Tara s Bayou Level 1 Fresh Meat
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Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 28 free porn video
Resuming his position at the kitchen doors, the old Chinese carefully controlled the waiters as they successfully served Dingo’s guests. Then, tiring of the charade, he turned, pushed on the swinging doors into the kitchen and grunted an order in Cantonese.
Carrying a roasted pig’s head on a huge platter, two waiters appeared. They followed the old Chinese as he painfully hobbled to stand behind Jennifer. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Peter placed his hand on Jennifer’s shoulder as he leant across her to place a plate of chilies, swimming in fish oil and soy sauce, on the table in front of her.
Turning her head, she looked into his heavily disguised face and for an instant, her eyes shone with recognition and warmth. Then, just as quickly, a dull reflection of fear and hurt replaced that look in her eyes.
Peter snatched her chopsticks and slashed them past one Arab’s eyes to drive them upright into a bed of rice – a sign of death. At the same time, the two waiters placed a roasted pig’s head before the Arabs.
In that split second, horrified, the Arabs recoiled from the pig’s head on the table in front of them. Dingo looked as if he were about to explode.
Peter punched his Cobra ring into the throat of the Arab who still held his hand under Jennifer’s skirt.
A scream rent the air and the lights went out.
Within minutes, the lights came on and the party, still seated at the table found they were alone with a dead Arab face down on the pig. There were the twin puncture wounds of a snake’s fangs in his throat. No sound had alerted them to the fact that the waiters had completed their mission and had slipped away into the night.
The two police officers and the politicians were quick to leave the scene.
As arranged, Ghurkha drivers had their cars in place. They picked up the conspirators in the darkness of the alley so that the waiters left nothing for inquisitive police except the security tapes playing ‘M… I… C… K… E… Y… Mickey Mouse.’
Knowing they had some time before anyone returned to Hunters Hill, the drivers travelled carefully. The main gates were open and the Ghurkhas at the main gate smiled, waving them through. The procession of cars stopped, dropped their passengers then sped off.
As he walked into the large formal entertaining area Peter noticed saw two guards dead, garrotted on the floor, while six others sat, tied to their chairs. Unfettered in anyway the Thai Katoey was angrily stamping her anger at her captors who stood grinning, amused at her actions.
The Katoey was furious.
‘You wait until Dingo hears about this. You’ll be sorry,’ and the Katoey continued to scream until Peter put his face close to hers.
Staring hard into her eyes, he bellowed in Thai, ‘Shut up whore! Before long you will regret you ever met me.’
Maybe it was the cruelty in his voice, maybe it was his Thai that made the Katoey stop her wailing threats. A puddle of urine formed at her feet.
The Ghurkhas laughter was contemptuous.
The RSM called to Peter from another room. ‘I believe you should see this.’ As Peter entered the entertainment room where three Ghurkha’s stood waiting stoically, the RSM pressed a button on the DVD player.
A pornographic film burst into life on the screen. It began in a bedroom. As the action progressed, a door opened and two men dragged a red headed woman through the doorway and threw her onto the bed. Like piranhas in a blood-filled stream, they tore the clothes from her body ignoring her screams for help and pleas to release her.
When the men had first dragged the woman into the room, Peter had been uncertain that it was Jennifer because of her dress, hairstyle and look of being an over-used whore. However, he instantly recognized her voice.
The film continued, revealing the Thai Katoey’s involvement in the sexual degradation and humiliation of Jennifer.
Without waiting for the film to end, he gave the order, ‘Bring the DVD!’ Storming back to the main room with Dingo’s guards, Peter stood, emotionless studying their faces. In Tamil he barked an order, ‘Kill them!’
The guards gurgled and struggled against the silken loops around their necks then quickly dropped lifeless to the cold floor.
Turning to the Katoey, he unsheathed the khukuri hanging from his belt.
‘Please, please I didn’t know. If you spare me I can make you a rich man.’ Terrified the Katoey fell to her knees with the bodies of the dead guards around her.
Nicking his thumb, Peter returned his khukuri to its sheath. Motionless, he stared into the quivering wretch’s eyes and then, through gritted teeth, demanded in shrill Thai. ‘Show me and be quick.’
Almost running in her eagerness, the katoey led the group to the study where she pulled back a bookcase and opened the wall safe.
Hurling the ladyboy to one side and, taking a long look into the safe Peter bellowed, ‘Bring the large van that was traded today. Now!’
Terrified the Katoey lay on the floor watching, aware that it was only a matter of time before she would die.
As Peter ransacked the safe, a number of passports of young Asian women and money of large denominations spilled on the floor. On the bottom shelf nestled a large number of gold ingots.
Within minutes, Ghurkhas stood in the driveway, waiting to load passports, money and gold ingots into the van, when it arrived, possibly along with the sole live prisoner.
The RSM handed Peter a box filled with DVDs before he went off with his men to prepare the property for their departure. The boat shed, jetty and mansion would cease to exist. It was to be a warm warning for Dingo.
Four Tamils painted the sign of Kali, the powerful, patron Goddess of Thuggees on the driveway. Others decorated the outside walls of the mansion with similar signs.
Satisfied, the RSM bellowed an order in Nepali finalising the planting of evidence to link the deaths with worshippers of Kali, the murderous cult which had been outlawed many years previously by the British Raj.
Peter repeated the order in Tamil.
The cars and the van formed a well-protected convoy back to the workshop where the drivers returned the cars to the used car lot.
After collecting a trolley from the workshop, Peter and the RSM drove the van to Peter’s condominium where they transferred the contents of the van to his safe. The security code for the lift was changed and the two of them returned to the motel.
On the way back, Peter made the wry comment, ‘Well, we have one passenger to keep the cattle company.’ He turned to check on the bound and gagged Katoey, cowering in the corner.
****** That Fateful Saturday
Breakfast was a rowdy affair as everyone had his own tale to tell. The papers arrived and everyone collected their copy.
‘MALICIOUS FIREBUG BURNS HUNTERS HILL MANSION.’
‘WELL-KNOWN ARAB RACING IDENTITY ATTACKED BY SNAKE AT DINNER TABLE.’
The particular headlines were both lurid and accurate. There were numerous pictures, even one of Pretty Boy leading Jennifer out of the nightclub.
Suddenly the phone rang and Susie called Joe. Everyone watched in silence until he turned and addressed Peter. ‘Well we have spooked the enemy. The second Arab’s just called for a cab to take him to the airport and he sounded scared.’
‘Call me a cab while I get a little farewell present for him from all of us.’ Peter was pleased that another opportunity for retribution had presented itself so quickly.
‘You’re not going alone.’ Andrew sounded distraught. ‘We’re talking about my sister here. I demand to become involved.’
‘You’re not going this trip. However you could be driving the coach this afternoon, as we could have some passengers later today if Joe’s friends come up with the information we need.’ Reassuring Andrew, Peter turned and left to return to his room above the worksho
p.
When Peter reappeared disguised as a brown eyed Arab, his arrival broke the earlier scene of calm into one of considerable commotion. The sudden arrival of an Arab startled everyone but Peter’s voice reassured them, even though he addressed them in Arabic, ‘Salaam Alaykum.’ He repeated the message and they were astounded that his voice had this time completely changed.
‘I need to do this alone as I don’t want anyone’s face on security cameras at the airport. The best I can offer is to get my driver to call you when my mission is complete. While I’m away Joe, ask your friends where the girls were taken last night.’
‘I already know,’ Joe replied quickly.
‘Jennifer was taken to a hotel in the city. She spent the night there with the Arab, Pretty Boy and Dingo. Guards took the others to a brothel in Redfern. It trades as the Raging Bull.’
Smiling, he inquired. ‘Have you got your key? You may need it.’
In reply, Peter patted his pocket before producing the key Joe had so painstakingly duplicated all those months previously.
‘Joe, tell your cabbie that his Hunters Hill fare — the Arab – is to be dropped close to the doors of the airport departure lounge. I’ll be there to greet him and introduce him to the Angel of Death. Tonight he will most certainly not be dwelling in paradise with eight virgins. Now RSM get one of the used cars from the lot. You’re my driver.’
Peter knew the police would never get the RSM to crack under questioning should anything go wrong.
The drive to the airport was swift and both men were quiet. The RSM concentrated on his driving while Peter, disguised as an Arab, studied the passing scenery as if a tourist.
They timed their arrival so well that the RSM drew up behind the taxi just as the Hunters Hill fare stepped out.
‘Salaam Alaykum.’ The Arab turned to greet a fellow Arab.
Peter grabbed his shoulders and pulled him hard against his chest. Right cheek to right cheek he breathed in the Arab’s ear. ‘Tonight you dwell in hell. You have pig fat on your face and Allah forbids pigs. You used my wife and you came here to purchase her.’ Left check to left cheek, Peter continued. ‘The Angel of Death is with you. Enjoy hell and remember you have missed the eight virgins.’ Then he thrust the cobra ring into the Arab’s neck.
Peter was in the car and well away as the Arab sank to the pavement clutching the wound.
As they drove, they heard the news on the car radio. ‘Gang wars erupt in Sydney.’
‘Two Middle Eastern horse racing identities who arrived just a few days ago to purchase a mysterious mare are both dead. Some well-known criminal identities died of a drug overdose in the toilets of a notorious nightclub.
‘As well, several bodies were in the destroyed home of the crime baron Dingo Ryan. Their manner of death suggests that Thuggees, followers of the Goddess Kali, are responsible but police admit they have no clues to follow.’
The newsreader made a dry remark as he introduced an advertising break. ‘This must be Dingo’s unlucky week as his fifty million dollar luxury cruiser sank in the harbor earlier this week.’
Peter laughed briefly and then resumed his clear-sighted instructions to the RSM.
‘Stop at the next petrol station and ring Andrew,’ he ordered. ‘Tell him to meet us with the coach at the brothel in Redfern. Joe will be navigator and is to remain in the coach. They are to bring six Ghurkhas with them as back up. We’ll be inside waiting for them. Bring insulated bolt cutters.’
As an afterthought he added, ‘Tell Joe we’re at the Service Station on the corner of Elizabeth and Williams Streets. Ask him to send a driver who can lead us to the Raging Bull brothel.’
Within minutes, a taxi pulled into the Service Station and the driver walked across to tell Peter to follow his cab. The two cars meandered their way through the traffic until the taxi stopped outside a tidy but unpretentious residence.
Still dressed as an Arab and using the key, Peter swept inside the brothel pushing the security guard aside. ‘Bring that red headed girl now.’ He demanded. ‘I have a use for her.’ Pointing to the obscene picture of Jennifer on the wall Peter reinforced his order.
‘She hasn’t returned your Excellency but I’ll bring others for your enjoyment.’ The guard only got as far as the door. The last thing he heard was a soft puff and the last thing he felt was the sting in his neck. He crashed to the floor before he had time to realize he’d been hit by a poisonous dart.
Peter waited to see what would happen as the security camera glared down on the scene like an unblinking, baleful Cyclops. Patiently he stood in the center of the room until he heard the noise of the coach pulling up outside.
First through the door was Andrew. His face was a picture of absolute despondency when he realized Jennifer wasn’t there.
‘Spread out, take the keys from the goon on the floor and thoroughly search the area. Kill any male you find but bring all the women here. Hand me the bolt cutters.’ Peter, who had reverted to the cold-blooded killing machine of his youth, watched the Ghurkhas eagerly carrying out his instructions. First, they unsheathed their khukuris and then stealthily began the hunt.
Devoid of emotion, he knew each male in the building would be dead before he even knew there was someone in the room with him. He listened attentively but there was nothing, just the silence of death.
Then he heard a soft noise, distantly, down the corridor – the sound of shuffling. Through the door, thirty white faced, terrified and traumatised, young Asian women followed their Ghurkha guards into the room.
They watched every movement of their Ghurkha escort with horror as if panicking that they would be next to die. Each was in various stages of nudity and each had a collar around her neck.
Softly and kindly, Peter spoke to them in Thai, Malay, Tamil and then English. The message was clear. He told them they were safe and being set free but they must forget what they had seen. He requested each one to kneel in front of him in turn. With the bolt cutters, he cut through each collar as quickly as he could although he knew he was causing them physical distress.
Once he had removed all the collars, he sent them off to dress. When they returned to sit around him, he informed them he was holding their passports. Patiently, he explained that he knew they had been university students and understood that Dingo had kidnapped them before their studies had even started. Looking at their haunted faces, Peter perceived that they would need counselling before resuming their lives.
‘Now perhaps you can help me,’ he said turning their attention to his real goal. ‘Where is this woman?’ He pointed to Jennifer’s picture with his fist.
‘We don’t know,’ answered a tall Thai. ‘But we do know that the boss’s son will be brutalising her. He calls it love but he’s a pig and she’ll take days to heal after he’s used her. The doctor comes on Wednesday so Jennifer will be back then as she is to be prepared for a long sea trip.’
‘The doctor?’ Peter sounded puzzled.
The Thai girl took his hand and led him down the corridor and into the kitchen. She swung a cupboard away from the wall and pointed to a flight of steps leading down. She shuddered and absolutely refused to lead the way downstairs.
‘Help me please Andrew,’ Peter called.
Distressed at what he believed could be happening to his sister, Andrew was at the point of exploding. He was stunned — appalled that Peter could remain so calm and so focused.
‘Steel yourself,’ said Peter. ‘We don’t know what we’ll find down here.’ He didn’t need Andrew to do anything foolish.
Hesitantly the two descended and found themselves in a small operating theatre. On the walls hung pictures of before and after procedures where the doctor had inserted nipple and clit rings.
Sickened, they returned to t
he main room. Peter saw the Ghurkhas lined up against the wall, waiting. He noticed they had re-sheathed their khukuris and not one of them had nicked themselves.
‘Ladies, you all speak English. You’re going to a motel where we’ve arranged to look after you. The men there will treat you with dignity. You have thrown off the mantle of this place and soon you’ll return to normality. You are free!’
‘But sir, we have no money.’ Still worried, the tall Thai girl interrupted. ‘Have we swapped one master for another?’
The Ghurkhas started laughing and the RSM stepped forward. ‘You know we are Ghurkhas and we treat women with respect. Don’t be frightened by my men or me. We’ll never harm you. What happened here today was repayment to people who hurt our friends. Those men deserved to die. You however have earned the right to live. This man, who has spoken, honors you all and you owe him nothing.’
Peter took over again with a huge smile making his words warmer than ever. ‘You needn’t worry about money. Dingo has donated a large amount to your education and probably has given enough to set you up in life. All we demand is that you forget our part in your deliverance and keep your mouths firmly shut about today.’
Eventually Joe, Andrew and two Ghurkhas loaded the coach and left with the tearful girls sitting quietly, wondering where they were being taken next.
‘Come on let’s explore.’ Peter said, once the coach had departed.
Leaving the remaining Ghurkhas in the main room, the RSM and Peter went reconnoitring. A naked male body occupied the first room, a bedroom. The Ghurkha, who had found him, had slit his throat. Then he had removed the man’s penis and testicles. These, he had stuffed in the dead man’s mouth. Hanging behind the door was the uniform of a very senior police officer.
The next bedroom told the same story and it seemed as though two very senior police officers were clients of the brothel. In four other bedrooms were men who had met their fate in a similar fashion. When he completed his inspection, Peter had counted 10 bodies and held their wallets in his hands.
Eventually Peter and his men were standing outside a door that firmly refused to budge, obviously the door of the office for the brothel. Undeterred, the Ghurkhas laughed at the futility of the locked wooden door. Three put their shoulders against the door and gave a tremendous shove. Suddenly there was a crash and the door hung uselessly on its hinges.
Peter rushed into the office and proceeded to check out the furniture and equipment in the room. Security monitors filled one wall, each one focused on a different room. Another wall was full of DVDs all catalogued by date while another was full of DVDs listed by each girl’s name. Amongst those DVDs, Peter saw Big Red mentioned.
A Ghurkha breached the writing desk and Peter saw ledger after ledger stacked inside the drawers. Each ledger listed payments to various men and payments by clients who used the girls, what services were supplied, the times and dates of their visits and the medical repairs needed to patch up girls after the men left.
Whoever set up the computers knew nothing about security or perhaps wasn’t worried. The hard disks contained files with videos from the security monitors of clients with the girls.
On the desk lay an appointment book showing future bookings for the various girls against clients’ names. It was an extensive dossier on Ding’s crime world.
Ruefully, Peter noted that the next booking for Jennifer was 2pm Wednesday and was astonished to see the name of a prominent church dignitary against that booking. He clenched his fists and the fury in his eyes made it apparent that he intended being present at that booking.
Still studying the appointments, Peter was sitting at the wooden desk when a shout called him to the back of the building.
This back room was so cold he shivered. The wall in front of him looked like a bank of wide deep drawers. He pulled on one drawer and it slid towards him in a well-oiled movement. Peter recoiled when the lifeless eyes of a corpse stared up at him. Evidently, this was Dingo’s own morgue where he stored bodies before disposing of them.
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