The Bridge - Ch 11 - Storage Locer

The Bridge -- Chapter Eleven -- The Storage Locker

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work is copy written by the author. All characters involved in sexual activity are eighteen years of age or older at the time of portrayal.

This work has been a slow burn, but will, at times, contain instances of pregnancy, interracial sex, group sex, Dominance and submission, slavery, lesbianism, romance and affection. There are also threats of violence and a fair amount of heroism and family love and fun.

Given the contents of this chapter, it's in the Interracial Love category, but has spent time in the Lesbian Sex and Romance categories and will probably move around as it progresses. Which it will do if enough people like it. There is a little more than sex by reference in this chapter, but it moves the story along. In time, there will be more sex and plenty of orgasms.

The Storage Locker

When I awoke on Monday it was to the sound of my supercell buzzing me. It was Aurelia Spanner so I picked it up as quickly as I could. I was about to face one convoluted day.

"Rhee?"

"Hannah. We'll be meeting in an hour. I want you to go to the Eighth and Market Street Station and take the El Train west toward Eleventh Street. When you get to the station just hang around a bit. Then get on the next train and plan to get off at Eleventh Street. You'll know what to do by then. See you soon." And she hung up. Now I was really getting nervous. I have questions to ask, and she didn't even give me a chance. Well, she has her own way of doing business and it has worked so far. So off we go. I was cleaned up and ready to go so I grabbed Duane and off we went to the El station at Eighth and Market. Oddly enough the easiest way to get there from Lizzie's was to catch the El Train at Sixteenth and take it to Eighth, cross the street and reenter the tunnel all within the concourse. It seemed weird to me, but if that is what Aurelia wanted then that's what she'd get. Like I said. Convoluted. I asked Duane if he thought we were being followed, and he said he saw nothing obvious, yet. But he always has his eyes open.

When we were finally on the El Train heading west out of 8th Street Station a woman, an elderly woman, sat down two seats away from me. "Hannah. It's Rhee. I want you to get off at Thirteenth Street. When you do a woman will approach you. She will whisper my name, my full name, in your ear. That way you will know I sent her. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-yeah. I think so."

"Just follow her lead and do whatever she tells you to do. When you and she have finished, you and I will meet up again. We'll be going to the Storage Locker first. I think it's the best next step. Duane will be right there. Not next to you, but he will be where you are at all times."

Duane was following me on a tracking device implanted in my foot. The signal went to his phone and to our Security Control room at home, The Closet.

Without ever having looked at me, she conveyed her message, and I had to trust in her to guide me straight and true.

I got off at 13th Street and walked off the train to the steps to the Exit. "Excuse me. Excuse me, young lady."

"Do I know you?"

She leaned into my ear and said, "Aurelia Spanner sent me."

"What's next?"

She was a fairly athletic woman who took my arm and walked me, rapidly, and might I add quite circuitously, down to a small nondescript shop on Bainbridge Street. I felt like I had walked for hours. And I'm a runner. It may have been easier on me had we run all the way. We entered the shop and were met by a small Asian woman who looked me over.

"This is one of Aurelia Spanners girls. You know what to do."

"Ah, yes. I speak to her earlier. Give me half hour." And she grabbed me by the hand and dragged me into a back room full of clothes and other items. It looked like a dressing room you might find on Broadway. But first she dragged me to the makeup table and gave me the once over. She was not tasked to make me pretty. She was here to make me look old. And she did a damned fine job. In twenty minutes time, I looked like I could have been my grandmother. Then came the clothes. Old, old, old. By the time I was fully dressed I was one old biddy. Looking in the mirror, I couldn't recognize myself. Now I was free to go out in the world without fear of recognition. The next step is the storage locker. Rhee was the key to that, and Duane, off in the wings, and I were chafing at the bit waiting for her to call.

My supercell buzzed in, and it was Rhee. She would be pulling up to the shop in a minute and we should come out and get in the car as soon as she opens the door. We watched through the curtain in the front door's window for the Navigator with the tinted windows, and when it pulled up to us, the driver slid the window down and it was Anthony. Beside him riding shotgun was the old lady that was Rhee. We jumped into the back and off we sped. At least as much as you can speed in the heart of the city.

The storage facility was big. Really big. Hundreds of units. And it was right on Washington Avenue, down the street from the Ninth Street Market. It had a drive-through service so you could load and unload in bad weather. It had every convenience. We had the key to locker No. 242, and a receipt that said it was paid for the next two years. I wasn't foreseeing any problem accessing the thing.

"I've been keeping an eye on this unit and there has been nobody in and nobody out. I expect, at this point, after Mr. Barry's death it was abandoned. Traffic on this floor is light especially during the daytime and this time of day. I expect we will run into very few people who pose any kind of risk. Given it's owned by a dead man, I think we're in good shape security wise."

"How about booby traps. I hope I don't sound silly, but you never can tell."

"And you're right. You never can. I've already had my team run a risk assessment. They've seen the property and done a thorough examination and found the risk at this time to be very low. We also checked to see if the locker was rigged for video or audio and found enough coming in to power the devices or signals being emitted by them. When we enter the locker, we'll do a quick drone scan and an eyeball check to see if we missed anything."

"Your thoroughness astounds me. I can't believe how on top of everything you are."

"That's my job. Alright then, let's go see what's in that locker."

The key fit like a dream and the locker door opened right up. When we entered it there was a heavy curtain hanging obstructing the view of the contents of the locker, so all you could see was the curtain. When we pushed the curtain aside what we saw blew our minds.

Along the one wall were boxes upon boxes, like shoe boxes, stacked higher than I am tall. Right in front of us was a console which looked complicated and looks like it has to do with transferring videos or editing them. There are three video monitors, one very old and hooked to an old computer and a VCR. There is a new state-of-the-art computer and another device that looks like a computer, but I couldn't swear to it. All over the desk in front of the console and the monitors are flash drives and memory sticks strewn all over the counter space. The only writing they have on them is in some form of code. Rhee looked through them and chose one.

She took her backpack off and reached into it, pulling out the ledger she had found in the safe at George Barry's office. Again, she looked at the memory stick she had chosen and started flicking through the ledger. She found the page she was looking for and hemmed and hawwed for a moment and then said. "Post a guard, turn on the lights and close the door."

When that was done, she pulled a laptop out of her bag, and lit it up. All we had to do was insert the sticks in the multi-drive port. It was all simple, but if we had a problem, we had Anthony with us. Amongst other skills, he is one of our technical wizards and he can figure out just about anything. The computer is passcoded. Oh no! Call Anthony. He figured the pass code was probably written in the ledger somewhere. He figured it out in ten minutes, and we were in business. It was the only obstacle we encountered. And like the idiots they were, they used the same passcode for everything. Oddly enough, it turned out to be Georgia's birth date. That fuckin' creep.

"Here goes nothin,'" she said and stuck the memory stick into the computer. The access screen came up and the list of files was expansive. Just on this stick. Properties says it's three quarters of a terabyte. She clicked on a file, and it opened right up. It was a video. When it started to play my jaw dropped. And a moment later I let out an audible gasp. It was Celia Johnson, the city council woman. And she was being spit roasted by two large black men. I fast forwarded and the three of them were having a jolly old time. And there didn't seem to be any objections from Celia.

"You know this woman?" Aurelia asked.

"She's a West Chester City Councilwoman. All of a sudden my mind is even more blown."

She immediately pulled the memory stick out and inserted another one. She chose a file and lit it up. The video started with a dark-haired woman naked, and on her knees, pledging her devotion to Peace Dunbar. Looks pretty damned familiar.

"I know this one too. The brunette. She's the trophy wife of... oh what's his name... Barnett or Bartlett. Yeah, Bartletta. The guy is worth billions and she's out there sucking black dick. Some things money just can't buy. Like self-respect."

The woman was stunning. Way out of my class. I cannot imagine why she would let this man; this demon degrade her and punish her just for showing up. She clicked another file on the same memory stick, and it was the same gal but doing more different degrading things. In this video it looked like she was getting gang banged by ten guys. It was hard to tell they were so all over her. But from the looks of things, she didn't seem to be having a problem with what they were doing.

As soon as I got involved with one video, Aurelia would throw in another. Until she stuck in about the fifth one and I looked at who was on the video and grasped Rhee by the shoulders and said, "Oh my fuckin' God."

"What, Hannah? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It-its-its..."

"Mrs. Helen Sweet," Duane said.

"And who is Helen Sweet?"

I stared out into space, dumbfounded. "A friend. A neighbor. Her kids play with my kids."

"Yeah, well it looks like she's found someone new to play with."

She says as the woman on the screen pumps up and down on Mr. Dunbar, as she looks ahead with a big smile on her face and a big black dick up her ass. She was loving this as she screamed out another orgasm. I looked closely as the camera, obviously one of those honeybee thingamajingees, panned up her body past her vagina and belly button and as it passed her breasts heading for her face, I noticed on her left breast what appeared to be a tattoo. I couldn't tell if it was a temp or a permanent, but I knew what it was. It was a Queen of Spades tattoo like mine. I wonder, does her husband know she's fooling around? And fooling around with Peace Dunbar no less. I looked around and there could be no less than a hundred drives right there in front of me. I looked around at Rhee and Duane and said, "What the fuck do we do now?"

Rhee looked around and evaluated the situation. "I think we're gonna need a bigger boat."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's from an old, old movie. Timeless if you will. It means we are in way over our heads. We're going to need more troops, and we need them soon. It appears that Mr. Barry was blackmailing hundreds of powerful people, and his partner in crime has got you in his sights."

"Ms. Spanner," Duane said. "There is something here I think you should see." And he started opening and showing her the contents of box after box he had been looking through. It brought a tear to his eye, and he got choked up when he said, "And I think I understand the link to the ledger."

"Oh. That's very important. Maybe the most important thing of all."

"Even more important than the videos?"

"Maybe." And she and Duane started going through box after box with the ledger in hand. And each time he pulled a box out he would look up the reference code in the ledger. Each box contained a pair of shoes, a pair of worn panties, a wallet or purse of some kind and any other personal items such as lockets and rings and such. Each box also contained a memory stick. As they compared the boxes to the ledger, they found that from the ledger we knew the weight and height and measurements of the girls, and measurements, including penis size of the boys. We knew their hair color, eye color, ages, their places of origin and dates of birth. Their real dates of birth. One column appeared to be a country code, the legend for which is in the back of the ledger. That must be where these poor things were sent after they broke them and used them up over here. The most disturbing column of all needed no explaining. It was a number; it was the price paid for this person when they finally let her or him off on their next stop down this horrific highway.

There is so much evidence of human trafficking right here in this one spot that it must be enough to get someone locked up for a thousand years. Not to mention kidnapping, blackmailing and extortion. "Aurelia. Why don't we just hand all this over to the police right now and wash our hands of it?"

"Because you'll be dead before anybody finds out Peace Dunbar is a part of this. Even then he's got the connections and money to get bailed out of virtually any situation, if this stash is any indication. Hannah, this guy's not going to jail. There is only one solution to this man and that is that he Rest in Peace. We gotta kill him, Hannah."

"Kill him?"

"Yes. Or have him killed, better yet. I know people who..."

"Aurelia Spanner, did I just hire a hit man?"

"I'm no man, Hannah Todd, but I have carried out my share of hits. When you want the best, you take along all the baggage she brings with her. I am quite prepared to shoot Peace Dunbar to death and I hope you are too. Now we just can't go and do that, but we should be very well prepared when he forces us to do just that."

" So, what now, Rhee?"

"Well, something to keep in mind is that Peace Dunbar inevitably knows about this locker. He just doesn't know where it is or how to get to it. It may even be the primary reason he is going after you. I'm certain he knows you've been to the office. And I bet I know how he knows."

"Jimmy fuckin Cookman, I'll bet."

"I'm gonna have to start paying you, Hannah Todd. You're doing all the work."

"Not by a long shot. How are we gonna get all this out of here?"

"Well, the real info is in the memory sticks and thumbnail drives. The rest is just bulky equipment that has no informative value. You have a computer at home that's certainly as good as this one. I'll have no problem converting the stuff on the older media. Let's just take these drives. You take them, and get the hell out of here. I will have a crew come in here and clear out the shoe boxes and bring them to a secure location."

But there was one item of potential value that everyone overlooked until Duane pointed it out. That we missed it was an embarrassment to both of us. What it turned out to be was an embarrassment of riches.

Tucked in a corner under a number of those shoe boxes, was a small safe. One of the ones with a combination lock. So, Anthony grabbed the ledger again and found the combination in the most obvious of place. Right on the front of the back cover. The thing opened right up.

Well, I knew that it was one heavy box but what it contained made it even heavier. We removed four bars of gold, each one weighing about four kilos. A silk bag filled with diamonds. Dozens upon dozens. A double fist full of cash, mostly hundreds and twenties and fifties. More memory sticks, maybe a dozen. I was about to throw them in with the other media when it occurred to me that while the other memory sticks were strewn all over the place, these were locked up tight. So, I put them all in my handbag for my own personal observation, probably tonight. These, no doubt, were special.

I looked around to see if there was anything else I wanted to do before we locked it up and headed out. Then I looked, again, at that wall of boxes. Hundreds of them. My eyes got wet, but I did not cry. "What's next, Rhee?"

"Well, I think it's a bit anticlimactic to go to the office at this point. Why don't you folks go home for now. If you want to spend an hour shooting at your local range, it will probably help you to work some of the angst off. Why don't you watch some of those videos and give me your insights. If there is someone you know, tell me. We pretty much sanitized this place of anything we didn't want anyone to know about. I still think we need a guard on the door. Even with my Wasp Drone video surveillance. At least till we clear it out."

"Consider it done. Duane."

"I'll call Chris at Guardian and make sure there is someone in plain clothes assigned 24/7. That's more their balliwick than ours. And we're a bit stretched right now."

"Excellent. We'll talk about the stretched part later. Come on Aurelia, we'll walk you down."

"No, that's okay. I'll take the next elevator down. Just be careful with all that stuff. If it gets into the wrong hands, it could mean a lot of trouble for a lot of people."

"How will you get home?"

"I'll do what I always do. Disappear into the ether."

"Okay, you do that."

"Take care. And dammit, be careful."

Not only was I careful, I was carefree. Here I was with two big, strong, handsome men, riding out in the country. The only thing that's missing is the convertible top.

"Rhee had a great idea. The kids are taken care of, let's go to the shooting range. Do you have a spare gun for me, Duane?"

"I've always got a spare gun for you Miss Todd. It's that Glock you favor."

"Mmmmmm. I can practically feel it in my hands."

"We'll be at the range in ten minutes, then you can feel its power."

'Oh baby, I can feel your power.' My God, what am I thinking. I cannot seduce Duane. I must not seduce Duane. It's a gun, a Glock. Think gun, not cock. My concentration was broken anyway when he started to play twenty questions about gun safety and handling. Fortunately, the range was close.

When we got there, we quickly got a row, as the student section was empty. I did all the preliminary things you're supposed to do like the safety checks and making sure the weapon is clean and lubricated. He did not have me break it down and clean and oil it as he had done previously. However, he did tell me to expect to give it a full cleaning after the shoot. I gave him no trouble.

Anthony had gone over and bought a few boxes of bullets and was just coming back so we could load up. He cleaned the guns, but he did not load the magazines. So, before I could take one shot, I had to load two eight bullet magazines. Well, being new to this, I needed the practice. But both the boys stood there with their arms crossed for a time until I got it done.

Once my magazines were loaded, I shoved one into the butt of the gun, pulled back the barrel and leveled it to face the targets. Both the boys jumped to lend me a hand and show me the best possible stance or grip for me. It was hysterical. "Alright, boys. One at a time." Duane made just a little extra effort to muscle Anthony aside, so that he could wrap those big muscular arms around me and guide me along on my journey to becoming a great shot. And I was committed. In fact, my body was reacting to his ministrations, and I could feel moisture building in my crotch. And an itch I was growing used to not having. And I could not help shivering just a little at his touch. I've been around the block enough to know electricity when I feel it. And there was definitely a connection. But I wasn't saying, and neither was he. So, we just carried on. Or should I say moved forward without carrying on.