Urbis

O’Rourke entered the cell, followed closely by the two guards, one of whom stood blocking the doorway. He handed the other one some handcuffs. “Cuff them,” he said.

The women were handcuffed to each other, and O’Rourke cuffed Tana’s wrist to his own, then he led them out of the cell and back to the large room where the men were. They started cheering again as the women were led in. O’Rourke picked up a large knife from a counter and stuck it into his belt. Then he led the women back to the elevators, followed by the two ever-present guards. The three men were grinning broadly.

The second ride in the elevator was much longer than the first, and the women flew into a huddle, screaming the ululating scream of death, convinced they were plunging into some horrific nether world. O’Rourke and the guards clamped their hands over their ears. He was beginning to wonder if this whole exercise was worth his while.

The women’s screams stopped abruptly when the elevator stopped, much to O’Rourke’s relief, but they continued to cling to each other, shaking. They were ushered into a corridor, walked a few paces and then stopped before a door.

One of the guards opened the door, and a roar of approval came from the room beyond. O’Rourke dragged Tana’s arm and the others trailed behind her.

They found themselves being led along a catwalk through the middle of a room that was filled to overflowing with exultant men, those close to the catwalk reaching up to touch the women’s legs or trying to see up their dresses. O’Rourke was waving and smiling, acting the master of ceremonies. He led his captives to a small stage at the far end of the room, and proceeded to remove the women’s handcuffs. The women took in the surroundings. The men fell into two distinct groups. Closest to the stage, several rows deep, were sleek, well groomed men, a number of whom were smoking. Beyond them, crowded in tightly, were men in olive uniforms, about a hundred of them, and it was they who were making the noise.

Tana looked at O’Rourke. He had spread his arms out, signalling for quiet. He beamed and rubbed his hands together in an attempt to hide his nervousness. He reminded her of a hunted animal at bay, looking anxiously for an escape route. There appeared to be none. Tana found a space among her fears to wonder why O’Rourke was so fearful of a situation which appeared to be of his own making.

“Good evening, gentlemen, and welcome to our little sale,” he oozed, trying to catch the eye of a few of the men at the front of the hall, but they were mostly sizing up the women with a practiced gaze.

“Cut the crap, O’Rourke,” someone yelled from the back of the room. “Let’s just see what they’ve got.”

“Yeah,” another voice chimed in. “We wanna see ’em naked!”

The men began to chant. “Na-ked! Na-ked! Na-ked!” Softly at first, then growing ever louder: “NA-KED! NA-KED! NA-KED! NA-KED!” The women stood shaking uncontrollably, their fists clenched, their jaws clamped shut, their eyes blurred with tears as they stared over the heads of the men. Edgy as he was, O’Rourke was not going to be hurried.

“All in good time,” he smiled. He stood behind Tana. “What’s your name, darlin’?” he grinned, his head close to hers.

She hesitated. She couldn’t even be sure that he had asked her her name. “T-Tana,” she said at last.

“Louder. So the gentlemen can hear.”

“Tana.”

“Tana. Gentlemen, this is Tana. Tana is looking to one of you gentlemen to give her a good home.”

“O’Rourke, is she a virgin?”

O’Rourke stiffened visibly at the sound of an all too familiar voice. Divisional Lieutenant Brandt, his own senior officer, an ox of a man with swarthy black hair and a huge beer belly, had been looking intently at Tana, measuring her up through narrowed eyes. For a moment, O’Rourke was thrown off guard: he had not expected a Security man, a senior officer, to join the bidding. But the question indicated that Brandt was not there simply to look.

O’Rourke rapidly gathered his wits. His genial smile had not faltered. “Pure as the snow.” It was an unfortunate simile in a city where the snow had no chance to be pure, but his meaning was taken.

“If you’re lying, O’Rourke, I’ll have your hide,” Brandt snarled.

O’Rourke struggled to keep his cool. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.” He checked himself with a manic laugh. “Nor to anyone else, of course.”

“Get on with it,” said Brandt.

O’Rourke reached his hands round in front of Tana and daintily took the hem of her dress between thumbs and forefingers, lifting it two or three centimetres.

“Now, who’s going to start the bidding?”

“Fifty units,” said a thick-set bald man in the front row.

O’Rourke scowled. “Ah, Mr Cosgrove. Come, come. Can’t we go a little... higher?” And he matched the word with his action, lifting the front of Tana’s dress another couple of centimetres.

They fell for his ploy, and the bids came thick and fast,. Brandt entered the bidding at three hundred units.

O’Rourke held the dress across Tana’s thighs, artfully keeping her private parts just concealed. The crowd began the chant again. He looked across at Brandt. Brandt gave a slight nod. He looked from one to another of the men in expensive suits. By means of various miniscule gestures they indicated their assent. He released the front of Tana’s dress and pulled the knife from his belt. He tested its blade theatrically with his finger, then passed it under Tana’s dress at the shoulder. A single upward slash parted the seam. He repeated the action at the other shoulder and the dress fell forward, baring her breasts, and now supported only by the cord at her waist. Instantly Tana clasped her arms across herself. O’Rourke cut the cord at her waist, and to a roar of delight the dress fell in rags at her feet. O’Rourke threw a glance at the two guards, standing at opposite ends of the little stage. They took up positions either side of Tana and each gripped one of her arms. With head thrown back, hot tears coursing down her face, and knees shaking convulsively, she stood revealed to all as the room erupted.

“Okay,” he called. “Three hundred units. Any advance?”

“Three-fifty,” said a man directly in front of him.

“Three-sixty,” said Brandt. The uniformed men gazed questioningly at their superior. Why was he bidding so determinedly against the professionals? Three hundred and sixty units would buy a year’s worth of prostitutes.

The man he was bidding against looked over his shoulder at Brandt, but could not see him through the crowd. He was as puzzled as the others. He paused for a moment. No one else bid. “Three-seventy-five,” he said at last.

“Four hundred,” said Brandt. There was a hush. O’Rourke looked expectantly at the man in the front row. He grimaced and shook his head.

“Four hundred units,” said O’Rourke. “Any more offers?” There was silence. “Going once, going twice.” He stamped the floor with his boot. “Sold for four hundred units to Divisional Lieutenant Brandt. Congratulations, sir. Now, moving on to the next item...”

O’Rourke sold Melissa, Sasha and Greta the same way. He removed their belts, and started the bidding, lifting their skirts as the bids came in, stopping at the moment of greatest excitement, then stripping them and continuing the bidding. Melissa and Sasha stood like statues when their turn came, their arms pressed to their sides like soldiers on parade. Greta wept violently as O’Rourke conducted the bidding on her, and howled as he slashed open her robe. The bidding for the three of them was entirely between the men in suits, and O’Rourke suspected they were in a ring together, but could do nothing about that.

When it was all over, the men in uniform and the unsuccessful men in suits filtered away, leaving O’Rourke with the three professional dealers and Brandt. Each in turn presented O’Rourke with his card, which O’Rourke fed through the money transfer machine on his belt. O’Rourke took Brandt’s card.

“She’s pure, isn’t she, O’Rourke?” Brandt said menacingly.

O’Rourke’s eyes met his, shifty grey gazing into cold, unblinking brown. “Oh yes,” said O’Rourke. “Absolutely pure.”

“Because if you’ve lied to me, O’Rourke, you’re dead meat.” Brandt pocketed his card, and with a shove propelled Tana along the catwalk and out of the room.