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Furniture is moved, something dragged or pushed in. The smell of food, some kind of cheese and something sweet. Coffee. My mouth salivates, but I don’t move.
Breakfast for the bitch, perhaps?
I guess it’s about twenty minutes before the click of her shoes tells me she’s arrived. More movement around me, the sounds of people leaving, then finally, the door shutting.
I hear her get closer until I’m sure she’s right in front of me. I feel the bag begin to slip off my head then squint my eyes against the light. With narrowed vision, I look up at her. She’s wearing a fitted suit, and her makeup is darker and heavier than usual. There are several chairs in front of her desk that weren’t there yesterday.
“I have several meetings today,” she tells me without saying anything else first. “They will be held in here. If you keep your mouth shut, I will reward you after. Do you understand?”
I bare my teeth at her. She crosses her arms and says nothing.
“What am I, a fucking dog?” I grit out, turning my head to spit.
A smile curves her lips, and she bends down so she’s crouching at eye level with me.
“No, you’re a prisoner. My prisoner. And if you listen, do as I say, then I will give you something you want. Food, perhaps? A few hours without this?” She holds up the bag, her smile growing as I try not to show the longing I feel for both of those things. “I thought so.”
A knock sounds at the door, and she stands back up, turning to the door before looking back at me. The threat in her eyes has lightened, and she almost seems to hesitate before reaching forward to put the bag back on me. I hear her voice close to my ear and imagine I can feel her breath through the burlap sack.
“Just stay quiet, please,” she whispers. I hear her heels against the floor, making me think she’s back at her desk.
“Come in,” she calls out loudly. The door opens a moment later followed by the sound of several people entering the room.
“Welcome, gentlemen. Please, take a seat,” Ginger greets from my left.
The low murmur of several male voices has me tensing, one of the voices vaguely familiar.
“Mr. Huntske would like to know what this is about,” someone says with a thick German accent. Unfortunately, it doesn’t belong to the voice with the voice I recognized.
“Mr. Huntske, I assure you this is an unrelated matter that you need not concern yourself with,” Ginger responds. The German voice repeats her words in German.
“Stupid woman, risks her own security to show off,” a voice I do recognize replies in German. Huntske? That name doesn’t ring a bell, but aliases are common in our world. I happen to know Ginger speaks German, along with a good half-dozen other languages, yet she says nothing.
The German man starts barking in his language.
The other man clears his throat then translates. “Mr. Huntske requests you remove the covering and take your … this person, elsewhere during our discussions. Otherwise, he will not be able to proceed.”
I smirk, wishing I could see the look on the ginger-bitch’s face right now. I wonder why she thought doing this in front of me was a good idea, but considering the entertainment value of simply listening, I’m hardly going to complain.
What’s the woman is playing at, keeping me here? Her reputation and what I’ve seen would lead me to believe she’s smarter than that.
For a moment, no one speaks, and I imagine her squirming in her seat.
“Meister Huntske,” she begins, her voice pleasant sounding. “You reached out to us because we are the best. My security the best in the world, my methods unbeatable. If you care to question either my methods or my in-house security, then you’re free to walk out.”
Beneath the bag on my head I smile at that and resist the urge to chuckle as the other man, who obviously is a translator, repeats what Ginger said in German.
“There have been rumors of difficulties handling some of your clients,” a new voice says.
“Does this look like I’m having difficulty?” she replies, and I imagine her pointing in my direction.
“This is highly irregular. Mr. Huntske requests at least this person's identity be revealed, considering it is his business being discussed here as well.”
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until she replies.
“Fair enough.”
A moment later, the bag is ripped from my face, the lights somehow even brighter than before. My eyes water as I force them to stay open, looking at the men I’ve been listening to. There are four of them, all well dressed, but one in particular stands out. My eyes fall on him. He looks familiar, but I can’t recall where from. His eyes widen when he sees my face, and I know he recognizes me.
