Chapter 3: The Duel
Teresa Carrillo sat at her desk at NASO headquarters, electronically sifting through the entire set of messages, trying to ensure she overlooked nothing of importance. When the message through an anonymous remailer had arrived purporting to be from David Knight she had been skeptical. David had disappeared - presumably abducted by WOPI -- several days earlier. She hardly expected to be getting e-mail from him. But after an exchange of information only he could know, she had become convinced that indeed David was somehow sending messages from inside WOPI headquarters. And he did not sound like he was under any compulsion. The explanation was in one of the first substantive messages.
TO: Teresa Carrillo
From: None
Dear Teri,
You have asked me how it is I am able to send message from the "lioness's den." Well, the short answer is the lioness turned out to be a "pussy cat."
She's in her office right now, so I have plenty of time right now to explain.
When I awoke after my abduction outside of Barrajas (how embarrassing!) I found I had been taken to the office of Alexandra Milan, head of WOPI. That's when she explained how WOPI ins able to brainwash its victims, the eroto- hypnotism technique I reported on before. Then she told me that it was her custom to have one night alone with each "guest" (at least "the virile good looking ones"
) before his conditioning began. Consequently, she was inviting me to her private quarters later that evening, "for dinner," and by implication, a postprandial seduction. I naturally told her she was crazy if she expected me to sleep with her. She just smiled and said in that case, she would be looking forward to the challenge.
The "cell" where I was taken, while not quite luxury, was (and is) quite comfortable, having a bed (of course), chairs, a desk, a continuously restocked minibar, reading material, TV and bath. My luggage had been brought to the room and unpacked for me. Apparently making their prisoners comfortable is part of WOPI's technique. The view from the window was pretty, but not distinctive enough to identify the site. In coming days I hope you give you enough information about times of sunrise, sunset, and weather to enable the tech boys to pinpoint the location. At the moment I can only suppose it is somewhere in southern Spain, though Carmen and I (I'll tell you about her later
) could have been loaded onto an airplane and flown almost anywhere in the almost twenty-four hours I was unconscious.
I had several hours to wait before dinner. Of course I checked the room thoroughly for means of escape, but, equally of course, there was none. I am on a fourth of fifth floor with no ledge. I suspect the glass is pretty much unbreakable. The ventilation outlets are small, not the nice big ones that James Bond and Indiana Jones always find.
The one door opens only from the outside, apparently with some sort of card key.
Looking around at the books and magazines and checking out the fare on TV, I realized that it was all pornographic, most of it involving fem-dome themes. I guess they knew sooner or later, from boredom if nothing else, their prisoner would begin to use the material and that would soften him up for the conditioning. Just knowing that this is what these women wanted me to read and watch before seeing Alexandra again was worrying - and disconcertingly exciting.
About seven a pretty young woman brought a (perfectly fitting) tux to my room. "Ms Milan likes formality," she smirked. I turned down her invitation to "help" me shave, bathe, and dress for dinner. At five of eight the same young woman returned, eyed me approvingly and escorted me to Alexandra's quarters. I followed her to an elevator that took us to a circular room on a basement level. There she led me to one of several identical well-lighted underground corridors to another elevator. This took us to the top floor of another building.
Opening a door with her key card, the young woman gave me a final once over and left me in a small ante chamber facing an elegant wood door. Feeling both slightly foolish at being dressed like I was going to a high- school prom and uncomfortably horny -- remember I told you how Alexandra was dressed during our first meeting - I rang the chime.
