CHAPTER 1

 

"So we've caught ourselves two little pigs." The large man in the wheelchair spoke softly to the beautiful young policewoman whose long dark hair was curled within her cap; her eyes were wide and terrified. "And I've been after such a little pig for some time ever since it annoyed me." He was leading the gang of masked hoodies and was the only one not so disguised, brazenly staring at his catch. His small dark eyes set in a fleshy jewelled face either side of a large hook nose regarded her with some amusement. They were vicious, violent eyes which made her shiver in fear under their gaze. Did he recognise her? She guessed from his remark that he did.

Lucinda tried to quell her fear. Her arms stiffly by her side, one fist clenched around her baton the other balled in tension. She felt a trickle of sweat make its way down her back under her shirt and ant-stab jacket. She was a policewoman, albeit still under training and just out of her teens but nevertheless someone in a position of authority. The gang who had barged into the supermarket and the members of the public cowering under the threat of the gang's coshes and knives would expect safety and professionalism from her. She must shut away deep inside of her the frightened little girl who just wanted to run away and cry. Her main thoughts were for her colleague, her sergeant, Darren, who lay on the floor having been viciously coshed by one of the gang, blood trickling from him as he remained still and waxen.

"Look, he needs help let me call an ambulance," Lucinda made to reach for her radio but the strong hand of one of the hooded gang members gripped her arm.

"Not so fast my little pretty little police girl," the fat man leading them leaned back in his wheel-chair. "I've no doubt that you've already activated your emergency alarm, that's what I would expect, but I don't want you having any other communication, not without permission."

"I'm a policewoman; you can't just......." Lucinda tried to rally her dwindling reserves of bravery.

"I think you'll find I can - and have my pretty," the man interrupted. "I'm in charge here now, not you. You are now nothing. Relax your arms, let them hang by your side and drop the baton - you'll not need it." Lucinda was exasperated at the orders given by the fat and smiling crook.

"Look, if you expect me to... "

"I expect you to do as you're told, everything you are told within 5 seconds. No talking, no disobedience - or something nasty happens to your friend - and you," the gross brute casually extracted a gun from his wheelchair and pointed at the prone sergeant. "I count to five and if you haven't done what I say, everything I say by then, I start by shooting this little piggy. One, two..."

"OK...." Lucinda forced her fingers open and dropped her baton, which fell with an echoing crash to the tiled floor. She felt more vulnerable without its threat but was realistic enough to know that she had no choice. His gun might be only a fake or a replica but she couldn't take the chance. And there were probably nearly a dozen thugs and probably forty frightened staff and shoppers to consider. This was a siege and her choices were strictly limited.

Yet it was one of her choices, made several months ago, which may in part have led to this. Her colleagues had warned her when she started on this beat that the man in the wheelchair, the big Jewish man who called himself Lazarus, was a local gangland figure but always too smart to be caught. Lucinda had thought herself smarter and she had fabricated, slightly, evidence against him to further her career prospects. They only thought of her at the station as a little pretty little dolly bird, 'our pin-up policewoman' they called her. And whereas she naturally enjoyed the attention which her stunning looks and figure gave her she also wanted to prove herself as an intelligent woman too - a successful policewoman with maybe a rapid promotion to the detective side in CID?

Of course, it all unravelled before the trial, Lazarus had to be released. She never knew if he guessed her role in his near downfall. He never made a complaint and her senior officers gave her nothing more than a slap on the wrists, possibly sensing her potential and enthusiasm. Maybe now the bastard was having his revenge? She'd only made a few educated assumptions about what he had almost certainly done albeit she had not actually witnessed it as he had initially implied.

Today, she and the sergeant, her special sergeant she thought fondly, had called into the supermarket for their regular top up of chocolate bars - and she regretted sticking to the same routine at the same time - it was so predictable to anyone watching. Just after they entered the store a few minutes ago the large gang, seemingly under the control of Lazarus, like a modern day Fagin, had sprung into action from two large black vans with tinted windows which had drawn up outside.

"There's a good little girl, that's a start, now carefully, using just one hand unbuckle your radio and hand it to one of my associates," the fat creep continued, bringing her back to the present as he smiled at her. Oh how she longed to go for him, make a proper job of it this time. He was an invalid, over twice her age she was fit and healthy - it should be easy to overpower him. Tentatively she looked round but saw only the practically feral snarling faces of the teenage thugs under their hoods, baying for blood, black and white, male and female. Then her gaze took in the white terrified faces of the hostages. She was helpless and just had to go along with things; she must be pragmatic and swallow her considerable pride without letting her growing fear overwhelm her. And to her horror she saw some of the gang laying out boxes and wires along the windows and doors - looking so obviously like explosives. It was going to be a long day she guessed.

"Look, let me just....."

"Uh, uh, I said no talking," Lucinda saw the flabby face nod.

"Haaghhh," she gasped in pain nearly falling over as a cosh lashed across the back of her knees, temporarily deadening her legs and then hurting like hell but she was determined not to cry.

"Now, you do exactly as you're told or you get hurt and so does your friend - and all of these other good people who are relying on you to help them," he waved a large arm at the huddle of frightened people cowering under the threatening coshes and explosives. "Lose the radio, and the utility belt holding your mobile and the other stuff - or lose your friend," the gun pointed at the sergeant. Chewing her lip in frustration she awkwardly struggled to her feet and unbuckled the paraphernalia with one hand and felt it all snatched away behind her.

Lazarus was right, she had already summoned help by pressing the emergency button and she could hear sirens getting nearer. It seemed like she would now get to arrest the bastard after all - there was no way he'd get out of this. And yet he seemed totally unfazed. She hoped that she would actually be around, alive to see the smile wiped off his fat face; it was a chilling thought, which she hastily suppressed, that she might not. He was now smiling again as small metal boxes with flashing lights were attached to the larger explosive boxes, his confidence and composure merely added to her fear and uncertainty.

"Look, face it," her mind whirled desperately, "you can't get away, why don't you haaaaghhhh," she staggered as the thug behind her violently cuffed her head to make her ears sing. Pain throbbed through her. She was a policewoman, who could the bastards treat her like this?

"Every time you talk or disobey you get hurt - you must learn obedience and come to heel little piggy. I think you'll regret trying to bend the rules with me," he smiled again in a worrying way. It left her in no doubt that he did indeed recall her part in his attempted downfall - and that he would probably try to take his revenge. "Take off the silly stab jacket, it's not very flattering to your figure - do it now."

Lucinda had by now realised the futility of not doing as he said. In any case, help was at hand. She undid her thick black jacket and allowed the thug behind to take it, seeing police cars and vans beginning to fill the supermarket car park.

"That's better, makes you look more human and less a stupid law enforcing robot," he surveyed her. "Just to complete the picture I want you to clasp your hands to your head like the prisoner you now are; my prisoner - unless you want me to put your friend out of his misery first - and then I'll simply ask you again." The gun's short stubby barrel swung to the sergeant, Darren, making her belly quake with dread.

Gritting her teeth as her breasts uplifted with her posture, she obeyed, hating the fact that it was now obvious to all those watching that she was in effect no longer a policewoman in control; no longer someone important and in authority - which was one of the reasons she had joined up. Merely she was now helpless a pawn at the mercy of the swine - just like the members of the public cowering in front of the young crooks.

"That's good girl, it shows off your breasts well too," he licked his thick lips - making her shiver with distaste and fear. "We'll continue our interview in that office over there," he pointed with his gun. "Go ahead of me, walk slowly and keep your hands on your head, don't look around, just face forward. You come with me," he nodded to one of his thugs, "and the rest of you proceed to phase two. Throw out the men, just keep the women they are easier to control and will make better publicity."

Feeling fearful and far less confident of a good outcome, Lucinda obediently walked to the supermarket's office door and further away from any possible help. Her poor little police patrol car which had always protected her and with its 'MD7' serial number, denoting it belonged to the Maidstone area, written in large bold letters on the roof would now be standing forlorn in the car park and probably surrounded by other squad cars by now. Her nickname for it was Mad Seven. She wondered who else would get to use that car if anything happened to her. Then angrily she shut down that line of thought; it was defeatist - she would survive and would get to use her car again. But not, with her hands raised and without any of her protective gear - she felt like a prisoner of war. Behind her she heard the thugs herding the staff and shoppers.

"Stand there," Lazarus pointed to a spot in front of a small desk in the office as he wheeled his chair in behind it.

She felt like a schoolgirl summoned to the headmaster's office, but more than anything she felt afraid as one of the hoody thugs who had also entered the room closed the door on them and stood behind her whilst the creep slowly ran his eyes over her. The small room seemed very quiet and oppressive. The only sound was the soft ticking of the large functional wall clock. She licked her lips nervously, her hands balled by her sides as she slowly lowered them, resisting the urge to cross them protectively before her.

"You don't look quite so much like a snoopy little police bitch. You look quite scared now, trying not to let your hands shake eh," he smiled cruelly. And well you might, no one is going to rescue you here."

"But the place is surrounded, you don't stand a chance. Give up now before people get hurt. You haven't really done anything; you'd get away with a light sentence .... I'd speak up for you and....."

"Oh dear," he leaned back in his chair, chuckling heartily. "This doesn't sound like the piggy who thought she could stitch me up, do anything to get me, break rules. Not so brave now eh?"

"No," she whispered, there was no point in her denying it.

"This is all too formal. As you've chosen to lower your hands you may as well use them - take off your tie and shirt."

"What!" Lucinda was truly shocked, suddenly more frightened at the change of tactics, wrong footed and stumbling for words. She was acutely aware of being alone in the room with the two thugs and feared rape. Desperately she tried to regain control of events and steer the conversation. "Look, I'm a policewoman, you-you cannot just ... make me ....... it's ridiculous. Let me talk to the police outside and we can negotiate, sort something out and ......."

"I'm sorry it's all too late for that little girl. You are not in any position to negotiate; you are nothing now, just my hostage. And now I need to make sure you have nothing else hidden on you like another radio, mobile or something."

"Look I can assure you that I have nothing ..."

"I'm afraid that I don't believe assurances from the police and especially you," he leaned back, resting his chin on his fingers." Go outside and shoot the police sergeant in the head," he spoke to the thug behind her. "Tell everyone you are doing it because the silly girl in here is refusing to cooperate. And if she still hasn't started undressing when you return I want you to break one of her fingers, slowly."

"No, wait," she held up her hand, her voice seeming to fill the small room. "Don't hurt him anymore." She liked to think that she would do anything to save any of her colleagues but the fact she and Darren were an item, that they loved each other, and also that he could advance her career made her choice clear. And the thought of having her finger broken clinched it. She remembered feeling sick when she had once read one of the James Bond books where her hero's finger was broken ever so painfully and slowly by an American gangster. She knew that she couldn't take that.

"Well.... Get undressed so that we can see you are clean," Lazarus shrugged.

This was all so frightening and shameful. With clumsy fingers she removed her hat to let her dark hair tumble to her shoulders then pulled off her quick-release tie and, dropping it, began unbuttoning her shirt, feeling it sticking to her with perspiration. She regretted her choice of underwear today, when she revealed a tiny pink lace bra which showed plenty of cleavage and was intended for her planned evening with Darren. She crossed her shaking hands over her exposed flesh feeling her face flushed with shame.

"That's a start my pretty, a very nice start, but I want the trousers off too. And you know what happens if you refuse..."

Biting her lips, Lucinda dropped her top and forced her trembling fingers to obey. She unbuckled her belt and slid her trousers down her long shapely limbs. This was all so embarrassing and frightening. She held the garment in front of her protectively, shielding her charms from the small glinting eyes of her tormentor. But she was equally aware of the sharp intake of breath from behind as the thug by the door was treated to the view of her shapely bottom scarcely concealed by her tiny pink matching thong. Quickly she covered herself behind with her other hand.

"Come now my pretty, why so shy. You're supposed to be a pillar of the local community not a little schoolgirl. Stand up straight, like a policewoman. Stand to attention, arms by your side. Don't make me have to make threats. My colleague behind you will simply shoot your friend and then hurt you, severely, if you play silly games," he waited, staring at her.

With her belly churning Lucinda somehow dropped the garment and forced her hands down by her side. She felt sick at the sight of the creep licking his fleshy lips as his eyes roamed over her.

It was silly - she tried to convince herself - because if she had been on a sun-kissed beach she wouldn't have thought twice about wearing something so skimpy to boast her lovely body. She often wore a miniscule bikini and secretly relished the furtive looks of the men. Now though, it was different, she had no control. She was wearing underwear, an equally skimpy thong, intended though only to be seen by herself or those with whom she was intimate. It was something private now exposed to the full glare of hatred and lust. And she was alone and helpless in a room with two horrible and violent men. If she had the opportunity she would have gone to toilet such was her fear.

"Hmm, very pretty my dear. But I'm sure they are not standard issue, not what I would have expected form a fearless law enforcer," he mocked as his eyes travelled over her. "And now, just to be sure you have nothing concealed about you I'd like you to remove those last two garments please and let us see you as nature intended.

"Please....you can't expect....." she looked at her tormentor with wide pleading eyes... "Please I've nothing on me, nothing under there. Please don't make me...."

"You're obviously not as clever as I gave you credit for," he scowled into her shining face. "I'm growing tired of your stupidity and failure to do as you're told. You will undress but it seems first that we will have to shoot your sergeant - shoot him in the belly please so he dies slowly and in agony," he nodded to the thug behind her," and then you may decide what finger gets broken and then..."

"No...no please," Lucinda held up her hand as she heard the boy behind her open the door. "Please don't, I'll- I'll do it," she finished in a whisper, hating herself but fearing the consequences of refusal even more.

"Well, I'm afraid you've incurred a, er, penalty now by your initial refusal to obey," he leaned back in his chair, his flabby jowls creasing into a smile.