" Cassandra Clack - Family Matters" by Blacksheepboy413

[esercito sconfitto]

Family Matters part 1
by ~blacksheepboy413

Cassandra Clack: Professional Kidnapper

in

Family Matters

1.

6:00 A.M.

Cassandra waited in her van outside the woman's home. From a glance to the watch on her wrist, she saw that it was almost six a.m.--the woman would be leaving for work soon.

The sun had yet to come up fully, and birds were singing in the trees that lined the block. Cassie had read somewhere once that the reason birds sing in the morning is because they are happy to have survived the night. That was probably poetic bullshit--but she liked the sound of it.

Cassie's watch beeped--it was six a.m., and like clockwork, the woman exited her house. The woman's name was Betty Merritt--age 30, divorced, no children, short cropped black hair, 5"1, likes Sci-Fi movies, harboring a secret desire to become a pastry chef.

None of that mattered, though.

What mattered was Betty's current job: Postal Worker.

Betty headed towards her car, dressed in her blue postal worker uniform, lighting up a fresh cigarette, and Cassie fired up the engine on the van. She had been learning all there was to learn about Betty Merritt in the last week; tailing her from work, going through her trash, hacking into her computer and reading her e-mails. She belonged to an online dating site, where she said she just wanted to meet a guy who could "Make her laugh."

Sweet, delusional Betty.

Another key fact about Betty that Cassie had learned: the woman loved dogs. She subscribed to dog-themed newsletters, donated to animal shelters any chance she got, volunteered as a dog walker on the weekend. And that was good enough for Cassie.

Cassie followed Betty now to the Post Office, and waited, the van idling. It was cold--even by October standards, so Cassie cranked the heater up in the van, never taking her eyes off the Post Office. Soon, Betty was exiting the building and climbing into her mail truck. Cassie shifted the van into gear and followed Betty. Cassie had done her homework--she knew Betty's first stop would be the small coffee shop just around the corner, to get a large coffee and some sort of pastry.

Cassie sped off, taking a short-cut and arriving at the coffee shop first. She parked her van in an alley next to the shop, got out of the van, and waited.

And once again, like clockwork, Betty's mail truck pulled up.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Cassie called out as Betty climbed out of her truck.

"Yes?" Betty asked.

"Can you help me?" Cassie asked. "I was backing my van into this alley, and I...I hit a dog."

"Oh!" Betty cried out, sounding genuinely upset.

"I didn't see it!" Cassie said defensively. "It was in my blind-spot! It's still alive, but it's hurt real bad. And it's a pretty big dog--can you help me lift it into my van? Then I can take it to a vet..."

"Of course," Betty said. She followed Cassie into the alley, towards the van. They walked around to the back of the van.

"Where's the dog?" Betty asked.

"Well I have good news and bad news," Cassie said. "The good news is: there's no dog. The bad news is, I'm going to need your clothes and your truck."

"Huh?" Betty said, and Cassie zapped her with a cattle-prod she had hidden up the sleeve of her jacket. Betty convulsed wildly and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Cassie looked around to be sure no one was looking, and then heaved Betty into the back of the van.

She pulled Betty's boots off first, then her pants, then her jacket and shirt, leaving the woman in her underwear.

Cassie took a roll of duct-tape and began taping Betty's ankles and knees together. Then her wrists behind her back. There was a small metal loop bolted in the center of the floor of the van--Cassie had installed it herself. She took a length of rope now and tied it to the loop, and then tied the other end around Betty's neck--making sure it was tight enough to hold the woman immobile without choking her.

Next, Cassie took a large yellow foam ball she had acquired a toy store. The ball was the size of a grape fruit. She crammed it now into Betty's mouth, pushing it in as deep as it would go, the ball squishing under the pressure.

Betty was slowly regaining consciousness now, and Cassie worked faster. She wrapped loop after loop of duct tape around Betty's mouth, sealing the foam ball within.

Betty's eyes fluttered, then shot open.

"MMmmmmnnn!!" the woman moaned faintly. The ball did an excellent job of muffling her.

"Shhh," Cassie said. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. I just need to borrow your stuff for a little bit."

Betty struggled on the floor of the van, and the rope around her neck pulled tighter. She choked a little.

"See?" Cassie said. "If you don't keep still, you'll strangle yourself. Okay? So just relax. Think of it this way--you have the day off today, and you're still going to get paid without having to use vacation time! Pretty sweet!"

"Mmmmnnppphhh," Betty whimpered.

Cassie took a leather hood and slipped it over Betty's head. Betty continued to whimper, but the hood plus the foam gag made her almost entirely inaudible.

Cassie draped a heavy blanket over Betty. "Don't want you to catch cold in your skivvies." Then she dressed in Betty's uniform. Betty was shorter than Cassie, and also a bit on the chubby side, so the uniform was both tight and baggy, but it was good enough. Cassie left her own black high-heels on though--there was no way she was going to put on the hideous work boots Betty had been wearing. She had to keep at least some semblance of fashion, after all.

She left the van and headed for the mail truck, checking her watch as she moved. A total of ten minutes had passed. Not bad, but she could do better.

to be continued...
( this author deactivated his Deviantart page from years )

[esercito sconfitto]

( in the first part of the second chapter there is another clothes/uniform stealing scene)

Cassandra Clack: Professional Kidnapper

in

Family Matters

2.

TWO WEEKS LATER...

"Today," Cassie said, smiling, "is my sister's birthday."

"Well, seeing as you and your sister are identical twins," Dr. Wilson said, "that would mean it's your birthday as well."

Cassie, dressed in business casual and dreaming of getting a pedicure and a martini, sat on the leather couch in Dr. Janet Wilson's office.

Dr. Wilson, sitting in an arm chair opposite Cassie, eyed her, waiting for a reply.

"I don't celebrate my birthday," Cassie said.

"How long has it been since you've seen your sister?"

"I don't remember. A long time."

"Maybe you should call her."

"Well, seeing as she thinks I'm dead, I don't think I'll do that."

Dr. Wilson smiled politely and jotted something down in the pad of paper she kept on her lap.

"Ya know," Cassie said. "When we were kids, we were inseparable. Two peas in a pod, that whole deal. I wanted to be her, and she wanted to be me. There were times, when we were separated, when I would look into a mirror and pretend I was looking at her. And I would ask the mirror for advice. And ya know, years later, when I told Jane that story, she laughed and told me she used to do the same exact thing. In retrospect it sounds kind of creepy."

"I don't think so," Dr. Wilson said, smiling. "It sounds like you two cared very much for each other."

"Yeah, well...," Cassie trailed off.

"I must admit, Cassie," Dr. Wilson said, "I was surprised to hear from you again. It's been almost four months since our last session. I thought you'd given up on therapy--or at least, therapy with me."

"Nothing personal, doc," Cassie said. "I've just been busy. Work stuff."

"And how is work?"

"Like I said: busy."

"Is your sister the reason you felt the need to come see me today?"

"No, not really. It has more to do with work."

"Ah," Dr. Wilson said, leaning back in her arm chair. "Cassie, whenever your work comes up, I must always repeat that if you inform me of some sort of crime, I am obligated to report it to--"

"Who said anything about CRIME?" Cassie said, laughing softly.

"Well, in the past, you always made it a point to that you couldn't tell me exactly what you do for a living. So I always assumed--"

"Well you know what they say about assumptions, Doc. They make an ass out of you and umptions."

"I apologize--"

"Forget it," Cassie said, starting to rise. "I should go--"

"No, please stay. The session just started."

Cassie sank back into the couch. "I'll put it this way: I did a job recently, and...I don't feel good about it."

"Oh?"

"As usual, I can't give you the specifics. But, it's been bothering me."

"You took the job with no reservations?"

"Yes. The pay was too good."

"Well, not knowing what the job is, I can't offer too much guidance, but I can ask: why couldn't you just say no? Is money really that important to you?"

Cassie thought this over for a moment, then replied: "I don't know."

"Cassie, if your job causes you turmoil, why even do it? I'm not trying to flatter you, but you're a very bright woman. You went to Oxford University, you have degrees in psychology and--"

"Yes yes, I know my qualifications," Cassie said, waving her hand "It's just...this is what I'm good at. This is what I've always been good at. And the fact of the matter is--I love my job."

"Just not this particular assignment...?"

Cassie paused, then said: "Well...some parts of it were fun..."


8:00 AM, TWO WEEKS AGO

Cassie knew for a fact that Betty did not usually arrive at the Winslow estate until 8 a.m. So she drove around, watching the clock, until it was time to arrive.

The Winslow mansion was located in the exclusive Hartford Hills neighborhood. 56,500 square feet of interior space set in over 4.6 acres of land. From above, the house resembled a swooping eagle, or, as the Winslow's preferred to think of it, a giant W.

Cassie pulled up to the front gate and pressed the call button.

"Yes?" an accented voice came through an intercom. Cassie made a mental note and ran through a mental check-list: this would be Inga Bothild, personal bodyguard and chauffeur to the Wilson's. Swedish; a towering 6"5; platinum blond hair; black-belt in karate; likes to paint in her spare time.

"I have a package for Mrs. Winslow," Cassie said.

"Leave it at the gate."

"No can do," Cassie said, "It needs to be signed for."

"Mrs. Winslow is not at home."

"That's okay. You can sign for it. I just need a signature."

Inga sighed through the intercom, and then said: "I'll be right down."

Cassie whistled while she waited.

Soon she saw Inga approaching the gate, dressed in her impeccable black chauffeur's uniform, her cold blue eyes focused on the mail truck. She looked even taller up close, and Cassie thought "This will be interesting..."

Inga pressed a button out of sight, and the iron gate slowly slid open. Cassie pulled the mail truck through.

"Where is the package?" Igna asked.

"In the back of the truck," Cassie said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. "It's pretty big. Then again, so are you." Cassie chuckled good-naturedly, but Inga did not crack a smile.

"Anyway," Cassie said, clearing her throat. "Sign here."

She handed Inga a clip-board and Inga signed.

"Okay," Cassie said, hopping out of the truck. "Let me help you get this sucker out."

They walked around to the back of the truck. Cassie looked around, checking to be sure no one was watching. The mansion was secluded, the only house on this street, and there were no other live-in servants. Cassie had done her homework, as always, and learned that a maid service did come in to clean the mansion, but it was on a weekly basis, and they were not due in until the end of this week.

Cassie's eyes scanned the street, to be sure no other cars were approaching.

"What is the hold up?" Inga asked, her voice flat and harsh.

"Sorry, wool-gathering," Cassie said. "Anyway--"

She delivered a hard blow to the back of Inga's head. Inga's black chauffeur's hat fell off, but Inga didn't so much as stagger. She looked at Cassie, slightly puzzled.

"Uh...," Cassie said. "Hmm..."

Inga frowned and threw a karate-chop towards Cassie's neck. Cassie dropped to the ground, ducking the blow, and Inga's hand smashed into the side of the mail truck. She let out a cry of pain.

Cassie kicked her foot into Inga's shin. Inga cried out again and staggered slightly. Cassie rushed her, diving straight for her legs, and took Inga down hard.

Cassie lay on top of Inga now, and she was amazed at how firm the woman's body felt. It was like laying on top of a slab of granite.

"Damn, girl, you must work out like a mother fucker," Cassie said dryly.

Inga snarled and kneed Cassie in the stomach, flipping her over her head in the process. Cassie landed on her back, and let out an "Ooof!" One of her high-heels fell off in the process.

"I will snap you in half!" Inga growled.

"Enough of this," Cassie coughed. She scrambled to her feet and pulled the cattle prod out of the mail truck. Inga rushed at her, and Cassie hit her right in the neck with the tip of the prod. There was that old familiar zapping sound, and Inga went down, unconscious. Cassie zapped her again just to be sure.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," she said, slightly out of breath. She had brought a whole bag of tricks with her, and she dug in it now. She took out another foam ball and stuffed it hard into Inga's mouth, then sealed it with tape. Then she pulled Inga into the mail truck--which was no small feat, considering the woman's height and muscle-tone.

In the van, she stripped off Inga's uniform, folding it neatly into a pile. Then she pulled out several plastic zip-ties, using them to bind Inga's hands and feet. She put a strip of tape across Inga's eyes as a last touch, and then exited the mail truck.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Cassie looked up at the sprawling mansion and whistled.

"Hope you're not too hard to find in there, Mr. Winslow," she said, and headed for the front door.

to be continued

[Korosh]

Dear Esercito
Thank you very much for posting this story. I was aware of it but as you know the author removed all the stories. I cannot find any of them till I bumped into your post. By any chance do you have his other stories? Particularly the Cassandra Clack Stories. If yes, I will be grateful if you could share them.
Please let me

[esercito sconfitto]

Family Matters part 3


3.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Dr. Wilson scribbled away in her note-book and Cassie watched her.

"You have lovely skin," Cassie said.

Dr. Wilson looked up, slightly taken aback.

"Pardon?" she said.

"Your skin is very smooth," Cassie said. "What kind of moisturizer do you use?"

"Let's not stray off topic, Cassie--"

"How old are you? 35?"

"Cassie--"

"And single, right?" Cassie said, raising her eyebrows. "No wedding ring on your finger."

Dr. Wilson smiled coyly. "You told me we weren't going to do this anymore, Cassie. Not after...that incident."

"Ah, an incident," Cassie smiled. "Is that what you call it?"

Dr. Wilson bit her lower lip and shook her head. "We had an agreement. I would continue being your therapist as long as that...one night...never came up again."

"Ah," Cassie said, leaning back and stretching her arms above her head, her blouse raising slightly up and revealing her midriff. "But oh what a night!"

"If you're going to continue on like this, I'm going to have to end the session," Dr. Wilson said, taking her glasses off and folding them closed in her lap.

"Okay okay," Cassie said. "I was just...playing around..."

"Well please don't. Now, let's get back to this job...was it a lengthy? Did it take some time to complete?"

"Actually, no," Cassie said. Her eyes shot to her purse on the floor, and she badly wanted a cigarette. She had been trying to cut back lately--she found that she was waking up and coughing out black phlegm more than usual, and that wasn't very attractive. But she still kept a pack in her purse for emergencies, and she found now that she badly wanted one. "Can I smoke in here?"

"No," Dr. Wilson said.

"Fine. Anyway, no, it was not a long job. I mean, the preparation took a while, but that always does. The planning stages."

"What do you do for these planning stages?"

"I gather information, and I gather my...materials. I think of every possible scenario, and I plan for it."

"And how much planning went into this job?"

"Well, it was a rather big job. Multiple players. So it took a little longer than usual. But, I managed." Cassie eyed the purse again, dreaming of that cigarette. "I always manage."

9:00 AM, TWO WEEKS AGO

Thomas Winslow was the heir to Winslow Power, one of the largest energy providers on the planet. His father started the company, and Winslow ran it now with an iron fist. But whereas Winslow's father had been known for his ruthlessness, Thomas Winslow had made real efforts to be fair and give back to the world that his father took so much from.

None of this mattered to Cassie, of course, but she ran through her mental files as she moved silently through the large mansion.

Thomas Winslow was 39, which was considered by many stock-holders to be too young to run his father's empire. His wife, Mélanie, 38, was already wealthy when they married, which only increased the family fortune. French born, she was the daughter of a shipping tycoon, and had made a small fortune of her own as a runway model in Milan in her teenage years.

They married when Thomas was 21 and Mélanie was 20. At the time of their marriage, Mélanie was already pregnant, and there were rumors that the marriage was hasty in order to avoid scandal. And soon Mélanie gave birth. To twins. A boy , Michael, and a girl, Juliet. And that was the Winslow's. Attractive, wealthy, and, for the most part, apathetic.

At the foot of a grand staircase, Cassie took her high-heels off and tip-toed up the marble steps. The higher she climbed, the more she could hear a voice coming from one of the many, many rooms. She followed it and paused.

Thomas Winslow was inside a large study, his back to Cassie, his gaze out the window. He was on the phone, yelling at some underling no doubt, and Cassie waited patiently until the call had ended.

Then she stepped into the room. "Mr. Winslow, I presume!"

Winslow spun on his heels and looked at her. "Who the hell are you?"

"We haven't met," Cassie said. "My name is Cassandra Clack."

"How did you get in here? Where is Inga?"

"Inga is a little indisposed at the moment, Mr. Winslow," Cassie said, looking him over. "And I'm afraid to say you will be soon as well." He was a handsome man, and he clearly took good care of his body. Cassie thought of her own father at this mans age, picturing him in her head with his bald spot and his sagging belly and his shabby, booze-smelling clothes. In stark contrast, Thomas Winslow was fit and trim, his haircut perfect, his clothes finely pressed and tailored.

"Get out of here, this instant," Winslow said. "I'm calling the police."

Winslow reached his hand out for the phone and Cassie delivered a hard blow to his wrist--not hard enough to break a bone, but hard enough none-the-less. Winslow cried out in pain, grabbing his arm. Cassie dropped down to her knees and swept her leg out, tripping Winslow. He fell onto his back, yelling out again, this time more in shock than pain.

Cassie was on him in a flash, pinning him down with her body weight.

"What do you want!" Winslow cried.

"Where is your wife?" Cassie said.

"What?" Winslow asked, confused. Cassie grabbed Winslow's injured wrist and twisted it. He screamed.

"Where is your wife??" Cassie asked again.

"Shopping!" Winslow moaned.

"When do you expect her back?"

"Around 11 a.m.!"

"Okay," Cassie said. "We'll wait. Now, strip."

"What?!"

Cassie sighed. She climbed off of Winslow and dug into her bag, pulling out a thin, sharp knife. "Do as I say, or I will start cutting pieces of you off. I'm on a schedule here, I don't have time to fuck around."

Winslow rose to his shaky legs. "What do you want? Money?"

"Not from you," Cassie said, shaking her head. "Now, let's go."

Winslow began to undress. He took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, then slid his pants down, stepping out of both his shoes and his pants. He took his socks off, then Cassie said, "Good enough, stop."

Winslow stood now in his boxer shorts and a white under-shirt.

Cassie moved to him and spun him around, his back to her. She took a pair of hand-cuffs out of her bag and cuffed his hands behind his back.

"On the floor," she said.

"What?" Winslow said.

Cassie sighed and kicked his legs out from under him. Winslow hit the ground, hard. Cassie took a roll of black duct-tape and taped Winslow's ankles together, then his knees.

She took out another of those large foam balls--she had bought them in bulk--and said, "Open your mouth."

"Whatever you want, just take it!" Winslow barked.

"Don't worry," Cassie said, shoving the ball into Winslow's mouth. "I will."

She tore off four strips of the black duct-tape and smoothed it over Winslow's mouth.

"Mmmmphh," Winslow said, scowling at her.

Cassie looked down at him. "I bet you hate my guts right now. People like you--people with power--they don't much care for being helpless. Then again, who does?" She smoothed a piece of tape over his eyes, blinding him.

"Now," she said, sitting down in the leather chair behind Winslow's desk. "We wait for your wife to come home."

Cassie put her feet up on the desk and leaned back in the chair. Winslow writhed on the floor beneath her. She checked her watch. Right on schedule.

to be continued...




Family Matters part 4



12: 30 P.M.

Cassie had spent the hours from 9 to 11 surfing the web on her iPhone. She updated her Twitter (which was registered under an alias) to say "Entertaining a captive audience!" Then, 11 a.m. came and went.

At some point, Winslow had ceased to struggle on the floor and "mmph" into his gag. Cassie poked him with her toe, to be sure he was still awake. He grunted behind the gag.

"It's well past 11 a.m. Mr. Winslow," she said. "Where's your wife?"

"Nnmmph," he muttered.

Cassie sighed. She left the office and went out into the hall. There was dead silence in the mansion. "How can you stand a place this huge?" she called out, and her voice echoed. "It's like living in a museum. And not a good museum, either."

There were sounds coming from below, and Cassie shrunk back against the wall.

"Thomas!" a female voice called out. "I'm home!"

"Mmmphh!" Cassie heard Winslow cry from the office, but she was quite sure Mrs. Winslow--if it was indeed Mrs. Winslow--did not hear them.

She heard the clicking of high-heels coming up the stairs, and she ducked back into the office.

"How did your morning meetings go?" the voice said, and there was a tinge of French accent to it. Cassie sighed. Oh, how she loved a woman with an accent--especially French... "Why is there a mail truck parked by the front gate? And have you seen Inga? I can't get ahold of her on her phone."

Mélanie Winslow entered the office, carrying several large shopping bags. She was gorgeous--that was the first thing Cassie noticed. She had an adorable up-turned button of a nose, and deep pools of eyes. She was in a green sleeveless dress, belted at the waist, and a pair of green heels.

Mélanie saw Cassie and stopped.

"Who-who are you?" Mélanie said. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your husband is right here, Mrs. Winslow," Cassie said. She reached down to the floor and heaved, holding Thomas up for her to see.

"Mmmnn!" Thomas moaned behind his gag.

Mélanie gasped to see her husband bound, gagged and blindfolded.

"What is this!" Mélanie cried. "Please, don't hurt him--"

"I won't," Cassie said, and let Thomas go. He fell to the floor and let out a muffled cry.

"What do you want?" Mélanie said, and Cassie noticed the more frightened the woman got, the more her accent came through. "Money?"

"Why does everyone keep offering me money today?" Cassie said. "Do I look that easy?"

"I have...jewels!" Mélanie said.

"I'm sure you do--"

"You can take them all!"

"Shh, that's not what I'm here for."

"Then what are you here for?" Mélanie said. Cassie looked the woman over. She looked at Mélanie's smooth, exposed legs. At the curvature of her hips. At the fullness of her lips.

"Come here," Cassie said.

Mélanie hesitated.

"Mrs. Winslow--Mélanie--if you don't come here, I will hurt your husband."

Mélanie set her shopping bags down and approached Cassie. Cassie reached a hand out and pulled a strand of hair out of Mélanie's face and breathed her in. The woman smelled of vanilla, and Cassie let out a deep sigh.

"You are a gorgeous woman," Cassie said.

"P-please...," Mélanie said, visibly uncomfortable.

Cassie leaned in and kissed her, tasting her full lips. Mélanie's eyes went wide, but she did not back away. The woman was so caught off guard by Cassie's kiss, that she did not notice Cassie clicking one side of a pair of hand-cuffs around her left wrist. Cassie pulled away, and Mélanie looked down, seeing the cuff.

"Wha--"

"Hands behind your back," Cassie said.

Mélanie slowly complied. Cassie clicked the other end of the cuff onto Mélanie's right wrist, locking her hands behind her back.

"Kick your shoes off," Cassie said. "Slowly."

Mélanie stepped out of her heels, and Cassie saw that the woman's pedicured toes were painted green, as well.

"You've got a green fetish, lady," Cassie said. "Lay down on the floor--on your stomach."

Mélanie got onto her knees and then lay face-down.

"Please don't hurt us...," she whimpered, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

"I won't," Cassie said. "Not anymore than I have to."

Cassie took the roll of tape and taped Mélanie's ankles and knees together. For a change of pace, she dug in her bag for a ball-gag. This was due to the fact that she thought it would be a crime to cover up Mélanie's gorgeous lips.

"A-ha!" Cassie cried, pulling out a ball-gag with a green ball. "Look? Your favorite color!"

Mélanie said nothing. Cassie inserted the gag inbetween Mélanie's teeth and buckled it around the back of her head.

Cassie checked her watch. 12:30 P.M.

"Okay," she said. "Now we wait until it's time for your children to be picked up from school."

At the sound of this, Melanie's eyes went wide, and both she and Thomas began to squirm against their bonds and moan into their gags.

"I know, I know," Cassie said. "But that's the deal."

"Mmmmphh!" Mélanie pleaded. "Mmm-MMM!!"

Cassie left the struggling Winslow's and walked down the hall. There were photos lining the walls, of the Winslow's and their many trips to many exotic locals. She paused when she reached a photo of the twins--Michael and Juliet. The two of them smiling happily, standing on the deck of some ship. Michael was a handsome young man, taking after his father in the looks department. And Juliet might as well have been a mini-clone of her beautiful mother.

Cassie stared long and hard at this photo, and she felt a slight flutter in her stomach.

She took out her phone and dialed the client.

"It's Cassandra," she said. "Can you talk?"

"Da," a female voice with a Russian accent replied.

"I have half of that package you ordered," Cassie said.

"Half?" asked the voice.

"The smaller parts haven't arrived yet."

"Let me know when they do--"

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"Is this...absolutely necessary? The twins, I mean--"

"Yes."

"They're only children."

"They are both 18. In my country, this is considered middle-aged." The Russian woman laughed at her own joke, but Cassie remained silent.

"What is problem?" the Russian woman said after the silence had gone on for a uncomfortable amount of time. "We have deal, Cassandra."

"I'll take a pay-cut," Cassie said. "I'll knock off half of my price and deliver just the two adults--"

"NO," the Russian woman barked. "Unacceptable."

Cassie sighed.

"You had chance to say no to job when I offer it to you," the Russian woman said. "You had no reservations then. Why sudden change of heart?"

Cassie stared into the eyes of the twins in the photograph.

"Forget it," she said. "I'll complete the job and call you when it's done."

"Thank you, darling," the Russian woman said, and hung up.

Cassie walked away from the photo. At the end of the hall was a large mirror. Cassie stared into her own reflection for a while, and then whispered:

"Jane?"

"Yes," she replied to herself in the mirror.

"I'm sorry I haven't called..."

"I miss you..."

Cassie cleared her throat, feeling a lump within. "I...I miss you too...it's just, I had to...get out of your life."

"Why?"

"Because...I'm bad news, kiddo," Cassie said, and then let out a small laugh. "Remember that? When we would go out to concerts or parties, and there would always inevitably be some drunk guy there hitting on every girl that moved. And you would say to me, 'That guy is bad news, kiddo.' And we would just crack up."

"Yes."

Cassie bit her lower lip and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked down at her own feet for a long time, then back up into the mirror. "Jane, what the fuck am I going to do?"

"You're going to do what you need to do, Cassie. That's what you always did."

"I want to go home," Cassie said. "I want to go back. I want to...I want us to be young again. I want to be young, and careless, and incredibly stupid with you. I want to stay up all night, giggling in the darkness. And I want you to hold me. Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ, I want that more than anything, Jane. Remember, when dad would get...in one of his moods. And he would just be a tornado, downstairs tearing up the house. I used to get so fucking afraid. But not you. You were always the stronger one. And you would lock our bedroom door, and you would hold me...do you remember that?"

"Of course I do."

"I want that back--well, not the asshole dad part--but I want the rest of it. I want us to be young again."

"We can never be young again."

"It's not fair..."

"No, it's not."

"Can you hold me? Please..."

"No."

"Why not?" Cassie said, and she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks, and had been for quite some time.

"Because I'm not really here," the reflection said. "And because to me, you are dead."

Cassie sobbed and punched the mirror hard. The glass shattered under her fist, and pieces fell to the floor.

Her hand throbbed, and she blinked back tears.

"Get ahold of yourself, Cassie," she whispered. "Wild work to be done."

Cassie went outside to the mail truck. Inga was wide awake now, struggling in her bonds. Cassie drove the mail truck up to the front door and dragged Inga into the house, stashing her in a small closet. Then she retrieved Inga's chafferer's uniform and dressed in it. It was, of course, too big for her, but using some well-placed safety-pins, she was able to look half-presentable.

She went back up to the Winslow's. Thomas rolled blindly around on the floor, and Mélanie looked up at Cassie with wet, wide eyes.

"How do I look?" Cassie said, holding her arms out. "Not you Thomas--I know you can't see."

"Mmmphh...," Mélanie whimpered.

Cassie took them individually into a bedroom. It was somewhat small and not well decorated, so she guessed it was not the master bedroom. It was good enough. She took extra rope from her bag and tied both of the already bound Winslow's down to the bed, side-by-side.

"I hate to cover those beautiful eyes," Cassie said to Mélanie, "but it's for the best."

She took Thomas Winslow's discarded neck-tie and tied it around Mélanie's eyes, then checked her watch. 1:50 P.M. The prep school the twins attended let out at 2:45. She was making great time.

"Okay gang," Cassie said. "Sit tight while I go pick up the kids."

She left the Winslow's squirming and moaning on the bed.

to be continued...
Family Matters part 5

Cassandra Clack: Professional Kidnapper

in

Family Matters


5.

2:45 P.M.

Cassie waited outside the prep school that the twins attended, leaning against Inga's limo. There were other limo's parked outside the posh prep school as well, and Cassie tipped Inga's hat to another driver. The driver winked back.

"Never seen you here before," the driver said.

"I'm subbing for a friend," Cassie said.

"Helluva gig, isn't it?" the limo driver said. "Taking spoiled brats around town?"

"You said it, buddy," Cassie said, and popped a piece of gum into her mouth.

The doors to the school opened and students began shuffling out.

Soon Cassie saw Michael and Juliet--Michael in kahki pants, white collard shirt and blue blazer, and Juliet in a plaid gray skirt and black cardigan. The twins recognized the limo, but as they approached, they slowed down, catching sight of Cassie.

"Who are you?" Juliet asked.

"Cassandra," Cassie said, smiling. She noticed Michael was looking her over--trying to be subtle about it and failing.

"Where's Inga?" Juliet said.

"She's sick," Cassie said. "I'm a friend of hers; she asked me to fill in."

"Inga doesn't have friends," Michael said, smiling slightly.

Cassie smiled back. "Well...more of an acquaintance. Hop in, let's get you two home."

The twins climbed into the back of the limo, and Cassie got up front. She gave the other limo driver a wave, and he waved back.

Juliet was almost instantly on her cell phone, talking away to someone about something Cassie couldn't make heads of tails of.

Cassie kept looking up into the rear-view mirror, and she would catch Michael staring at her. She smirked.

At one point, Juliet hit his arm and whispered, "Will you stop oogling the limo driver!"

"I wasn't!" he whispered defensively.

They got to the mansion, and Cassie pulled up to the front door.

"Why is there a mail truck here?" Juliet asked, looking at the truck.

"Ya got me," Cassie said, shrugging.

Michael and Juliet climbed out of the limo and walked into the mansion, and Cassie followed.

"Mom? Dad?" Juliet called out, but, of course, got no reply.

Michael went towards a closet to hang his jacket up. It was the closet where Inga now resided--but Cassie made no effort to stop him. Instead, she had her cattle prod ready.

Michael opened the closet, and froze. Inga, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and stripped, struggled on the closet floor.

"Oh my god!" Michael cried out.

"What?" Juliet said, puzzled. Cassie hit her with the cattle prod, and she let out a horrible scream, crumpling to the floor.

Michael spun on his heels, dropping his coat.

"Don't move," Cassie said.

Juliet shivered on the floor, her eyes rolled back in her head.

"What did you do to her!" Michael cried.

"Be still," Cassie said. "Be calm. Or I'll zap her again."

"Is she going to die?" Michael said, terror in his voice.

"No," Cassie said. "She's just stunned."

"What do you want?" Michael said. "If you want--"

"I swear to god if you ask me if I want money I will zap the life out of your sister," Cassie said.

Michael shut his mouth.

"Now," Cassie said. "Start undressing."

"Why?" Michael said, confused.

"Because I told you too. Besides, I saw you checking me out in the car. It should be a great thrill for you to undress in front of me."

"I wasn't checking you out!" Michael said.

Cassie laughed. "Just get moving."

Michael took his shoes and socks off and awkwardly pulled off his pants. Then he pulled his collard shirt over his head without buttoning it.

"Stop, that's fine," Cassie said. Michael was now wearing just a pair of black boxer shorts.

Cassie grabbed a near-by chair and placed it in front of him. "Sit down."

Michael sat in the chair.

"Put your hands behind the chair," Cassie said, and Michael complied. Cassie took a length of rope from her pocket and bound Michael's wrists behind the chair. Then she took more rope and crossed it over his chest, holding his upper-body to the chair back. As she did this, she made sure she pressed her breasts against him firmly, just to see the nervous look on his face.

She tied both of his legs to the two front legs of the chair, bending his legs at the knees, so his feet were not flat on the floor, and his big toes only barely grazed the floor.

She took a foam ball and stuffed it into Michael's mouth. He moaned.

"You look adorable," she said.

"Mmmphh...," Michael said.

Cassie straddled him, sitting on his lap, and put her arms around his neck. She was amused when she could feel he was beginning to have an erection.

"My my, Michael," she said in a faux-seductive voice. "Is that a present for me?"

And then a vase crashed over her head.

While she had been tying and taunting Michael, Juliet had slowly come to. And while Cassie had been distracted, Juliet had picked up a ceramic vase from off of a near by end-table, and smashed it down onto Cassie's head.

Cassie let out a startled cry and felt something wet run down the back of her head. At first she feared it might be blood, but then she realized it was water from the vase.

"Mmmphh!" Michael cried out.

"Damn it!" Cassie yelled, stumbling off of him.

Cassie eyed Juliet, who stood in a defensive position.

"You really shouldn't have done that," Cassie snarled.

Juliet ran, running up the stairs.

"You dope!" Cassie yelled, running after her. "Don't you watch horror movies? Why would you run up the stairs instead of out the door!"

Juliet reached a closet on the second floor, and Cassie saw why the girl had been running upstairs. The closet was full of guns. Juliet pulled down a shotgun, pumped it, and fired blindly.

"Oh hell!" Cassie said, dropping down to the ground.

"Just leave!" Juliet yelled, her voice shaky. "Just get the hell out of here!"

"Juliet, put the gun down!" Cassie said.

"Just go! Please!" Juliet said.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Cassie told herself. This is all your fault. You just HAD to play around with the boy, and now this is happening.

Cassie took a deep breath and rushed at Juliet. Juliet screamed and fired again, but her aim was no where near Cassie, and Cassie tackled her to the ground. The gun flew from her hands and slid across the floor.

Cassie could hear Michael moaning downstairs and the Winslow's moaning in the bedroom, and that, grouped with Juliet's panicked screams and the ringing in her own ears from the gunfire, began to give her a severe headache.

"BE QUIET!" Cassie screamed and slapped Juliet hard across the face. Juliet yelped in pain, and Cassie felt sick to her stomach. She had a sudden, overwhelming urge to wrap her hands around the girls neck and snap it. And maybe that was for the best--what with where her and her brother were heading. Maybe that was a way out. She could kill the twins and explain to the Russian that things had gone wrong, and--

"Please," Juliet said, weeping. "I'm sorry..."

Cassie looked down. She was pinning Juliet to the floor with her body, and Juliet was crying. She looked lovely, despite her tears; her skin pale and blemish-less.

"Don't be sorry," Cassie said, stroking the girls hair. "It's not your fault. You did what you had to do."

"Please just let us go...," Juliet whimpered.

Cassie placed her hand over the girls mouth.

"Mmmnnn...," Juliet sobbed into Cassie's hand.

"Don't worry," Cassie said. "This will all be over soon."

She took her hand off the girls mouth.

"What's going to happen to us?" Juliet whispered.

"You're going on a trip," Cassie said softly. "Your whole family."

"With you?"

"No. Not with me."

"I don't understand," Juliet said, still crying.

Cassie looked at the girl, and was almost overcome with her beauty. "Neither do I," she said, digging into her pocket for a large foam ball. "Neither do I."

She shoved the ball into Juliet's mouth and then lifted the girl to her feet.

to be concluded...


Family Matters part 6


6.

TWO WEEKS LATER

"Cassie, are you okay?" Dr. Wilson said.

Cassie looked up at Dr. Wilson, and realized with horror that she had been crying.

"I'm fine," Cassie said, sniffling and wiping the tears away with her fingers.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not--"

"Cassie, I'm right in front of you," Dr. Wilson said. "Please, what's going on? Can you tell me about this job? Give me some sort of details? Tell me why it bothered you so much--"

"I can't," Cassie said, her voice sounding harsher than she had intended it.

"Did...someone get hurt?" Dr. Wilson said cautiously.

Cassie let out a sad laugh. "Someone always gets hurt."

"What's going on with you, Cassie?" Dr. Wilson said, her voice sympathetic. "I've never seen you like this..."

"I don't know," Cassie said, rising from the couch and looking out the window at the city below. "Maybe I'm having a nervous break-down."

"Please," Dr. Wilson said. "If I'm going to help you, I need to know more--"

"Do you ever feel evil?" Cassie said, not looking at Dr. Wilson.

"Evil?" Dr. Wilson said.

"Yeah," Cassie said. "Do you ever feel like your actions are so inherently wrong, that they border on evil?"

"No," Dr. Wilson said. "I feel unhappy with myself at times--I feel regret for certain actions. Everyone does. But I don't feel evil."

Cassie smiled. "Lucky you."


TWO WEEKS AGO, 7 P.M.

As per instructions, Cassie had stripped the four Winslow's completely nude and mummified them from ankle to neck in duct tape. Then she had gagged all four with tape. Now only their bare feet and startled faces were visible.

They writhed at her feet now in the main entryway of the mansion, four cocoons, moaning and pleading at her with their eyes.

Cassie checked her watch. "Almost time," she said softly.

At some point, the wrapped Winslow's scooted closer together, to try to offer some sort of comfort to each other, and Cassie had to look away.

Then there was a buzz on the intercom.

Cassie pressed the talk-box. "Yes?"

"It's me, darling," came the voice of the Russian woman. "I arrive for packages."

Cassie buzzed her in and opened the door. The Russian woman backed a white van up to the door and climbed out, smoking a cigarette. She saw the bound Winslow's and smiled.

"Perfect," she said. She reached for one of them and Cassie grabbed her arm, stopping her. The Russian gave Cassie a dirty look.

"You know better than to touch me, Cassandra," she said.

"Tell me why!" Cassie said through gritted teeth. "Tell me why you want all of them..."

"I don't have to tell you why."

Cassie took a gun out of her pocket--a gun she had gotten from the closet upstairs--and pointed it at the Russian woman's head.

"Tell me why or I'll blow your fucking head off," Cassie said, cocking the gun. The Russian woman didn't even break a sweat. She just stared at Cassie with her cold gaze.

"One of many companies I run did business with Mr. Winslow," the Russian said. "And he swindled a lot of money from us. You see, what people don't know, is that Winslow's company is mostly bankrupt. He run it into ground. He need to steal from other people to keep his fortune going."

"So just take him," Cassie said, her voice shaking. "He stole from you, just take him."

The Russian woman laughed. "We need to make example. We need to let people know that no one steal from us. And if they do, there are consequences."

Cassie looked down at the Winslow's. She looked at the twins, who both look terrified beyond belief.

"This is who we are, Cassandra," the Russian woman said. "This is the life we choose."

Cassie lowered her gun. "Take them," she said.

"Help me load them," the Russian said.

"Fuck you," Cassie said. "Do your own grunt work."

The Russian woman smiled. "Very well."

One by one she took the squirming, screaming Winslow's to the van. There were four large white boxes inside--coffins. She put a Winslow family member in each box, and sealed the lids.

"What about the bodyguard?" the Russian woman said.

"She's in the closet."

"I take her too," the Russian woman said, and grabbed the struggling Inga. "Oh, she big woman!"

Cassie said nothing.

There was no box for Inga, so the Russian woman merely laid her on the floor of the van next to the coffins. Cassie could hear the "mmmphhs" of the Winslow's from inside.

Shoot her, she thought. You have the gun in your hand. Shoot this bitch in the head and let them all go. And then leave town. You can do it.

She looked up and caught her reflection in a mirror. She waited for the reflection to tell her what to do, but the reflection was silent.

"Tell you what," the Russian woman said, slamming the back door of the van. "Since you have such hard time, I double your pay."

"Whatever," Cassie said. "We're through. Don't ever contact me again. If I so much as catch a whiff of your Vodka-soaked breath, I'm going to blow your head off."

The Russian woman smiled, but said nothing.

"What's going to happen to them?" Cassie asked.

"Trust me, darling," the Russian said. "You do not want to know. I wouldn't want you to lose any sleep." She climbed into the van, and drove away, off into the night.

Cassie returned with the mail truck to the alley, and untied Betty. She gave her a bottle of water.

"Drink this," Cassie said. "Slowly. You're probably dehydrated."

"What are you going to do with me?" Betty whimpered.

"Nothing. Here, get dressed," Cassie said, tossing Betty her mail uniform. Betty put on her clothes with shaky hands.

"Please," Betty said. "Don't hurt me..."

"I'm not," Cassie said. "I swear. I'm sorry you had to go through this today. But believe me...it could've been much, much worse."

Cassie opened the door to her van and placed the keys to Betty's mail truck in Betty's hand. "Now get out of here."

Betty ran to her truck, starting it up and speeding away.



TWO WEEKS LATER

"Time's up," Cassie said.

"Cassie, you've been silent for almost our entire session," Dr. Wilson sighed. "We haven't gotten anywhere."

"It doesn't matter," Cassie said, shrugging. "Time is up."

Dr. Wilson rose and approached her. "Well, if you have any--"

Cassie grabbed Dr. Wilson by her hair and yanked her closer. Dr. Wilson let out a startled cry and Cassie clamped her hand down over the woman's mouth.

"Mmmmphh!!" Dr. Wilson cried, her eyes going wide.

"Shut up," Cassie said. "It's too late."

She pulled a roll of duct tape out of her purse and began taping Dr. Wilson's hands behind her back, pinning her face-down on the floor with her body weight.

"Cassie, what are you doing!" Dr. Wilson cried. She kicked her legs and one of her tan high-heels fell off.

"It's nothing personal, Doc," Cassie said. "It's business. Someone has their eye on you, and they paid me good cash to snatch you for them."

"What are you talking about!" Dr. Wilson said, as Cassie taped her feet together.

"This is my job," Cassie said. "You wanted to know what it is--well, here it is, first hand. This is the real reason I came to see you again after so long."

"Cassie, please don't do this!"

"I have to!" Cassie cried, and tore a strip of tape off to place over Dr. Wilson's mouth.

"No, you don't!" Dr. Wilson said. "You don't have to do this! Please don't do this to me!"

"I sold two eighteen year old kids into slavery," Cassie snarled. "Do you think I'm going to show YOU mercy?"

"Please!" Dr. Wilson cried, tears running down her cheeks "Please, stop--"

"Do you want to know the real reason the last job bothered me so much? Huh? It's because while a part of me felt bad; a part of me knew it was wrong--another part of me LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT. Hell, I got off on it. I always have. It turns me on. WHY IS THAT? Can you tell me?"

"Cassie...," Dr. Wilson said, frantic. "Please, just--"

"Tell me why I do this!" Cassie screamed into Dr. Wilson's face. "Tell me what's wrong with me! TELL ME WHY I LOVE IT!"

Dr. Wilson whimpered. "I don't know..."

Cassie smoothed the tape over Dr. Wilson's lips. "Of course not," Cassie said. "No one knows."

She rose to her feet and took her phone out to call the client--and then she caught her reflection in a mirror hanging above the couch she had been sitting on.

"Stop," the reflection said.

"Jane," Cassie said to her reflection, "I...I..."

"Cassie, if you ever loved me, if you love me still, you'll stop. Look at her. Look down at her. She's so afraid."

Cassie looked down at Dr. Wilson and saw the terror in the woman's wide, wet eyes. Cassie looked back at her reflection.

"Do you remember when dad would get in one of his moods?"

"Yes, of course--"

"And I would hold you--"

"Yes!"

"Do you remember how afraid you were?"

"Oh...Christ..."

She dropped to her knees and began ripping the tape off of Dr. Wilson's hands and feet. She pulled the tape off of her mouth and Dr. Wilson let out a startled cry.

"I'm sorry...," Cassie said.

"Please...just leave...," Dr. Wilson sobbed, rubbing her wrists.

Cassie reached out a hand and Dr. Wilson shrank away. "Please, don't touch me anymore! Just leave!"

Cassie fled the building.

She hailed a cab and called the client.

"Deal's off," she said.

"I'm very disappointed," the client said. "I've had my eye on that woman for a while."

"Word of advice," Cassie said. "Leave her alone. She's off limits. If I find out you sent someone else after her, I'm going to rip you apart."

"Ms. Clack, really, this is very unprofessional."

"Get fucked," Cassie said, and hung up her phone.

She got out of the cab of a corner of some street she had never been on, and began to walk. She didn't know where she was going, and it didn't much matter. It was cold--the weather reports said the temperature would drop below zero tonight--and she hugged her blazer tight against her body as she walked.

She walked until darkness had descended on the city in full force, and the music of the night was breaking glass and police sirens. She stopped in front of a real estate office, closed for the night.

She took her phone out and dialed her sister's number. It rang, and rang, and rang, and she was sure that her sister would not answer, and that that would be the end of this.

But then, someone picked up.

"Hello?" a voice said--and Cassie felt butterflies in her stomach. It was Jane's voice, and the sound of it made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Hello?" Jane said again, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Jane?" Cassie said, her voice choked.

"Yes...?" Jane said. "Who...who is this?"

Cassie felt a tear run down her cheek. She looked straight ahead at the real estate office. There was a sign in the window, featuring a picture of a beautiful, generic suburban house, and above it were the words: PICTURE YOURSELF AT HOME...

"It's Cassandra," Cassie said into the phone, closing her eyes. "It's your sister."

The End.


( Author's note)And because I am an impatient person, here is THE END. This was slightly different than my other Cassandra Clack stories, so I hope people managed to stick with it. From a character standpoint, this is probably my favorite of the Cassie stories, as it gave me a chance to show that Cassie has feelings other than a raging libido (not that there's anything wrong with that...)

Let me know what y'all think of the overall thing, if you wouldn't mind.