Peter Jenkins - Drugged into sin

He escorted her to her room at the house and threw her on the bed, but this time she could feel her feet and hands being chained to the bed posts and a group of men were standing in one corner, leering down at her, each one naked and fully erect from the sight of the young spread-eagled girl. She felt the crack of a light buggy whip as it sounded in the air and finally connected across the tender flesh of her breasts. Price left the room and the last thing he heard was a piercing scream break from her lips as the footsteps of the men walked towards the bed where she was shackled, each one with his own special perversion, each one she would know and have indelibly imprinted on her mind before the end of the night.

He walked down the steps, laughing sadistically and wondering how long it would take them to completely break her spirit. He delighted in this special kind of torture. He wanted to stay to watch some of the fun, but he had other things to prepare for her and he walked to the kitchen and got out a spoon, a long cord of rubber and began to mix a dose of heroin. Chuckling, he thought, if they don't break her, just wait 'til it's my turn. I'll have her in my power for life. No one… no one can escape from the big "H".

The policemen stood over Jimmy, a light was shining in his face and they were throwing questions at him so fast that he found it difficult to answer even one. His mind was not clear as to what had happened. He remembered being hit on the head and thrown behind the wheel of the getaway car and he knew that they were driving him somewhere and then they left him. The next thing he remembered was that he was being handcuffed and taken to the 17th precinct on the east side on 53rd Street. He didn't know that it was Christine who had tipped them off, nor did he realize that Price had anticipated this and had already arranged for him to be set up.

The police had checked for any previous record on him and found none. They did find out that he was just nineteen, had been a good student and that the whole thing didn't figure.

Finally, when they realized that he would not be able to answer their questions that night they led him to a cell and said, "Maybe you'll feel more like talking in the morning."

The sun was shining through the cell bars when he was awakened by a burly looking guard and led once more into the interrogation room. He was trying to fit all the pieces together so that he could answer the thousands of questions. Finally he decided that maybe they would let him make a statement and he wouldn't have to answer so many questions.

"Sir," he said to the lieutenant who was closest to him. "I'd like to tell you the whole story, at least what I know of the raid and who was involved. It is going to sound bizarre, but I swear it's true and I'd be willing to take a lie detector test, but first, promise me that you will check on my girlfriend, I know that she's in danger and she needs help badly!"

"What's her name, son," the policeman asked, his voice softening somewhat when he heard the sincerity in the young man's voice.

"Christine… Christine Jackson and you can probably find her at this address and he gave them the address of Price's 'house'."

"Why, that's the girl who reported the raid to us. It was a little late, because we were already there and she hung up before we could get much more information from her. Sure, we'll check into it right now." He turned to a patrolman and told him to dispatch two squad cars to that address and pick up the girl if she were there.

Feeling a little better, Jimmy began the long involved story about how he had run into Christine after looking for her at the camp and how he had been introduced to Price through her. He wasn't sure how she had become involved, but he was sure that she, too, had been forced into this racket by someone who had taken advantage of her youth and naivete. The police listened intently while a steno took down every word he said.

"This is all very interesting, son," the policeman said, "but, you realize that, of course we will have to check out a few things. You've given us the names of the people who were involved. We've been after this Price for sometime, and if you'll testify, it may be our chance to get him. With your testimony and cooperation, maybe we can get you off with a light sentence, maybe even a suspended sentence, but you realize that when you do this, if you are released, we cannot offer you round the clock protection and I'm sure that there will be some pretty big men in the rackets wanting to see you out of the way."

"I understand," he answered falteringly. "All I want is to get out of this mess, even if it means that I have to go to jail, but I want to make sure that Christine is all right. She isn't strong enough to take this sort of thing."

"Can you tell us exactly how your girlfriend is involved with this. What does she have to do with the gang," they queried.

"I-I-I don't know," he said, and the police knew that he was lying, but he just couldn't tell them that she was the gang whore, that she was a prostitute. It was even hard for him to admit this to himself and he couldn't bear the thought of telling these strange men when they would be picking her up. He didn't want them to treat her like a common streetwalker. She wasn't like that, she was still his girl and he wanted to protect.

"Listen," the police added, "if you can tell us, we will be in a better position to help her and get her out, but if you won't go into detail, it will just make our job more difficult and we'll find out anyway."

Jimmy just shook his head dejectedly and so the one man who had been questioning him said, "Okay, boys, take him upstairs for a formal booking and printing and then return him to his cell."

They led him down the long corridor and it seemed like the longest walk he had ever taken. The walls of the jail were painted a sickening yellow and the doors and bars were a somber grey. Not a very cheery place, he thought. But then, I guess the people who are in here are used to a very ugly and somber world so it doesn't really matter.

Price had just gone up to Christine's room and was screaming at her.

"You called the cops, didn't you. You called them from the house!" his voice was hard and menacing as he stood above her with a syringe held gingerly in his hand.

"No, no, no, I didn't," she lied, screaming back at him while her eyes watched him jiggling the needle in his hand. "If you so much as come near me, I'll scream my head off."

"What did you do to get Robert out of the way," he demanded.

"He started to get fresh with me and I hit him with a pewter ornament. I couldn't stand that beast's filthy hands on me and I had to get out. You wouldn't have wanted him to hurt me, would you? He was like an animal and I had to protect myself. He isn't dead, is he?"

"No, thank Christ," Price snarled, "but he isn't going to take too kindly towards you in the future. You had better watch your step with him."

His hand was now at her throat and he spit at her, "Why did you call the cops, that wasn't very nice of you to do."

Her eyes were filled with fear and she was unable to answer.

"I didn't do it," she finally stammered. "Honest."

"Well, boys," he said, directing this command to the others in the room. "Hold her still, maybe after she gets a dose of this she'll change her mind." He lowered the needle to her arm and injected just enough heroin in her to make her delirious and she began to make babbling noises.

The group had just left the room when they heard the sirens of the police cars screaming down the street and screech to a halt in front of the house. A voice came out over a bull horn, "All right, everyone inside come out with your hands up, this is a raid!"