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Under Evaluation 5
Cody Wisnecki was escorted to the Director’s office by a plain looking receptionist. She was greeted warmly by the gorgeous, blonde doctor. A pitcher of iced tea sat on the coffee table and Cody gratefully accepted a glass.
“I’m so glad you could make it before my flight.” Dr. Attenburg told her. “I think that you’ll see from the video tape, that Lila Powell is a disturbed young woman.”
Cody sat back, taking a sip of her tea and watched the flat screen flicker to life. On the screen appeared the courtroom, via closed circuit TV. In the upper right hand corner, a readout showed the day, date and time. Detective Wisnecki had no idea that this information window obscured the presence of Dr. Attenburg herself, sitting in the courtroom.
***
Rayne had had to be there, in order to set her plans in motion. Well paid informants amongst the prison system, sent information on all potential “clients” to a ghost e-mail address the doctor had set up. Vital statistics, relations and the offender’s infraction, were all carefully analyzed by the doctor. If a candidate looked promising, Rayne would make the necessary arrangements. They didn’t abuse the system, thus never sending up red flags. This would be only the third time it had been used. But when someone as gorgeous as Lila Powell came along, the opportunity was too good to pass up.
The process was relatively simple. A guard on the payroll would attach a particular ankle bracelet to the target. Unaware of its evil purpose, it was identical to the standard tracking devices all detainees were made to wear whilst in transit, or appearing in court. This one though, had a specifically different function.
Rayne had watched as Lila patiently awaited her turn before the judge. When her docket was being read, that’s when the doctor triggered the small transmitter she concealed. The signal released the powerful hallucinogenic contained in the ankle bracelet, which was absorbed through Lila’s skin. Before anyone knew what was happening, the brown haired beauty became a pint-sized maniac. It was all Rayne could do, to not smile as Lila was carried out, writhing in the arms of two bailiffs. And since Rayne would be the one to make the initial examination, there’d be no toxicology report.
***
Cody watched the screen as the picture fast-forwarded to the correct scene. There was Lila Powell. The detective realized instantly that, although her appearance was nothing like her twin sister’s, she was still an extraordinary beauty. Where as Lily’s hair hung to her waist in a sheet of black, Lila’s brunette curls stopped at mid-shoulder. Their height appeared to be similar, but it was difficult to gauge in the video. Regardless, the two women were both knockouts.
As she was taking another sip of tea, a funny thought crossed Cody’s mind. Dressed in the orange jumpsuit, Lila looked a little like a skinny pumpkin. The notion seemed to grow in hilarity, until a small giggle slipped past her lips. Struggling to regain her composure, the detective tried to focus. But a feeling of euphoria subtly washed over her.
The glass of iced tea slipped from her grasp, the contents landing on the floor. She looked at the spot spreading on the carpet, then over at Dr. Attenburg, a stupid grin plastered on the PI’s face. Rayne was smiling back at her, as if sharing the joke. Cody went to say, “whoops”, but wasn’t sure if any words came out. She watched as the blonde director rose from behind her desk, but her eyes fluttered closed before she saw Rayne approach.
The doctor lifted one of Cody’s eyelids, noting that the pale blue iris had rolled back. The private investigator definitely wasn’t faking it. Rayne flipped open her cell phone and hit the speed dial.
“Things are under control here,” she announced, “you may proceed.”
Rayne then placed another call.
“Miss, Powell? This is Dr. Attenburg.”
“I apologize for being so abrupt to you earlier, but it has been my experience that family members often need the direct approach, when dealing with the mental health of a loved one. The reason for my call, is that I’ve sent someone over with your sister’s personal items. I assumed that you would want them.”
“Oh, you’re quite welcome. What’s that? Yes, yes. I’ll arrange for you to visit your sister just as soon as she’s stabilized.”
“Yes, it is my hope that you will see her soon, as well. Goodbye.”
***
A burly man wearing slacks and a sports jacket, wheeled a well dressed woman into the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel. The woman had a blanket draped over her lap and a tartan cloak over her shoulders. An ivory colored, lace veil hung from a wide brimmed hat, obscuring her face, as well as a breathing tube. The clear tubing of the nasal cannula ran down to a portable oxygen tank mounted on the wheelchair. A cardboard box rested on the woman’s lap. Bypassing the front desk, they headed straight for one of the many conference halls provided by the hotel.
The one they chose, happened to be vacant. Slipping into the room’s large utility closet, the wheelchair bound woman stood up as soon as the door had closed. Tossing of the blanket and cloak, Velma wore a conservative business suit underneath. Carl slipped off the sport coat and donned a ball cap. He folded the wheelchair and together, the duo wheeled it out of the conference room. Their actions didn’t even get them a second look.
They walked right past the main elevators, to the ones used by the staff. They did this so brazenly, that anyone wondering, would just assume the two of them had every right. It was a short journey up to the 7th floor. As they exited, both keep their eyes glued to the ornate hall carpeting. The surveillance cameras at each end of the hall, would only get shots of the tops of their heads.
Standing off to one side, Carl watched as Velma rapped gently on door 7117. A few moments passed, then Lily Powell opened the door. It was clear that she’d been crying.
“Miss Powell? I’m Velma Knox. Dr. Attenburg sent me.” Velma said, showing Lily a cardboard box with the hospital’s logo on it.
“Please come in.” Lily said, grasping the box. From the her angle inside the room, it looked as though Velma had come alone.
Lily carried the box over to the coffee table and sat on the sofa. Setting it down, the took a deep breath and flipped open the lid. She did not notice that Velma had slipped behind her and was removing something secreted at the small of her back.
The fashion model glimpsed inside the dark interior of the box, a glint catching her eye. She reached in and grasped the object. It rattled as she did so.
“What on earth?…” Lily exclaimed, as she pulled out a black leather cuff.
Before she could turn around, Velma pounced. With her left arm going around Lily’s throat, her right hand jammed a breathing mask over the girl’s mouth and nose. She triggered the attached canister and the mask filled with a white mist. At the same time, she gave a short whistle. Carl entered immediately, wheelchair in tow.
Lily gave a startled gasp, the atmosphere inside the breathing mask, thick and moist. Her arms flew up to ward off the grip around her neck, but seemed to get lost on the way. Her lips grew numb and her tongue tasted something similar to licorice. Her hands, which had managed to rise halfway to her face, slowly reversed their path, landing softly on the sofa cushions at her sides.
“That’s it bitch, deep breaths.” Velma purred.
She reached around and gave Lily’s left nipple a wicked pinch through her silk blouse. The pain made the ebony haired beauty take another sharp, involuntary breath. Her head swam and she expected to pass out any moment. But darkness didn’t come. She gazed at the paintings and wall fixtures in front of her. They swirled and appeared to melt, whilst changing color. Lily did not know it, but she was experiencing a 21st century acid trip.
Velma pulled the mask’s elastic band over Lily’s head. The canister would continue feeding the gas for another three minutes. The effects of the designer drug would last up to half an hour. Plenty of time.
A set of dresser’s shears turned the model’s clothes into rubbish in less than a minute. Her lacy, peach colored demi bra and panties proved no obstacle at all. In the mean time, Carl extracted the largest item from the cardboard box. The 8” wide, tanned leather belt had two identically colored cuffs riveted to it. It also had two circular cutouts. The orderly positioned it so that each of Lily’s breasts squeezed through a hole. Drawing the ends around to her spine, he set about tightening the six small straps through their buckles. This allowed him to gradually ratchet up the tautness to rib cracking intensity. Six small luggage padlocks were needlessly used to secure the buckles.
The smaller cuffs attached at the sides were secured around Lily’s biceps. Each received its own lock. Far from idle, Velma had been busy securing cuffs of a similar design, high up on their victim’s thighs. Once secured and padlocked, The henchwoman buckled the integrated cuffs around Lily’s wrists. The fashion model was now held in a more or less “relaxed” pose, her arms tight against her sides and her wrists and hands trapped against her legs. White medical tape was wound around the dark haired girl’s thighs, capturing her hands flat against her legs.
To keep her head from lolling about, a transparent cervical collar was installed. The clear plastic shell flared out to her shoulders, providing stability. The breathing mask was removed, its contents spent. A leather pouch filled with steel ball bearings was crammed inside the model’s mouth. Carl obligingly held the girl’s lax jaw closed, as Velma removed all of Lily’s makeup with an alcohol towelette.
Then she smoothed a four inch wide swatch of semi-transparent tape over the lower half of Lily’s face. The reason that the clear plastic tape appeared so cloudy, was due to the exorbitant amount of adhesive adhered to it. Once affixed, it allowed the model’s skin tone to show through without too much distortion. All Velma had to do was highlight her lips, by applying a small amount of pink lip gloss. From a distance of ten feet, the alteration would be invisible.
Producing a pair of woman’s slacks from the box, Velma did a curious thing. She cut the legs off the slacks. Each leg was then slipped on the unresisting prisoner. More white medical tape secured them in place, just above the knee. A pair of heavy, black orthopedic shoes were laced tightly on to Lily’s dainty feet.
Carl expanded the collapsible wheelchair to receive its cargo. Before moving Lily, he first affixed a smooth, pink, hard plastic prod the a hole fashioned in the chair’s canvas seat. This would provide a very intimate means of keeping the beauty from sliding out of the wheelchair. He worked a generous amount of KY jelly on to the shaft, then lifted his passenger off the couch. With Velma lining up the business end of the chair, Carl lowered Lily upon it.
The terrified girl was completely aware of what was transpiring, if in a surrealistically detached way. Her brain wanted her to fight off her attackers, but she couldn’t seem to coordinate her limbs. Her mind was swimming, as she was seated in the wheelchair. Lily felt her sex fill up unexpectedly, but couldn’t ascertain the reason. Her thoughts were disjointed, as the plethora of sensations assailed her.
As Carl strapped Lily’s torso to the chair back, Velma set the girl’s shoe clad feet on the metal footrests. Using an Allen wrench, she tightened a bolt through the bottom of the metal plates, into the soles of Lily’s shoes, locking them motionless. Thin straps were used to lock the captive’s knees to the arm rests of the chair. The fashion model was now one with the wheelchair.
The oxygen tubing was fitted into her nostrils and snugged in place. The blanket was tucked around her legs and the cloak draped over her shoulders. Finally, her hair was piled up on her head and the wide brimmed, veiled hat was pinned in place. Lily was now the spitting image of the woman who’d been wheeled into the hotel’s lobby. All of the ruined clothing was dumped inside the cardboard box, which was placed on the model’s motionless lap.
Velma listened at the door. Once certain all was quiet, she opened it, but didn’t step out. Instead, she withdrew a dental mirror and a box the size of a pack of cigarettes. Keeping low, she angled the mirror into the hallway. When she had the surveillance camera in sight, she pointed the box at the mirror. A small, powerful laser bounced off the mirror, striking the wall next to the camera. Velma changed the angle, marching the red dot toward the camera lens. When the beam hit the lens, it burned out the optics. She repeated the procedure with the camera at the other end of the hall. Now, Velma strolled leisurely out into the hall, knowing it would be hours before technicians would show up to repair the damage.
This time, the henchwoman took the guest elevators. Five minutes later, having donned his sports coat once more, Carl followed, pushing the helpless Lily ahead of him. By the time they reached the lobby, Velma had pulled up outside in the conversion van. In a scene so common, so as to not attract a single passerby’s attention, the van’s power lift was lowered and the wheelchair rolled on board. Once raised into position, the chair was rolled inside the van and its wheels locked secure.
During all of this, Lily could have almost certainly raised some kind of fuss, even securely bound as she was. However, she’d been rendered incapacitated. You see, rather than oxygen flowing through the breathing tube, the model continuously inhaled a hybrid mixture of nitrous oxide and chloroform. It robbed her of the ability to think clearly, leaving her not quite comprehending what was happening to her. She knew something was terribly wrong, she just couldn’t fit the pieces together. Thus, she docilely allowed herself to be wheeled from a life of freedom, to one of unimaginable captivity.
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