Urbis
Chapter Seven

With his hand clamped over her wrist like a steel vice, Brandt led Tana into the bowels of the building, where his chauffered limousine was waiting. As she stumbled on, she struggled to cover herself with her free hand.

Brand pushed her into the back of the car and climbed in after her. The upper and lower halves of the door closed like jaws behind them, and the car soundlessly began to move, slowly at first, and then with increasing velocity, along a tunnel and out into the night, plugging into a network of featureless expressways.

Brandt poured himself a drink and settled back into the luxuriously upholstered seating. “Name’s Brandt. Lionel Brandt. You can call me Lionel if you want, but most people call me by my last name. What’s your name again?”

“Tana.” It was a small, frightened sound.

“Tana. That’s it. Well, Tana, I don’t know anything about your background, and to be quite honest I don’t care. You’re mine now, my woman, and you’re going to give me a son.”

Tana stiffened visibly and clutched at the seat.

Brandt chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll be up to it, even if you find the prospect a little unnerving at the moment. I paid a high price for you, but it’ll be worth it.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her close. “Don’t you give me any daughters, though, or I’ll throw you out on the street. Wearing what you’ve got on now.” He cast a languid eye over her nakedness. She sought again to cover herself with her hands. He snatched them away, squeezing till she yelped in pain. “Uh uh. If I want to look at you, puss and all, you don’t hide. Got that?”

She nodded.

With his free hand Brandt yanked open his fly and pulled out his massively erect penis. Tana stared as he took her small white hand and closed it round it, enclosing it within his own hand, and began pumping up and down. After a few moments he removed his own hand and picked up his drink again.

“Keep going,” he instructed. She obeyed, but as an automaton. He scowled. “I suppose it can’t be expected of a virgin, but you’re going to have to learn to put some feeling into it, girlie.” With an exasperated sigh he unpeeled her fingers from the shaft and tucked it back into his pants.

The car travelled on for another twenty minutes or so, then turned into a building and ascended a spiral ramp for several floors before coming to a stop. The doors opened. Brandt got out on one side and motioned for Tana to get out on the other. They were joined by the chauffeur, a tall, gaunt man of middle age whom Brandt introduced as Jameson. Jameson gave Tana a quick smile and what she interpreted as a pitying look.

They were in a cavernous hall of bare concrete in which a number of other large shiny vehicles were parked. As they began to cross it, a door slid open and a man and a woman appeared and walked towards them. The man was about fifty, with silvery grey hair that fell in waves over his ears. He wore a pale blue one-piece suit and matching knee-length boots. The woman was a platinum blonde in her thirties who wore a figure-hugging black dress with an enormous U-shape scooped out of the front down to her pubic bone.

Brandt dipped his head towards the man. “Jerry,” he said. He offered an almost imperceptible acknowledgement to the woman and did not speak her name.

“Brandt.” The man exchanged the desultory greeting with his own. To Tana’s amazement they did not give her a second glance, still less question why Brandt had a naked woman accompanying him.

Then they were in an elevator. Brandt slipped something into a slot in the wall, and the elevator whisked them up through the building. The door opened, and the three of them were in Brandt’s apartment. “Your new home,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “I don’t know how it compares with your old one, but I suspect it’s an improvement.”

Tana had a momentary vision of the humble cottage from which she had been abducted, the place where she and Crispin had been so happy, and where he had made sweet love to her. She put a finger to the corner of her eye to clear it.

“Jameson, get the woman something to eat, and get her measurements. We’re going to have to fix her up with some clothes. I’m going to have a soak.” As an afterthought he added: “I’m glad you’re only interested in little boys, Jameson, otherwise the temptation might be too much for you, eh?”

When he had gone Jameson indicated the soft grey couches around the room. “Like the man said, make yourself at home.” Tana stood in their midst, motionless. Jameson disappeared into another room and reappeared with a fluffy maroon robe which he handed to her. Gratefully she wrapped herself in it and sank into a couch. Jameson sat down opposite her, his hands pressed together in front of pursed lips and studied her. “Lady, I feel sorry for you,” he said at last. Tana adopted the appearance of composure. She twitched an eyebrow, encouraging him to elucidate. Jameson spoke softly, glancing occasionally over his shoulder towards the room into which Brandt had gone, from which there now came the sounds of running water and a flawed baritone. “To be blunt,” he began, “Brandt is the most unmitigated bastard it has ever been my misfortune to work for. And I’ve seen a few. As he has already intimated to you, what he wants above all is a son. But no woman would freely give him the time of day, never mind get in the sack with him,. So, as a last resort, he has paid cash for a woman who, as I understand it, nobody knows about and nobody cares about. You.”

Tana said nothing.

“Where are you from, anyway?” queried Jameson. “It’s possible I could get a message to your folks. Not that they could do much against someone as powerful as Brandt.”

Tana gave a nervous little laugh. She told the story of her abduction, Crispin’s hunting expedition, the slaying of the two men, the meeting at the longhouse, the coming of the helicopter to Vale-By-The-Waters, the “sleeping smoke”, the journey back to the city, Granby’s death, and O’Rourke’s auction - all in her village dialect. Jameson listened intently.

“If you’re lying...” he began. “But why should you make up such a fantastic story?”

Tana pouted. “Why should it not be true, what I tell you?”

“Our leaders have told us, since time immemorial, that beyond the mountains lies nothing but swampland riddled with anthrax and other deadly diseases. And people have always accepted that and have gone on living in the city, always believing that there was nowhere else to live.”

“No one was curious enough to climb over the mountains to see for themselves?” said Tana.

“Curiosity died out here a long time ago. People don’t care what happens in the next street, never mind over the mountains.” From the bathroom came the sound of water draining away. Jameson leaned close to Tana. “Now the other chopper jockey is dead, there’s only O’Rourke who knows what’s over there?”

Tana nodded. “And you.”

Jameson pondered for a moment. “Listen,” he said with sudden urgency. “Brandt thinks you’re a virgin. He’s going to be pretty sore when he finds out you’re not. Brace yourself. As for O’Rourke...”

The bathroom door flew open and Brandt emerged, naked and steaming, grotesque in his pink flabbiness.

“Now then, Jameson,” he grinned. “Have I caught you propositioning the lady on your own account?”

“Just trying to make her feel at home, sir,” said Jameson.

Brandt ignored him. “Come along, missy. Bedtime.” He reached out his hand, and Tana reluctantly let him take hers.

Jameson watched them go, Brandt with his wobbling pink cheeks and Tana in the robe with its hem trailing on the ground. Then he headed for the cocktail cabinet.

Brandt shut the door behind him and came up behind Tana where she was standing rigid in the middle of the bedroom. He reached in front of her, undid the sash of the robe and took it off her. Dropping it on the floor he walked slowly round her, inspecting her, appraising her like a work of art. Delicately he touched her cheek with his fingers, stroked her face, smiling a sickly smile, caressed her neck and shoulders, traced the contours of her breasts, grinning childishly as her nipples hardened under his touch.

“On your knees,” he said softly.

Tana did not move. Like lightning the back of Brandt’s hand slammed into her face, felling her. She lay still, tasting blood. Brandt thrust his hand into her hair and yanked her up onto her knees.

“When I tell you to do something, you fucking well do it,” he barked.

He grabbed her arm, dragged her across the room to the bed and heaved her bodily onto it. Pushing her legs apart he leapt on top of her, and with an exultant shout he rammed into her.

Tana squawked in pain. Blood trickled between her thighs, soiling the sheets.

His triumphant cry turned at once to a bellow of rage. With eyes aflame he glared down at her. “Bitch!” he screamed. His hands closed around her neck, his thumbs constricting her windpipe, and his weight seemed about to crush her all at once. She grasped his wrists in a desperate attempt to wrench them away, but she was no match for him, and felt herself sinking.

Then he released his grip. She floundered among the pillows, choking, desperately gasping for air.

“No,” he whispered. “I still have need of you. But O’Rourke...” And he returned to thrusting into her, angrily, venting his spleen as he spilled his seed.

Early in the morning Jameson was sitting drinking coffee when the bedroom door opened and Tana scurried past, looking pale, and disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the sound of retching, then she returned to the bedroom and closed the door.

Much, much later, Brandt emerged.

“Congratulations,” said Jameson.

“What?” said Brandt, eyeing him warily.

“Congratulations. You’ve rung the bell first time. If that girl isn’t pregnant I’ll eat my hat.”

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