The Blackmailed Wife
                             By Peter Jensen
                                Chapter 1


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WARNING:
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for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit
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Ann had prepared herself for the worst. After receiving Dave's cable about
arriving home in ten days, she had tried her best to convince Julia that she
shouldn't be forced to attend anymore parties, but she had insisted that she
come tonight anyway. She had at last conceded that she and Max might give the
photographs back to her. Both of them had promised her, several months ago,
that she could have them back when she had either worked off the twenty-four
hours, or, when Dave came back. She knew after the first few times with Max,
that she could never do it with that hateful clock. In the several months that
had passed since he first hung the pictures up, (and God only knows how many
visits), she had only been able to use up a little over three hours. He always
found some reason for turning it off, despite all her agonizing efforts to
please him, or the many clients that he had allowed to use her.

Ann had often wondered about these clients. They always had eastern accents,
and looked almost like the characters out of old gangster movies. Max had some
kind of dealings with them, and she was certain that they weren't legal. He
wasn't making all of has money on that store. It would have taken ten of them
to support the way he lived. At any rate, it was none of her business. Her
business was to get those pictures back tonight.

The taxi let her off in front of the now familiar house and Ann climbed the
steps dejectedly, for what seemed like the millionth time. She rang the bell
and waited for Sidney's familiar face to answer. No one came. She tried again,
several times, but could hear absolutely nothing from the inside of the house.
She felt a momentary sense of panic. Suppose they had decided not to see her
again until after Dave arrived, and then demanded that she make some excuse to
get her out here. She had to get those pictures tonight.

Ann walked around behind the house, to the swimming pool, in hopes that the
large glass divider separating it from the living room might be open. It was
closed tight, and so were all the other smaller doors leading into the house
from the back. She would just have to wait until someone did come, she had to
talk to one of them tonight.

As she picked her way back around to the front of the house, Ann was suddenly
frozen into immobility. The most blood-curdling scream she had ever heard
pierced the cool night air! It seemed as though someone were being tortured
horribly. Ann wanted to run, but she couldn't, her feet were frozen to the
ground in fear. Several dark figures stepped from the shadows surrounding the
house and grabbed her. She was dragged kicking, into the house and up the
stairs into Max's playroom.

Her eyes bulged and she had to place both hands over her stomach tightly, to
keep from vomiting at the horrifying sight that greeted her.

Max was chained to the wall next to the racks, his arms and legs stretched wide
apart. Carlos was standing in front of him holding a glowing hot poker several
inches from his stomach. Almost every inch of his naked body was covered with
swollen black marks, from where the poker had seared into his fat flesh. The
room stank of burned flesh. There was a pitiful pleading in his eyes, not for
salvation, but for death. He showed no sign of recognition when Ann was
brought in, his eyes remained immobile, staring straight ahead, as if seeing
nothing.

Julia was shackled to the bed where Ann herself had undergone so many degrading
experiences over the last several months. A Mexican was standing over her with
a cat-o-nine-tails in his hand. Her body was covered, from her face to her
ankles with nasty open gashes that had been inflicted by the murderous
instrument.

"Make them stop, Ann, please, please, please!" Julia whispered through swollen
lips.

Ann jumped, as Julia's pleas were cut short by the whistling smack of the
multi-tailed leather whip biting deep into her bared breasts. A low, heart
rending groan replaced the pleas.

"Shut up slut," the Mexican spat at her. He was obviously enjoying the torture
and pain that he was inflicting on the helpless girl. The whip snaked through
the air again, this time between her wide-spread thighs. Ann choked back the
sickness that was building in her throat, as Julia faded into unconsciousness.

"Well, well what have we here?" Carlos said in an amused voice, when he saw
Ann standing in the doorway. "Where did you find her, amigos?"

"Outside, Senor Gomez," one of the men answered. "She heard the screams."

"We should never have opened the door to let the smell from this rotten pig
out. I forgot about his lung power, when he doesn't have his friends around
to protect him."

Ann suddenly fainted dead away, she couldn't take anymore of the sight of Max
and Julia, or at least, what was left of them.

She awoke several minutes later on the downstairs couch. Carlos was holding
her head, and making her drink some raw-tasting brandy that quickly brought
her back to her senses.

"Hello, Ann," he said in the thick accent that she could still remember from
Tijuana. "I'm sorry you see that, I know it messy."

"But why, Carlos, why?" Ann asked incredulously. "How could you?"

"Don't give sympathy, Ann, they not worth it. They die for stealing money
from organization. In this business, pay for thief is death. I am carry out
penalty."

"You, you mean you're going to kill them?" Ann almost whispered.

"They already dead. We burn house in four minutes. I have to leave you in. I
have no choice, you a witness. I kill butler for same."

"Carlos, please don't," Ann begged with all her heart. She had noticed that
the pictures were not over the bed when she was in the room, and was afraid
that one of his men had them. If he ever let them out in San Diego, the entire
base would soon have copies. She couldn't bear for them to come back and haunt
Dave from the grave in that way. "I promise I won't say anything. Listen to
me..."

Ann quickly related the sordid story to him, telling him about Dave and what
their plans were when he returned. She poured her whole heart out in her last
desperate attempt to salvage something from this awful mess. She knew that her
chances were slim, but it was the only thing that she had left to hold onto,
Carlos had to understand.

"That like Schroeder," Carlos said. "He tell me it to keep you from tell about
organization. What you know from store."

"No, it wasn't, I swear I know nothing!" she sobbed into her hands now, her
voice out of control.

Carlos looked at her for what seemed an eternity. She knew he was deciding
between what he should do, and what he wanted to do.

"Wait..." he finally spoke. "I be back."

He vaulted up the stairs and returned in a few seconds with the manila
envelope.

"You love husband lots Ann, to suffer to get this pictures." he said, holding
up the packet.

"I do Carlos, more than you can imagine. All I want is the chance to prove it
again."

"All right," he said after studying her for another moment. "I let you go!"

"And, and the pictures?" Ann asked, holding her breath.

"I give to you, but keep one. Keep honor among thieves when hold some security.
Your husband important to you, as my life to me. You go to police, it mean my
life, but it mean your husband too. Is this fair between us?"

"Oh, yes, yes it is!" She knew, with all her heart, that she could trust
Carlos, and that they both would be bearing terrible secrets about each other.
So terrible that neither dared to do anything. She leaped to her feet and gave
him a warm kiss, that she meant more than anything else she had ever meant in
her life.

Carlos opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures. He shuffled through
them rapidly, taking one and shoving it in his inside coat pocket.

"You and I," he smilingly admitted. "I think much on that."

Ann found herself gniling back at him, and deep within her, she was pleased
with the compliment, though she'd never admitted it to herself again, as long
as she lived.


                                  The End