Uniform Stealing Board

Laura Stern - The Leading Lady - pt1
• by Geistjager,



The Leading Lady - Part 1

Laura Stern slowly awoke from a deep sleep. Something had disturbed her; what it had been, she wasn’t sure of. For a brief moment, she thought it might have been Miranda. But then she remembered that Miranda was gone. Laura had finally let her return to her old life, and had to admit that her world had been somewhat lonely ever since. Having spent most of her adult life on the very fringes of society, operating as a loner, she had come to relish having someone constant in her world.
Her still-closed eyelids twitched slightly as she stirred, wondering what it had been that had disturbed her. And then she tensed slightly. She remembered.
Coming home. The apartment in darkness. And then, the moment of ambush. A chaotic struggle in the blackness, trapped in a vicelike grip. The all-too familiar smell of chloroform…
A fingertip gently brushed her cheek.
She opened her eyes, and at the same time, she tested her ability to move. Strangely enough, she was neither bound nor gagged, and her vision beheld the face of a woman looking down at her, with a not-unpleasant smile on scarlet painted lips, a vivid flash of colour against alabaster skin and pale blue eyes, framed by long dark hair.
“Hello Laura. It’s lovely to finally meet you,” said the woman.
Laura realised that she was laying full length on an elegant pale leather sofa, with her head on the woman’s lap. She was wearing a long satin nightdress in pale peach, trimmed with white lace. The woman looking down upon her was wearing a dressing gown.
Laura licked her lips slowly, her mouth feeling suddenly as dry as bone. She had just recognized the woman.
It was the Empress.

Camille Deschanel, known as The Empress, was a socialite. A delicate china doll of a woman, whose grace, elegance and beauty masked a reputation for total ruthlessness. A woman who reputedly used other people as playthings, and whose capricious nature had made the fortune of some of her toys, and short work of others. Laura had been warned about her in the past, and had made a point of never getting involved in her affairs. But now it seemed that for some reason, she had appeared on The Empress’s radar.
She began to sit up, but a gentle grip upon her arm checked her. Apparently, it was desirable for her to remain where she was for now.
“Would you like some breakfast? You must be hungry. You’ve been sleeping for almost two days,” the woman purred softly, as slender fingers brushed a lock of hair from her forehead.
Laura frowned slightly, looking around. “Two days? Why so long?” she asked quietly.
Camille smiled, and shook her head.
“I must admit that I originally intended to wake you long before this. But I just couldn’t resist. In fact, I’d have to wonder how anyone who had seen you sleeping could resist you, Laura. Such a peaceful look. Such beauty. I was almost tempted to keep you…”
Laura took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. She decided to let Camille do all the talking for now, so she let herself relax, feeling the woman’s fingers gently stroking through her long dark tresses.
“I must apologize for so rudely interrupting your life in this way, Laura. But I have need of someone with your talents, and an acquaintance of mine highly recommended you.”
Camille picked up a small bell, and rang it. Within seconds, an attractive young woman in a pale button-fronted tunic dress appeared. “Madame wishes?” she asked.
“Breakfast for my guest, Simone. And coffee. Brazilian, I think.”
The young woman retreated with a curtsey, and The Empress returned her attention to Laura.
“Now then. Have you ever heard of an actress called Hannah Montague, Laura?”
Laura thought about this, and shook her head slowly. “I can’t say I have. Who is she?”
Camille nodded, tilting her head on one side. “I can’t say I’m surprised. She was an up and coming young actress in the late Seventies. Several supporting roles in Hollywood, and slated for her first leading part in the early Eighties. But then, in a minor mystery of the day, she disappeared. Never to be seen again. It was rumoured that she drowned whilst swimming, but her body was never found. Quite tragic, really; she was a stunningly beautiful woman. Would you like to see a picture of her?”
Laura nodded, and was allowed to sit up. Camille leaned across to the coffee table that stood in front of the sofa, and picked up a folder, which she passed to the bemused infiltrator.
Laura opened the folder, and found herself looking at a portrait shot of a young woman. Delicately featured, with full lips, big dark eyes, and raven black hair. The Empress was right; Hannah Montague had been a truly beautiful woman.
“Definitely leading lady material,” she murmured, studying the picture. “Are you asking me to try and find her? I’m good, but I’m not sure if I’m that good…”
Camille laughed softly, gently tugging Laura to lean back against her whilst shaking her head.
“No, Laura. That isn’t what I need you for. I have it on very good authority that she has passed on. Her life took a strange and dramatic turn, but it wasn’t an unhappy one, ultimately.”
A sheet of paper was pulled from underneath the photograph, and placed in Laura’s lap. “This is what I need your help with.”
Laura read the piece of paper in silence, a silence that was only broken by the return of the young woman, carrying a tray. Fresh croissants, a pot of coffee, natural yoghurt and fresh fruit. Laura felt her stomach growl at the scent. She hadn’t eaten in days, as Camille had said.
The sheet of paper carried a printed copy of a notification of a private auction, closed to all but a small clique of notable and avid collectors of Hollywood memorabilia. And among the listed items, highlighted by a coloured marker, were the dresses worn by Hannah Montague in her film roles, along with the unworn items that she had been destined to wear in her leading debut.
“You want the dresses? Isn’t there any way you could get yourself invited to the auction?” Laura asked. She was genuinely surprised that a woman such as The Empress would be unable to use her contacts to have herself included in the proceedings.
The Empress shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid not. For some reason, the auction is only open to those personally invited by Jared Marks, the owner of the collection. He inherited the company that created all of the outfits listed, and he has been very particular in choosing his potential buyers. He has also insisted on tight security for the event, which is another reason why I decided that you would be the best choice for this enterprise. He has hired Alicia Kincaid as head of security for the auction…”

Laura felt her hackles rise as the mention of that name. Alicia Kincaid was considered to be one of the best in the business of covert infiltration. She and Laura had been rivals for years until, for reasons best known to herself, Kincaid had suddenly switched roles, becoming a very high profile security advisor to the rich and famous. Poacher turned gamekeeper. Laura had watched as Kincaid had gained wealth and fame, and a huge ego to boot. She had been itching for a chance to show the smug little turncoat exactly who the best in the business was, and now it seemed that the Empress was offering her just such an opportunity.
Seeing the look on Laura’s face, Camille chuckled. “I see that I did my homework correctly. You’d love the chance to beat her at her own game, wouldn’t you?”
Laura smiled darkly. “If you’d told me she was running security for the auction, you wouldn’t have had to tell me anything else. So, aside from the chance to wipe the floor with Alicia Kincaid, what are you offering for the job?”
“I will pay you a quarter of a million for the task, if you accomplish it to my satisfaction. Plus a bonus of fifty thousand for each outfit that you recover intact. Is that to your liking?”
Laura raised her eyebrows at this. There were five of Hannah Montague’s outfits listed for the auction. Half a million, if she retrieved them all, plus a chance to humiliate Alicia Kincaid… It was just too tempting. Laura pondered on the offer, and as she did so, her eyes wandered around the room. They finally came to rest upon a large portrait picture that hung over the fireplace, picturing a man and woman with their young child. Laura paused for a moment, and then she smiled and nodded.
“I’ll take the job. I’d be insane not to.”
Camille smiled, and leaned in close, pressing a kiss to Laura’s cheek.
“Just so you know, Laura… If you should fail me, I will exact retribution. It might not be the worst thing that could ever happen to you…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Laura had been offered the carrot, and now she was left in no doubt that the Empress would wield a very big stick if she failed to deliver…

She awoke back in her own bed, in her apartment. She didn’t remember how she had got there at all. She sat herself up, noting a folder that lay on the bed next to her. She picked it up, and opened it, studying the contents closely.
The first item that came to hand was a set of plans; the layout of Rothman Brothers, high profile auctioneers, the venue of the auction. The next item was a dossier sheet of the staff of the auction house, complete with photographs. A third item was a list of the potential buyers, and a file on Jared Marks himself, his pale grey eyes staring coldly out of the photograph above a long straight nose, and a narrow, thin-lipped mouth.
Finally, there was a list of the models who had been contracted to display the outfits. All up and comers in the fashion industry, not famous, but chosen for their poise and grace, the better to show off the auctioned items.
Laura slipped out of the bed, and padded to her kitchen. Twenty minutes and a pot of strong coffee later, she slid back under the covers, and picked up the plans to the building again. It was like being at college all over again – a ton of reading up to do before the big test. And getting an ‘A’ in that test would net her half a million.
She traced a fingertip across the plans repeatedly, following different paths around the building, her mind’s eye picturing each route. One by one, she discarded them, until she stopped upon a page of the plans. She nodded slowly to herself, and then reached across to the bedside table, picking up her tablet. Opening the satellite maps, she homed in on the location of the auction house, and little by little, a smile joined the nodding. She had found a way in. Pulling up the local business indicator, she checked the building that sat on the left of the Rothman Brothers venue. First floor: Samantha Hale, attorney at law. Her smile became a grin. On top of it all, her first target was a lawyer. It was time to do a little more research.



Kelsie Ward, paralegal and secretary, tiptoed into her shared apartment, carrying her shoes in one hand. She’d really enjoyed the party, but she had to be at work the next morning. The reason for her attempt at stealth was that her friend Riley was having another early night – her final year as a medical student seemed to be really taking its toll – and Kelsie didn’t want to disturb her. Good roomies were hard to find, after all.
The apartment was in darkness, but Kelsie knew her way around the place with no problem. She put her shoes down in the hallway, and then slipped into the kitchen. A nice hot drink to take to bed was in order, she decided.
As she passed Riley’s room, she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. There were faint noises coming from inside. Obviously Riley had dozed off whilst leaving her TV on; not an unusual occurrence. Kelsie smiled to herself, and decided to take a little detour to switch the TV off.
She quietly pushed the door open, and leaned in. The first thing that she noticed was that there was no light from the television. The second thing she noticed was that Riley was moving. Her eyes widened as she realised that her friend was lying on top of her covers, clad in only her underwear, and that she wasn’t just moving. She was struggling.
Kelsie switched on the light, and gasped. Riley turned toward the sound, and Kelsie saw the layers of black tape that covered both her eyes and mouth, from beneath which issued the faint noises she had heard in the hallway. More tape had been generously used to bind the writhing woman, who now whimpered pleadingly for rescue.
Kelsie, immediately thinking that Riley had been the victim of a home invasion robbery, darted forward to help her friend.
“Riley… Oh my god! Hang on honey; I’m going to unt- Mmmmuowph!”
A hand clamped firmly over her nose and mouth. A hand holding a wadded gauze cloth. An arm grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. Kelsie was a fit and healthy young woman, in the prime of life. But Laura was a professional at this sort of thing. The unfortunate paralegal didn’t stand a chance…

Laura stood back, smiling to herself. She had stripped the unconscious Kelsie down to her underwear as well, before tightly binding her with tape. She had stuffed the young woman’s mouth thoroughly with items of lingerie taken from Riley’s drawer, before using more of the tape to gag and blindfold her new victim. The tape adhered to itself, rather than the victim’s skin or hair, so Laura didn’t feel particularly bad about the way she had bound the two young women. She had then settled Kelsie down on the bed next to Riley, before giving the medical student a second dose of chloroform to keep her nice and quiet. Hopefully, they would sleep on once the drug had worn off. Laura decided that she would tip the police off to the two women’s plight once the job was done – they hadn’t done anything to warrant being left in this state for an extended period of time. In fact, she was only doing this to ensure that there would be no interruptions when she paid a visit to the offices of Samantha Hale. The lawyer wouldn’t be so lucky… Laura was not fond of attorneys in general.
She carefully pulled the covers over the two unconscious women who lay taped tightly together on the bed, and then switched off the light. Time to hit the sack. She had an early start in the morning.

Samantha Hale, an attractive brunette in her early thirties, was an early riser. She liked to be up early, take her morning run in the park, then shower and get changed for work. Her husband was away on business, and wouldn’t be back for another day, so there was nothing keeping her at home.
She sat on her bed, having wiggled her way into a fresh pair of pantyhose, and slipped her legs into her dark grey skirt. As she got to her feet and zipped it up as a prelude to tucking her blouse in, there was a knock at her apartment door.
Frowning, Samantha walked to the door, and peered through the peephole. There was a young woman on the other side, wearing a brown courier’s uniform and cap, and holding a zip-locked plastic folder.
Samantha was well used to receiving the delivery of legal documents at home, even at this early hour. She was hoping that it was her signed copy of the Gordon settlement. She opened the door with a polite smile. “Well now, this is nice and early!”
Laura raised her head, and smiled at the woman.
“I have a long day ahead of me…” she chuckled, and then, to Samantha’s extreme surprise, she lunged forward…

Laura had been very lucky. Samantha Hale was a good size match in both clothing and shoes, and had very good taste in both. Laura slipped her feet into Samantha’s black patent leather heels, and buttoned up her dark grey suit jacket. She looked up, and smiled brightly.
“What do you think? It’s surprising, you know. We could almost be sisters!”
Samantha stared back at the intruder in mute shock. She couldn’t honestly offer an opinion. Partly because her vision was obscured by having one of her stockings pulled down over her face, but mainly because the other stocking was holding in the two pairs of her panties that she had been forced to stuff her mouth with. She shook her head in disbelief, as if unable to accept what was happening to her, and tugged at the ropes that kept her tied spread-eagled to her king-sized double bed. After today, she would seriously consider getting a job as a prosecutor.
Laura walked into the hall, and picked up Samantha’s car keys and handbag, before perching a pair of sunglasses on her nose. She walked back to the bedroom, and stood in the doorway, eyeing her latest victim.
“Normally, this is the point where I’d apologize for the inconvenience, and say it wasn’t personal. But you’re a lawyer… so you can just suck it up.”
Samantha Hale, in a sudden burst of frantic anger, jerked her head forward, and let loose a muffled stream of obscenities at her tormentor. Laura paused, listening to this outburst, and then walked over to the bed to collect up her bag. She reached into one of the side pockets, and took out a small plastic pot.
“Just for that… say hello to my favourite brand of itching powder,” she grinned, as her fingers plucked at the waistbands of Samantha’s hose and panties.
By the time she left the apartment, and headed down to the building’s underground car park, Samantha Hale’s gag was well and truly being put to the test.

Laura pulled into the small car park at the back of the building where Samantha Hale had her offices. She parked next to the van that she had left there the night before, prior to her visit to Kelsie Ward. Letting herself in via the back door and then locking it behind her, she left the front door locked and the shutter down. No visitors for Mrs Hale today, and anyone who might have seen her pulling up wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Just a woman who looked similar to the lawyer, driving her car, and going in to her offices.

She set down Samantha’s keys and handbag as she walked into the office, and then walked around the building. She found what she was looking for in a room that was empty except for a couple of sets of filing cabinets: an air-conditioning duct that the building shared with the adjoining auction house. Her means of entry.
She spent the next few hours laying low, and taking a light nap on a couch in the office’s waiting room. The auction wasn’t until the evening, and she didn’t want to make a move too early. Finally, she decided that it was time to prepare for her mission.
She began by laying out her kit; a set of light enhancing goggles, a black utility vest, covered in pouches and pockets. A black matte-silk bodysuit, with neoprene gloves, and light, rubber soled ankle boots. A small toolkit in a folding pouch. A small calibre handgun in a thigh holster. A mini-cutter, that slipped into a pouch in the inside of her gloves. A bundle of black plastic zip-ties, a roll of black tape, and an atomizer bottle loaded with chloroform, accompanied by a supply of gauze cloths. And finally, three rolled up clothing bags in a small black sling bag, to transport the outfits when she retrieved them.

She stripped off the clothing that she had borrowed from Samantha Hale, folding them up and stowing them in her bag. Slipping into the courier uniform she had worn earlier, she took her bag, walked down the back steps, and unlocked the door. She quickly returned to the office, having put the bag in the cab of her getaway van, and removed the uniform once more, stuffing it into the bottom of the sling bag.
She then dressed herself in the bodysuit, gloves and boots. She put the various tools of her trade into the pockets and pouches of her utility vest before slipping it on and zipping it up. Finally, she tied her hair back into a ponytail, donned the goggles, and put the sling bag across her shoulder. She was ready for work.

Climbing up on top of one of the filing cabinets, Laura took out her tool kit, and removed the extendable screwdriver. A few minutes work, and she had the duct open. She pulled the night vision goggles down over her eyes, and pulled herself inside. The duct was cramped and dusty, and even with the goggles, she couldn’t see more than a couple of feet in front of her. She slithered along as silently as possible, scanning the walls of the duct as she travelled. But apparently, the building wasn’t designed with modern security in mind, and no one had seen fit to alter the air conditioning system. And that was going to cost them dearly.

She arrived at the vent that opened onto a first floor corridor in the auction house. She was about to prize it open, when the sound of footsteps in the corridor stopped her. Two sets of high heels on a tiled floor.
“Okay, so it might be weird,” said a cheerful voice. “But I’m not going to question getting to leave early!”
“I guess you’re right,” came a reply. “It beats hanging around those security guards. I know this stuff is valuable, but those guns make me nervous! And that head of security they’ve brought in for this auction is a total bitch!”
Laura smiled to herself. That could only be Kincaid, she thought. She stayed silent, waiting until the footsteps and voices had faded into silence, and began to undo the air-conditioning vent. It took a little longer this time – working from the inside of the vent made it a tougher job – but soon enough, she was sliding the vent down on it’s one remaining screw, and climbing out into the corridor. From the file that she had been given, she knew that there were five guards on the security team, and now she knew for certain that they were armed. From what she knew of Kincaid’s modus operandi, three of them would be patrolling the building, one of them would be running an operations suite, and one would be with Kincaid, acting as her gofer. The plans had shown that the security cameras covered the entrance and exit points to the building, and that more covered the basement vault where the most valuable items were stored. She was relatively free to move around the building otherwise, but a guard’s uniform would help things along nicely. She would simply have to pick a likely spot in the building, and wait.
She chose the staff washrooms, which were located on the ground floor, at the rear of the building. Making her way down the narrow back stairwell, she found a position in the closet that contained the fuse-boxes for the electrical system, which was directly opposite the washrooms. Leaving just a crack in the door ajar so that she could see out, she settled in to wait.

She didn’t have to wait for too long before her keen ears detected the sound of footsteps approaching; not high heels this time. Boots with flat, ridged soles. She risked a peek through the chink she had left in the door, and was rewarded by the sight of a young woman with blonde hair that was tied back in a short ponytail, wearing a blue uniform and baseball cap, with a holster worn on her right hip. The woman pushed the washroom door open, and walked inside.
Laura waited just a few seconds, and then left the closet, quietly pushing open the washroom door, and sneaking inside, as silent as a hunting cat. She took out the atomiser spray, and one of the thick gauze pads, and waited, taking up position in an unoccupied stall. As the toilet flush echoed in the room, she used the sound to mask her dosing the gauze with a generous amount of chloroform, and readied herself for the attack.
The security guard left the stall, intending to wash her hands at the basin. But Laura didn’t give her the chance; the mirror over the basins would have given the game away. She sprung into action, darting from the stall, and aiming a well placed kick into the woman’s ribs, driving the wind out of her with a breathless gasp, before grabbing the blonde guard tightly around her chest and clamping the gauze over her nose and mouth.
It was an uneven struggle. The winded guard’s attempts to get her breath back as she staggered and squirmed in Laura’s grip only hastened her passage into unconsciousness, and in less than a minute, she was sagging in her attacker’s arms, her eyes fluttering closed. Laura lowered her to the floor, walked to the washroom door, and locked it.
She moved quickly, realising that she wouldn’t have too long to replace the unconscious woman. She rapidly stripped the guard of her uniform shirt, pants, boots and socks, leaving her clad in only a white sports bra and matching panties. She balled up the socks, prized the sleeping victim’s mouth open, and stuffed the socks in one by one, filling the woman’s mouth completely. Several strips of tape ensured that she would be effectively silenced when she regained consciousness, and another strip was smoothed over her eyes as a makeshift blindfold. Then she dragged the woman into the stall that she had just left. She put the lid down over the toilet seat, and sat the sleeping guard on it. A zip-tie quickly bound her ankles together, and a second secured her thighs. Two more were locked together to form a double length, which she then used to bind her thighs to her ankles. She turned her victim around so that she was facing the rear wall of the stall, kneeling on the toilet lid. Another zip-tie bound the unconscious blonde’s crossed wrists behind her, and a final tie was looped between her wrist and ankle-bindings, fixing the woman into a kneeling hog-tied position. The toilet was of an old fashioned type, with a pipe that ran down from the ceiling to the cistern, and as a final act, Laura pressed the woman up against the pipe, and used a couple of lengths of tape, wound around the pipe and the base of her victim’s neck, to keep her propped tightly against it.
She quickly removed her boots and utility vest, and slipped on the guard’s uniform over her bodysuit, before donning her vest, boots, and the luckless guard’s baseball cap, stowing her night-vision goggles into a pouch in her vest. A quick check of the guard’s belt yielded a handheld stun-gun, some plastic zip-cuffs (great, thought Laura. You can never have too many of these things), and an automatic handgun in the holster. She realised that the guard wasn’t carrying a radio of any sort, and she grinned to herself; Kincaid must be getting sloppy these days.
Dropping the guard’s discarded boots into the waste bin that stood next to the wash-basins, Laura unlocked the door, and left the washroom. She had a date with some fashion models, and some clothes shopping to do…


Laura Stern - The Leading Lady - pt2
• by Geistjager,

The Leading Lady - Part 2


Alicia Kincaid stood in the small office that she had temporarily commandeered as a security headquarters for the auction, reading through the guest list for the evening’s event. She was confident that the auction would go smoothly; there was nothing in the catalogue that was intrinsically valuable, and most of the major players in the collectors market were on the invite list. Her job was simply to ensure that things ran smoothly, and that the riff-raff were kept away from the more famous collectors upon their arrival.
Alicia had been one of the best – no, scratch that. In her opinion, she had been the best in the business for years. But as she had developed more of a taste for the finer things in life, and a desire to become part of the high society that she had previously targeted, it had made sense for her to become legitimate in her dealings. And her wealth of experience had made the career of security trouble-shooter a natural choice. Plus of course, it had enabled her to defeat some of her former professional rivals.
Behind her stood Jared Marks, his curiously blank, colourless grey eyes seemingly glued to the security chief’s back. Kincaid had to admit that she had grown to dislike the man during their brief professional association. He had inherited and married his money, possessed an unpleasantly cold personality, treated everyone around him as an inferior, and was irritatingly pedantic and tight-fisted when it came to expenditure. But he was paying enough to make it worth putting up with him, and his high profile would look good on Alicia’s resume’.

Alicia had brought five security guards with her on the job – the budget wouldn’t allow for any more. But she had ensured that they were the best that she had on her payroll. Three of them were currently patrolling the building, one was sitting a few feet away, keeping a watchful eye on the security monitors, and one was currently occupied with running a list of new instructions to the patrolling guards. And it was that guard who was currently slowly stirring from a drugged sleep, only to find herself stripped of her uniform, securely bound, gagged and blindfolded, and attached to a cistern-pipe in a stall in the female employee’s washroom…

Meanwhile, Laura Stern was making her way toward the room that had been designated as a changing area for the models who would be displaying the various movie costumes that Marks was auctioning off. From the dossier she had received, she knew that there were only five models present – the auction would move at a slow enough pace that the five of them would have plenty of time to change in-between their appearances. Laura had no particular desire to do anything unpleasant or humiliating to them – she simply needed them out of the way because they would be where the items on her shopping list were. So, she had already decided on a course of action to deal with them.
However, the best laid plans rarely work as intended, and Laura found herself suddenly sidetracked as she turned a corner, only to discover one of the security guards in front of her, checking that the doors in the corridor were either locked, or that the rooms behind them were empty. There was a cheap carpet in the corridor here, so she hadn’t heard the sound of the woman’s footsteps. Fortunately, the woman, a tall, athletic-looking brunette, was absorbed in her task, and hadn’t heard Laura’s approach. In fact, the first thing she was aware of was the sudden sensation of something being jammed against the base of her neck…
Laura relaxed slightly as the guard slumped to the floor. She considered stun-guns as being a little too brutal for her tastes, but the woman had looked fit and strong enough to make a rapid takedown necessary.
She tried the handle of the door that the guard had been standing at, and found that it was unlocked. Opening it revealed an office, which was usually being used by the auction house staff who had been given the rest of the day off. She glanced around the room quickly, and then grabbed the unconscious guard by her wrists, and dragged her inside.
She quickly stripped the guard of her uniform, revealing an olive-green sports bra, black boyshorts, and black kneesocks. She then dragged the woman onto one of the office chairs, seating her facing the chair’s back, and with her legs fitting through the spaces left by the L-shaped armrests. Utilizing the black plastic zip-tie cuffs from the guard’s belt pouches, she secured the woman’s ankles to the front legs of the chair, using a second pair to cinch them tight, leaving the captive with no room to wriggle free, and then used a length of tape to secure her body against the backrest. She then used one of the woman’s socks to gag her, securing it with more tape. She stretched the other sock to its fullest extent, and used it to hood the woman, pulling it tightly over her head. She then used another zip-tie to bind the woman’s crossed wrists behind her. Finally, to buy herself more time before her victim was discovered, she used her atomiser to give the sock-hood a generous spritzing of chloroform over the guard’s nose, ensuring an extended nap for her. Pausing to make sure that the coast was clear, she left the office, closing the door behind her, and continued on her way.
Two down, she thought to herself. And with any luck, the other three could be completely bypassed.

Meanwhile, back in the security office, Alicia Kincaid turned her head as the door opened, and one of the patrolling security guards entered.
“I’ve finished the room-check on the first floor east wing, boss. Where do you want me next?”
Kincaid frowned slightly. “I sent Dana out with your next assignment? Haven’t you seen her?”
The guard shook her head, and Alicia sighed irritably.
“Go and check with the others, and see if she’s been to them. God help that girl if she’s been goofing off…”
The guard nodded quickly, and exited the room. As she did, Marks cleared his throat.
“Why don’t you just use your radios? Don’t you have radios?”
Alicia shook her head. “We tried that when we first surveyed the building, Mr. Marks. This is an old building, and we found that there is too much interference. That’s why I requested that we hire a full communications suite…”
Marks shook his head in turn. “Out of the question – for the amount that you quoted, we could have hired on five more guards. My budget for the auction simply wouldn’t stretch to it.”
Kincaid said nothing, but inwardly she was seething. People like Marks used to be her favourite type of target; too short-sighted and miserly to invest in proper security. If the items to be auctioned had been of high financial value, she would have thought him insane. It was time to do some legwork.
She turned to the guard who was monitoring the cameras.
“I’m going to check on the others, and find out where Dana has got to. Call me on my phone if you see or hear anything.” The guard nodded in response, and turned her attention back to the monitors. Marks watched her leave without comment, and then turned to the guard.
“Well, I’m up for some coffee. Would you care for some?”

Laura arrived at the changing room, and listened at the door. There was a lively chatter from inside, as the five models passed the time until the wardrobe mistress arrived back in the evening. Laura unclipped the flap on the holster that sat on her hip, and knocked briskly on the door.
“Security check,” she announced as she pushed the door open. She was greeted by five smiles from pretty young women in casual clothing. They were sitting in chairs that they had drawn into a campfire circle. Laura smiled in return, and closed the door behind her, looking around the room as she did so. There was a door in the far wall, which the building plans had shown to be a cupboard or storage area, a set of makeshift tables with mirrors and lamps for the girls, and three costume rails on one side of the room, densely packed with red plastic hanging clothes bags, each one labelled as to its contents.
Laura crossed the room, and opened the door to the storage area. Nice and roomy, and devoid of contents, she thought. But that would soon be fixed. The door had no lock, but had a good old-fashioned sturdy bolt on the outside.
She walked back across to the changing room door, turned, and pulled the pistol that she had taken from the guard in the washroom. The room suddenly went silent as the five girls stared in uncomprehending shock at the uniformed woman with the gun.
“Not a sound,” Laura spoke quietly and confidently, once she had their full attention. “Do exactly as you are told, and nobody will get hurt.” She turned to the nearest girl, and passed her the zip-ties that she had taken from the donor of the uniform she was wearing. “You, stand up. The rest of you, lie down on the floor, and put your hands behind your backs…”

Alicia Kincaid stalked the corridors of the auction house, looking for the members of her security team. The fact that she hadn’t run across any of them so far was already making her suspicious. Her black high-heeled shoes clicked on the bare floor as she left the carpeted area of the building, her light blue eyes flickering from side to side each time she arrived at a junction. Finally, she caught sight of one of her team, a young black woman who turned a corner into the corridor as she entered.
“Tiana! Have you seen the others around? I sent Dana out with your next assignments, but Paula turned up at the HQ, and said she hadn’t seen her…”
Tiana pushed her cap back, and shook her head, the fringe of her asymmetric bob flicking to and fro. “No, boss. Not a sign.”
Alicia folded her arms, and looked down at the floor. Her suspicion was mounting.
“Right. Drop whatever you are doing, and come with me. Something is going on around here, and I’m not sure that I like it. We’re going to start back at the HQ, and work our way from there. We’re going to find the rest of the team, and we are going to check this building from basement to attic, if necessary!”
The two of them headed off back in the direction of the security headquarters, both blissfully unaware that if Tiana had opened the first door she had come to in that corridor, she would have seen one of her teammates helplessly bound and drugged in an office chair…

Laura pulled her sleeve back and glanced at her watch. She was doing great for timing. And getting the models under control was nice and easy as well.
She looked up and nodded to the model who stood in front of her. She had ordered her to use the zip-ties to cuff her fellow models tightly, their wrists crossed behind their backs as instructed. And then, one by one, she had been made to help them to their feet and walk them into the storage room, where they were ordered to lay face down on the floor once more. The remaining girl had removed their footwear, and then crossed and bound their ankles as instructed, whilst Laura kept a watchful eye on the proceedings. Once she was sure that the four young women were securely bound, she gave an approving nod to the fifth.
“Good work. Now it’s your turn. Take off your shoes, lay down on the floor, put your hands behind your back, and cross your ankles like your friends.”
The girl obeyed, with a wide-eyed, frightened look, and Laura quickly moved to bind her wrists and ankles with the black plastic zip-ties. It was a good job that the guards had been carrying them as well; at this rate, she’d have been almost out of her own supply. It was a good job that she’d brought a new roll of tape too.
A quick search of the changing room yielded plenty of gag-material. Silk scarves, opera-length gloves, and unopened packets of stockings or pantyhose for the girls to wear as required. Unable to resist, the five girls were soon rendered sufficiently silent, aside from muffled and garbled pleadings and protests. Laura closed the storage room door on them, and bolted it. Perfect. With the door locked the girls could barely be heard at all. Laura switched on an electric fan that stood on one of the makeshift dressing tables, and turned it onto its highest setting, further reducing the muffled sounds issuing from behind the bolted door.
She approached the costume racks, and began sorting through them, looking for the items on her shopping list. Each costume was in its own red costume bag, with the shoes bagged up in the bottom of each. It wouldn’t take long to transfer them to the black bags that she had brought with her. The only problem she foresaw was getting them back through the air-conditioning duct, but it was nothing that a little perseverance couldn’t deal with.
She looked up sharply as there was a knock at the door. She just made it to the wall next to the door as it opened.
“Security check – “
Laura grinned as her hand closed over the stun-gun. These security guards were the gift that kept on giving…

Alicia Kincaid and the guard she had brought with her arrived back at the security HQ. There was a handwritten note taped to the door: Getting coffee, back in five.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Alicia, ripping the note from the door, and crumpling it in her fist as she opened the door. The girl she had left to watch the monitors was going to catch hell for this…
As the door flew open, she stopped, her eyes widening. At her side, Tiana took a step back, her hand going to her holster.
There was no sign of Jared Marks. But the guard that she had left to keep an eye on the cameras lay face down on the floor of the office, out cold, and bound hand and foot with what were presumably her own zip-cuffs. A styrene cup, and wet patch on the carpeted floor near her chair showed that the guard hadn’t been able to finish her coffee.
Kincaid passed a hand over her eyes, thinking hard. Either Marks had left the room, or had been taken. Possibly a kidnapping. Yes, that seemed very likely. A second cup of unfinished coffee on a nearby side table suggested that he had left prematurely. And with the guard unconscious, there had been no one watching the cameras that covered the entrances and exits.
Tiana was shaking the sleeping guard. She looked up. “Out cold. I think she’s been drugged.”
Kincaid swore under her breath. “Right. There’s no one here but us, Marks… and the models. Changing room… Now!”
The two women darted from the room, both drawing their pistols from their holsters, and leaving their bound and drugged comrade to her enforced sleep.

Laura was busy unpacking the costumes from their individual bags, which she had laid out on one of the dressing tables.
The guard, a slim but muscular Latino woman with a long ponytail, had succumbed to the stun-gun without any fuss or struggle. Laura had helped herself to the woman’s equipment, and had elected to discard all but one of the pistols that she had taken, after ejecting their clips, and making sure that the guns were empty. The guard had then been stripped of her uniform, just like her compatriots, leaving her in a light grey sports bra and black opaque pantyhose. Laura had secured the girl by the simple expedient of laying her face down, and pushing her under the bottom rail of one of the costume racks. She had then pulled her arms back behind her, crossing her wrists above the rail, and binding them with a zip-tie. Her ankles had been bound in a similar fashion. Finally, three nicely-sized silk scarves from the costume array had been used to gag and blindfold her.

Only two guards remaining, Laura thought to herself as she unpacked the costumes. It would be easy enough to avoid them on the way out. It would be a pity that she didn’t have time to pay a visit to Alicia Kincaid in person, but there was no point in taking unnecessary risks for the sake of personal pride. The damage to her reputation would suffice. That, and the knowledge that someone had beaten her at both of her games…
The door was suddenly thrown open. Laura’s hand was already closing on the handle of the pistol at her hip, but the two women in the doorway already had theirs drawn and aimed at her. One was a young black woman with a decidedly angry look on her pretty face. The other, a tall, strikingly attractive redhead in a black suit jacket and pencil skirt, was all too familiar.

“Hello Laura,” Alicia spoke with a calm politeness that was tinged with smug arrogance. “I can’t say that I’m surprised to find you here. You always did like a challenge. Now kindly raise your hands, before we have to shoot you dead.”
Laura slowly raised her hands, and treated Kincaid to her most winning smile.
“Well, I was in the neighbourhood, heard about the auction, and heard that a group of amateurs were running the security for it…”
Alicia advanced into the room, keeping her covered with her pistol. Tiana glanced down at the bound and unconscious woman, wedged under the costume rack.
“Paula,” she announced shortly. “That explains why we couldn’t find the others.”
Alicia nodded. “Laura here always has a penchant for embarrassing her victims, don’t you dear?”
Laura replied with a shrug, looking for any lapse in concentration in her two opponents.
“Time to return the favour, I think. You can start with the belt. That is my company’s property, and I should very much like it returned – followed by that uniform.”
With Tiana staying at the doorway, and Kincaid moving to flank her at a safe distance, Laura had little choice. She unclipped the belt, removed it, and tossed it onto the floor.
“Now the uniform, please.”
Frowning, and internally uttering a stream of obscenities, Laura complied, removing first her utility vest, then her boots, and then the borrowed uniform.
“Thank you. Now, you will remove that thigh holster, and strip. I want the police to find you looking as humiliated as your past victims when they arrive.”
Laura’s hackles rose at the sound of obvious enjoyment in Kincaid’s tone. But she wasn’t going to give her the pleasure of losing her composure, even at this seemingly hopeless stage. She removed the holster, letting it fall onto the discarded uniform, and then slowly eased herself out of the silk bodysuit. Apart from her gloves and the baseball cap that was still on her head, she was completely naked, and feeling understandably vulnerable.
Alicia looked her over appreciatively. “Very nice indeed! If it weren’t for those few scars on you, I’d be tempted to use you as a calendar model for the company! Now, move away from your things, kneel on the floor, and place your hands behind your back.”
Laura stepped to one side, and got down on her knees, placing her hands behind her. She wondered if Kincaid was actually planning to simply shoot her there and then, but was comforted by the thought that she wouldn’t have been ordered to strip if this had been the case. Kincaid wanted her alive, in order to hand her over to the authorities, and raise her professional profile.
Alicia walked over to her, whilst Tiana kept her covered from the doorway. She kicked Laura’s discarded clothes and possessions out of the way, quickly picked up the discarded belt, and took out the remaining zip-ties. She was anything but considerate in binding Laura’s wrists, and Laura winced as the black plastic strip bit into her skin. The next moment, Laura felt the sole of a shoe press forcefully between her shoulderblades, and she fell forward onto her stomach.
Kincaid crouched down, placing one black-stockinged knee on the small of Laura’s back, and grabbed her ankles, pulling them up and crossing them, before using another zip-tie to bind them tightly and uncomfortably together.
“I won’t bother to gag you, Laura. So feel free to try and talk your way out of this if you like,” Alicia purred in malevolent delight, as she delivered a stinging slap to Laura’s rear. Laura gritted her teeth, and said nothing. She was already debating whether to use her free phone call at the police station to call a lawyer, or to have Alicia Kincaid wiped from the face of the Earth.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a man’s voice. It simply said “I’ll take that, thank you.”

Turning her head, Laura’s eyes widened in surprise. Jared marks stood in the doorway of the changing room, and he was in the process of relieving a shocked Tiana of her pistol. The security guard was unable to resist because of the gun that Marks held pressed to the back of her head.
Alicia opened her mouth to say something, but Marks cut her short, as he pushed the disarmed guard into the room.
“I wouldn’t bother if I were you, Miss Kincaid. And please don’t try to go for your gun. We wouldn’t want things to get messy now, would we?”
Alicia closed her mouth again, without saying a word. There wasn’t much that she could say, under the circumstances. She was clearly dumbfounded, and Laura wasn’t any the wiser.
Marks gave the three women a totally humourless smile, and nodded to Tiana.
“You will take those plastic cuffs from your employer, and you will tie her up with them. A nice hog-tie should do the trick, I think. And if you even think about trying anything, I will kill you where you stand, I assure you.”
Scowling angrily, Tiana took the zip-ties from Alicia, and quickly and efficiently bound her wrists and ankles with them, using a third to link them together. Unable to stay balanced on her knees, Alicia collapsed onto her side with a soft grunt. Marks advanced into the room, both pistols pointed at Tiana.
“Well done. Now remove your belt, and toss it over to the far corner of the room.”
Tiana complied silently. Marks nodded in approval.
“Now lay face down on the floor, and put your hands behind your head.”
As Tiana lowered herself to the floor, Marks walked over to her, tucking one of the pistols into his belt. Watching him, Laura noticed that he was also carrying a satchel slung over one shoulder. He took something from his pocket, and then quickly dropped onto his knees on the security guard’s back. The something proved to be a stun-gun. He had taken it from the guard in the security HQ, after she had passed out from the drug in the coffee he had so thoughtfully provided her with. Tiana jerked as the stun-gun was triggered, her cry fading into a low moan as she slumped on the floor.
“Thank you,” murmured Marks, as he took the remaining zip-ties from Tiana’s unresisting fingers. As Laura and the horrified Alicia watched, he proceeded to strip Tiana of her uniform, and then bound her into the same hog-tied position as Kincaid.
Having ensured that the security guard was securely tied, Marks unslung his satchel, and opened it. Laura raised her eyebrows as he produced what could only be a bomb. An incendiary bomb, to be precise. It lacked a timer, but was obviously rigged to be triggered remotely. He set it down on the floor next to the costume racks, and then turned his head to regard the two bound women who were staring at him in shock and anger.
“I’m told that this device will leave almost no trace when it goes up. A most unfortunate fire. Luckily for me, my costume collection is heavily insured. And after I am done suing the auctioneers for the losses incurred, my personal finances will be greatly increased. The loss of these outfits will be more than compensated for. It’s just such a pity that the security staff and the models for the auction were unable to escape the blaze, isn’t it?”
Laura tilted her head on one side, thinking about this. Something had already occurred to her, which gave her a glimmer of hope.
For her part, Alicia Kincaid could only think to blurt out a tired old cliché.
“Y-you won’t get away with this!”
“Of course I will,” came the calm response. “I will be running some last minute errands when the fire starts. And it will unfortunately start during the peak commuter time, which will make it almost impossible for the fire department to reach this building in time to control the blaze. It’s an old building – almost certainly the fire was due to a dropped cigarette in the dressing room, and sadly, you will all have been overcome by smoke and fumes before you could save yourselves.”
Alicia turned pale, and Laura had to admit that this man was one of the most coldly callous that she had happened across in a long time.
“Now then ladies, I have a few things to do before I depart. Feel free to call for help if you like, but I sincerely doubt that anyone will be able to hear you from in here.”
With that, Marks walked out of the room, closing it behind him without so much as a backward glance at his victims.

There was a short moment of silence following his departure, and then with a desperate growl, Alicia began tugging frantically at her bound wrists, rolling onto her stomach. But Tiana hadn’t been daring enough to risk leaving her employer with the chance of freeing herself, and it was obvious that the effort was futile. After a few moments of straining and cursing, Kincaid turned to look at Laura.
“Any suggestions?” she asked bitterly.
Laura shook her head. “No. No suggestions at all.”
Laura, who hadn’t been hog-tied, began to roll over and over, making her way toward the pile of her discarded clothing and equipment. She just had to pray that Marks wouldn’t be leaving the building just yet. Because once he had left, she had no way of knowing when he was going to trigger the bomb…

Laura Stern - The Leading Lady - pt3
• by Geistjager,

The Leading Lady - Part 3


“What the hell are you doing? How is rolling around on the floor going to solve anything?”

Laura Stern bit her lip. She resisted the temptation to pause, and tell Alicia Kincaid just how truly stupid she thought the woman was. But time was essential.
She had to get loose, and she had to get that damn bomb out of the building. Truth be told, she didn’t really give a damn about Kincaid. Her security team were opponents, but she didn’t want to see them dead. And the five girls locked in the storage room had done nothing to deserve dying like this.
Simply put, there was no way of getting everybody out in time. Jared Marks was going to put his nasty little insurance fraud scheme into action as soon as he was far enough from the building to establish an alibi for himself. Laura was no expert in demolitions or bomb disposal, so taking the bomb out of the building was the safest option.
She finally made it over to the pile that had been made of her clothing and equipment, which lay in an untidy tangle where Kincaid had kicked it. Laura managed to sit herself up, and whilst glancing over her shoulder, began to rifle through the pockets of her utility vest.
It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for: Her folding pouch of tools, neatly tucked into a pocket. She breathed silent thanks for the fact that Marks hadn’t shown any interest or curiosity in her, or the reason for her presence. It was a little awkward, trying to manipulate the toolkit with her hands crossed and bound behind her back, but she finally managed to get it opened up. Her eyes immediately fell on the item she’d been seeking. A pair of small snip-cutters. She normally used them for cutting alarm wires, but they could handle the black plastic zip-tie cuffs with ease.
Turning them over in her hands, she quickly cut through the zip-tie that bound her wrists, followed by its counterpart that secured her ankles. Her wrists were sore and grazed from the chafing that the zip-tie had caused; Kincaid hadn’t been at all gentle in binding her. She paused to rub her wrists, and get some life back into them for a few seconds, and then she rose, putting the snip-cutters back in their pouch. She quickly sorted through her possessions, and began to dress herself. Important as getting rid of the bomb was, she wasn’t going to achieve much by running around naked.
“Hurry up, will you? We have to get out of here!” Kincaid hissed impatiently, still struggling with her own bonds.



Laura turned toward Alicia, and gave her a rather venomous smile.
“Relax, Alicia. You aren’t going anywhere…”
The redhead stared at Laura in horror. “You aren’t going to just leave us here with that thing!”
Laura tilted her head on one side.
“Why not? I came here to take some costumes. It isn’t my business if you get yourself blown up or barbecued by your own client, is it?”
Alicia gaped at Laura, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Somehow, Laura liked her a lot more that way.
“Stop judging me by your own standards. Of course I’m not leaving you here with the bomb! It’s the bomb that’s leaving!”
And with that, Laura finished dressing herself in silence, leaving Kincaid to struggle and fume at her helplessness. As soon as she was dressed once more, she walked to the bomb, and studied it carefully. She had no idea if there was a safe way to disconnect the remote trigger, so taking the whole device seemed the safest option. Picking up the discarded shirt of her borrowed security guard uniform, Laura carefully wrapped it around the device, and picked it up gently. It wasn’t terribly heavy, so Laura tucked it under one arm. The first thing was to discover if Marks was still in the building. If he was, she would have to be careful.

Leaving the dressing room, she made her way quickly and quietly toward the room that her dossier had indicated was the security HQ that Kincaid had set up. Pausing now and then to listen intently, Laura reached the room. The door was ajar, and a quick glance inside told her that marks was not present. But there was an unconscious security guard laying face down on the floor, bound with her own zip-tie cuffs. Laura slipped into the room, and stepped over the sleeping woman as she walked to the desk where the CCTV monitors stood.
Marks was in the bar that stood near the building’s foyer. Toasting his success, by the look of things. He was leaning against the bar, sipping a glass of something. So Laura knew that a rear exit of the building was her best chance. A glance at the rear exit monitor gave her a pause. Parked right outside the rear door was a shiny new Mercedes. Obviously Marks had brought the car around the back to make his departure less obvious. Had it all figured out, didn’t you? Laura thought to herself.
At that moment, the security guard shifted slightly, and uttered a low groan. Laura didn’t want her attracting Marks by crying out for help, so she fished her roll of tape from her utility vest. Three strips of tape were enough to seal the drugged woman’s lips, and muffle her attempts to attract aid. Then, Laura picked the incendiary device up once more, and left the security HQ, heading for the rear of the building.

Jared Marks tossed back the last of the glass of brandy he had got himself from behind the bar, and smacked his lips in appreciation. He glanced at his watch, and decided that it was time to make a move. Picking up his satchel, he walked from the bar, turned into the corridor, and headed for the rear of the building, where he had parked his car. He was tempted to stop on the way and look at his costume collection one more time, but decided against it. He didn’t want to have to be subjected to the futile pleading and whining that would inevitably come from his returning to the dressing room. Kincaid might well have been bribeable, but that would have put a dent in the money he would expect to receive from this venture. Plus, it would potentially open him up to the risk of blackmail.

Truth was, Jared marks was facing the prospect of a divorce that would leave him with almost nothing. He had been living off his wife and her family’s fortune for some time, and his failure to do anything other than spend money and gain a reputation for loving the finer things in life had finally brought things to a head. That, and the pass he had made at his wife’s secretary.
So Marks needed substantial amounts of money, and the prospect of the money he would make from the insurance, plus his intent to sue the auction house, would set him up very nicely. Okay, so some people would be killed, but there was that old saying about making omelettes and breaking eggs. And in Mark’s case, the omelettes were a few million dollars, and the eggs were a few people who would die when the building went up.
He passed the room where he had left the three woman tied up, and continued serenely on his way. He did think it a little odd that he hadn’t seen any of the other security guards, but assumed that they were all either patrolling other parts of the building, or goofing off somewhere. If they had decided to take an early dinner break, or go out for a drink, so be it. They would get to live. Who said that dedication to the job was a virtue? Obviously an idiot…

Marks turned the corner into the corridor that led to the rear doors, and stopped dead. There was a woman coming in the other direction. She was all in black, and Marks realised that she wasn’t a security guard. She saw him at the same time, and both of them drew their pistols instantly.
“Who exactly are you?” asked Marks, as the two of them faced each other over their drawn weapons.
The woman shrugged. “You don’t need to know my name, and I don’t need to know yours…”
Marks frowned as he realised that the woman was the one he had seen laying naked and bound on the floor of the dressing room.
“I’m sorry, but I simply can’t allow you to run loose around the building. Besides, you know too much.”
The woman tilted her head slightly, her aim with the pistol never wavering.
“Look, I’m just here for an item in the vault. I’m not going to call the cops, and I’m certainly not going to help that bitch and her security goons. I don’t know what you are doing, and I don’t care. So why don’t we both just let each other get on with our day? Let’s face it, I’m hardly likely to go and call the cops, am I?”
Marks considered this, and then nodded, smiling humourlessly.
“Well now, I take your point. You want what’s in the vault? Help yourself. You won’t get a better chance than this, I’ll wager. But I advise you to work quickly – I’m in no mood to hang around, and you already know about the bomb…”
The two of them lowered their pistols slowly, and cautiously sidled around each other in the narrow confines of the corridor.
“I’ll be in and out before you know it,” smiled the woman as they passed. She turned, and headed for the end of the corridor.
“I doubt it,” Marks murmured to himself, as he turned after her, raising the pistol.
Laura’s sixth sense for that type of treachery kicked in at just the right moment. She dove out of the corridor just as Marks fired, rolled to her feet, and took off at a sprint. Marks ran after her, but his inexperience with firearms showed. By the time he could stop and take aim, the young woman was already around the next corner.
Nimble little vixen, aren’t you? Marks thought to himself as he ran after her. He turned the next corner, but found himself at a T-junction, the corridors seemingly empty, and lined with doors. He frowned as he stopped and listened for a moment, but then gave up the pursuit. He didn’t want to waste any more time chasing this woman, and he didn’t want to risk getting shot. Besides, as she had said, this thief wasn’t likely to call the police. And if he was lucky, she would be caught in the building when he triggered the bomb. A dead thief in the vaults, or anywhere in the building, for that matter, would make a convenient scapegoat.
He turned back, and headed for the rear exit, and his Mercedes.

Laura waited for a minute or two, and peered out of her place of refuge. Marks hadn’t had the stomach for an extended chase and gunfight, just as she had suspected. She emerged from the room she had hidden in, and headed back to the dressing room.
By the time she returned, Tiana the security guard had regained consciousness, and she and Kincaid were engaged in a futile attempt to free themselves. They stopped as Laura entered, staring at her like rabbits caught in oncoming headlights.
“You can relax. The bomb is out of the building.” Laura announced casually. She walked past the two bound women to the table where she had been unpacking the costumes before she had been so rudely interrupted.
The two women looked temporarily relieved, and resumed their struggles. Laura watched them for a moment, for the pure amusement of it all, and then walked over to Tiana, kneeling down next to her.
“Finally!” snapped Kincaid. “Get us out of these things, and you can get out of here. We’ll just let the whole thing slide, and…”
She trailed off as she caught the look in Laura’s eye, and swallowed. The next moment, she could only watch in helpless frustration as Laura, with a crooked grin, produced her atomiser and a fresh wad of gauze. Tiana, who had rolled onto her side, expecting to be freed from her bonds, was caught totally unawares, and uttered a muffled shriek as Laura clamped the down drug-dampened cloth over her nose and mouth. Already breathless from her exertions, the young black woman could offer almost no resistance, and was soon deeply unconscious once more.
Kincaid swallowed hard. Laura hadn’t stopped meeting her gaze whilst she had chloroformed Tiana. She tried to squirm away as her old professional rival rose, stepped over the unconscious woman, and walked toward her.
“Say nighty-night, Alicia…”

Jared Marks turned into a wide, tree-lined boulevard. The afternoon sun was shining, and all was well. Soon, the commute would start; people picking their children up from school, people beginning to make their way home from work. Within a short time, the streets would be packed with traffic, and there was no way that enough fire engines would reach the auction house in time to control the blaze. He pulled over as a free parking space became available, left his car, and walked into a coffee shop. A few minutes later, he returned, with a large coffee and a cheese Danish. He slid back behind the wheel, popped the lid off of his coffee, inhaled the rich scent, and took a sip, followed by a bite of his Danish.
His next port of call would be to his lawyer, followed by his accountant. Once he had the money, he would need it kept out of the hands of his wife’s divorce lawyer. An account in the Cayman Islands would do nicely, he decided. He fished the remote detonator out of his jacket pocket, and studied it with interest. Such a simple looking device. And yet, it held the key to his fortune and his future. If only he could have persuaded his wife to be in the building as well…

Laura left the rear exit of the auction house, noting that Mark’s car was gone. Good riddance, she thought, as she walked down the alley to the parking spaces at the back of the Lawyer’s office. She climbed into the van that she had left there, started it up, and drove it around to the rear exit of the auctioneers. She opened the side doors, and went back inside. It was time to load up and get out of here. She would lay low for a day or two, and then arrange to deliver the costumes to The Empress.
She emerged a few moments later, carrying the black costume bags, which were now filled with their new contents. She put them carefully inside, and closed the doors. She turned, and was about to walk back around to the driver’s door, when a thought struck her. She stood silently for a moment, and then she turned, and opened the side doors once again. Then, rolling her head on her shoulders, she went back into the auction house.

Marks finished his coffee, and tossed the empty cup out of the window. He took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and picked up the remote detonator from the dashboard where he had set it down. It was time to put an end to these rather interesting shenanigans.
He pressed the button.

Jared Marks left this world in a rather large fireball, as the incendiary device in the trunk of his car ignited the fuel tank. He had been wrong about one thing; the device did leave traces. But the forensic investigators were unable to shed any light on why Jared Marks, found fused to the driver’s seat in his car, would choose to blow himself up by remotely triggering a bomb in the trunk.
Needless to say, he was not particularly mourned.

Two days later, and Laura found herself standing in the elegant sitting room where she had her interview with The Empress.
Camille had been delighted; so much so that Laura had been allowed to make her way to the house on her own, although she had been pointedly advised to use the tradesman’s entrance, which had suited her just fine.
Camille had purred with delight as she had taken the costumes from their bags one by one, holding them against herself, and twirling from side to side. Although dated by now, the dresses were beautifully made, and looked very fine as the flowed and shimmered in the bright sunlight of the sitting room. Then, she had summoned her housekeeper, and the dresses had been spirited away. Laura had been left to herself, although politely informed that she would be much safer if she remained in the sitting room, which she was quite content to do.
Camille returned, carrying a black leather attaché case, which she set down on the coffee table.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Laura,” she smiled, patting the case. “You have been paid in full, as agreed. Plus, I included a little extra for you. I appreciate fine work. And it was so amusing, watching the news reports…”
Laura smiled. There had been a lot of them. Mostly to do with the mysterious suicide of Jared Marks. But there had been other reports. The report of a theft, carried out at the Rothman Brothers auction house. The police were most anxious to trace the contracted security team, who had vanished from the scene, especially as a leak from the department had revealed that the only witnesses, a group of young models who had been found bound and gagged at the scene, stated that they had been held at gunpoint and tied up by a woman in a security guard uniform. Linked to this were the reports that the occupiers of the adjoining building, a defence lawyer and her paralegal had been found tied up and gagged at their respective homes, the former in somewhat scandalous circumstances.

As she thought it over, Laura’s gaze travelled over to the fireplace, and the portrait that hung over it. That had been the final decider in her willingness to take the job in the first place. Camille had been right; Hannah Montague, the missing movie starlet, hadn’t lived an unhappy life. She had never met Camille’s father, but from the portrait she could tell that he had been a strikingly handsome man. And her mother, a delicately featured young woman, with full lips, big dark eyes, and raven black hair, had been truly beautiful… real star quality.
“I looked up her biography,” Laura murmured quietly, with a smile. “Her birthday would have been in two day’s time, wouldn’t it?”
Camille nodded, smiling fondly at the portrait. “She told me it was love at first sight. He wanted her to go to Europe with him. But breaking her contract would have been disastrous for her. So, she eloped. Maybe faking her own disappearance was a little on the melodramatic side, but it all ended well for them.”
Laura picked up the attaché case, and Camille turned her head toward her.
“Don’t you want to count it first?”
Laura shook her head. “Anyone who would go to these lengths to get a posthumous birthday present for their mother gets a pass from me on that. I take you at your word. Besides, I have to get back. I have a matter to attend to.”
Camille nodded. The Empress, not quite such a threatening figure now, crossed to Laura, and embraced her lightly, kissing her on the cheek.
“I warn you, I will be keeping an eye on you, Laura Stern. One of these days, I will insist upon you becoming a house guest for a time, and I won’t be disappointed…”
Laura smiled politely, and turned to leave. Partly because she wanted to get away before Camille decided to enforce that invitation there and then.
And partly because she didn’t want to let the pretty, elegant woman see that she was blushing.

After she had seen Laura drive away, Camille returned briefly to the sitting room. She picked up a glass, half filled with red wine, and held it up to the portrait of her parents, who smiled down at her, with herself as a small child sitting on her mother’s lap.
“Happy birthday, mother.”
She drank the wine, and then left the sitting room. She walked down the hall, opened a small and unremarkable door, and descended a set of stairs.
She was greeted at the bottom by Simone the housekeeper.
“The dresses are all put away?”
“Yes Madame,” the woman replied with a curtsey.
“Very good. And my new acquisitions?”
“In the guestroom, Madame,” Simone smiled.
Camille walked into what was referred to as the guest room. She surveyed the scene with gently clasped hands, and a delighted smile.
“Why Simone, you have outdone yourself! They look lovely!” She cooed with delight.
Staring back at her, dressed in sets of daring yet elegant lingerie, securely bound hand and foot with velvet lined leather straps, and uttering muffled protests through their gags, the five members of Alicia Kincaid’s security team lay arrayed on a large pile of soft and elegant-looking cushions, the perfect picture of sensual captivity.

Laura relaxed back on her bed. The Empress had been as good as her word, and the extra two hundred thousand she had paid as an extra bonus meant that Laura could take it easy. She wouldn’t have to work for some time. Truth be told, she might even have accepted Camille’s invitation, had she not been playing hostess herself.
She picked up the TV remote, and called up the programme schedule. Turning her head, she smiled.
“Anything you wanted to watch in particular?”
Alicia Kincaid was looking rather stunning, dressed in a sheer black body, with fancy-dress cat ears protruding out from her waves of red hair. She might even have admitted so herself, but the ballgag in her mouth was preventing her from saying much at all. And that wasn’t the only thing.
For a start, Laura’s little party game of ‘Put the tail on the kitty’ had left her feeling extremely uncomfortable, and rather humiliated. And then there was the massage wand, strapped between her thighs. The thing had been running for over an hour, and Alicia was feeling as though her head was about to detach from her shoulders and fly off somewhere by itself. She turned a pleading look on Laura, and moaned stridently through her gag.
Laura smiled, and obligingly pulled it out from between Alicia’s crimson-painted lips.
“Please… please god… turn it off!”
“Certainly! All you have to do is admit that I’m the best… and that you’re my bitch…” Laura chuckled.
Alicia scowled at her in frustration.
“If you think that I’m going to give you the satisfaction, you don’t know me at a-mmmmPPPHHH!”
Laura finished nudging the ballgag back into place, and shrugged.
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel you were forced to admit it now, would I? By the way, as a matter of interest… Did you know that this thing has a high-powered setting?”
There was a click, followed by an insistent buzzing sound.
“Ogh goh… ogh GOH! Hokay! OO hwing!”
Laura smiled politely, and removed the gag once more.
“You were saying?”
“Okay, okay! You’re the best… and I’m your bitch…” gasped Alicia, her cheeks flushed red for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the loss of personal pride.
Laura leaned across, and delicately pressed a fingertip against the tip of Alicia’s nose.
“Preaching to the choir, sweetie… Now hush up. Momma’s favourite programme is starting…”

Finis.