Sarah Fisher - The contract

"What do you want?" he repeated more slowly.

She blushed crimson.

Peter's face hardened. "Tell me, I won't ask you again."

"I want you to – to -" she looked at him, eyes alight with need. "I want you to fuck me," she said desperately. "I need you to make me come, please."

He laughed dryly. "Stand up," he said, straightening his dressing gown to cover his exhausted cock. "Open you legs."

Angela's face was scarlet, her nakedness raw and almost uncanny. He slipped a finger inside her, and grunted with satisfaction. Her quim was so wet that she was dripping. Her juices ran down over his fingers. His thumb brushed her clitoris and she quivered with pleasure. Slowly he circled the engorged peak, each touch rewarded by Angela letting out a little eager whimper of delight.

She came in seconds, impaling herself again and again on his fingers, her sex clutching and tightening around him until finally he pulled out from inside her and she collapsed back at his feet in a sobbing gasping heap. He smiled, wiping his fingers on a towel she had given him.

"Get up," he said. "I'm going to have a shower and then get back to the computers."

Angela, still red faced, glanced up at him.

"Thank you," she muttered thickly and began to drag her caftan back on.

Slowly she got to her feet and started to tidy away his breakfast tray. He noticed that she hadn't re-tied the neck of the robe and the curve of her heavy breasts was clearly visible. She was learning. At the door she turned.

"By the way, who is Magenta?"

Peter stiffened. "What?"

"I came in to check on you last night. I thought I heard you moving around. You were talking in your sleep. The only word I could make out was 'Magenta'."

Peter tried to retain his composure, but couldn't resist glancing at the carefully waterproofed box beside his bed. Angela was still watching him.

"You really don't want to know," he said flatly.

Angela stood the tray down and crept closer.

"Oh, but you're wrong. I really do want to know. Look, Peter, if you're in some sort of trouble maybe I can help. For God's sake, I'm helping you already. You say you don't want to put me at risk, but surely, just by being here, you're putting me at risk already? I want you, I want…" her voice faded, the colour returning to her cheeks.

Peter leant back in the wheelchair. She was right. He glanced back at Magenta.

"If I tell you -" he began.

Angela nodded. "When you tell me, then I'll help you all I can. I used to operate a computer."

Peter glared at her as she stepped towards the key board. "Don't touch any of this. I have to get in unnoticed. Magenta is my way in."

Angela grinned. "Like a key?"

Peter blew out a long stream of air. "No, not a key, THE key."

He would need Angela to do things which he couldn't do whilst he was still so weak; driving, fetching, carrying. He would have to tell her. He sighed and switched on the computer. Johnson and Fielding's logo appeared out of the gloom. He touched the screen like a talisman.

"All right. Magenta is the key to a huge computer network. There is no way to lock Magenta out. Each time the combination changes Magenta is programmed to change with it. The system and the key, Magenta, were created at the same time."

Angela crouched beside him, listening with obvious interest. Her eyes were alight. His eyes lingered on the inviting shadowy curve of her breasts.

With determination he dragged his mind back from her enticing body and keyed in an opening sequence.

"This is the front door." The design on the computer screen changed seamlessly into a menu page. "All lovingly designed by the same man."

Angela stared at the screen and then across at Peter Howard. "You?" she whispered. "You designed Magenta, didn't you?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, it was me. I designed the whole package. Magenta is the only key into a huge business network. A corrupt business network. Johnson and Fielding are involved in manipulation on a global scale. With Magenta I can unlock their system and give the information to anyone who wants it: Interpol, the Fraud Squad, MI5, FBI, CIA, DPP -"

Angela reached forward and stroked the waterproof wrappings of Magenta. "How many are there?"

Peter grinned. "This is the only one – at the moment. That's what I was doing when the plane crashed. Taking it to Switzerland to get a friend to give me a back way into this system." He indicated the computer screen.

Angela pulled a face. "This is the only one?"

Peter nodded again. "That's right. I'm good. I made it fool proof. The only way we can get a copy, is to let it -" he grinned – "the term I used was to let them was mate with the master computer. It will then make a copy which I can then transfer off from the main system."

"You mean like a baby?"

"More or less, I'd intended to make a copy and put Magenta back before anyone knew it was gone. Trouble is, since I've been in hospital, someone seems to have closed off the back doors I left open."

Angela glanced at the second screen. Roderick Banyon's message still hovered in the top left hand corner.

"And what about your girl friend?" she said flatly. "What about Emily? Are you going to trade Magenta for her?"

Peter felt a gut wrenching pain. It was the question he couldn't bring himself to face. Magenta was too big to trade for… he stopped the train of thought, snatching it back. "Even if I traded Magenta I'd undoubtedly lose her anyway. There has to be some other way. The people who are interested in this machine are totally unscrupulous."

"Johnson and Fielding?"

Peter shook his head. "A lot of people are interested in who has access to this knowledge. Organised crime, Dictatorships -" he stopped. "Look, I've told you enough, probably too much. Emily is the bait in a trap to draw me out into the open. If they know I'm alive, if they know where I am, none of us are safe."

Angela pushed herself to her feet. "I'll make us some coffee. Is there anything else you want?"

Peter grinned, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. "Oh yes," he murmured. "I want a lot more."

Angela wriggled away from him. "Shower first. I've got to ring in to let the hospital know I won't be in this week. I won't be long."

Watched by a different guard and Kai, Emily showered in the bathroom at the end of the landing. The events of the previous night weren't mentioned as Kai dried and oiled her body. Emily's backside still glowed from the attentions of her late night visitor. She was relieved when Kai undid the harness that had held the anal dildo in place. After tending to Emily's nipple and quim rings Kai removed the fine covering of stubble that had grown over the lips of her sex and rubbed a soothing lotion into the delicate flesh. Emily surrendered totally to the other woman's attentions. What other choice did she have?

When Kai was finished she looked appraisingly at Emily. "I'll take you to Leonora now. She wants to see you before today's auction."

Emily tensed. Kai grinned, running a finger gently over the girl's throat. "Relax, you haven't broken any of the rules today, have you? You'll be fine."

She snapped a leash through Emily's collar and led her through the maze of corridors. On the next floor Kai directed her towards a room which Emily instantly recognised as the clinical room she had been taken into on her arrival at Deuvar. When they reached the door she hesitated; Leonora and another guard were inside, preparing a trolley beside the clinician's couch.

The tiny hard-faced Eurasian women looked up at the sound of their approach. Her eyes had no warmth in them. "Good," she said to Kai. "Bring her over here."

Emily swallowed hard and climbed onto the couch, shivering as the guard fixed her arms above her head.