The Case of the Mad Scientist

Chapter 34: Another Case Wrapped Up

Chapter 34: Another Case Wrapped Up

It was nice to be back in sunny California. Of course, the summer rains had begun, heavy, moist air coming up from Mexico, dumping rain that did not refresh or clean the air. When the rain was finished, it was still as humid and muggy as before.

I was on the twentieth floor of a fancy hotel in Marina del Rey, looking out the window at all the expensive sailboats and yachts down in the marina, and thinking about the case just finished up. We had flown into LA only the night before, after staying in Japan a few more days so Stella could do her second benefit show. This time I was able to watch it and understand better why she is such a popular act. The Japanese seemed to really love her.

After the show as we had a late-night dinner, I asked Stella a question that was on my mind: “How did you escape from that water tank? Those ropes were put on very tightly. I wouldn’t think that any woman could free herself.”

“It’s a trick,” she told me. Then she looked around to make sure no one was listening. “The ropes are prepared with certain places that have been treated with a chemical. While dry, they are just as strong as untreated rope. But when wet, the chemical quickly causes the ropes to dissolve, but only in the treated sections. The ropes part and I can work the rest off.”

“But what about the time you were in the tank?” I asked. “Over five minutes. That’s a long time to hold your breath.”

“I was breathing the whole time. You’re right, I can’t hold my breath more than about three minutes. But remember the ball gag that Tara put in my mouth? Well, that is not solid rubber. Inside is a small cylinder of compressed air and a tiny regulator. There is a hole in the back of the ball so I only had to suck in and there was fresh air. I kept my lips sealed around the ball to keep the water out. I could have stayed under the water for at least ten minutes.”

“Clever!” I told her.

“But still dangerous,” chipped in Tara. “But she likes to challenge death - she told me so herself.”

That was how I learned the secret of the Hanging Death Water Trap.

Instead of going straight home, I went with Stella and Tara and Blaze to this hotel for a congratulations dinner and to help recover from jetlag. Stella, Tara and Blaze were going to spend the night there, then be off to wherever they were going the next afternoon. The dinner was very good, the champagne flowed and the steaks were first class. But was what better was the after-dinner show. I mean the one that occurred in Blaze’s room and was private - for my eyes only.

I really envy that Mark fellow. He’s got one hell of a fine woman there. Almost as good as Linda Goodbody. Wild and inventive in bed but also damned fun to be with.

The next morning, we had breakfast sent to the room and enjoyed a leisurely meal. We talked a bit about the mission to Japan, or the Case of the Mad Scientist, as I call it.

Later, I watched the gray clouds rolling in from the south and reflected on all that had happened.

Blaze was untied and I found a lab coat to put on. Sort of like my trench coat but not as long, and all white colored. I showed Hiroshi and the others where Aiko and the other two Japanese girls were being kept. The one who had suffered as an experimental subject, named Midori, had not changed. She was still strongly under the influence of that virus or whatever they had injected into her body. She was filled with unquenchable hunger for sex in any form. She also still had a strong hatred of all males and would attack on sight with intent to do great harm – unless, that is, the male could provide sexual satisfaction. But as soon as he could no longer do that, she would try to rip his throat out. Hiroshi told us that she would be placed in a mental hospital where she would be taken care of.

The Japanese girl who had been fortunate enough to not yet be used as an experimental subject was taken away and returned to her home, but only after being told to forget everything that she had seen or heard.

Aiko… Ah, poor Aiko. She was also affected by the changes the mad doctor’s virus did to her, but fortunately not to the extent of Midori. She was sexually obsessive, true, but had a little more control over her hatred of men. Sort of. Personally, I wouldn’t turn my back on her. Hiroshi said that he would make sure she had the best care and that he would marry her anyway. Since he understood what had happened to her, it was probably better for her that he really loved her very much and was willing to take care of her. He would have a wife with a very high sex drive that he would probably have to keep chained or tied much of the time, and who might or might not be able to keep her hostile emotions in check. Life would not be boring for him.

As of our leaving Japan, Gato had not been found. Apparently he took all the notes and records of Dr. Sorren’s and disappeared. I hope he never shows up. That virus the evil Sorren concocted is powerful stuff. Oh, and the good doctor himself: he’s going to spend a lot of time behind bars - sort of ironic considering how he kept his subjects behind bars. Anyway, he’ll not be doing any more research. And he claimed that without his notes he cannot duplicate his research. Well, maybe, maybe not. Anyway, he’s not going to have the chance.

A noise behind me reminded me off the last piece of unfinished business. I turned to see how Blaze was doing.

After breakfast, she said she had a few hours to kill before their flight to Las Vegas, and would I please help her with some escape practice. Being the gallant and reasonable fellow I am, I assured her that it would be a pleasure to help her sharpen her skills.

Almost before I could finish agreeing, she was pulling the shirt off and dropping her slacks, kicking off her shoes, and tossing a pile of ropes my direction - seemingly all at once. In a few seconds, she was

standing there, totally naked and smiling at me. A short discussion as to what type of bondage she would like to work on, and then I was helping her - with all my heart I was glad to help the sweet young woman.

After a few minutes she was tied into a ball. Her arms were tied behind her back, elbows together, legs were bound together at the ankles and above the knees - pretty much a standard form of bondage. But then I put a leather dog collar around her neck and bent her in half. The dog collar was tied to her knee bondage, and pulled until her chin was touching her knees. That left her folded in half and rather helpless. But wait! There’s more! I tied a rope around her wrist bondage and passed that down around her ankle bondage. I did that a couple times and then pulled on it. That drew her feet towards her hands. But with her neck tied to her knees, it did not become a hogtie, but a ball tie. Her legs folded until they could close no more. Her hands were tightly pulled down to her ankles. There was really nothing she could do. When I finished the tying, I put her in a kneeling position, head touching the floor and bound arms uppermost. She wiggled a bit and fell onto her side. I set her back up again.

We had agree that she should be given a two hour time limit before I would untie her - assuming she did not manage escape before that. As I was ready to settle down and watch the show, she reminded me that she was not gagged and that was an important part of any good restraint system. She told me there was a ball gag in her suitcase. I fitted it into her mouth and buckled it tightly.

Then I asked her if she were ready to try to escape and she nodded her head. I pointed out that I had put her on the knees to start, but if she fell over I would not put her upright again. She nodded. Then I informed her that if she failed to escape within that time limit, I would punish her. She lifted on eyebrow in question as to what that punishment might be. I showed her the feather I had obtained just for that purpose. She squealed loudly through the gag and began struggling. From NôvelDrama.Org.

Boy, that girl is really ticklish!

When the two hours were up, plus another half hour of tickling, it was finally time to untie her. I didn’t really want to; she looked so damned good, all that naked flesh and tied into a small ball. But she had a plane to catch, so I untied her.

I won’t say that it was tearful goodbye, but she still had tears running down her face from the tickling when I left her. I didn’t stay around to watch her get dressed. I preferred the memory of the way she was the last couple hours to that of a clothed Blaze.

* * * * *

My apartment was empty when I got there. But I was a little upset because the place had been cleaned up. All the dishes were washed, all the clothes folded or hung in the closet, and everything picked up and/or dusted. My little baby sister, Susie, was undoubted responsible for that. I had let her stay in my apartment and allowed her to “take care” of my private investigator business while I was out of town. I expected that to mean answering the phone, which hardly every rang anyway.

Since she was not in the apartment, I drove down to my office. The faded, aging building was a like an old friend as I climbed the stairs. My office door was, surprisingly, open. Stepping inside I found Susie behind my desk, talking on the phone.

I waited a moment as she finished her conversation - probably to some friend of hers, before I greeted her and asked how things were doing.

Picking up a folder from the desktop, she told me, “Oh, I’ve done a few things. This is the file on the Emerson Bank Robbery. That’s closed. I have to testify next week at the trial. This is the Robertson Kidnapping file. That one is also closed. You’ll find their check inside. It came this morning and I haven’t taken it to the bank yet. They were so grateful to get their daughter back unharmed that they paid twice the fee I asked.

“This file is the Middleton murder case. It’s not closed yet, but if you look at the photos I took, you’ll see that it is clearly Carlos Mendoza standing in the motel window. That should be ready to close as soon as the police arrest him. That should be this afternoon.”

“That leaves only three cases still open. Here are the details in these folders…”

I cut her off by pointing to a TV sitting on a table beside her. “What is that?!” I demanded.

“That’s your new computer. The Internet is a great source of information and indispensable in investigations.”

“Get rid of it!”

“Big brother, you told me to take care of your business while you were gone, and you can’t possibly conduct a business these days without a good computer. Now about your website…”

I reached over and pulled open my bottom drawer where I keep the whiskey. It was gone. Instead, there were packets of herbal tea.

I was getting a headache. A big one.

The End