Chapter 1 - The Victim

 

The noise coming from the group of drinkers gathered on the club patio was growing louder with every round of shots they threw back. The man sitting across the street watching from the relative peace and quiet of a tapas bar had counted six rounds since he started watching and the revellers were already well into it when they moved out to the patio area. In complete contrast he sipped slowly from a glass of the local red and nibbled at the snacks that traditionally accompanied it.

A glance from a passer-by would only have registered a man aimlessly watching the night unfold. He did not seem to be paying particular attention to anything or anyone. But this was far from the reality of the situation. Even though he regularly flicked through a bundle of tourist leaflets he was very focussed, especially as this was the fifth night he had observed the same group. Playing the long game had become a speciality of his and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck tingle as the outline of his next plan slowly took shape. He had spent a long time sitting around Spain's most exclusive haunts but he was now certain he had found the woman he wanted for his next adventure.

He downed the remainder of the wine, left some money on the table and got up to go. He had plans to make, elaborate plans and he felt that familiar surge in his groin as he watched her once again betray her expensive education. She was now the loudest of the group, pompous, rude to the waiters and most importantly, she sponged from every guy who drowned in her big flirtatious brown eyes. It now looked certain that the information he'd received was accurate. Daddy (She always said it with a snarl or a sneer.) had indeed stopped her allowance to force her back to her expensive US college. After only a month of independence she was up to her beautiful neck in debt and out to prove a point to her father. Her observer knew from experience that this could be a very useful combination if he managed to play those cards the right way.

 

***

 

The watching man went by the name of Brody. He was somewhere between thirty five and forty and was taller than average at about six foot two inches. To the untrained eye he was of normal build, but the more observant would notice the tightness in his shirt across his upper arms and chest, and forearms that were ribbed with hard muscles were always a sign of raw strength.

When he reached his hotel Brody sat out on the balcony scanning a list of his closest contacts. His plan was coming along nicely but he wanted more than that - he wanted it perfect. He also wanted to simplify things -involve fewer people. Human error and complacency were the only things outside his control and therefore they had to be minimised. In the end he managed to get the list of operatives down to just two; himself and his long-time collaborator 'GP'. He smiled to himself as he remembered how various contacts would try to figure out why his friend was given those two initials. He was not a doctor in general practice nor had the letters anything to do with his Christian names. Brody had christened him with that nickname for two simple reasons; he was GP because he was gay and he was a pilot. Women always assumed the 'G' was for gorgeous. Men, on the other hand liked to guess the P stood for pervert. So many of them felt uncomfortable when he was around. Jealousy probably explained most of that. They envied the fact that women relaxed so easily in his company. Certainly his good looks helped but females seemed to detect the lack of threat in the way he treated them. Maybe the smarter ones suspected he was gay but they usually stuck around and enjoyed letting their hair down without having to be on guard all the time.

Brody finalised his decision; GP would get to know her, spend some cash around her and offer her a chance to make some serious money. He would tell her whatever story was required to get her on a flight. All he had to do was get her on the ground and into Brody's clutches. After that she would endure a different kind of education than the one she was fleeing from back home. He would make it very clear to her that her personality was in dire need of modification and her nightmare would begin. Brody went to bed and slept soundly - as he always did when the final details of a plan had fallen into place.

Next morning Brody had a short conversation with GP. He told him the time, the place and the name. He said he would get some photos of their victim delivered to his accommodation then they had a brief conversation about nothing specific. Brody had no interest in the story GP would spin to the woman to get her to board his plane for a short flight. He knew it usually involved stuff like a short modelling job somewhere on the coast or a chance to meet some super-rich people at a yacht party. None of that mattered to him; all he cared about was her arrival at the chosen destination and so far GP had a one hundred per cent record of success. After delivering the chosen target GP had no further role to play. What went on after that held zero interest for him. He had his own gay world in which to find entertainment. No, he would deliver the woman in the photos and leave the rest to the people who enjoyed whatever it was that happened next.

 

Chapter 2 - The Compound

 

The Compound, as Brody liked to refer to it, was a single storey concrete building in a remote location in Southern Spain. It had been built as part of the set of a crappy spaghetti western movie many years before. Being miles away from any town and on the edge of the bone-dry scrubby, sandy wilderness it made the perfect site for the scenario Brody intended to create. There was zero chance of anyone from the authorities turning up and even if they did he could bullshit them that he was making a demo for a movie. The structure itself was built to resemble a small jail. It had a low wall forming a courtyard all around and its weather-beaten exterior gave it a sinister look. Big old wooden unpainted doors and bars on the windows left no one in doubt about its purpose. The stroke of genius, Brody felt, was the well-positioned palm trees and a bunch of signs in Arabic that gave a very realistic impression of it all being somewhere in North Africa. Once this piece of bait was swallowed the game could begin in earnest. So far it had worked every time. Young women as pampered as Cleo had been all her life rarely had the intelligence to think beyond the obvious.

The added bonus for Brody and his team was the small dirt runway that was only minutes away. It was only long enough for single engine prop planes, but that was all he needed. The fact that it was only a fifty minute flight from several towns that were the playground of the rich and famous was the icing on the cake. A promise of a short coastal flight added to the attraction of GP's offer. People like Cleo believed it was the kind of treatment they were entitled to, simply as a birth right. However, what awaited her at the carefully laid out compound would introduce her to a world where women like her learned very hard lessons about their rights to any kind of comfort.