The Golden Age

Chapter 22: Dinner over Sorrento

By the time that dinner was served in the Nietzsche's dining room it was eight o'clock and the airship was passing the lights of Naples on the port side. The Bay of Naples was laid out below them and soon they were passing Capri .

As the airship ploughed onwards inexorably Clegg's thoughts turned to the Villa Jovis not far below them. “The Emperor Tiberius,” he mused. “Two thousand years on and we still find it hard to rival his debauchery. I fear he would have found even the Chateau D'Ysel rather tame.”

Gabriella was delighting in the luxurious surroundings as the smartly uniformed crew began to bring in the food. Bertie took in the glittering array of glass on the table as the waiters poured wine for each of them. “They may have saved weight on the fittings in the cabins but there's enough lead in these glasses to need an extra gas bag,” he thought.

As the waiters withdrew and the meal began. Bertie proposed a toast. “Let's celebrate two things from our stop at Rome ,” he said.

“Two?” queried Freddie.

“Yes,” said Bertie. “Your delightful ‘niece', of course,” he winked at Clegg as he picked up his glass – “but also – the fact that the wine has taken a definite turn for the better. We seem to have moved on from that truly dreadful Liebfraumilch to a rather decent Barolo. I must get Jennings to lay in a case or three.”

“Well I'll drink to that,” said Elspeth. “To Gabriella and Barolo!”

The four of them chinked their glasses.

It was later that evening. Gabriella was sitting at the dressing table in her cabin, brushing her hair when there was a knock at the door. She pulled the silk dressing gown, borrowed from Elspeth, around her and got up to open the door. Clegg was standing in the corridor smiling. “I just wanted to check that you were all right,” he said.

“Oh, yes, quite all right ‘uncle', thank you,” she smiled. “Won't you come in for a moment?”

“Do you feel quite safe, asking a strange man into your cabin?”

“Oh really, Mr. Clegg. You are such a gentleman! And how could I think ill of my ‘uncle'?” she laughed and gestured for him to come in.

Clegg sat down on her bunk. “Well, Miss Balzinni, you are an attractive young woman, I might be excused if I forgot myself.”

“Why, Mr Clegg. You are so distinguished that I might well excuse you.” Gabriella giggled, a little drunk from the evening's wine. “This has been wonderful, though,” she said. “I had always dreamed how romantic it would be to travel on such an airship as this and you have been so kind to me; you and all your friends. I should not be in the least disappointed if the Kapitan insists on putting me off at Tripoli . And now the gallant, Mr Clegg comes to call on me in my cabin.” She sat down beside him. “Please call me Gabriella,” she said, “Miss Balzinni sounds so formal, not like an uncle at all.” She reached out a hand and placed it encouragingly on Clegg's knee.

Clegg smiled, seemingly uncomfortable, and swallowed. “Goodness, Miss Balzinni, er Gabriella,” he stammered.

Gabriella giggled at Clegg's apparent shyness. “Goodness has nothing to do with it,” she laughed sliding closer to him. “Don't you think we could have some fun together? I know you English gentlemen are supposed to be shy but are you not seduced by the evening, this beautiful airship and …”

“And you?” Clegg turned towards Gabriella. He stood up. Gabriella was looking up at him, smiling.

It was then that he hit her; a single sharp punch right on the point of her chin. Her face held a startled look for a moment before she collapsed, limply unconscious to the bed. “ Jennings ,” called Clegg, “you can lend a hand now.”

Jennings appeared at the door to the cabin. “Ah, I see you didn't need the chloroform, Sir,” he said, staring at the girl stretched out on the bunk.

“No, sometimes the simplest course is the best. She'll have a sore chin but at least she should be spared that dreadful retching. I keep thinking that we ought to be able to come up with something better but my field's engineering, not chemistry. Someone else can solve that problem.”

“Indeed, Sir. Now how can I help with this?”

“You have the things I asked for?”

“Of course, Sir,” Jennings looked affronted at the thought that he might have failed to provide that which had been requested. “The lengths of mooring line weren't a problem of course but the other items were in rather short supply. The crew were interested to know what I wanted it for, I told them that I needed to repair one of Mr Bertram's suitcases and that seemed to satisfy them.”

“Good. Luftwehr will need to know what's going on, and the cabin steward but we don't need to let more of them know than is absolutely necessary. Now where's that mooring line?”

“Here you are, Sir,” said Jennings as he passed Clegg a coil of rope from the bag he was carrying. “And I thought some heaving line would be helpful for her wrists, Sir,” he produced a coil of much thinner rope. “I think this will be more secure.”

“Excellent, Jennings . Prepared as ever. Now let's get our friend parcelled up before she decides she's slept for long enough. The two men went to work on the unconscious girl, rolling her over onto her face and pulling her arms behind her back. Clegg looked after tying her wrists while Jennings took care of her ankles. Then with the heavier rope Clegg secured her arms to her body and Jennings tied her legs together at the knees.

Gabriella moaned and began to wriggle as she started to recover consciousness. “Time to make sure she stays nice and quiet said Clegg. Jennings passed him a wad of cotton cloth. He pulled her mouth open and pushed the cloth in, packing it carefully up into her cheeks. “Have you got the repair strip?”

“Here it is, this was the difficult stuff to get hold of.” Jennings passed Clegg a piece of quite heavy, rubberised cloth, a bit like a piece of a waterproof coat. It was covered on one side with a brown paper backing. “Pull that off,” said Jennings . “It's sticky underneath.” Clegg did so and smoothed the strip down over Gabriella's lips. She groaned a little but the cloth and the repair strip muffled the sound. “Well if it's good enough to fix a leak in a gas bag it should keep her quiet,” Jennings smiled.

“That's very good stuff,” said Clegg. “I don't think she'll be able to shift it. I must find a way of getting hold of more.”

“I've got half a dozen more patches, Sir,” Jennings advised. “So we should be able to keep her fed and watered. I'm not sure if it will re-seal if we take it off.”

Clegg picked experimentally at one corner of the tape. “I think the problem is going to be getting it off rather than anything else,” he said.

Gabriella regained consciousness, shook her head and tried to move. As she realised her situation she squealed and struggled the more. Peering wide eyed at the men over the repair tape gag, it was clear that she was terrified.

“Please do not struggle, Miss,” Jennings said. I don't think you will find it very successful.”

“It's most unfortunate that you joined us,” added Clegg. “You see, I am afraid that there are four others in a rather similar situation to yourself on board and the end of our journey is not Tripoli as you may have thought. We are carrying on beyond that and I am afraid that you will be coming with us.”

Gabriella struggled and grunted all the more.

Jennings coughed quietly. “I am sorry to interrupt, Sir, but we really should be getting back to Miss Elspeth. She's most anxious that you check on the others.”

“Fine,” said Clegg, “You will excuse us, won't you?” Jennings pulled Gabriella up into a sitting position and slid her up against the end of her bunk. A few turns of rope were all it took to pin her in place. She moaned quietly as the two men left and locked her cabin door from the outside.

Gabriella made no progress in trying to free herself from the ropes. It was warm in the cabin and the more she struggled the more she sweated. Neither could she do anything about the wad of cloth packing her mouth. Her wriggles only served to dislodge her dressing gown so that when the key turned in the door of the cabin and Jennings returned he was treated to the sight of one naked breast. He lost no time in pulling open her robe to bare the other.

“My, my Miss Balzinni,” he laughed, “aren't you being a little forward with the butler of the house? You must know that flaunting your charms like this is only likely to arouse the staff.”

Gabriella tried to wriggle away from him as he sat on the bed beside her, but the ropes held her in place. Jennings admonished her as he unfastened the robe's belt and pulled it completely open. “Now, please don't be difficult. Mr Clegg has asked me to try something out on you. Do you see this?” He held out a small wooden, brass bound, box. “This was given to us by an Austrian doctor to help in our work. Such a clever man but even clever men make mistakes don't they? Anyway Mr Clegg is most keen to see if it works before we need to use it in earnest so to speak, so I hope you won't mind helping out.”

Gabriella stared in terror as he opened the box revealing a series of wires, a dial, and some switches, metal clamps and probes.

“It's good that you have that gag, Miss Gabriella,” he went on. “The way your cheeks are stuffed you look quite like some baroque putti, if you don't mind my saying. I'm afraid that some of this may be a bit painful. Well actually, if it isn't there's something wrong with the whole thing as I understand it. Anyway I'm sure it will all become clear. Let's start with this.”

Jennings reached into the box and took out two of the clips. Gabriella squealed as he fastened them onto each of her nipples and became even more agitated as he ran a wire from each to a terminal on the box. He started to turn the dial. Gabriella felt a tingling in her breasts; a strangely erotic sensation. “Not unpleasant at all,” she thought.

Then Jennings pressed one of the buttons. The shock jerked her upright slamming her head back against the frame of the bunk. The silenced squeal that she gave out could hardly have been heard in the corridor outside the cabin.

Shock after shock followed, each time throwing Gabriella upright. Unable to cry out she could only sob tears of terror and pain until her face was streaked with mascara. Eventually she collapsed against the ropes, virtually unconscious.

Jennings unfastened the clamps. “Well, thank you Miss,” he said, packing away the box. “That all seems to be in order. I'll leave you for now but I expect Mr Clegg will be along in a little while.”