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Another interested party who became aware of the Yoshi

contract was Master Alfred Wiesel. He was impressed by

the size of the offer and tingled at the memory of his recent

visit to the Mart security headquarters. There had been a

girl in a holding cage. A beautiful girl who had been there

for a very long time. She had been a graduate student with

a degree in journalism.

He made a few calls and identified the buyer behind the

Hong Kong contract. He contacted Yoshi's Slave Mistress

and had a nice long chat. Then he set up a meeting with

Number One.

Master Wiesel was going to offer to take over the care

and training of Staci Davis. He had prepared a list of

reasons why the girl shouldn't be left to rot in a holding cell.

With every passing day her future training would be more

difficult. She had a certain intrinsic value which would be

ruined through this cavalier treatment. If he were to take

over her care and training, it would be better for her, better

for the Mart, and better for her eventual buyer. Master

Wiesel was ready to fill a good hour with the arguments he

had in defense of his proposal.

He got as far as, "Good morning, Number One."

"This sudden interest in the welfare of Miss Davis," One

had replied, "it wouldn't happen to be connected with the

Yoshi contract out of Hong Kong, would it?"

Master Wiesel should have known that Number One

would put two and two together. He was caught flat-

footed, but recovered almost immediately. "Of course.

There was little I could do to help the girl before a proper

home became available."

"Please. Spare me. Under ordinary circumstances, I'd

tell you to go dive into a cesspool. However, our own

Slave Mistress is going nuts at Miss Davis' long-term stay.

And despite your manifest self-interest, you are absolutely

right. She ought to be either properly trained or put down."

Master Wiesel winced at the thought of a valuable

property like Staci being simply drowned like a kitten.

"Since we have to keep her available," One continued,

"at least for the time being, it makes sense to get her out of

the holding pens and into a proper training program."

Master Wiesel brightened.

"But there are conditions."

"Of course."

Number One wanted Wiesel to be clear as to the

seriousness of his conditions. "Alfred. If you take this girl
and violate the conditions I am about to impose, I promise

I will order a contract on you that same day."

"Number One!" Master Wiesel was shocked.

"Just listen to what I'm telling you. This girl must

remain intact and constantly available. No drugs. I need

access to her conscious self at the drop of a hat. You will

keep us informed of where she is at all times. You will

inform us of any intention to change her location before she

is moved. You will not transfer ownership or move her at

all without our prior approval. It will be necessary to talk

with Yoshi's Slave Mistress first, before the deal is struck,

to be sure she understands and is willing to take on these

same conditions. Is that clear?"

"Is she that important?" Master Wiesel was considerably

impressed.

"Is that clear?"

"Yes, Number One."

"And you understand and agree to the conditions?"

There was a slight pause while Master Wiesel

considered. "Yes, Number One."

"Take her."

* * * * *

Madam Zeldona became aware of competition for the

Hong Kong contract when she called the book dealer to

make arrangements for delivery. Amy's training was coming

along well and she wanted to set a date.

"You understand," the book dealer had emphasized,

"that this transaction is still contingent on the buyer's

approval."

"Of course," Madam Zeldona had said. "Why do you

keep reminding me of that? The product is perfectly

acceptable."

The book dealer debated whether or not to tell her. In

the end he decided it was fairer to let her know. "It is

possible," he said, "that another seller might contact the

buyer directly with a superior item. In that case, the buyer

might reject your offering simply because it wasn't as high

quality."

Madam Zeldona's ire began to rise. "Are you telling me

that even though I have first rights in this transaction and fill

all the required specifications, I can still be cut out?"

"Actually, yes. I know it's less than ethical, but the

practice is not uncommon."

"Who the hell is the other seller?"

The book dealer debated even harder on whether or not

to tell her. He wasn't supposed to know. This Madam

Zeldona was such a novice. She really had no business

working this aspect of the market. "You probably need to

contact the buyer's manager directly to get that

information." He told her how to contact Yoshi's Slave

Mistress.

Madam Zeldona made the contact and found out about

Master Wiesel and Staci. She then called Number One at

Mart security and bitched to him for over an hour.

* * * * *

It was a beautiful autumn evening when a plump little

old woman came hobbling into the station. She had long,

unkempt graying hair and a slightly stooped posture. She

wore orthopedic shoes and seemed to have trouble walking.

She wore ragged clothes, a wide brimmed hat, and looked

like she had been living on the streets for some time. She

carried a huge lumpy shopping bag. She claimed to have a

message from someone called Alice Summers which she

could only give personally to Deborah Turner.

Deborah came out of a back room looking ashen. 'Alice

Summers' was a name she had never expected to hear again.

"What's the message," she asked the old hag.

The old woman looked around nervously. Several

workers were within earshot. With her long hair and big hat

it was difficult to see the old woman's face. "Can we talk

privately, later?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"O.K., where and when?"

"I will wait for you outside," she almost whispered.

"When you leave, I will come up to you."

"Let me get a few things and I'll be right out."

"No." The woman seemed upset. Her voice was still

quiet but agitated. "Take your time. Leave when you

normally would. Do not let anyone connect your leaving

with my arrival. For God sake, act normal." The woman

turned and hobbled out.

"Who was that?" someone asked after she'd left.

Deborah regained her composure and made up a

plausible lie quickly--"the lead to a story."

"Must be one hell of a story."

"Maybe."

* * * * *

A couple of hours later Deborah left the building. She

wasn't surprised to see the old woman hobble out of the

shadows and follow her. Deborah stopped to look in a

store window and let old woman catch up.

"Give me your address and I will meet you there." The

old woman was still talking quietly, so it was difficult to

hear her voice.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am a friend of Staci's"

"I thought you said 'Alice Summers'."

"Did you want me to use the name Staci Davis in public?

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Staci disappeared. I thought you would not want me to

mention her name in front of others."

Deborah understood and said nothing.

"Please let us meet at your home. I will tell you about

Staci and tell you my story, too. Then if you want me to

leave I will. I will make no trouble for you."

Deborah gave the old woman her address with strong

misgivings. The old woman disappeared into an ally.

Two hours later Deborah was at home, drinking a glass

of wine to settle her nerves. It was the first drink she had

taken since the auction. The doorbell rang. The old woman

seemed a little taller and less decrepit. She wasn't hobbling.

"Thank you for letting me meet you here. My name is

Rhonda Mller. I shared a cell with Staci for three weeks.

We talked a lot. She told me all about you. Please do not

be upset. I am wearing a disguise. I would like to take it

off."

Deborah nodded dumbly. Rhonda removed the hat and

ratty gray wig. She had short red hair. Deborah could now

see where the old woman make-up stopped and the girl's

real skin began. It was a good make-up job, but would have

been obvious in bright light without the wig and hat. The

girl stepped out of the clunky shoes. She removed several

layers of old clothes. It dropped at least 30 pounds from

her appearance. Rhonda Mller was thin and quite young.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties.

Deborah invited the girl to sit. She got her a drink.

The 'message' from Staci turned out to be little more

than a description of how she looked and sounded when

they were caged together. Rhonda told Deborah what had

happened to Staci since the auction, and repeated the story
she had told Staci about herself. She reached the part

where her Master had died and she had been collected by

the Mart and taken to the holding cells. She described her

experience with Staci as the happiest time she had spent in

captivity.

"They gave me to the German. I was hoping they would

not but they did. It was almost too much to stand. To go

from being with Staci to going to that pig. A Dom was

taking me to him. We were in a big car with a chauffeur

when there was an accident. The driver hit his head and was

knocked out. The Dom was shaken up but she was not hurt.

I am not sure why I did it. Maybe it was fear of the German.

Maybe it was the anger of losing Staci. I hit the Dom hard in

the head with my elbow. I exercise a lot and am quite strong.

I hit her several times. They were both unconscious. Then I

moved quickly. I took their money. The glass of the car

was very dark so it was hard for anyone to see what I did.

The Dom had a lot of money and the driver a little more. I

got out and walked away before anyone could stop me. I

took a taxi to the train. I took the first train going

anywhere. I changed trains. Then I got off and bought a

wig and some makeup. I got some different shoes and

clothes. I got back to the train and thought about where I

could go. I thought of you."

"But how did you get here? You were in Europe. You

needed a passport."

"My old Master. The one who died. He was an

arranger for the Mart. He made all kinds of arrangements

and I helped him. One of the things he could arrange was a

false passport and false travel papers. I knew what to do

and arranged to go to Canada. In Canada I had time to buy

things for new disguises. Then I took a bus here. I tried to

find you in the phone book but there was no number. From

Staci's description I was able to find your television station."

Deborah was almost numb by the time Rhonda had

finished talking. It was well past midnight. "And now that

you've found me. What do you want?"

"Can you help me? Can you hide me? You are a

journalist. I want you to tell my story on your television

station. I want you to destroy the Mart."

Deborah was shaking her head as the girl talked. "No,"

she said. "I can't help you. I wish I could, but I can't. They

are watching me. They would kill me. I can't help you.

You'd better leave now."

"Please do not make me go yet. Let me finish what I

have to say. The Mart is not nearly so big or powerful as

they pretend. I know. I helped make arrangements. I also

know how they work. No one is watching you. At least no

one was watching you until maybe I escaped. They know I

was caged with Staci so maybe they will watch you for a

little while. That is why I was so careful. But no one is

watching you most of the time. They have too few people

for that. They watch you through your phone, through your

computer."

"Through the computer?"

"Yes, through the big computer at the station. They

listen to lots of computers all the time to look for words

that mean someone knows about them."

"I kept computer files on my research at the station."

"That is how they found out you knew about them. That

is how they were prepared to catch you. They will still read

your files at the computer."

"I don't keep files there anymore. I don't keep any files

on that anymore."

"That is good. Then they can not read them."

"You said they also tap my phone?"

"Yes. Not before they knew who you were. But after

they read your files they probably tapped your phone to

keep track of who you called and what you said. They

probably monitor your phone at the station too. That is not

so difficult for them."

Deborah didn't know what to do. Even if this girl was

right and she wasn't being watched all the time, the Mart

would certainly find out and kill her if she tried to go public.

"I'm sorry Rhonda, but I still don't think I can help you. It

would probably be best if you left."

Rhonda started weeping. "I have no place to go. Would

it be all right, please, if I stay here for the night?"

Deborah bit her lip and looked uncertain.

"Please," the girl almost begged, "I promise there is no

added danger."

"O.K. Are you hungry? Would you like to get cleaned

up?"

"Thank you, I am not hungry, but would very much like

to take a shower."

When Rhonda emerged from the shower, Deborah could

see that she was really quite attractive. She wasn't at all shy

about her body. Deborah gave her some pajamas. They

were much too large and made her look even smaller. She

slept on the sofa front of the fireplace.

Deborah was extremely agitated about the decision to let

the young girl stay. She thought she would make better

decisions in the morning, after some sleep. But her mind

kept churning and she didn't fall asleep until very late.