham barked. Linsey recoiled at the surprising ferocity of Markham's command. She sat down again whilst Cormack backed up to his position by the door. "I haven't explained what I intend to do to you yet."
Linsey prided herself on her cool composure but it was being severely tested. Feeling her mouth drying up she reached again for her teacup. This time she left the saucer on the table, but it still rattled as she lifted the cup. It needed both her shaky hands to raise the cup to her lips. Markham bided his time. He enjoyed watching her discomfort as she sipped repeatedly, hoping perhaps that the cup contained something a good deal stronger than tea.
She put the cup down decisively, as if strengthened by the tea. It had to be a sick joke, she thought. You can't turn an employee into a sex slave. Not even if she's lost your company eight million pounds. Not in London in the twenty-first century! She realized she was taking this game far too seriously. It was time to humour him.
"Okay Sir." She sat up straight and ground her buttocks into the seat with a little wiggle as she tried to regain her poise. "Then please explain what are you planning to do to me."
Markham was happy to oblige. In fact he had been waiting for this moment. He spoke slowly and deliberately in his gravelly tones so that Linsey could absorb every word.
"First of all, you will remove all your clothes. You can do it by yourself or with Cormack's assistance, I really don't mind. Your jewelry too, you won't need it anymore. I'll donate the proceeds to one of my charities."
Linsey instinctively reached up to touch the expensive gold chain that lay gleaming against her tanned skin; tantalisingly visible between the two-button opening of her blouse.
"When you are completely naked Cormack will bind you. The rope we use is soft, but there will be lots of it and it will be very tight. We need to fit you into the suitcase behind you."
Linsey swiveled around to see the suitcase she'd barely registered before. It would be difficult to fit somebody into it, but not impossible. She turned back to face him.
"You'll be gagged of course. We will pack your mouth with a silk scarf then tape it over several times." He looked up at Cormack for confirmation of this. Cormack nodded.
"And hooded too. A black cloth bag with a drawstring pulled tightly around your neck."
She swallowed her saliva nervously. Markham noted and enjoyed that first nervous gulp.
"When you are locked in the suitcase we'll leave. You'll be traveling in style, in the boot of my Rolls-Royce. Ever been in a Rolls-Royce before Miss Altmell?"
She shook her head and gulped again.
"They're beautiful machines, automotive works of art. It's like floating on air. They have such a smooth ride, as you'll discover for yourself very soon. Where was I? Oh yes, I remember...
"Immediately upon arrival at my country estate your training will commence. Neither Cormack or I will be involved. I have excellent people to do that sort of thing. Did I ever mention that to you before? No?" He made it sound like an oversight, the forgetfulness of an old man. "It's not only stock-exchange traders I employ. I also have people who specialise in turning a sophisticated woman - as you pretend to be - into a shameless whore, which is what you will become. Sometimes, Miss Altmell, to build something worthwhile one must to destroy what was there before."
Single tears tumbled down each of Linsey's cheeks in perfect sync. She didn't believe him but it was scaring her all the same. She pleaded with him. "Mr. Markham Sir, you can't do this. John, my boyfriend, is calling to collect me in twenty minutes. He'll know something's wrong if I'm not waiting outside for him. Please stop this awful game right now." Buoyed up by the certainty of John's arrival she rose to her feet and walked hastily towards the door. She stood facing the barrel chest of an immovable object.
"Let me pass Cormack!" She demanded, looking up to him more in hope than expectation. Cormack gripped her by the upper arm, spun her around and pushed her down into her chair. He yanked her arms back through the vertical wooden slats of the chair's backrest and pulled the handcuffs from their holster on his belt. He ratcheted the cuffs onto her wrists, effectively locking her to the chair.
"I assume you finished your tea?" Markham joked meanly, noticing Linsey looking forlornly into the teacup. "Ever worn handcuffs before Ms Altmell?"
Linsey shook her head sullenly.
"These ones are very comfortable don't you think, they don't dig into your flesh like other types, much more suitable for long term use on a woman's soft skin and slender wrists. I like them so much I bought shares in the company."
