Broken Toys | Chapter Sixteen
Margot
Repeat clientele are the best to cultivate. A satisfied customer will come back looking for the same quality and eye for detail. It is to those discerning masses that I cater. My work does not come cheap. Therefore, it takes a special kind of patron to afford my services.
Knowing that the content is worth every dollar, pound, euro, yen, dinar, and rupee, well, it's a matter of pride on my part.
Snow White is codeword for a fair skinned, dark haired girl. Like all markets, it's a special niche. The client who ordered his version of heady delights should be pleased. Having a network of proteges does have its advantage. Almost twenty worked beneath me in the pyramid of supply and demand. Put out an order, and they have three days to fulfill it. Each of my proteges keeps a stable of girls at his beck and call. Each groomed to be willing and able, and ready at a moment's call. Takes a special kind of person to be a protege of mine, each trained in the manner that I wanted them to procure for me. Theo Mezler being a prime example of my methodology. Groomed him with a riding crop in hand, and now he echoes the same with his own subs. The only thing he did different were the background checks. His first three toys, well, it was rather easy to falsify the records because I 'provided' the reports. When he took matters into his own hands, did he get legitimate reports for his future subs. That was fine, as those first three girls made just as much money for me working overseas in an Eastern European brothel when they outlived their usefulness as Theo’s toys.
At a dingy podunk cafe, I sat and waited for the same dark haired man who purchased my briefcase last week. My research on him indicated he was well connected to the It was on the far west of the airport park, where the sound of planes overhead also made it hard to overhear conversations from neighboring tables. Sat in a corner booth, the briefcase of goods ordered next to me on the seat. At four-thirty as planned, the Investor made his appearance. The cafe had filled up with patrons, and the combined din of clinking tableware, jumbo jets, and droning voices made it difficult to listen to the Investor as he stood next to the table and spoke.
"A good afternoon, Madam Spider." His white teeth flashed as he gave his greeting.
I smiled. "Likewise. Have a seat?" With a flourish of my hand, I gestured for him to join me. My sobriquet always brought a grin to my face, for it aptly described how I viewed myself, queen of my own web and fear unto those who stumble into its strands. I will wrap them with attention, suck the life from them and dispose of emptied husks of humanity in such a way that it never comes back to me.
A quick nod and he sat on the other side of the briefcase. He put his payment briefcase atop the one I brought. I took his, put it on the other side of me.
"It is what I requested?" His obsidian eyes glimmered in anticipation.
"Yes, it's just as ordered." I took satisfaction knowing he would have no complaints about the product. "I'm sure you will be pleased."
"May I see the samples?" His voice grew husky in what I thought was in anticipation.
"Of course." Common business practice. I was wary of creating a website for my product; too much risk. Going solely by word of mouth made my brand more elusive, expensive, and exclusive. Not everyone can pay ten grand for a five minute video or a twenty photos. By keeping the product in my hand until passing ownership, I controlled who became exposed to it. I've avoided Law Enforcement for sixteen years, and have made more money than I ever dreamed. I deemed it a worthy system.
He turned the briefcase around to face him, opened it, lifted the foam insert and viewed the samples. "It is just as ordered." Quickly replacing the foam insert, he closed the briefcase and locked it.
"I am a business woman of stringent ethics." The ice clinked in my glass as I raised it to my lips. Drops of consternation fell to the table, and I wiped them away with the silverware-covered napkin, before putting it back down on the red and white checkered tablecloth.
The Investor reached out to touch my hand. "You are a business woman, true." With his other hand, he swung a handcuff around my wrist. "FBI. You are under arrest for human trafficking, and the production and distribution of child pornography."
My heart froze for a second before its fierce pounding filled my ears. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You are under arrest." He stood up, fished out and flashed his badge and I noticed the other end of the handcuff was around his wrist. "Come with me."
I sat, shocked. But only for a moment. In a burst of speed, I flipped open the compartment hidden beneath the topaz in my ring on the uncuffed hand. Opened my mouth and emptied the contents into it. The yellow powder burned my tongue, which then swelled up to such a size, I couldn't breath. With death, they can't prosecute me nor will I ever go behind bars.
The FBI agent tethered to me yelled, "Get an ambulance!" and the last thing I saw were patrons scrambling and screaming in terror. And when I closed my eyes, the world seemed to end.
I won.