Part 1. Missing.


	Amy was worried.  Well, maybe not worried, she told herself, but
certainly concerned.  She had not heard from her sister Claire in over three
weeks.  They usually talked once or twice a month, so a three week lapse would
not normally have been cause for concern.  However, Amy had been trying to
contact Claire for several days with no success.  Claire's office had informed
her that she hadn't been to work in over two weeks and the message on her
answering machine was decidedly odd.  Amy tried to call again.

	"This is Claire.  I very much regret that I am unable to take your call
... yes, very much."  There was no beep.  The machine simply delivered the
message and hung up.

	Becoming increasingly concerned and not knowing what else to do, Amy
drove to Claire's apartment.  She was relieved to see Claire's car in the lot. 
However, Claire did not answer her door.  Pounding on the door and yelling
produced no response.

	Now Amy was definitely worried.  Claire might be hurt or ill.  She had a
key to Claire's apartment, but had neglected to bring it.  She left to get it.

	Malcolm had likewise not heard from Claire for over three weeks, but
since he had made no attempt whatever to contact her in that time, he was not at
all concerned.  Tonight, however, he intended to make most intimate contact.

	The last three weeks had been spent planning this evenings encounter. 
Claire had not been entirely satisfied with her last fantasy encounter and
Malcolm was determined that this time she would have no cause for complaint.

	Malcolm noted Claire's car in the lot, drove around to the back and
parked next to the back door.  He let himself in with the key he had from a
previous encounter.

	Once inside, Malcolm sensed that the apartment was empty.  The interior
was dark and silent.  The air was stale.  Malcolm was considering whether to
wait or come back another time when he heard a key in the front door.

	Amy stepped into the darkness of Claire's apartment.  As she groped for
a light switch, she was surprised as the door closed of its own accord.  She was
even more surprised when a hand wrapped itself around her throat and jerked her
sideways off her feet.  No sooner had she hit the floor than a body landed on
top of her, knocking the wind out of her.  By the time Amy could catch her
breath to scream, her arms had been jerked behind her and her wrists tightly
bound.  Just as she filled her lungs with air, a hand clamped itself over her
mouth.

	"No screaming.  You know you'll be punished for that."

	"And I would know that because...?" Amy thought to herself.  She was
surprised that her brain would choose such a time to be sarcastic, but not too
surprised.  Amy was a sarcastic person.

	Amy slowly exhaled and the hand was removed from her mouth.  Quickly,
she inhaled again and opened her mouth wide to scream.  Something round and
slightly yielding was jammed into her mouth.  Straps were pulled tight and
fastened behind her neck, jamming whatever it was deep into her mouth and
forcing her jaws uncomfortably far apart.  She did manage to scream, but her
effort was so muffled by the gag, she doubted she could be heard out in the
hall.

	After fastening her gag, the hands left her neck and grasped her ankles,
pulling her legs out straight.  Amy jerked one leg loose and kicked, producing a
yelp from her assailant.

	"You will be punished for that, bitch," the voice informed her.

	Amy only wished she had been wearing stiletto heels instead of the
clunky heels she had worn.  The grip on her ankle was renewed and a strap now
encircled both her ankles.  It was cinched tight, pinning them together.

	Despite her terror, Amy's mind kept making odd little observations.  Her
use of the past tense with respect to her shoes was appropriate, she noted, as
they were unbuckled and removed.

	The blindfold being buckled in place caused Amy to feel some sense of
relief.  If he didn't want to be seen, Amy thought, he might be planning to let
her go when he was done with her.  Maybe she would survive this night.

	Amy's ankles were drawn up and fastened to her wrists, leaving her
hogtied.  Then she heard her assailant get up and go out the back door.

	Malcolm had been rather surprised by the violence of Claire's struggle. 
She'd never put up this kind of a fight before.  He would teach her a lesson.  A
couple of hours bound and gagged in the dark and she would understand how
helpless she truly was.  Malcolm went off to get something to eat.  Even if
Claire managed to free herself before he returned, which he doubted she could
do, he would simply tie her up again.

	Amy felt relieved when she heard the back door close.  Maybe she could
free herself before he came back in.  Time passed with both her fear and her
hope unfulfilled.  Whoever had attacked her did not return, but neither could
she free herself.  "What's with this?" Amy wondered.  "The guy just ties me up
and goes away?  He doesn't even do anything to me?"

	As time passed, Amy's fear grew.  By now her struggles had made it clear
to her that she would remain bound until someone released her.  Would anyone
find her?  She had been here a long time already.  With the blindfold on, she
had no idea whether it was day or night.  What if no one found her for days? 
Amy renewed her struggle, but accomplished only the further abrasion of her
wrists.

	Malcolm, for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, was angry with
Claire.  Although he hadn't given her the opportunity to say a single word, he
had picked up something in her attitude that rubbed him the wrong way.  Besides,
his knee still hurt where she had kicked him.  He would have to come up with an
appropriate punishment for that one.  Perhaps he would whip the soles of the
feet.

	"Whoa," Malcolm told himself.  "We're getting vindictive here.  This is
supposed to be fun."  Nevertheless, at the moment, his idea of fun was to
inflict sufficient suffering on Claire that she would beg for mercy, which he
would delight in denying her.

	Malcolm's sensible side informed him that this was a bad time to revisit
Claire.  She could wait a while longer.  He went to a movie.  He chose a comedy
and was feeling much more light hearted when he returned for Claire several
hours later.

	The sound of the back door opening caused Amy both fear and relief.  The
footsteps that approached her were too heavy to be Claire's.  Amy wondered what
was going to happen to her.

	Amy's hands had gone numb and her cramped joints were causing her
increasing pain.  She thought she would acquiesce to just about anything that
involved untying her.

	Her ankles were released from her wrists and Amy yelped into her gag as
her knees began to straighten.

	"Easy, take it easy," the voice said.  "You're going to be very stiff. 
You don't want to move too suddenly."

	Amy was surprised by the solicitousness of the voice.  She winced as she
slowly straightened her legs.  She was rolled onto her back.

	"Bring your knees up slowly to your chin, then back down again."  Amy
complied and after two repetitions was once again reasonably flexible.  Then she
was picked up and carried outside.

	Amy lay on the floor in the back seat of a car.  She was hidden under a
blanket and the car had been driving for some time.  It stopped at
intersections, got on the freeway, got off the freeway, drove through city
traffic, got on the freeway again ...  The trip seemed interminable and Amy
began wondering if the driver was wandering around randomly so she wouldn't have
any idea how far she was being taken.  She took this as another sign that her
captor would release her when he was through with her.  Just the same, Amy found
herself wishing they would get where they were going so he could do whatever he
was going to do and get it over with.

	When the journey finally ended, Amy was carried inside and placed on the
floor with her back against the wall.  Her gag was removed.

	When she had been left in Claire's apartment, Amy had mainly been
concerned with whether or not she would be left there until she died.  In the
car, she had given more consideration to how to deal with her current situation. 
She already knew that she was bound too tightly for physical resistance to be of
any use.  Her other options were total submission and attempting to humanize
herself to her abductor.  Once her gag was removed, she opted for humanization. 
She would still have total submission as a fallback option.

	Amy worked the stiffness out of her jaw for a moment, then began
talking.  "Would you like to know my name?  It's Amy.  Amy Cooper.  I work at
Morgan National Bank.  I'm a loan officer.  Maybe you know that already.  I want
you to know I'm frightened.  I'm afraid of what you're going to do to me.  You
won't need to hurt me.  I'll do what you want.  Maybe we could be friends.  You
could tell me your name.  Not your whole name, just your first name so I'll know
what to call you.  I won't...

	"Amy, please be quiet a moment."  The voice was not unfriendly.  It
sounded concerned rather than threatening.  Amy was confused.  Had she not been
blindfolded, she would have been even more confused by the look on Malcolm's
face.

	Malcolm would have described himself as confused, had he been prone to
understatement.  The woman tied up on his floor may or may not have been Amy
Cooper, but she was definitely not Claire.  He had abducted the wrong woman.

	Amy felt herself picked up and placed in a chair.  Her blindfold was
removed.  She blinked and looked about.  She was sitting at what appeared to be
a round dinner table in a loft apartment across from a man she assumed was her
abductor.

	"I'm afraid we have a bit of a situation here..." Malcolm began.

	"Oh, really?" Amy thought to herself.  Considering the fact that she was
still bound, she chose to keep her comment to herself.

	"You see, when I abducted you, I thought you were Claire," Malcolm
continued.

	"Oh, I see," said Amy, unable to restrain herself any further..  "If I
was Claire, then this would all be okay."

	"Yes, but since you're not Claire, I have a problem."

	"You have a problem?"

	"Precisely."

	"Of course.  It's so obvious.  I'm the one who was attacked, I'm the one
who was abducted, I'm the one who's tied up, but you're the one who has a
problem.  How self centered of me not to have noticed.  What can I do to help? 
How can I be of service?  What assistance might I render?  What..."

	"One thing you might do for me is open your mouth a little wider so I
can put your gag back where it belongs."

	Amy looked at Malcolm.  She was pretty sure that his threat to gag her
again was rhetorical, but considering her current condition, she decided against
further comment.  She wanted to demand that he untie her, but that would require
him to move, and she rather liked him where he was at the moment--on the
opposite side of the table.

	"Despite your tone, you've got it right.  You won't have a problem until
after I put you back where I got you.  At that point, you'll have to decide what
to do about your little adventure this evening.  In the meantime, I've got two
problems.   The first is to put you back where I got you, and the second is to
convince you not to do anything about this evening, or at least make it very
difficult for you or the police to ever find me.  But before we get into all
that, I have a question."

	"And that would be?"

	"Why aren't you Claire?"

	"I'm her sister.  Is that close enough?"

	"That depends on how you feel about your current predicament.  You do
look a lot like her.  Would you like me to proceed as though you were Claire or
take you back where you came from?"

	"Proceed to what?" Amy wanted to know.

	"Considering your attitude so far, I think major spanking would be in
order."

	"My attitude?  What about you?  You attack me in the dark and abduct me
and I'm the one who needs a spanking?  I think you've got it backwards."

	"You're confused about how this works.  You're the one who's tied up, so
you're the one who gets the spanking."

	"I think you'd better take me back."

	"I thought you might say that.  But before we go, I have another
question, or rather the same question.  Why did I get you?  Where's Claire?"

	"You've got it backwards again.  I should be asking you.  She's missing
and you're the one abducting people.  Don't you know where she is?  And while
I'm on the subject, just what were you doing in Claire's apartment and why were
you trying to abduct her?"

	"I suppose that does seem rather odd.  I'll try to explain.  We play
this game where every once in a while I abduct her and drag her off for a few
days of debauchery."

	"And who exactly are you?  Are you her boyfriend?  She's never mentioned
you."

	"No, I'm just a friend."

	"Just a friend?  A friend who kidnaps her and drags her off for a few
days of sex and spankings?  Something's not right about this.  You can't be all
that close a friend if you didn't know she was missing.  Why would she be doing
all this with someone she doesn't know all that well?  You're not telling me the
whole story.  I think you know very well where she is."

	"Then why was I at her apartment?  I grabbed you because I thought you
were Claire."

	"I think you were there to rob the place and I just happened to walk in
on you."

	"Claire's car was in the lot.  Why would I rob the place if I thought
she was home?"

	"Because you're the one responsible for her being missing.  You knew she
wasn't there."

	"Amy, you realize that if you're right about this, you're in deep shit."

	Amy turned white.  She hadn't stopped to consider where her argument was
leading.  Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.  This guy Malcolm wasn't
likely to let her go now that he knew that she was on to him.

	"Fortunately for you," Malcolm continued, noting the look on Amy's face,
"you're wrong, so you don't have anything to worry about, except possibly your
sister.  So tell me, how do you know she's missing?  When did you see her last?"

	Amy regarded Malcolm.  She had ceased to be frightened of him, but was
still suspicious.  She still didn't understand who he was or what was going on,
but decided to answer his questions and see where it led.  "About three weeks
ago.  I've been trying to contact her for over a week.  She's never home and at
her job they told me she hasn't been to work for over two weeks."

	"Did you leave a message on her machine?"

	"You can't.  You just get this weird recording and then it hangs up."

	"What weird recording?" Malcolm wanted to know.

	"Call her number and see for yourself."

	Amy noted that Malcolm didn't have to look up Claire's number but
couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

	Malcolm listened to the message. 

	"Amy, I'm going to take you back to Claire's apartment."

	Malcolm now seemed distracted.  Amy had the distinct impression that
Malcolm was disturbed by the message on Claire's machine.  Her own status had
changed from major problem to minor nuisance and Malcolm obviously wanted to
dispose of her as quickly as possible so that he could deal with more important
issues.   The message on Claire's machine apparently meant more to him than it
did to her.

	"You know something, don't you" Amy said.  "What is it?  What's happened
to Claire?"

	"Have you notified the police about Claire?"

	"No."

	"Do so," Malcolm said as he got up and approached Amy.  "I'm taking you
back now."

	"Wait a minute, damn it.  Now you've got me really worried and you
haven't told me anything.  What's going on?  Who are you, really?"

	Malcolm wondered how much he should tell Amy.  Would she even believe
him?  Would she believe that Claire had paid him to forcibly abduct her and
subject her to a few days of sexual servitude?  And would Claire want her sister
to know that about her?

	The only people who knew of Malcolm's business were his customers. 
Malcolm worked hard to keep it that way.  Neither he nor they would be served if
others were aware of his activities.  So what to tell Amy?

	"I'm just a friend.  Now, come on," Malcolm said, fastening a blindfold
over Amy's eyes and scooping her into his arms.  "We need to go."

	"Wait.  Stop.  Put me down."  Amy was completely exasperated.  "Aren't
you even going to untie me?"

	"I hadn't planned on it."

	Amy began struggling violently.  "Put me down.  I said put me down!"

	Malcolm set Amy back down in the chair.  "I thought you wanted me to
take you back."

	"I do, but not until I get some answers.  I want to know who you are and
what you know about Claire."  Amy did have some sense of the irony of a woman in
her present condition making demands, but she didn't care.  She was angry, and
she was frightened for Claire.

	Malcolm made a decision.  "Alright.  Against my better judgement, I'll
tell you.  Although I consider Claire a friend, my relationship with Claire is
primarily a business one."

	"What business?  I didn't know Claire was in business."

	"No, you don't get it.  Your abduction this evening was intended for
Claire.  She contracted for it."

	"You're trying to tell me she paid you to do that?"

	"Yes, that's it exactly."

	"That's ridiculous.  Why would anyone want that?  And why would Claire
pay for it?  She never had trouble attracting men.  She wouldn't need to pay for
sex."

	"You're right.  In general, women don't need to pay for sex.  Almost any
woman, once she's decided to have sex, can find someone to oblige her in fairly
short order, although few are that indiscriminate.  Good sex, on the other hand,
is a different matter."

	"So, you're like a prostitute."

	"I tend to consider myself a private contractor, but you could probably
make a good argument for that viewpoint."

	"It still doesn't add up.  I can't see Claire paying for sex, no matter
how good it is."

	"There's more to it than that.  Amy, some women have special needs,
special desires, that aren't fulfilled by ordinary sex.  I give them what they
want, what they need."

	"So your customers want to be tied up or spanked or whatever it is you
do to them, and you're telling me that's what Claire wanted.."

	"Yes."

	"I still don't believe it.  Why would Claire want that, and even if she
did, why would she pay someone for it?"

	"There is no why.  If that's what you want, then that's what you want. 
She has to hire it done because it can be hard to come by."

	"What's hard about it?"

	"Okay, suppose you're someone who likes to be tied up.  You don't just
like it, you need it, but you're also embarrassed by these needs.  So it's not
likely you'll just randomly run across some guy who'll do what you want, and
it's hard to ask for it.  But suppose you do bring yourself to ask your husband,
lover, whoever.  You're likely to encounter anything from derision to a bumbling
compliance where you have to direct the whole encounter.  'Okay, tie my hands
behind me...no, not like that, I can get loose...now tie my
ankles...tighter...put me across your lap...now spank me...harder...HARDER.' 
You end up in total control of the situation, which is the opposite of what you
wanted and it turns out to be worse than outright rejection.  It's fairly easy
for a woman to find someone to have sex with, but it's much more difficult for
her to herself get tied up.  Then, of course, there's always the danger that
she'll get more than she bargained for."

	"Assuming that's what she wants."

	"True.  Most women don't want that, but a significant minority do.  I
provide it with their safety guaranteed.  They know they'll survive the
experience."

	"And that's what you do.  You tie them up and spank them."

	"I do what they need.  It varies with the individual.  Some only want to
be tied up, others want to be spanked.  Some want to be dominated verbally, some
want to be humiliated, some want to be punished, some are turned on by pain,
some aren't.  Some want to be taken by force.  I usually have to find out by
trial and error, since in many cases she's either embarrassed to say what she
wants or sometimes doesn't know."

	"I see.  And what does Claire like?"

	"She seems to like a bit of everything.  She's a new customer, so I
haven't gotten really zeroed in on her.  I'm exposing her to a variety of things
to help her find what she likes."

	"I am not believing this."

	"Amy, I'm going to remove your blindfold and untie you, but should it
become necessary, I'll tie you up again."

	Amy rubbed her wrists as Malcolm rummaged in a file drawer.  After a
moment, he returned with a piece of paper.

	"This is Claire's last customer survey.  I destroy most of my source
documents, but these I save in case I ever need to prove a customer's
participation was voluntary.  I assume you can recognize Claire's handwriting."

	"Yes, this is her writing," Amy said, examining the paper.  "Oh...oh,
my...you did that to her?...and she liked it when...Oh, Claire...Claire."

	Malcolm watched silently as Amy examined the paper.  Finally she put it
down and looked at him.  She seemed bewildered, and somehow defeated.

	"So where is she now?" Amy wanted to know.

	"I don't know.  I saw her last about a month ago.  Tonight I was going
to fulfill her latest contract, but as you know things didn't work out as I
expected."

	"So now what?"

	"So now I take you back.  If you haven't heard from Claire by tomorrow,
go to the police.  I would prefer you didn't mention me."

	"I still think you're not telling me everything."

	"I'll contact you if I learn anything.  Now, I'm afraid I'm going to
have to take you back the same way I brought you here."

	"No."

	"I'm sorry, Amy, but in order to protect the privacy of my customers, no
one is allowed to know this location.  This is not optional.  I insist."

	"But...please..."

	Malcolm took Amy's hand.  "Stand up, please."

	Reluctantly, Amy stood.

	"Stand straight, Amy.  Shoulders back, feet together," Malcolm said
quietly.

	"Malcolm, I'm not one of your customers."

	"Don't worry, I'm not going to charge for this.  Now, cross your wrists
behind your back."

	Amy complied and her wrists were bound, then her ankles, then the
blindfold was reapplied.

	"Are you going to gag me?" Amy wanted to know.

	"Only if you make it necessary."

	The return trip was much like the trip out.  Amy was under a blanket on
the floor of the back seat.  She had no idea if they followed the same path back
or not.  When the car finally stopped, Amy was picked up and carried in.  She
was laid face down on a bed and her ankles bound to the footboard.  Then Malcolm
untied her wrists and removed her blindfold.

	"No, don't move yet," Malcolm told her as she tried to push herself up
on the bed.  "I'm going now.  I'll let you know if I learn anything."

	"So how do I contact you?"

	"You don't.  I'll call you."

	"You don't know my number."

	"Don't be so certain," Malcolm said and he was gone.

	Amy tried to get up to at least get a look at his car through the
window, but her ankles were still bound to the bed.  Malcolm had left her in a
position that made it awkward to reach the ropes on her ankles, but finally she
succeeded in freeing herself.  She went to the window, but he was long gone. 
She went looking for her shoes and found them by the front door where they had
lain since Malcolm had removed them.

	From Claire's, Malcolm drove to his regular apartment.  The loft
apartment was in an otherwise abandoned building in an old industrial district
and Malcolm used it exclusively for his sojourns with his customers.  He had
maintained the loft apartment there for several years, but had recently
purchased the building.  This enabled him to ensure that he was the only tenant. 
The building always looked deserted from the outside, but Malcolm had carefully
secured all the entrances.  He didn't want some random vagrant wandering in on
one of him when he was with a customer.

	As he drove, Malcolm considered his encounter with Amy.  Too bad he
couldn't get a contract out of her.  She was someone in definite need of a
spanking.  The main subject of his ruminations, however, was Claire.  He could
only think of one possible explanation for her disappearance, but before he got
too carried away, he needed to verify Claire's disappearance for himself.  It
was obvious that Amy was concerned about Claire, but Malcolm didn't know Amy
well enough to know if she might tend to exaggerate.  It wouldn't do to get all
worked up only to find that Claire had been off visiting her aunt.

	The next morning, Malcolm called Claire's workplace.  They confirmed
that she hadn't been in for two weeks and they were obviously puzzled and
concerned by her absence.  He called her apartment and got the same weird
message on the machine.  Malcolm drove to Claire's apartment building and
examined her car.  One of the tires was nearly flat and the windshield was
coated with a light layer of grime.  It didn't appear to have been driven in a
while.

	After looking to make sure no one was paying attention to him, Malcolm
let himself into Claire's apartment.  It had that same empty feeling he had
noticed last night.  He looked around.  There was a huge pile of mail on the
floor under the mail slot.  Malcolm looked at the postmarks.  The oldest was
over two weeks ago.  Clair's suitcases were in closet and he didn't see any gaps
in the clothes hanging in the closet or more than one or two empty hangers.  He
looked in the bathroom.  There was a toothbrush in the holder above the sink and
a half used tube of toothpaste next to it.  It didn't look as if Claire had
packed for any sort of extended absence.

	Malcolm returned home.  Time to check other possibilities.  He called
Mike and Grace.

	Mike and Grace had been among Manfred's former victims.  Malcolm had
maintained contact with them and they talked occasionally.  Grace had given up
her apartment and moved in with Mike.

	"Mike, it's Malcolm.  I thought I'd see if you two were interested in
going out for a drink one of these evenings."

	"Yeah, I would, but don't expect Grace."

	"Why not?"

	"She's left me, Malcolm."

	"Oh, no.  What happened?"

	"We had a fight Sunday.  I usually drive her to work and back, but
yesterday she insisted on driving herself.  She never came home."

	"Did she go to work today?" Malcolm asked.

	"They say she isn't in, but I think she might have told them she wasn't
in for me, if you know what I mean."

	"Mike, Claire is missing, and we didn't have a fight."  Mike was aware
of Claire, but didn't know the actual nature of Claire and Malcolm's
relationship.  He thought Claire was Malcolm's girlfriend.

	"Oh, Jesus.  Do you think...?"

	"I don't know yet, but I'm worried.  Let me see if Grace is in for me. 
I'll call you right back."

	A few minutes later, Malcolm called Mike again.

	"Mike, she's not there.  She didn't come in today."

	"Maybe they're not connected.  How long has Claire been gone."

	"Almost three weeks."

	"That's sort of far apart.  It's probably just coincidence.  Grace will
get over it and show up tomorrow."

	"Mike, I'm going to give you Claire's number.  I want you to call it,
listen to the answering machine, then call me back."

	"What for?"

	"Just do it, okay?"

	"Okay."

	Malcolm waited.  After a few minutes, the phone rang.

	"Mike?"

	"What do you think it means?" Mike asked.

	"I think it's probably an understatement.  I suspect Claire is extremely
sorry she's not there to answer the phone."

	"Then why the message?"

	"I think it's a little joke on the part of a mutual acquaintance."

	"God damn that little bastard.  If he's done anything to her, I'll take
him apart piece by piece.  I won't leave an unbroken bone in his body..."  Mike
paused and his tone changed from angry to worried.  "What are we going to do,
Malcolm?  You know what he's like.  We've got to find them."

	"I know, I know.  I'm working on it, but I'm not sure where to look. 
Why don't you call the others and see if they've had any incidents, then call me
back."

	Malcolm considered the situation while he waited for Mike's return call. 
He was now reasonably certain that Manfred had Claire.  He still wasn't one
hundred percent sure, but the disappearance of Grace put the probability  in the
nineties.

	Mike called back.

	"They haven't had any problems," Mike reported.  "I talked to all four
of them.

	"Well, it was at Grace's and Claire's that he got beat up, and now
they're both missing.  Maybe he'll leave the others alone."

	"We can only hope, although it might be useful if he'd show himself
again.  I told them to keep their guard up."

	"You called the police yet?"

	"No point.  They won't even take a missing person report until she's
been gone for three days.  We can't wait that long.  He's out for revenge.  God
only knows what he'll do to them."

	"Any ideas?"

	"Didn't you say you knew where he lived?" Mike asked.

	"Yeah, but he's gone.  There's a realtor's sign out front."

	"Okay, we'll start there.  I've got a buddy who's a realtor.  Give me
the address and I'll get the lockbox number, then we'll go through the house,"
Mike said.

	"Good idea.  He left rather suddenly, I think.  Maybe we'll find a clue. 
Can you get away?"

	"Yeah, pick me up in an hour.  That'll give me time to call my friend
and get the combination."

	Mike was waiting in front of the building where he worked when Malcolm
arrived.  They drove across town to Manfred's former residence, neither of them
saying much.  When they arrived, Mike twisted the dial on the front of the
lockbox and extracted the key.  They let themselves in through the front door.

	They were in the living room of a ranch style house built in the 50's or
60's.  The living room was average sized and empty.  They checked the kitchen
and bedrooms, but found nothing there, either.  The bathroom was likewise
normal, except that it had a cable TV outlet on the wall, which seemed slightly
odd to Malcolm, although he supposed some people might watch TV in the bathroom. 
The other rooms had also all had cable TV outlets, but there was nothing unusual
about that.

	The electricity was off, so Malcolm fetched a flashlight from his car
before they descended into the basement.  The land sloped down toward the back
of the house so that the rear entrance was at basement level.  Almost the entire
rear portion of the lot was occupied by a large cinder block garage which was
attached to the back of the house.  The garage was large enough for at least
four vehicles and the portion of it closest to the house was broken up into a
number of small rooms, all of which opened onto a hall which led from the garage
into the basement proper. 

	Like the rest of the house, the garage and adjoining rooms were empty. 
Each room had a cable TV outlet, with several in the main garage.

	The basement was laid out in mirror image of the garage.  Four small
rooms opened off the hall with a large room at the end opposite the garage. 
Once again, there were cable outlets in each room.

	Malcolm swept his flashlight around the large room.

	"Holy shit!"

	Malcolm moved the light back to the object that had caused Mike's
exclamation.  In one corner of the room stood a cage.  It was about seven feet
tall and four feet square, constructed of black steel bars each about an inch
square.  The door hung open and the top nearly brushed the low ceiling.  Malcolm
wondered how they had managed to stand it up, since the diagonal would seem to
be greater than the height of the room.  It must have been brought in in pieces
and assembled in place.  Even if they could have laid it on it's side, it
wouldn't fit through the door.

	"There's another one," Mike said, pointing along the wall to the
adjacent corner.

	"Wine cages," said Malcolm.

	"What?"

	"They're wine cages.  Restaurants and hotels use them to protect their
more expensive bottles of wine from pilferage."

	"I don't think he kept wine in there."

	"I know he didn't," said Malcolm, bending over and sniffing around the
floor.  "Smell that?"

	Mike bent over and sniffed.  "Urine."

	They looked around the rest of the room.  There were a few eye-bolts
screwed into the ceiling and holes in the wall where others might once have
been, but otherwise, nothing remarkable.

	"Let's have a look outside," Mike suggested.

	The two men made a circuit of the exterior, but once again found nothing
amiss, with one possible exception.

	"I don't think this house has ever had cable," Malcolm commented. 
"There's no drop from the pole, and I don't see a ground block or any exterior
attachments."

	"He probably didn't need it.  I think he produced his own video
entertainment."

	"That would explain all the cable outlets.  They probably weren't
outlets at all, but inputs for cameras," Malcolm surmised.

	"Too bad he didn't leave any videos.  We ought to be able to hang him
with one of those."

	"Assuming we find him.  He didn't leave us much to work with."

	"I'm surprised he didn't take the cages.  Without them there'd be
nothing."

	"I think it was too much trouble.  They're welded in place.  He'd have
to take them apart with a cutting torch to get them out of there.  Besides, they
don't really help us find him."

	"You're right about that.  There's nothing here that might lead us to
him."

	Malcolm didn't say anything to Mike, but the cages worried him.  They
indicated that Manfred was probably entertaining unwilling guests more often
than he had suspected, and perhaps more than one at a time.  Malcolm was
beginning to fear that he had underestimated who and what he was dealing with.

	Malcolm drove Mike back to his office, then returned to his apartment. 
Their only real accomplishment at Manfred's old house was to heighten their fear
for Claire and Grace.  Malcolm was now convinced that Manfred had forced Claire
to record the message for her machine as a taunt to anyone who might seek her.

	The next morning, Malcolm called Amy from work.

	"Amy Cooper."

	"Hello, Amy.  This is Malcolm."

	"How did you find me?"

	"Don't you remember telling me your name and where you worked?"

	"I guess I do, sort of."

	"I called Morgan National and asked for Amy Cooper.  It wasn't too
tough.  Anyway, I wanted to know if you'd heard from Claire."

	"No, have you?"

	"If I had, I wouldn't be asking you.  Have you called the police?"

	"I filled out a missing person report.  They said they'd check it out
and get back to me.  What have you learned?"

	"Nothing.  I called you hoping you'd tell me she was back and there was
no need for concern."

	"Meaning you feel there is need for concern.  There's still something
you're not telling me."

	"If I learn anything, I'll let you know."

	Malcolm was sorry he'd called Amy.  Not only had he learned nothing,
he'd increased her suspicion of him and raised her level of anxiety.  Although
he felt there was ample justification for anxiety, there was no point worrying
Amy excessively until something concrete could be done about the situation.

	Amy's level of concern had indeed been raised by the call from Malcolm. 
She decided to revisit Claire's apartment after work.  Perhaps she could learn
something there.  Her previous visit had been interrupted by her encounter with
Malcolm.  This time, she would take her time and examine the premises
thoroughly.

	Amy entered Claire's apartment, this time without incident.  She turned
on the light, then visited all the rooms, turning on all the lights, making sure
she was alone.  She then began a careful room by room examination of the
premises.  She quickly came to the same conclusion that Malcolm had.  All
Claire's stuff was there.  The only thing missing was Claire herself and
whatever clothes she had had on at the time.

	Amy examined Claire's clothes more carefully, hoping to find something
out of place or inconsistent, but all the clothes in Claire's apartment were
ones she'd seen before.  She went through Claire's mail, which was piled on the
floor in front of the mail slot.  Bills and junk mail, not even a card or
letter.  One piece did catch her eye.  It was a standard size envelope with a
post office box for a return address.  The thing that caught her eye was the
stamp.  Junk mail usually didn't bear first class postage.  Amy opened it.

	The envelope contained only a single white business card.

The Bit and Bridle
An Adult Social Club
4314 Walnut
couples only
dress code strictly enforced


	Amy turned the card over.  "Hope you can make it" was scrawled on the
back in blue ink.  It was signed "Cindy".  Amy looked at the front again.  This
was exactly the sort of clue she was looking for.  It was cryptic and mysterious
and not the sort of thing she would normally associate with Claire.  It was the
sort of thing that would have been intriguing even if Claire hadn't been
missing.

	Amy wondered just exactly what they meant by 'adult'.  Looking at the
'couples only' line, she began to form an image.  She decided it must be one of
those clubs where all the guys put their car keys in a hat, then each woman
would draw a key and have sex with the owner.  She considered the whole wife
swapping thing rather tawdry.  Although Malcolm had presented her with a whole
new vision of her sister, Amy couldn't see Claire being interested in something
like that.  Besides, Claire was single and not seeing anyone that Amy was aware
of.  Claire wasn't part of a couple.  If Claire was single, why was she being
invited?  The invitation was apparently from a woman, so she wasn't being
invited by some clandestine lover.

	The other thing that puzzled Amy was the name.  "Bit and Bridle" had to
do with horses.  Maybe they meant "Bridal" instead of "Bridle"--nobody could
spell these days--but that didn't go with "Bit".  Either way, it didn't make a
whole lot of sense, and what was the deal with the dress code?

	Amy decided the only thing to do was to check it out.  She had the card
in case an invitation or some such was needed and she looked enough like her
sister to fool anyone who didn't know them well.

	Amy looked at her watch.  It was about eight, plenty of time to go check
it out.