Masters' infiltration of the Red Fist brings her back into contact with the villainous Commissar Sato. Will her disguise hold out..?

CHAPTER TWO contnued...

In the carport, where Lori pulled the Merc up alongside a fleet of identical vehicles, I was scanned for weapons by a guard carrying a Uzi flechette launcher. Then Lori took me through to reception, where my papers were scrutinised once again by another beautiful Caucasian woman in another revealing catsuit. I was told that I should leave my luggage, and it would be taken to my room. I knew it'd be searched so hadn't bothered locking it.

In contrast to the multi-layered grandeur outside, the interior of the House was stark and minimalist, both in layout and decor. Lori kept up a bright stream of chatter as we strolled through a series of bland, white, over-illuminated corridors until I had totally lost my bearings. I mentally stopped and checked myself. In my tiredness, I was forgetting things like basic orientation. I walked on, taking more notice of my surroundings, but my Gucci loafers were beginning to hurt and the bright fluorescents were causing my head to spin. I'd noticed this in the last few weeks - as Jane, I had less stamina than Pierce.

Eventually, we came to an airlock at the end of another white corridor. Lori waved her arm in the direction of a reader panel next to the door. With a hiss, it opened and we went in, the door sealing behind us. Interesting. I wondered how that worked. There was another reader inside, which opened a second door, letting in a waft of flower-scented air. We were in the 'dorm'.

The living area was much less harshly decorated than the area we'd come from. The lighting was low and yellowish, and the walls and floors were wooden. The part we were walking through seemed to be full of leisure amenities. I noticed food machines on many corners. Bilingual signs pointed to facilities such as "Gymnasium", "Swimming Pool", "Onsen Baths", "Game Centre" and "Viewing Platform". Every now and then, we passed groups of young, smiling Western women, who greeted us with friendly little waves. They were all dressed in the catsuits of different colours, which I supposed indicated different functional roles.

Lori led me to a bank of lifts and called one. We travelled without any sensation of movement up six floors to "Habitation Level Four" which, as I'd anticipated, looked very much like a hotel corridor. The rooms were numbered; mine being room 404. Lori let me in with another vague wave of her arm, gave me a little smile and a hug (a bit unexpected), then told me I'd be paged soon, and that I'd find full instructions (for what?) in my personal data tablet. Then she was gone, with the ubiquitous little wave.

I was alone at last.

Aware that the room was almost certainly peppered with surveillance devices, I lay down on the bed and tried to behave unsuspiciously. Eyes half-closed as if tired, I swept the room, its features, exits and obstacles, committing them to memory. Not difficult in the box-like confines of the room. I stretched, rose and walked to the bathroom, again ostensibly just to freshen up. I made sure that I made a lot of steam with the shower before stripping down, just in case there was visual surveillance in there - didn't want any unexpected anatomical details to be captured.

The shower was excellent and I felt a lot better when I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling scrubbed, fragrant and hot in my black panties and bra. I walked over to the window and slid it open, walking out onto the small balcony which overlooked a sheer drop. High up on the mountainside in the gathering gloom, the heat was less oppressive and the freshening breeze ran cool fingers over my bare skin and hair.

Looking over the treetops to the glinting sea, I was again struck by the great beauty of the Japanese countryside. Quickly, I scanned for paths and escape routes. Apart from the main switchback road along which we had ascended to the House, I could see a narrow, steep, winding path cut into the forest, which seemed to lead directly down to the ocean side. Promising. Otherwise, the thick forest seemed impenetrable.

I heard a gentle chime from the room behind me. Back inside, a purple light was pulsing softly on my desktop tablet. I went over and touched the screen to read the message.

"Please report to Commissar Sato's office in your uniform, 20:00 hrs."

I dismissed the message and sat for a while. Things were about to get interesting.

***

The first thing to be clear about over Sato is that she is physically incredible. One of the most striking women I've ever encountered, in fact. Tall, statuesque even, for a Japanese, she just outstripped me by a couple of centimetres in her spike heels. A brutal face, yes, but porcelain perfect, as always with flawless, doll-like make up - beautiful in its cruelty. She had the poise of an athlete-hunter, of a creature who lived purely by instinct and sensual response, as she walked up to me in the softly-lit corridor outside her office, coolly appraising me with no expression on her face. She was dressed in a tailored leather skirt suit, flaunting her long, rangy body; her to-die-for legs encapsulated in sheer black stockings. A mannish white shirt and black tie completed the ensemble. The starched cuffs of the white shirt projected from the leather sleeves of the jacket and were fastened with an unusual and elegant pair of carved wooden cufflinks. She noticed me looking.

"You like them? They are from my hometown in Shikoku. Renowned local carving style. Hello. I am Commissar Sato, Miss Jane. Please come in."

She swept into her office, flicking her jet-black, die straight waist length hair behind her. She sat on a sofa and beckoned me to sit next to her as she offered me tea. The last time I had seen her she had just removed the eyes of a young deserter with her thumbs and laughed at his screams for a full minute before shooting him dead through the mouth. Nevertheless I sat, smiling pleasantly. I wanted to get close to this beguiling, murderous woman so that she would divulge her secrets to me before I ended her life.

As I sipped the tea, Sato explained the security arrangements, which, it turned out were built into my uniform. The uniform catsuits, into one of which I was now squeezed, were not only extremely snug fitting, but laced with some pretty sophisticated tech, which meant that none of "us girls" could step out of permitted areas of the House without setting off some rather lethal-sounding countermeasures. As I had been forced to submit all my own clothing to the care of House security, five catsuits was all I had to wear for the foreseeable future. Ergo I had some thinking to do if Jane Masters was to investigate the complex without ending up as steak tartare.

My suit was made out of some reflective, dark red material similar in look to latex but with a skin feel closer to neoprene. I have to confess that when I opened up the wardrobe and saw five of the bloody things hanging there, I swore. Did I really feel confident enough about this body to flaunt it so extravagantly? I was finding out now (as if I had much choice).

It was a one piece that you stepped into like a leotard, very tight on the thighs and bum. Above the waist it became a very skimpy halter that left my back completely bare and didn't leave much to the imagination in the chest department either. The split in the middle of the halter plunged down way past my boobs and finished well below the navel. A little chain link belt was stitched onto the hips, finishing the look. Before I had fastened it all up, I'd made bloody well sure that I was extremely well tucked. Didn't want any unexpected bulges spoiling the smooth, shiny front down there. Also in the wardrobe I'd found a very cute pair of pink trainers with a silver Converse star on either side and two-inch block heels. I'd slipped them on and taken a look in the full-length mirror.

Wow. Well, you could tell a man must have designed these things. It was made to please men's eyes. I'd had to look away because I was getting turned on and I didn't want to have to take it all off to retuck myself. I felt proud in a confused sort of way. Proud of my curves, which were outstanding (literally) in this outfit. Confused, and a bit ashamed for thinking that too. I felt very sexy though. I could definitely have fun with Bond in this getup.

I studied Sato as she went over some of the facilities at my disposal. I have to admit that I felt extremely attracted to her as well. I knew that she was a cold-hearted and sadistic killer. But there was just something dominant and powerful about her flawless beauty that made me go all gooey below. I shook my head and tried to stay calm, sipping more tea. Jesus, my mission would go west bloody quickly if I kept going all nympho at the slightest provocation. But what could I do - they'd dressed me like some filthy Barbie doll slut.

Sato lit a cigarette and offered me one. I took it and let her light it. Again, I'd completely stopped paying attention and had to try to focus again.

"-so you will be meeting Masakazu and Koichiro, the Director's twins tomorrow morning at breakfast. I will also expect to see an initial study plan which I can pass on to Akaguchi-san at that time."

"Will I get to meet the Director? It would be interesting from a teacher's point of view to get the parent's perspective - their hopes, aspirations?"

Sato shook her head. "Regrettably, not in the near future. Director Akaguchi is very busy on overseas business at the moment. But I," she tapped her chest with the tips of her red nails, "am fully authorised to act as the parental proxy."

"In that case," I said, "may I ask you what you think the objectives for the twins' education are?"

Sato nodded and paused before resuming. "One day, the Director's sons will inherit the organisation. At that time, we will be a global brand with leverage across many races and cultures. English is a language that is, I believe, widely used." Sato smiled, showing slightly pointed teeth behind her crimson lips. "The Director's sons must be fluent in the languages of our... customers. That is your task, starting tomorrow."

I had no reply to this and simply nodded, so Sato went on. "I'm sure that you will find the task rewarding, Miss Jane. The boys are extremely conscientious and diligent pupils. They will show respect to an educator who respects them." Sato smiled, blowing a cloud of smoke.

I was more convinced now than ever that Akaguchi had been deposed, probably murdered, by Sato, who had taken his place at the head of the Red Fist of Justice. But how did the children fit in?

***

Sato wasn't wrong about the boys. As I sat and listened to them sing the alphabet song in our beautiful classroom, high above the forest, I could tell that they were special. They were spooky in the way that identical twins often were, acting almost as though they were locked telepathically, but it was more than that. They both had a stillness about them. I think that, if I was being a clichéd westerner, I'd say "Zen-like". It made you feel calm being around them, as though they were somehow charmed. I guess in conventional terms, they were unbelievably charismatic and beautiful. Big round heads and lovely long-lashed anime eyes. Unspoilt by age, uncorrupted by power, untouched by greed. It was outside my mission scope, but I felt a strong moral urge to protect them and stop them from growing up into powerful and ruthless killers, which they would surely do if left in this tainted environment.

On a more superficial level, I really enjoyed teaching them too. They were receptive, attentive, funny (as little Japanese kids often are), unbelievably bright and polite. I think they've taken to "Miss Jane" too. Yeah, we hit it off. Of the two, Koichiro, the first born was slightly the more assertive and extroverted. Masakazu tended to reflect longer and come up with more considered thoughts. They were seven years old. Eight next month.

I had been teaching them two hours a day now for a week. An hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon except Wednesdays which was my afternoon off (tough life, eh?). The rest of the time I spent putting on a convincing social front, swimming, tanning myself on the deck and exercising in the gym. For security reasons the girls were not allowed out individually, so I fell in with a group of South African and Australian women who seemed to hang out together and welcomed a "toffee-nosed pom" into their clique to use as the butt of their good humoured jokes.

We went down to the private beach at the end of the winding forest path and talked about boys, travel, home. A couple of times we drove down to the small town to look round the shops and markets and hang out. Of course, a group of loud, long-limbed, athletic Western women in a provincial Japanese town tends to attract attention in the same way that a carcass attracts hyenas. Ogled is not the word. Trish, a straightforward Aussie, who was one of the incredibly glamorous flight of all-female helicopter pilots employed at the House, put it nicely as we sashayed past a group of slack-jawed youths: "Jane, I'm contemplating the sound of one jaw dropping. And another one. And another one..." Of course Red Fist owned the town and the men of Tsuruga knew that the reprisals should they touch one of us Fist girls would be quick, decisive and terminal.

Look, but don't touch, boys. Poor things.

While in town, I noticed the boy from the train several times. He had obviously developed quite a thing for me and would smile shyly every time I made eye contact with him. I thought he was going to have a coronary the first time he saw me strut into town with my girlfriends in my red catsuit. He seemed to be one of a group of chimpira (wannabe mobsters) who'd hang around the bars in the dock area running little rackets or zooming around on scooters with the goal of trying to get noticed by Red Fist. I marked him out as a potential last resort ally if things got sticky. The other man from the train - the middle aged type who I'd had marked as an operative was nowhere to be seen. Could be I made a wrong call on him.

So the week had passed quickly. On the quiet, I was snooping round the network from the tablet in my room trying to get a feel for the sort of security in place. My hacking 'ware was well disguised as a set of commercially sold English teaching tools. To the observer I was conscientiously working on the boys' lessons while poking round the data reefs of the Red Fist of Justice. I was 100% certain that I could look round the public parts of the House network without leaving a trace, unless someone specifically knew that I was in there. Even then it would take an exceptionally good human operator to trace me back. The standard software wouldn't have a chance.

Over a couple of days, it became rapidly apparent that while non-sensitive information (laundry invoices, general personnel records, vehicle requisitions) was quite easy to acquire from my room deck, I would not be able to get near any of the good stuff from this terminal. That made my mission strategy clear:

1. Disable security countermeasures in my uniform
2. Locate and hack physical terminal within secure network
3. Acquire data, encrypt and transmit back to Vauxhall
4. Kill Sato
5. Escape alive (*tricky*)

Tough, but doable...

I finished the day's afternoon class by going though the animal flash cards with the boys as usual. They would read in turn: "Lion, Zebra, Dog, Monkey (they always giggled at that one - don't ask me why), Goldfish, Cat, Rabbit (they'd mastered the "L" and "R" sounds amazingly quickly), Bird, Elephant, Snake, Panda, Frog, Mouse, Duck."

I smiled. "Very good boys. Tomorrow, we'll start a different set of cards. Please come back in the morning with five English words that begin with "C". Okay?" Then I switched to English. "Now what do we say?"

All together we shouted "Goodbye!!" waving our hands. They stood and bowed and walked to the door as I picked up my things. At the door, Koichiro paused and said in halting English. "Miss Jane. Thank you. We like very much." He blushed furiously and ran off after his brother.

I stood in the empty classroom for a while, unsettled by Koichiro's comment but not knowing why.

To be continued.