SCARLET by Jessica Drew Part 5 As Rivers discovers what has happened at the secret bunker in Italy, Sam finally makes his move, bringing events aboard the yacht to a thrilling climax. * * * * * * * * * *

Turin, Italy

Four hours ago…

Black Ops Specialist William Tanner stepped into the interrogation room, the metal slide-door hissing shut and locking automatically behind him. He walked across to the wooden table at the centre of the room, behind which sat a young man. The panel lighting above his head cast him in a spotlight and his head was hung low, his sandy-colored hair unkempt and straggly. From the slow pace of his breathing, Tanner guessed that he was sleeping.

“Water. Drink it.”

Tanner slammed a plastic bottle of water down onto the table, rousing the man. He looked around, his eyes focusing, before looking up at Tanner, a smile slowly broadening across his stubble-flecked face. Tanner could feel his temper rising at the man’s arrogance.

His name was Fields, or so Special Agent Rivers had said. Supposedly he worked for the Scarlet organization, though so far the asshole had remained tight-lipped. And that was about as much as Tanner knew. Any more detail had been on a strictly need to know basis, with Tanner and his team being brought in as nothing more than child-minders. The whole thing made him as angry as hell. Yet again the Black Ops boys were getting treated like thugs for hire by the Agency.

“Feel like talking yet?” Tanner looked down. He wanted to reach out and shake him up, wipe that damn grin from his face. So far he hadn’t got so much as a word out of the man.

Rivers had faired a little better. Tanner had watched from behind the mirrored glass of the control room as he had exchanged a handful of words with Fields, though the sound-proofing ensured that Tanner could not hear what had been said. Rivers had certainly not been forthcoming either. All Tanner knew was that it had something to do with a woman named Antoinette Bellerose, also a Scarlet agent. Rivers had requested her file, though it made for slim reading. She was just as much an enigma as the man sitting before him.

Fields sat silent and began to tap at his leg - a nervous habit that irritated Tanner as much as the smile. He formed fists with his hands, turning to head back to the door.

“Where is Agent Rivers?”

The unexpected sound of Fields’ voice startled Tanner as it echoed in the sparse underground chamber. Tanner’s black combat boots squeaked as he turned back around to face him.

“He’s not here right now. If you’ve got anything to say, you can say it to me.” Tanner straightened his back.

“Oh no, you see, I was hoping for some intelligent conversation.”

Tanner’s nostrils flared. “Listen, I don’t who you think you are. All I know is that you’ve betrayed your country by siding with a terrorist organization. If you cooperate with us now, the courts may be more lenient when deciding your punishment.”

Tanner watched as Fields rolled his head back with mock laughter, clapping his hands together. “Ha! Did you rehearse that? That was very good.” He paused, his head cocked to the side as he briefly considered something. “Wait a minute. You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Tanner took a step forward, “Your name is Samuel Fields. You’re a member of Scarlet.”

“The Agency haven’t told you a thing have they?” Fields tilted his wooden chair back onto two legs, teetering playfully on the balance point.

Tanner felt his anger boil over at the young upstart’s condescending tone. “Okay, you need to shut the fuck up now.”

“A moment a go you wanted me to talk. No you don’t. So which is it? Or is this whole operation just a bit above your head?”

“I’m warning you!” Tanner pointed a threatening finger at Fields.

Fields laughed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Oh come on! We both know the Agency have ordered you not to lay a hand on me.”

“Rules don’t always sit too well with me.” Tanner looked to the mirror along the wall behind him, where the rest of his team would doubtless be watching, but not hearing what was transpiring.

Fields caught Tanner’s eye in the mirror, his smile maddening. “You’d love five minutes alone with me right now wouldn’t you?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Tanner strode back into the control room, the rest of Bravo team looking up from their seats expectantly.

“So what did he say? You guys were really going at it in there!” Matthews asked over-enthusiastically.

“Nothing. Forget about it.” Tanner looked through the one-way mirror, back to where Fields still sat in the interrogation room beyond.

“Shouldn’t we inform Agent Rivers that he’s started talking again?” Willis looked up from his laptop.

“There’s nothing to report!” Tanner rubbed sweat from his brow. “Listen guys, take a break okay? Fifteen minutes. I’ll watch things down here.

“Agent Rivers said two eyes on him at all times. I’ll stand watch with you,” Keyes offered.

“No!” Tanner snapped, quickly reigning himself back in. “I mean, it’s fine. He’s not going anyway now is he?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Tanner sat alone in the control room, listening as the rest of the guys filed down the corridor towards the entrance to the bunker. He could hear their laughing and joking growing fainter.

Tanner laced his fingers, looking through the one-way mirror to the interrogation room. He could see that Fields was sat with his eyes closed, as if in meditation.

“Okay asshole, it’s just you and me now.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Antoinette heard the door hiss, followed by the sound of Tanner’s heavy boots stomping back into the room. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air as her eyes snapped open.

“Did you miss me?” She smiled, pushing back her chair to stand up. She staggered a little, still unused to the increased height of her male body. She held her arms out as Tanner approached. “So how do we do this?”

Antoinette reeled back as the sharp shock of Tanner’s punch hit her jaw. She shook her head, dazed, bringing her hand up to her cut lip.

“This is how we do things in Black Ops, Mister Fields.” Tanner threatened, approaching her.

Antoinette quickly regained her stance, beginning to circle around Tanner, like two boxers in a ring sizing each other up. “I’ve never had someone hit me like that before,” she grinned through her bloodied mouth, “It’s quite… exhilarating.”

“Really?” Tanner mocked, “Then you should try this.” He threw a punch to her abdomen, winding her, causing her to fall back towards the sealed door of the room. Tanner approached, his right fist raised.

“No, please!” Antoinette wheezed, shielding her face, “I’ll talk, please just… give me a moment… need to…catch my breath.”

She watched carefully as Tanner turned his back, a masculine swagger in his walk from his victory. He turned and pulled the wooden chair back, gesturing to it. “Be my guest.”

“If you insist…” Antoinette calculated that there was now enough distance between them to make her move. She hauled herself to her feet, using the wall for support, then quickly turned to the hexadecimal keypad beside the electronically locked door. The fingers of her right hand darted across the keys in a fast, fluid motion. By now she was well practised.

Antoinette had known that Sam Fields’ body held the override commands, locked deep into muscle memory from years of constant use. Ever since her capture, she had ceaselessly tapped at her leg, searching for the right combination of letters and numbers. She had found that the best state to access the latent sub-conscious processes had been on the edge of sleep, so had dozed or meditated whenever she could.

Antoinette’s thumb slid across the thumbprint sensor just as Tanner began to run at her. The door hissed open and she slid through, jabbing at the lock override button from the other side. The door hissed shut just in time. Tanner would have crashed against the door, hammering to be let out, but the sound dispersion properties masked any sound from the interrogation room.

Antoinette gasped for breath, laughing. She sucked at her cut lip, tasting blood.

* * * * * * * * * *

Antoinette unlocked the tail door to one of the four wheel drive jeeps parked just down from the barn. She hefted the laptops inside, liberated from the control room inside of the bunker. She gave a last look back to the barn, sweeping a hand through her hair.

After escaping the interrogation room, the rest had been easy. She had found a semi-automatic rifle in the control room and set up position. She had waited, crouched, her aim fixed on the far end of the corridor.

The men had eventually returned. It had been like shooting fish in a barrel in the tight confines of the bunker, but still one of them had managed to make a break for it. She had hurried after him, catching up with him in the barn above. Her usual steady aim had been wild and erratic, her body unused to the balance and recoil of the weapon, but the man had gone down all the same.

Everything had gone according to plan.

Antoinette slammed the tailgate shut and made for the driver-side door. She had Sam Fields’ body, and now she had a pair of Agency laptops. Scarlet would be pleased.

* * * * * * * * * *

Turin, Italy

Now…

Rivers’ shoulder flared with pain as he crashed against the wall of the interrogation room. He turned, bringing a hand up to shield himself, bracing for another blow.

“Agent Rivers?” Tanner stopped, backing up.

“Tanner?” Rivers accepted Tanner’s arm as he helped pull him upright. “What the hell is going on?” He clasped his painful right shoulder, rotating it in its socket.

“I… I don’t know how… but Fields knew the code to get out. He fucking knew, and then the bastard locked me in with an override!” Tanner looked exasperated, his forehead glistening with beads of sweat.

Rivers turned to look at the keypad display blinking beside the interrogation room’s door, his mind racing. How had Antoinette done this? How did she know the codes?

“Where’s the rest of the guys, are they still here?” Tanner asked, his voice quiet.

Rivers looked at Tanner solemnly. Tanner saw the look in his eyes and brought his hands up to his head. “Oh god…”

“Bottom line, we’ve fucked up, big time.” Rivers rubbed at his eyes wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to Director Millar.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam Fields murmured in his sleep. The shadowy figure in black had returned to his dreams, though this time they were chasing him, whereas before it had been the other way around. Sam gasped, his eyes flicking open, his pulse racing.

A large seagull crowed at him from the railing surrounding the deck, before taking flight. Sam sat up with a start from the sun lounger, his naked breasts shifting on his chest. He looked down at his body. His golden blonde hair lay across his shoulders, following the curve of his large bare breasts, his exposed nipples thick and pink. His waist tapered inwards, his hips perfectly curved, his legs long, smooth and elegant. Between his legs, a small pink triangle of fabric covered his smooth female loins. Sam was relieved to find that his thong had dried out in the Sun, with only a barely noticeably white mark remaining. He also noticed that despite Maria’s thorough application of sun cream, his skin was now slightly pinkish from where he had caught the sun.

He turned to look at Maria, finding her still laid out on her lounger, her eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. He watched her bare breasts rising and falling with her deep breathing and guessed that she was still sleeping.

It felt quiet on the open deck. All Sam could hear was the gentle breaking of waves and the distant caw of seagulls. It took him a minute or two to realise that the engine was not running and that the yacht was now stationary.

Sam turned his head, looking out to the port side of the yacht. He could just about make out the outline of, what he guessed was, Italy on the horizon. They had finally arrived. But why were they not heading in to shore?

Sam’s flat stomach growled with hunger. He took a banana from the fruit bowl that Eduardo had left on the small table between their sun loungers. He peeled it and brought it to his lipstick covered lips, taking a large bite.

“Hmm, Carlos will need to be careful when you come to suck his cock. He might just lose it!” Maria laughed, sitting up.

Sam nearly choked as he swallowed a mouthful.

“What are you saying about me?” The door to the interior of the yacht opened and Carlos Ramirez stepped out onto the deck.

Sam instinctively reached for his pink bikini top, but Maria pushed his arm back. Sam left the top, feeling himself blush with his exposure.

“Antoinette was just saying how she was looking forward to sucking your cock.” Maria looked straight at Sam smiling wickedly.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” Carlos groaned in his thick Spanish accent, walking over and running his hand through Sam’s silky blonde hair. He wore a white t-shirt that stretched around his ample frame, along with a tight pair of swimming shorts. From his seated position on the sun lounger, Sam could clearly see the threatening bulge beneath his shorts. “We have some time to kill before we need to travel inland to Rome, so we will hold anchor here until the evening. I am going to take the jet-ski out, but maybe when I am back Antoinette can show me her talents.”

Sam could feel his blood running cold at the thought. The door behind him opened again and Eduardo emerged, his head bowed, looking straight down at the deck as he began to fuss and tidy plates from the larger circular dining table.

This time Sam draped a protective arm across his breasts, scooting his legs up towards his body. It was bad enough that he was practically naked in front of Carlos and Maria, let alone Eduardo.

Ramirez chuckled. “You do not have to cover up in front of Eduardo. He is not interested in that sort of thing anymore. Isn’t that right Eduardo?”

Eduardo’s eyes darted, refusing to meet Ramirez’s gaze as he nodded agreement.

Maria leant towards Sam. “One time Carlos caught Eduardo watching me getting changed.”

“Yes, the filthy little rat.” Sam looked back up as Carlos took up the story. “I had Gaul take him away and perform a little procedure on our lover boy.” Ramirez’s black moustache rippled as he grinned.

Sam looked to Eduardo. He looked so frantic and frightened. Carlos leant down towards Sam, lowering his voice, speaking more slowly and deliberately.

“I had his cajones… removed...” Carlos made a gesture with his hand, as if twisting fruit from a tree. “Gaul is a perfectionist when it comes to these sorts of things. He made sure they were brought to me completely intact.”

Sam watched as the plates Eduardo held began to rattle.

“When Eduardo had recovered, I had him cook up… a special meal for Maria…” Ramirez looked over at Eduardo. “I made him watch as she ate.”

There was a loud crash as Eduardo dropped the plates onto the floor, fragments of white ceramic scattering in all directions. Sam jumped to his feet horrified at Carlos and Maria’s revelation, one arm across his breasts as he reached for his bikini top.

“I…I need to use the bathroom,” Sam’s feminine voice stammered, as he hurried off into the yacht.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam’s pink high-heeled sandals clicked rapidly as he marched onto the bridge, his breasts bouncing beneath his bikini top as he finished tying it in a bow behind his back. He made his way past Joseph to look out over the rear of the yacht.

“They…they’re crazy!” Sam could feel himself shaking as he looked down to the deck below where Maria still lay topless on her sun lounger. Eduardo had fetched a dustpan and brush and was busily tidying the fragments of broken plate from the deck.

“You only just noticed?” Joseph turned, folding his arms, his biceps stretching the open white shirt that he wore.

“Did you know about Eduardo? What they did to him?” Sam’s French accent came through stronger, his feminine voice rising in pitch.

“I know.” Joseph’s eyes quickly glanced down at Sam’s bikini-clad body. “And believe me, it could have been worse. He’s lucky he’s still alive. Most people who get on the bad side of Ramirez usually don’t fare so well.”

“It…it’s inhumane…”

“What were you expecting exactly? This is Carlos and Maria Ramirez we’re talking about here, not Donny and Marie.”

Sam took a deep breath, his eyes glistening as he looked out towards the coastline of Italy. He felt Joseph come up beside him. He seemed tall, though in truth he was probably no taller than Sam had been as a man. Joseph unbuttoned his white shirt, slipping it from his body. He offered it to Sam.

“Put this on, before you catch a cold.”

Sam looked up at Joseph’s rugged face, his disarming eyes. He slipped his slender arms through the shirt as Joseph held it, pulling it around his small feminine body. The shirt hung loose around his small shoulders and came down long enough to cover his backside. Sam was glad of the coverage, his pink bikini top and thong leaving little to the imagination.

“Thanks,” Sam offered quietly. He glanced at Joseph’s muscular chest, toned and hard beneath the white vest that he had been wearing under his shirt.

“Antoinette?” Joseph’s deep voice made Sam look up. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” Sam answered, worrying whether Joseph suspected anything.

“I saw you this morning, down on the lower deck with Ramirez.” Joseph held Sam’s gaze, despite his embarrassment, looking him straight in the eye. “I also watched you fix the GPS yesterday. You’re a smart woman. Why settle for something like this?”

Sam gripped at his borrowed shirt, pulling it tighter around his chest. He could feel his still raw emotions begin to well to the surface once more.

“You think she… You think I have a choice?” Sam quickly corrected himself.

“Everyone has a choice Antoinette.”

Sam began to fume inside. All those women and children that Ramirez was trafficking certainly didn’t have a choice.

“How can you say that?” Sam began to raise his voice a little. “What about you? If everyone has a choice, then why are you here?”

Joseph turned and walked to the opposite side of the bridge, rubbing at the back of his head. “Because I made the wrong choice.”

Sam could sense that Joseph was recalling something painful. He walked slowly over to join him, his smooth legs brushing one in front of the other as he walked. He glanced down to where Joseph was looking, seeing Carlos Ramirez on the lower deck, lowering a jet-ski down onto the water using a powered winch, its gears grinding loudly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam offered at last.

“There’s not much to tell.” Joseph closed his eyes and sighed as Sam waited patiently.

“I was working down in Tampa Bay,” he began at last. “I had a pretty successful trade renting and selling yachts with my business partner Leon. I’m talking top of the range stuff too. Big commissions.” Joseph turned to look down at Sam.

“It wasn’t strictly above board. We raised the capital by borrowing from one of the big local drug gangs. In return, we paid a monthly tax and let them use one of our warehouses to store some powder. We were young enough and dumb enough to believe we could make it work.”

Joseph looked down and rubbed at his hands, dirty with engine oil.

“Then one day we get a visit from Carlos Ramirez. We’d heard about him, of course. He’s pulling the strings of a lot of the old gangs. Says we owe him for the loan and wants us to sign over a majority share in the business.”

Sam watched as Joseph’s brown eyes began to glisten.

“Now Ramirez, he could have killed us both there and then. Taken whatever he wanted. But he’s not stupid. He knew that we were good at what we did. He needed one of us to still run the business.”

Sam and Joseph both turned at the sound of a motor revving up below. They looked out, watching as Ramirez began to ride the jet-ski away from the yacht. Although the sea was calm, the speed of the vehicle caused it to slap heavily against the water, sending white spray up into the air.

“One of you?” Sam prompted.

Joseph shook his head, looking down at the floor. He moistened his dry lips with his tongue.

“Ramirez…he…uh…threw a gun down between us. Told us to decide quickly before he ordered his men to shoot us both. Leon…he…. just kept screaming at them. He was going to get us both killed…I…”

“You made the wrong choice,” Sam finished for him. He didn’t need to hear the rest. Ramirez had revealed that much. It would have been easy to take the moral high ground and say what Joseph should have done in that situation, though Sam couldn’t say for sure what choice he would have made under the same circumstances. He had already made some surprising choices himself since coming aboard the yacht.

Joseph shook with pent up rage, surprising Sam when he slammed a hand against the window, as if striking out at Ramirez beyond.

“Joseph, listen,” Sam began, his hand resting on Joseph’s arm, “I’m getting out of here. Today. When we go ashore.” Sam nodded to the coast line of Italy. “Come with me.”

“You’re getting out of here?” Joseph blew out, shaking his head with disbelief. “I really hope you do. Really. But I can’t. I made my choice back in Tampa Bay.”

Sam nodded, looking up at Joseph’s sad eyes. He pulled his shirt tighter around his feminine body, folding his arms under his breasts as walked slowly to the stairwell.

Alone.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers tried his cell phone for the third time, keying in his ID and swiping his thumbprint before attempting to establish a secure link to the Agency HQ communications network. The line was dead. He leant back against the tree he was stood under, looking up to the jewels of sunlight that glinted through the leaves and branches above.

In the distance he could see the barn casting its mournful shadow. Tanner had been unenviably tasked with moving Matthews’ body back underground until they could get a clean-up crew in.

Tanner had taken the loss of his team bad. He’d blamed himself. By the sounds of it he’d been drawn in and deceived by Antoinette, but hadn’t they all? No, this rested squarely on the shoulders of the Agency. Bravo team had been kept in the dark about the whole thing and knew nothing of the swap between Sam and Antoinette. All they had been told was that they had apprehended a Scarlet agent. None of the team knew, or had met Sam previously so they had no reason to believe otherwise.

Rivers had known straight away from the top secret briefing held months ago at HQ, that the plan was far too elaborate. Too many things could go wrong, and sure enough they had. He felt angry at the Agency, but knew that they would try and pin this all on him. He was fired up, ready to have it out with Millar.

Suddenly the phone vibrated in Rivers’ hand. He looked down at the caller ID. It was blank. He quickly snapped the phone open.

“Hello?”

“Rivers? This is Director Millar…”

“Sir?” Rivers was surprised. “You know this is an unsecured line.”

“I’ll be brief.” Millar’s tone was grave. “We’ve had a major security breach. We’ve had to shut down most of our systems.”

“What?” Rivers began to pace, rubbing his head. Everything seemed to be happening too fast.

“Twenty minutes ago a full database download was initiated from an Agency laptop. They got well over half of everything before our security guys pulled the plug.”

“Antoinette…” Rivers kicked futilely at the dirt beneath his feet. “Sir, there’s no sign of her at the bunker and I have three men down here. Two laptops are missing…”

There was a pause and Rivers wondered whether Millar was still on the line.

“Our boys are still reverse engineering what happened.”

Rivers looked over to the barn. He could see Tanner making his way back down the path towards the parked vehicles. Rivers rubbed at his still aching shoulder. “Do we have a location fix on the download?”

“Rome.”

“I’m on it.” Rivers snapped the cell phone shut and started to jog back towards the cars.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam stood outside of the door to Carlos Ramirez’s office on the mid-level of the “Oro del Diablo”, the varnished wood creating a dim reflection of his blonde, made-up feminine face. In the distance he could hear the whine of the jet-ski as Ramirez amused himself, well away from the yacht.

Sam brought a slender hand up to the door, his pink nail-polished fingers touching the smooth wood thoughtfully. He had intended to head back out to the deck before someone came looking for him, but had instead found himself drawn to the now empty room.

This was it. This was his chance.

He pushed at the door which swung slowly inwards. Part of him wished it hadn’t, that it had been locked and he would simply have to retire back to the deck.

Sam stepped nervously inside, his hips slowly swaying beneath the oversized shirt of Joseph’s that he wore over his pink bikini. The room was small, messy, with papers strewn across the floor. On the wall were various maps and markers, mainly of shipping routes. Straight in front of him was a small desk with a computer.

At last, something he could work with.

Sam carefully pulled the door closed behind him and sat himself down on the wheeled office chair in front of the computer. He could feel his heart beat quickening, his stomach beginning to tie itself up in knots. His hands shook as he brought them to the keyboard.

The computer lit up.

Sam’s feminine hand curled around the mouse as he began to explore the desktop. He found various files and folders, but had no idea what any of it was. Then his eye was drawn to a shortcut to a database, labelled simply “market”. He double-clicked it, finding it password protected.

Sam could get round it. It was just a SQL database with a web based front end, nothing fancy. He began to download some decryption tools from the internet as he brought up a command prompt and began to type.

“Come on, come on!” Sam’s feminine voice whispered under his breath. He grew frustrated by his hands, still finding them unused to the keyboard. He had to concentrate and type one key at a time. Every now and then his shaking hands and long fingernails would clip the wrong key and he would have to delete and start over.

The whine of the jet-ski seemed to grow louder, getting closer to the yacht.

Sam wiped at strands of long hair that had stuck to his forehead, as he slowly, almost painfully, configured the decryption tools.

“Yes!”

The database unlocked, bringing up record after record of women… children…

Thousands…

Images of their solemn black and white faces stared blankly back at Sam, their eyes pleading.

Everything was here… names, locations. Sam’s face felt hot from his elevated pulse. He just had to upload the database to the Agency servers. That would be easy enough, but time consuming given the relatively slow bandwidth of Ramirez’s satellite link. Despite his nervousness, Sam felt invigorated. Finally he was back behind a computer — something he felt he had control over.

Sam’s celebration was short-lived. He stopped and listened. He could no longer hear the engine of the jet-ski.

His nervous hands trembled as he slowly began to jab the connection string to the Agency network into the command line.

Sam had been involved in the development of the Agency’s security systems right from the beginning. He’d signed countless confidentiality documents, but that hadn’t stopped him from coding his very own back door into the Agency system, just encase he ever needed it. It was low level stuff. They would never find it unless they went right back to basics in redevelopment.

Sam’s surroundings began to fall away as his mind reached inwards, planning ahead; which Agency server he would connect to, which masking algorithms he would use... His typing had even begun to speed up a little, as he approached that rare trance-like state of mind when hours of coding could rush by in what seemed minutes.

Then he stopped.

Sam couldn’t remember his override code! His feminine hands hovered over the keys, not knowing which one to press next.

“Merde! Je ne m'en souviens pas!”

Sam gasped bringing a hand to his mouth. His mind began to suddenly fill with French verbs and tenses.

“Non! Qu'est-ce qu'il m'arrive?” his feminine French voice exclaimed. He shook his head, almost beginning to panic, when just as suddenly his mind cleared again.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as the code sequence finally came to him. Shaken but undeterred, Sam jabbed in the code with his index fingers. His heart sank as he read back the message on the screen.

“Connection denied.”

He glanced towards the door. He could hear voices in the distance. Carlos Ramirez was now back on the deck of the yacht, talking with his wife.

Sam didn’t have time to try and diagnose the problem, especially given his body’s unfamiliarity with the keyboard. No, he would have to upload the database to his own personal web space. He quickly opened a web browser, logged in and started the upload.

While he waited, Sam brought up a GPS map of their current position, finding the “Oro del Diablo” anchored just off the coast of Civitavecchia on the west coast of Italy. The town had numerous trade routes leading into the mainland, including Rome, where Ramirez was due to meet with the mafia.

Sam brought up his personal cell phone provider, logged into the account and used it to send a one word text message to Rivers.

“Civitavecchia.”

He watched the upload progress bar as it crept tortuously along.

Fifty percent complete.

“Hurry up!” His voice came high-pitched through his gritted teeth.

There were heavy footsteps now, coming inside the yacht.

Sixty percent complete.

Sam heard the squeak of a door hinge, sending the hairs up on the back of his neck. It was the door to the toilet cubicle across the corridor. He took a deep breath, hovering the mouse over the “close” icon to the web browser, ready to shut off the upload if he was discovered.

Seventy-five percent complete.

Sam’s breasts heaved with his quick breathing, his forehead dripping with sweat.

He heard the flush of the toilet, the click of the latch on the cubicle door as it was unlocked.

Ninety percent complete.

The thud of footsteps now, coming closer, the wooden panelled door to the office creaking as it opened inwards.

One-hundred percent.

Sam closed off the web session, his hair whipping around him as he stood and turned, coming face to face with Carlos Ramirez.

* * * * * * * * * *

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Carlos’ booming voice made Sam’s whole body quiver. He loomed forwards through the tight doorway, his eyes flicking to the computer. “I knew it!”

Sam cried out as the back of Ramirez’s hand struck his cheek, sending him crashing to the floor, his long hair flailing, loose papers kicking up into the air. He barely had time to recover when he felt Ramirez’s hand grip a handful of his blonde hair, pulling him upwards.

Sam shrieked, forced to follow the painful tug at his scalp, his high-heeled feet skidding across the floor.

“Who are you working for?” Ramirez growled, his teeth bared. “It’s Scarlet isn’t it?”

Sam winced through the pain, "I don't know what you're talking about!"

“What’s going on?” Sam heard Maria’s voice as she came up behind her husband, tying off her gold-colored bikini top.

“I caught this little bitch going through my things. She’s a fucking spy!”

“Antoinette? Is this true?” Maria looked genuinely disappointed as Ramirez led Sam out into the corridor by his hair. Sam took small mincing steps to keep up, his breasts bobbing under his shirt. Ramirez threw him against the wall, his effeminate voice crying out once more.

At the far end of the corridor Gaul stalked towards them, his nostrils flaring, cracking the knuckles of each hand.

This was it, Sam thought. He had made the ultimate sacrifice to get the mission done. He would die here on the yacht, alone and forgotten, with not even his own body left to bury. He slid down the wall in defeat until he knelt on the floor, his blonde hair draping around his face.

It was at that moment that fate intervened.

Sam looked up through tear filled eyes, past Carlos, Maria and the approaching Gaul, to the sound of Joseph’s voice as he ran down the stairs from the bridge above.

“Ramirez! We’ve got company. Two heavily armed boats on the horizon, one approaching from the north, the other from the south.”

Ramirez looked up at Joseph, his black moustache twitching as his mind struggled to comprehend all that was happening.

“Scarlet!” Ramirez turned back to Sam casting an accusing finger down at him, “This is your doing bitch!”

“I… I don’t know anything about it…” Sam sobbed from the floor. He still did not know who Scarlet were, or quite what they wanted with Carlos Ramirez, but it didn’t sound as though it boded well for any of them.

“Gaul, take her away, She is yours to do with as you please.” Ramirez dismissed Sam and turned his attention to Joseph. “You! Show me these boats.”

Sam watched as Ramirez followed Joseph back up the winding staircase to the bridge. He wiped his hair away from his face, his bottom lip quivering as he looked up at Gaul. The giant’s oversized hands reached out, plucking Sam’s feminine body from the ground, hefting him across one shoulder with ease.

As Gaul’s heavy feet stomped down the corridor, Sam looked back, his bent body slapping painfully against Gaul’s broad shoulder with each step. He could see Maria Ramirez watching them, her arms folded across her gold-bikini covered breasts. She blew him a kiss, waving as she turned away.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers shifted gear as he weaved in and out of the traffic on the Italian Autostrada, heading east before beginning the drive south towards Rome. He reached up adjusting the rear view mirror, catching site of Tanner’s black jeep following behind in the distance. He took a deep breath and flicked a switch, the driver side window rolling down. The wind howled in his ear. It helped him focus.

As far as they could tell, Antoinette had made off with Bravo team’s Agency laptops and used them to access the network, initiating a download of the main database. How the hell she’d managed that was anyone’s guess. Even Sam, with all that he knew, wouldn’t have had security clearance to pull something like that.

The Agency had managed to pinpoint the use of the laptop to a location in Rome. Rivers just hoped they could get there in time to find Antoinette and recover the downloaded data before she was able to put it to use.

Rivers’ gaze was drawn to his cell phone which sat in a cradle on the dashboard of the car, a green flashing light indicating an unread text message. He reached out, touching the display, the phone illuminating into life.

It was from Sam!

“Civitavecchia,” Rivers read aloud.

With all that had happened, Rivers had scarcely had the time to think about Sam. Not since last night, anyway. Rivers felt a rush of relief. Sam was still alive. He was letting Rivers know where he was.

Rivers looked at the digital clock on the dashboard, trying to figure how long it would take to divert to Civitavecchia. Could he afford the risk of delaying getting to Rome? But what if Sam was in trouble and needed his help?

He still had hours of driving ahead of him. There was plenty of time before he would have to divert and make a decision one way or another.

Rivers looked for Tanner in the rear view mirror, checking he was still within sight, before bringing his foot down onto the accelerator. The engine of the Lamborghini roared.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam’s head nodded and he came to, his blurred vision beginning to focus on his surroundings. He coughed, finding his throat dry and raspy.

Chloroform…

The last thing Sam remembered was Gaul carrying him off, quickly bringing a wet rag to his face. He’d gone out like a light. But how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? In the dimly lit, window-less room, time seemed not to exist.

Sam looked around him, his straggly, sweat drenched hair partly obscuring his vision. The room was sparse, the paint peeling from the walls, the wooden door frame chipped and marked. In place of the usual plush carpeting there was bare unvarnished wood flooring. If it wasn’t for the familiar sway of the yacht on the water, Sam would have thought he’d been taken somewhere else entirely. Above him, in place of the usual recessed lighting, hung a single bulb from a cord of flex. It swung like a pendulum, keeping time with the gentle rocking of the boat.

Sam looked down at his body. He still wore Joseph’s white shirt though it had fallen open, revealing his breasts sparsely covered by his pink bikini top. He was sat… no tied… to a wooden chair. He began to struggle, finding his ankles tied to each of the front legs of the chair, his thighs slightly parted to expose his pink bikini thong stretched tight against his smooth crotch. His wrists had been similarly tied together behind the back of the chair.

Sam pulled at his bonds desperately, rocking the chair back and forth, his feminine voice whimpering with his exertion.

He stopped when he heard movement behind him.

Sam turned his head, his blonde hair falling over his shoulders, watching as Gaul’s heavy shoes thudded against the bare wooden slats. His broad shoulders rolled as he stepped in front of Sam, looking down at his captive. The first thing Sam noticed were his eyes. Gaul no longer wore his sunglasses and his small dark brown eyes appeared almost black in the dimly lit room. He wore a white string vest over his muscular over-sized torso, along with a pair of dirty brown pants held up with a worn leather belt.

Sam began to panic. He remembered the horror story Ramirez had told him about the last girl Gaul had been left with, and knew he had likely been consigned to a similar fate. He watched helplessly as Gaul held up a pair of scissors, gripping them tightly in his right fist. He ran the flat of the blade against Sam’s cheek, almost tenderly, his beady eyes darting like a shark’s.

“Gaul…pl…please…” Sam found his French accented voice begin to plead. “You don’t have to do this.”

Sam trembled, gasping as the scissors slid down, tracing the upper curve of his breasts. With a sudden “snip”, Sam’s bikini top fell away exposing his large firm tits to Gaul. Gaul stepped back intrigued, cocking his head to one side, watching as Sam’s naked chest rose and fell with his quick breathing.

He stepped forward again, gently sliding Sam’s shirt away from his shoulders, tucking the remnants of the bikini to either side. He brought his left hand to Sam’s right breast, pinching the flesh with his large rough-tipped fingers.

“Uh!” Sam winced with the harshness of his touch.

Gaul’s mouth twitched as if stifling a long forgotten emotion. He began to breathe rapidly through his nostrils, producing an unpleasant wheeze.

He brought a hand to Sam’s left breast now, cupping him, feeling the weight of it. Sam turned his head, squirming uncomfortably, desperately trying to loosen the binding that dug harshly into his bound ankles and wrists. When he glanced back to Gaul, he found that his expression had changed.

This time Gaul was smiling.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rivers flicked on the headlights of the Lamborghini Gallardo as the evening began to draw in.

The motorway illuminated ahead of him.

The tires screeched as he changed lanes, narrowly missing the car ahead. Thankfully the Lamborghini emitted a scrambler in its wake, disrupting any roadside cameras, or speed sensors, so that his reckless driving could go mostly unnoticed.

He checked the road signs for his exit, shifting into the correct lane. There was no going back now. He had made his decision.

As Rivers drove on into the night, his cell phone flashed, lighting up from its cradle on the dashboard. He glanced down at the caller ID.

unKNOWN.

It looked as though the Agency were back in business.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tears fell from Sam’s cheeks, dripping onto the slope of his naked breasts.

“Please…”

His voice was merely a defeated whisper now, almost inaudible. He watched as Gaul readied a pair of jumper cables, hardwired into the yacht’s mains supply.

He stood in front of Sam, grinning inanely, several teeth missing. He made a show of opening the alligator clips as his black eyes glanced at Sam’s protruding nipples. Gaul’s shoulders jerked as he began a wheezing laugh that whistled through his missing teeth. Sam trembled as he tapped one electrode against the other, sending a shower of sparks down to the floor.

Sam braced himself…

Suddenly a deafening boom echoed through the vessel, shaking its very structure in a rapid tremor. The yacht began to list immediately, the floor tilting. Sam’s chair fell to the side, the weak wood splintering beneath him as even Gaul struggled to keep his footing.

Sam felt dizzy as a high pitched ringing echoed in his ears.

What the hell was that?

Had they hit something?

Sam looked up to see Gaul slapping at his own head, clearly disorientated. As Sam’s hearing returned he could hear an alarm siren wailing throughout the yacht.

Sam kicked his legs, quickly pulling free of the broken fragments of chair. With surprising suppleness, he managed to slip his legs under his bound arms so that they were no longer held behind his back.

“Gaul…” Sam began, struggling to his high-heeled feet, finding his voice still weak. “Gaul! Do you hear that? We need to get out of here!”

Gaul pushed away from the wall, standing upright, his body leaning forward against the disturbing incline of the deck. He brought the jumper leads up threateningly, as he took slow steps up toward Sam.

Sam’s eyes widened as he backed up, his high heels clicking against the wooden flooring. He watched as water began to rise up under the door, quickly enveloping the floor behind Gaul.

The yacht was sinking!

Gaul took another lurching step forward, water beginning to lap at his feet, the jumpers sparking as he touched them together. Sam felt the far wall pressing against his back. He had nowhere left to run.

In those final moments it seemed as if Sam’s body instinctively took over. He pushed hard with his legs away from the wall, vaulting himself forwards and upwards. His bound hands came up, grasping the cord of the single light that hung precariously from the ceiling.

It held his weight.

He swung, thrusting his legs forward into Gaul’s body. His momentum was not enough in itself and he rebounded back onto the hard wooden floor. However, the incline of the deck, as well as the sharp jab of Sam’s high heels into Gaul’s abdomen, was enough to topple him.

The man-mountain slipped back, sending a ploom of water up around him. Sam scrabbled up the tilted floor, away from Gaul, watching as the electrified jumper cables came down into the water.

The overhead light flickered, the water hissing with steam as Gaul’s body jerked and spasmed.

Sam gasped for breath, pulling his knees up to his chest, watching as Gaul’s body twitched for the final time. The water level rose, submerging his black unblinking eyes.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam gasped for breath, quickly buttoning his shirt over the tattered remains of his bikini top. He fumbled with the ankle straps of his pink high heeled sandals, pulling them free of his small feet, watching as they slid down into the water. He gingerly stepped his bare feet forwards, testing the water with the snapped end of a chair leg.

Once he had convinced himself it was safe, Sam waded forwards, the sea water icy cold as it crept up his smooth bare legs. He struggled with the door, using every ounce of strength his female body had, to wedge it open against the weight of the water beyond.

The corridor was flooded and tilted sideways. Smoke roiled across the ceiling, the lighting panels visible as only a dim haze above. Sam’s breath was shallow and rapid as he waded waist deep into the corridor, his arms held wide to balance on the uneven floor.

The alarm echoed louder throughout the yacht, mixing with the groan of twisting metal and rushing water. Sam coughed against the acrid smoke that caught in his lungs. He pulled himself to the spiral stair case, hefting himself up out of the water, the lower half of his shirt now soaked through. He didn’t know what was happening, but knew he had to get to the top deck, or else go down with the sinking yacht. He hurriedly clambered up the stairs on all fours.

The mid-level was at least still dry, though still listed ominously to one side like some twisted funhouse. Sam stepped barefoot onto the carpet, looking to the far end of the corridor as the lights strobed beneath the dark smoke above him.

A figure all in black was partially illuminated. Sam watched as they stepped slowly forward out of the gloom, brandishing a weapon, their face obscured by a mask and goggles. They paused momentarily, their head tilted to one side, surprised to see him, before bringing their rifle to bear, aiming directly at Sam.

Sam was still so shell-shocked from all that happened that he froze, rooted to the spot, trembling. As much as he wanted to run, his legs now just refused to move.

A shot rang out through the corridor.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam shrieked, bringing his hands up to his mouth in shock, as the figure in black slumped to the floor, rolling with the sideways tilt of the corridor.

The grey clouds of smoke parted as Joseph emerged, a smoking pistol in his hand. He looked down at the body, then up towards Sam.

“Antoinette!” He inched forward, reaching down to exchange his pistol for the dead man’s machine gun, throwing the shoulder strap up over his head. “Thank god you’re still alive. We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve been attacked.”

“By who?” Sam mustered at last, his voice unsteady, his whole body shaking.

Joseph jogged towards Sam, his white vest now blackened and damp. He grasped Sam by his slender wrist, pulling him along behind him. Sam’s legs finally began to move, taking hurried steps to match Joseph’s longer strides, his unrestrained breasts bouncing under his shirt.

“It’s Scarlet. Seems they’ve finally decided to make a move on Ramirez.”

Joseph guided Sam to a ladder which led to the upper deck. His strong arms lifted Sam’s small body half way up, leaving Sam to only climb a few more steps to the open deck above. As Sam ascended, he looked down. Water had just begun to seep into the middle deck as Joseph stepped onto the ladder.

* * * * * * * * * *

The night air was cold and Sam’s long hair picked up in the breeze as he stepped out onto the deck. He automatically offered a hand to help Joseph as he followed close behind, though he soon realised that his small body would not prove much assistance to the larger man.

Sam’s eyes struggled to adjust in the darkness. The sea below was inky black, with only the ripple of moonlight on its surface to distinguish it from the dark sky above.

The “Oro del Diablo” groaned as it continued its slow, awkward slide into the waters below. Smoke billowed from its port side, the flicker of orange flame across its hull.

Sam spun around. Piercing search lights swung towards them from two nearby vessels, dazzling them both.

“Come on!” Joseph took Sam’s hand, leading him along the starboard side of the yacht, ducking out of the view of the searchlights. “We need to get to the jet-ski, it’s our only chance.”

“But what about the others?” Sam shouted above the roar of engines as the surrounding boats scrambled to find them. He swept a hand through his blonde hair, holding it from the strong breeze.

You mean Eduardo?” Joseph instantly dismissed their captors. “I wish we had time, but the lower decks will all be flooded by now.”

Sam shuddered. He felt so sorry for Eduardo and wished that they could have helped him, but Joseph was right. They would be lucky to get away themselves as it was.

They found the jet-ski, bobbing in the water beside the yacht, still held by the now slackened chains of the winch.

“Get on!” Joseph peered over the edge of the yacht. “Before the boats come back around.”

Sam didn’t hesitate. Joseph helped him over the side railing, and he awkwardly climbed over the seat of the jet-ski. Joseph looked nervously around them as he released the chains of the winch from the yacht.

A bullet ricocheted above Joseph’s head and he quickly ducked, bringing his rifle up. Sam watched as Joseph’s determined face lit up with the muzzle flash from his weapon, blindly returning fire.

Sam reached down with a shaking hand, turning the key of the jet-ski. Its small motor hummed into life between his legs.

“Joseph, quick! Come on!” Sam’s feminine voice was all but swept away with the rush of the sea and the roar of engines, as the invading boats loomed closer.

“Just go! I’ll have to draw their fire away from you. They’ll pick you off otherwise.”

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“No, we can still make it!”

Sam jumped as Joseph traded more rounds with his unseen attacker, the gunfire snapping loudly in the night air.

Joseph shouted again, “Antoinette, I’m making a choice. The right one, this time.”

Sam could see the look in his eyes, the sadness returning. He knew that there would be no changing his mind. Not this time.

Sam’s eyes began to well as he revved the engine of the jet-ski, pulling away from the yacht, quickly accelerating up to its top speed. He didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back.

There was another round of gunfire.

Then there was nothing.

* * * * * * * * * *

The jet-ski’s engine whined as Sam brought the vehicle round in a wide arc. The twinkling lights of Civitavecchia began to grow closer.

Water sprayed up around him, his long hair trailing behind him, his white shirt flapping with the speed. He urged the jet-ski onwards, into the night, wishing to go faster still, away from the chaos that lay behind him.

The attacking boats did not seem to be pursuing him. Joseph had done it. He’d diverted their attention and saved Sam’s life. It was a debt he would never have the chance to repay.

The coastline drew nearer. Sam could now see that the lights belonged to yachts and cruise liners, streetlamps, houses, and cafés.

Civilization.

He felt like he’d been away for weeks, not the scant couple of days that it had been. So much had happened. Sam began to scan for a pier, somewhere where he might be able to moor the jet-ski.

He didn’t even see the fishing boat.

All he heard was the crunch of metal as he clipped its bow, the spinning jet-ski throwing him like a rag doll into the black icy waters.

TO BE CONTINUED…