EXCERPT

 

Local police reports estimate that the white Toyota minibus drove over the cliff between 10.52 and 10.53 p.m. It contained 18 foreign tourists who never stood a chance. The vehicle plunged over 200 ft into the water below and quickly disappeared in the darkness.

Naturally Al-Khatreh detectives conducted an extensive investigation. It turned out that the minibus was a rental hire being driven by one of the Americans in the party. Two families, five other couples and one individual traveler had been feasting at one of the country's top restaurants favored by foreigners because it had an alcohol license. Witnesses and the restaurant bill were able to confirm that the tourist party had consumed many bottles of beer and wine and even the American driver had been drinking.

Roadside cameras last recorded the vehicle at 10.48 p.m. as it climbed towards the infamous section of s-bends along the Khatir Pass. The minibus could clearly be seen onscreen being driven erratically. There were no witnesses to the crash itself but the minibus ploughed through the ocean-side barrier before hurtling down the cliff face into the shark-infested waters below.

A week later divers managed to raise the rusting minibus from the seabed. Sadly, no bodies or even human remains were found. Nothing but a few scraps of western clothing. A verdict of Death by Misadventure caused by drunk and dangerous driving was reached by the local police and confirmed in the Al-Khatreh Court. It can only be assumed that the local sharks had enjoyed a feast of their own.

Al-Khatreh is the 8th and smallest of the eight Emirates, covering only 97,000 square miles. However, its strategic importance in the region - allied to its oil and investment wealth, ancient sites, warm winter weather and keen prices - causes overseas governments, travel firms and vacationers to ignore the rising number of visitors who seem to have vanished there in recent times.

***

Ava blinked open one eye.

Her first thought was that at least she was still alive. She was lying flat on her back, immobile, and her vision was blurred. She'd been asleep, or unconscious, for a long time. It felt like she'd come round after an anesthetic. She hadn't even stirred or had any dreams.

She blinked again. Once, twice. She tried to move. She found she could shift her fingers and arms and legs. She rolled onto her side. Her vision was clearing. She could see. She opened her eyes wider.

She gasped. She was in some kind of cell. She was imprisoned. Alone. The cell appeared to be grey and small. She was lying on a hard concrete floor. She breathed and suddenly noticed a disgusting stench. The cell had a steel door with one of those small round viewing windows at eye-height.

Ava shook her head to clear it. The memories were coming back slowly; the restaurant, the belly dancer, the laughter, Quinn paying the check on his Amex card. Driving back to the hotel. A siren, flashing lights, police. Then her recollection faded. Climbing out of the van, many police, soldiers ...

Her cell was just four concrete walls and the steel door. There was solitary light bulb hung from the ceiling but no window. The bulb was protected by a metal cage. There was no furniture of any description and the entire space was only about 6ft x 6ft square. Then she noticed a wet puddle in the corner.

With a start she suddenly realized she was wearing only her underwear and nothing else; she was barefoot and totally naked except for her white bra and panties. OMG. Somebody must have undressed her while she lay unconscious. The summer dress, sandals and linen jacket she'd had on were gone. Slowly her brain was starting to clear. Where the heck was Quinn? And Bethany and Isaac? She wanted to shout out their names but her mouth was too damned parched.

That stench really was overpowering. A mix of hospital smell and detergent competed with stale body odor and human waste. She wiped her nose and stared at the puddle. She was literally dying of thirst. If she drank, she could shout out, and try and contact Quinn.

***

Jasmine watched from the comfort of the four-poster bed in her private bedroom. Her suite contained five interconnecting bedrooms in all. But this one was the last one. Her private sanctuary.

She'd chosen to start with Ava because the hotel staff had said she was the life and soul of the group. Each cell had a viewing lens hidden in its overhead light bulb. The camera feed was broadcast directly to the screen of Jasmine's tablet.

All eighteen tourists had been comatose for over 12 hours while they were transported, separated, identified, processed, stripped and placed in their individual cells. There was no rush. Apart from the fact that yesterday had been the actual day of Jasmine's birthday, dates and time would quickly become irrelevant. She now had an entire lifetime to play with her '18^th birthday gifts'.

She watched the woman coming to terms with her predicament, slowly exploring the cell that would be her new home for a while. Ava Miller, nee Burns, born Boston, Massachusetts 1972, married to Mr. Quinn Miller in 1994, mother and father of Bethany Miller born 1997, who herself was engaged to young Mr. Isaac Kohn. All four members of this happy family group were now in Jasmine's possession.

Jasmine took a good look at the American. She was undeniably a handsome woman for 48 yrs old. A real MILF; well toned and lightly tanned body, with no visible cellulite and what definitely looked like a fine cleavage. These bitches certainly cared for themselves in the gym and with personal trainers. The photo in Ava's passport showed dark brown eyes, chestnut hair expensively cut in that typical soccer mom style; shoulder length, centre-parted, with a few strands over her forehead forming a kind of fringe. Needless to say, salon-plucked eyebrows and a toothpaste-ad smile.

Not that Ava Miller was smiling at that particular moment.

***

Despite her exhaustion, Harmony somehow kept raising her knees as high as she could.

"Higher!"

She was trotting like a dressage horse, lifting her knees, jogging in endless circles around the training wheel. She was pouring sweat and gasping mouthfuls of hot air. Every muscle in her body ached.

She was sporting a leather collar around her neck attached to a long pole. The wooden pole functioned like the sole spoke of a wheel, connected to a central hub that rotated. Harmony was running circle after circle around the hub.

"Higher."

The tail of a whip landed on her shoulders, making her hiss. Yet again. Every time she failed to raise her knees to her chest as she trotted, she was in danger of being lashed.

She was naked except for the leather collar and a rucksack across her bare back. They'd also put a heart monitor on her wrist. A platinum sun hammered down on her dark skin. Her feet were bare and tender as she ran over the hot sand.

Meanwhile, around her, three trainers flicked their whips, while they smoked, chatted and nonchalantly watched her. Two trainers were men and one was a large Arab lady wearing a black hijab, who seemed keenest to use her whip. The trainers mostly spoke together in Arabic but they also knew a few words of English like 'higher' and 'faster' and 'wider'.

Harmony whimpered as the tail of the whip flicked across her shoulders again, somehow finding the energy to wrench her knees upwards. She was certain that she was due another water break soon. Every 15 minutes or so, the trainers allowed her a short break to take on sustenance.

Thankfully Harmony was very athletic. She was 34 yrs old, an ex-fashion-model, now married to Prince, her recently retired NFL husband. Prince had played Wide Receiver for several franchises but, at 36, his playing days were over. They'd both been in the middle of their Round the World retirement vacation when the minibus was flagged down by police.

At last, a minute or so later, she heard the word she currently lived for.

"Break!"

 

END OF EXCERPT