Fatal Dose (22 page)

“Have a seat, gentlemen. What can I do for you today?”

Dennis spoke, “This must remain a private matter, Mister Hartman. You see, George and I represent a small men’s club that, shall we say, enjoys the better things in life; fine liquor, cigars and watching classy pornography. Nothing illegal, mind you; none of that stuff with underage girls or anything like that. We especially enjoy watching women getting it on with other women. We’re tired of the crap on the internet and the stuff from the porno shops and we aren’t interested in live performances or anything like that. We just want to have a private theater with all the accouterments while we enjoy the best eye candy available.”

“I see. What brought you here?”

“We heard that you have private rooms that are available to rent and that you are very discreet. There are eight of us altogether. We are all married men who prefer to follow our brand of voyeurism over cheating on our wives. Money is no object. We’ll pay cash in advance. So, what do you say? Can you accommodate us?”

Hartman hesitated for a minute. “Actually, what you are asking for is not unusual. I’ve had a number of such groups: men, women and couples. We should be able to set up something for you. It’ll cost one thousand dollars per viewing. You can have the room a four hours period any day of the week, from ten in the morning to twelve midnight. We will supply the chairs, some tables, media players and a sixty-two-inch flat screen TV. The videos can be viewed and approved by you prior to the session. I can assure you that we have some of the best, including some that were shot here at the club. I shoot them personally using hidden cameras. The next office is my control room. I operate all the cameras from there. I can zoom in real close, down to a single hair, if you catch my drift. These are not actors. They are real gals who are not aware that they are being caught on film. If you want guy-on-gal, we have some of that, too. Some couples prefer to use our private rooms rather than go to motels. There’s some real kinky stuff on some of my films.”

Dennis interjected, “As I told you, Mister Hartman, we are only interested in films of women having sex together or in female-female bondage situations; consensual sadomasochism and that sort of stuff. Do you have any samples you can show us; some of those homemade videos, maybe?”

Hartman smiled.
They’re
hooked
, he thought to himself.

“Well, you are in luck. I’ve got a real hot one. I shot it a week ago. The rest of your little group will really thank you if you start them off with this little number.” He went over to a file cabinet, unlocked one of the drawers and removed a disc. He relocked the drawer and placed the DVD in the player. A picture popped up on the screen that looked like a medieval dungeon and torture chamber. Chains hung from the ceiling in several sections of the room; arm and leg irons were mounted to three of the walls. The door opened and four attractive women entered the room. One closed the door and slid the bolt into place. They each carried a gym bag that appeared heavy. They lined them up against the closest wall.

Milt looked at Dennis as the camera zoomed in to capture the women. Each was beautiful, with an incredible shape. They were probably in their early thirties. Milton and Dennis immediately recognized one of the women as Special Agent Joan Paschal.

The women disrobed completely. Two grabbed Joan and dragged her over to a ceiling chain. She pretended to resist them. The third member of the group clamped a pair of padded handcuffs on Joan and hooked her high enough on the chain that she had to stand on her toes. She placed a rubber ball in Joan’s mouth, clasped the leather band behind her head and blindfolded her.

Milt and Dennis shifted uncomfortably. To them, viewing the film was like a violation of Joan’s right to privacy, even though she was deceased. Hartman, on the other hand, was enjoying the show. He had a big grin on his face and a big boner sticking up from his lap. He made no attempt to conceal it, actually seeming to be proud of it. Occasionally he eyed Milt and Dennis to monitor their reaction to what they were viewing. They just smiled back at him.

The three women walked back to their gym bags.

“A different one calls me each time they rent the room. From what I can tell they bring their own equipment. I don’t know how they decide what type of session they are going to have. I guess they agree to that before they get to the room. There is never any conversation among them. The only sounds I hear are from the whips or from moans and groans. Sometimes they play around with dildos and other sex toys. Other times they just writhe around on top of each other on a mattress. I’ve got twelve tapes of their sessions. They do different stuff each time, all of it very titillating.”

Milt restrained himself from getting up and pummeling the shit out of the lowlife sitting in front of him. Dennis was patiently waiting for the right opportunity to step in.

The video continued with the three taking turns whipping Joan on the buttocks and upper legs with their special floggers. It was a practiced effort, with intentional placing of their flays. The intent was obviously to cause some light pain without being brutal. It was apparent from the look on Joan’s face that some of the lashings were applied with force. She winced with every blow regardless of the severity. The whipping went on for about ten minutes. The women moved around their victim while carefully applying the stripes to her body, mostly to her buttocks, which were beginning to redden brightly in spots. Occasionally, one of the women would slap Joan across the face or her breasts; again with obvious restraint. Finally, Joan threw her head back as a signal. They increased the tempo and severity for about a minute and then stopped. She had had enough.

Hartman interjected, “Isn’t that the kinkiest thing you ever saw? I got off three times while I was filming it.”

Milton gave Dennis a visual plea to let him make a move, but Dennis wanted to see the tape through to the end.

Back on the screen, tears flooded down Joan’s face from the pain of the final minute of punishment, but a twisted smile slowly appeared on her face. Then she lost consciousness. Her arms pulled heavily against the restraints as she hung. The women released the bonds and lowered her limp body to the concrete floor. They removed the ball from her mouth, turned their backs on her and, as part of the ritual, walked over to the wall, silently dressed, picked up their bags and left the room without so much as a backward glance. The camera zoomed in on Joan’s swollen buttocks and lingered for a minute or two. The film ended with Joan regaining consciousness, removing the blindfold, dressing slowly and leaving the room.

Hartman turned to Milt and Dennis with a big grin on his face. “I bet that got your juices flowing. Isn’t that a real waste? I felt like going down to that room and giving that broad a real man-fucking that would cure her of playing around with women forever. I wouldn’t have even charged her for it. Boy, I’d bet both of you’d love to slip your sausage into any one of them. Right?”

At that remark, Milton had all that he could take. He lunged at Hartman and knocked him into the wall. He moved surprisingly fast for a man of his age and size. “You sick son of a bitch. You need to be taught a lesson.” He drew back his fist to punch the man who by this time was cringing against the wall with a terrified look on his face, but Dennis grabbed his arm and pushed him aside.

“It’s not worth it, Milt. Don’t dirty your hands.”

Dennis flashed his ID. “I’m Special Agent in Charge Dennis Peterson of the FBI and this is Inspector Milton Bagnold. David Hartman, you are under arrest for violating the civil rights of Joan Paschal.” Without hesitating he read Hartman his Miranda rights.

Hartman scrunched himself against the wall and away from Bagnold who was eyeing him as if he would like to tear him limb from limb. “What are you talking about? They did all that stuff voluntarily.”

Dennis answered him, “Well, unless you can show me signed releases from those four women, you have violated their civil rights by filming them and making the film available as a ‘viewing for hire’.”

Suddenly Hartman’s attitude changed. He hesitated for a minute, and then said suspiciously, “Look, you gents aren’t hassling me because I made nudie films. I’m sure you have more important things to do over at the FBI than that. Why are you really here?”

“That’s very perceptive of you,” Dennis said. “You’re absolutely right. We’re investigating the death of the woman who, unfortunately for you, was the victim of that whipping we just witnessed.”

Sweat appeared suddenly on Hartman’s forehead. “I don’t know nothin’ about anybody dying. She was okay when she left here. That was filmed over a week ago.”

“We know that. Look, Hartman, we’re willing to overlook the civil rights charges in return for your full cooperation. First, I want all the DVD’s you made of that group. I think you said there were twelve of them. Second, I want every file and record you have of anyone who has viewed these films. I want those right now.”

“What if I refuse to cooperate?”

“You can’t be that stupid. If we don’t get your full cooperation, starting right now, we’ll haul your ass out of here in handcuffs. I’m sure we can find enough charges to make your life uncomfortable for some time to come. Remember, I’m talking about federal charges. Your friends in high places probably don’t stretch that far.”

Hartman appeared convinced. He rose from the floor and moved around his desk, taking care to stay out of Milton’s reach. He removed a folder from a file cabinet and handed it to Peterson. “This is a list of all viewers. The group calls themselves BAM. The videos are locked up in my studio. I’ll go get them.”

Bagnold stepped behind Hartman as he headed toward the studio. “I’ll keep you company in case you think we’re not dead serious. Don’t worry. As long as you keep that foul mouth of yours shut, you don’t have to worry about me beating you to within an inch of your worthless life. Right now you’re worth more to me in one piece, but that can change. It all depends on you.”

Hartman looked only somewhat assured as he moved hurriedly into the adjacent room. He opened a safe that contained hundreds of discs. He selected a pile and relocked the safe. “This is all of them, except for the one in the machine,” he said, as he handed them to Milton. He felt safer having Milt’s hands occupied.

Dennis was flipping through the list when they returned to the office. “I notice that you have multiple entries for private viewings for someone with the initials ‘MV’ Who is that?”

“That’s Mister Vennuti; Marco Vennuti. He’s a club member. He rents the room to practice martial arts. He’s a big shot at Atronen Pharmaceuticals. Occasionally he likes a private viewing of some of these tapes. He’s one horny son of a bitch. He’s taken a special interest in BAM. He buys copies of every tape I make of them.”

“According to these records he’s looked at twelve tapes. How many do you have Milt?”

“Twelve, including this one,” he said as he removed the disc from the machine.

“Didn’t you find it a bit strange that this guy Vennuti has such an interest in that BAM group?’

“You’re right. Mister Vennuti was especially interested in the woman that was in the film I just showed you. Her name is listed as Joan Paschal. He paid me a hundred bucks for a copy of her application. I didn’t see anything wrong with that. Are you saying that he may have killed her?”

“We’re not saying anything. We’re just conducting an investigation,” Milt answered.

Dennis pulled Milt aside to confer about their next step. “The man’s a low-life slug, but he can still be helpful to us in nailing Vennuti.”

“You’re right, of course, but I would still like to have five minutes alone with him. At least give me that.”

“I understand your feelings, Milt, but that’s not going to happen.”

He turned to Hartman, “David Hartman, I’m placing you under protective custody and we’re taking your records and tapes with us as evidence in our investigation.”

“You can’t do that. I’ve got a business to run here.”

“We can and we are. The business is going to have to go on without you. You’re taking a short vacation. I want you to set it up now, before we leave here. Make sure that it looks like business as usual at The All Sports Club. Understand?”

Bagnold added, “Consider yourself lucky, Hartman. If it turns out that your club is connected in any way to the death of Joan Paschal, then you’ll be a lot safer in our hands than out on your own. You’re a potential eyewitness. Does that register with you?”

“Yeah, I guess. Do you really think I’m in danger?”

“Do you really want to find out?

“No, I guess not. Let me make a few calls to set things up. My staff knows what to do in my absence. I hope this won’t take too long,” he said, looking at Dennis.

“You’re in it for the long haul. Now make those arrangements and let’s get out of here.”

As they left the building with the tapes and Hartman in tow, Dennis mentally chalked up another small but significant victory in the war against Marco Vennuti and Atronen Pharmaceuticals.
The day of retribution is nearing; I can feel it. We still have a ways to go but at least we’re starting to make some important inroads.
They arrived at the office just in time to meet several agents ready to transport Hartman to a secure holding place.

Hartman’s demeanor changed significantly from his early arrogance to one of cautious concern. It had finally dawned on him that his life could be in danger and he was now more than willing to be protected for the duration of the FBI investigation.

As soon as the transfer was made, Milt and Dennis went to Dennis’s office to work on their strategy. Bagnold was the first to speak “We sure were lucky to get this stuff on Vennuti. I know it’s circumstantial, but I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble connecting him to Agent Paschal especially since he singled her out with these tapes.”