Sally’s Subject III: Leverage
Tribunal
When Denny regained consciousness, he was lying face down on a concrete floor. His wrists were bound close together behind his back with rigid cuffs. His ankles had received the same treatment, also clamped in a larger version of the cuffs on his wrists. His knees were bent back due to the short connecting chain running from hand to foot, through a ring suspended from the ceiling. When he tried to straighten his legs, his arms were pulled up behind his back, sending an agonizing pain through his shoulders.
Okay, that’s not going to work. I’m in some kind of hogtie, except it’s with shackles instead of rope. He turned his head to one side, trying to gauge how well he was trussed up. From what he could tell it wasn’t good. The connecting chain was too short to attempt any kind of movement. It wasn’t too much of a strain if he held still, but it would quickly pull taut if he strayed off his spot on the floor.
When he turned his head to the other side he was face to face with the familiar high leather boots of Mistress Edith. “Hello, Denny.” She slapped that terrible quirt in her hand. “We have much to discuss, don’t we?”
Despite his situation Denny let his anger overcome his better judgement. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull off but it isn’t gonna work. The only thing we have to talk about is whether or not I press charges. This ends now.”
Edith backed up in order to look Denny in the eye. “No Denny, that’s not how it will be. Charges? You’re the one on trial.” She stepped to one side. Behind her, in the shadows were three seated figures, concealed under gowns and hoods.
“This is your Tribunal, Denny. They are the only law in this place. The time for deceit and evasion is over. We know your history Denny, what you did, and why you continue to visit my dungeon.”
Denny struggled in his chains. “What history? I have no idea what you mean. And who are you to judge me?”
Edith raised her quirt, poised to strike a stinging blow. Then she suddenly lowered her instrument of punishment and shook her head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Denny? Going physical, to distract from the real reason you’re here. You won’t provoke me. Not that it would do you any good. You see, I’m not the one who’s going to question you about your past.”
Behind her sat the three hooded individuals. None of them spoke, or even moved. “Who are you?” Denny demanded. “Too ashamed to reveal your identity? You don’t know anything about me, so what gives you the right to pass judgement? Is this some kind of Star Chamber?” That was a reference to the old British secret court that was known to operate without due process.
Edith lifted his chin with her quirt. “Your opinion of this Tribunal doesn’t concern us, Denny. Whatever you think, the fact remains here you are and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Screw you too, Edith,” Denny yelled, losing his temper.
Edith gestured to someone with her quirt. The overhead chain painfully jerked upward, stretching his arms to the limit. He grunted in agony, afraid it had dislocated his shoulder, or worse if she kept going. “Was it worth it, Denny? You always were a slow learner. You need a lesson in respect…”
There was a flash of light when a door in the back opened and closed. Someone had entered, but Denny wasn’t able to see who it was. His tormentor halted mid-sentence when that person strode into the room.
The Inquisitor
Edith turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows behind the Tribunal, her heels loud on the concrete floor. A moment later Sally emerged from those same shadows, carrying a folding chair. She stopped in front of Denny, looked over her shoulder, shook her head and continued around to Denny’s other side.
“This is much better,” Sally explained while unfolding the chair. “They are so distracting,” she gestured at the seated Tribunal. “We don’t need all that staring. Don’t you think so, Denny?”
All he could manage was to move his head to one side or the other. Sally was right; better to face her than those anonymous judges.
Before sitting down, she came close, studying the bonds on his wrists and ankles, and the chain ascending to the ceiling. “That must be unpleasant, Denny. Sally hopes you haven’t been waiting like this for too long.” She went back to the chair and took her seat.
“I’ve been here a while. How long, I don’t know. My phone seems to be missing.” Edith was a known if unwanted quantity. Sally, on the other hand, was a mystery. Who was she, and why was she here? He’d never met her before, so why her interest in him? “If you could remove the shackles?” he suggested.
Sally grimaced and shook her head. “Sally is here to help, Denny. But Sally is not in charge. What you ask is beyond her authority. You are much larger and stronger than Sally, so we must take precautions. However, as a show of good faith…”
Sally looked up. “Edith, can’t we lower this suspension chain, so he can lay on his side? Sally needs to have a frank and honest conversation with Denny. If he were a bit more comfortable, perhaps we can make some progress.”
“No!” Edith replied, nearly shouting in defiance. “He doesn’t deserve any consideration. In fact, I’d just as soon hoist him off the ground. For what he did he should suffer.”
Calm as always, Sally rebuked her outburst. “Now Edith, Sally has been appointed as the Inquisitor for Denny’s case. The Tribunal will pass judgement on him, not you. As you well know, the Inquisitor has the right to determine the means by which the Subject will be questioned. Lower the chain.” Sally’s tone was calm and controlled, but Denny could hear a hint of that emphasis that said she expected to be obeyed.
Saly didn’t raise her voice but it was apparent to Denny this was a contest of wills. Then the tension on his arms and legs slackened to the point where he could roll to one side. The chain still hung from a hoist lost in the overhead darkness, which meant he wasn’t going to crawl away. Even so the reprieve was an immense relief.
And it meant Sally had won out against Edith, which had to be a good sign. He now realized Edith was a true sadist; she seemed to live for the moments she could find ways to torture him. In every instance it had been Sally who reined in Edith’s zeal. Her claims about helping him were not empty words; Sally delivered on her promises. Denny still had no idea of what was going on, yet for all the surreal aspects he was convinced there was a real danger to all this, and only Sally seemed to be on his side.
She leaned down. “Denny, you should thank Edith for her kindness. It’s the courteous thing to do,” she whispered.
It seemed to Denny the last thing on Edith’s mind was his welfare. Yet if Sally suggested it there must be some reason. Of course, that mysterious, silent Tribunal witnessing everything! He rolled over to face Edith. “Thank you, Mistress Edith.” He did his best to keep out the sarcasm and sound sincere. Edith towered above him, looking down with an expression of contempt, though she said nothing.
“We can do better, Edith. How about we allow Denny to sit up? This session may take some time, and the floor is so hard and cold. A cushion would be helpful.” Sally stood up and moved her chair back. “Place him so the Tribunal can see his face. Sally is sure Denny can convince the judges of his sincerity.”
Edith disappeared into the darkness. A moment later she reappeared, followed by two of her assistants, one of whom carried a large cushion. The first goon, as Denny labeled them, dropped the pad in front of Denny before going to one side. The other assistant took a position on Denny’s other side. Grasping his arms they lifted him onto the cushion, in a kneeling position.
Edith went behind him, took up the slack in the chain between ankles and wrists and used a padlock to shorten his tether. “Be a good boy, Denny, and stay where you are.” She slapped that terrifying quirt against her boot. “I will be quite upset if you get any ideas.” Once more she slammed the quirt against her boot, harder this time. “You know what will happen if I get mad.”
She grabbed his hair and forced his head toward the seated Tribunal. “They get your full attention. Do we understand each other, Denny?”
Her threat was crystal clear. “Yes, Mistress Edith.” Keep position, and that includes not looking around. He saw Edith and her two thugs file past and disappear in the background. With the lights shining in his eyes, and no other illumination, all he could see were the Tribunal and Sally sitting to one side.
“This is so much better! Don’t you agree, Denny?” Sally was always so cheerful. “The Tribunal has appointed me to be your Inquisitor. Sally’s duty is to present the facts of this case to the Tribunal, in an unbiased, non-adversarial way, so they may reach a conclusion as to your future. Sally is here only to assist you in telling your side of the story, Denny. Your honest cooperation is of paramount importance. The only way Sally can help you is for you to freely admit to what really happened, without trying to cover up or make excuses for yourself.”
The Truth Will Out
Denny stared at the row of judges in front of him. All three wore hoods to conceal their identity, as well as their reaction to whatever he said. It felt as if he were living a scene from some gothic horror novel. All this was straight out of some direct to video, horror movie plot cranked out for teenagers.
Except the chains were all too real. Taking into consideration what they’d already done to him he was forced to take this entire scenario seriously. The police might eventually find him, or what was left of him, but that didn’t solve his immediate predicament.
There was a Kafkaesque backdrop to the sham trial he faced, if it could be graced with the legal term. What were the charges, who were the judges, where was his defense attorney, and most puzzling of all, what was Sally’s role? An “Inquisitor,” what was that? It had an unsettling sound to it, as if he were facing the Spanish Inquisition. None of it made sense, so the best he could manage was to play along.
“Let’s start with the so-called accident, Denny. In your own words, explain to Sally what happened.”
So-called? Was she bringing up the tragic crash that took the life of his wife and baby daughter again? “You mean the car accident? I wasn’t there. All I know is what the police told me. A tree had grown over the stop sign. She didn’t see it and drove straight into heavy traffic. A bus crushed her car.”
“That’s your version?” She sighed in disappointment. Edith emerged from the shadows and handed Sally a thick folder full of papers. She leafed through it, holding it up so Denny couldn’t see what was inside.
“The District Attorney ultimately declined to prosecute, lack of evidence it says here.” She held up a printed sheet of official looking paper. “Did you know that, Denny? Not the bus driver; you were the focus of the investigation.” She held out the folder. “Sally obtained all the records of the investigation. How do you explain the traces of drugs in her system, on the Medical Examiner’s report? And what about the odd fact you never asked for an Inquest by the Coroner. You did quite well on the insurance, didn’t you? Isn’t it true your company was struggling? The sudden windfall saved you from going under. The detectives concluded there was ‘strong evidence of foul play’,” she held up another paper, “and you were the only one who profited.”
Denny stared at Sally in disbelief. “What are you saying? How long do I have to repeat this? I had nothing to do with it. None of your innuendos are true. Why are you bringing this up?”
“Isn’t it true you can’t live with the guilt, Denny? Isn’t that why you are compelled to return to Mistress Edith’s dungeon, month after month, seeking salvation for your sins? It eats away at you, doesn’t it, what you’ve done? You try to quiet your conscience with those sessions, but does it really relieve the responsibility you cannot face?”
Denny turned away, unwilling to look at Sally or the Tribunal. “Can’t you understand? I did nothing wrong! It was an accident. How could I have prevented it?”
“That’s the real question, isn’t it? Was it an accident, Denny? That was the ruling, but the cops didn’t agree with it. Lack of proof isn’t exoneration. You never had to face a jury, until now. This is your Auto da Fé, Denny, your public penance where you can finally admit the truth and cleanse yourself of the burden of what you’ve done.”
“How can I make you understand? I didn’t do anything wrong. It was just a stupid, unlucky, freak occurrence that no one could have foreseen. What do you want me to say?”
Sally leaned forward, a clear expression of concern on her face. “Sally isn’t here to make you look guilty, Denny. Sally only wants the truth about what really happened.” She held up the folder of papers. “Why is it that your version is so different from everyone else’s? Help us Denny, what is it we’re missing? Were you fighting before she went out? Did you resent the burden of a new child? The financial pressure, was it getting to you? Help Sally to understand where your head was at.”
Denny stared at Sally. How did she know? Diapers, the argument had been about going to the store to buy some diapers. He had been buried in paperwork, trying to figure out how to save the company. His wife had been in the house all day, caring for a baby that wouldn’t stop crying while he struggled to save their home. When she asked him to go to the store, he had snapped at her…
“What have I done?” Denny began to cry. “It was all too much. I didn’t mean for it to happen…”
Sally stood up. “Sally needs a break. Edith, return Denny to his cell. We’ll continue after everyone has calmed down.”
What Never Was
Sally sipped her tea, staring off into space. It had been a productive tête à tête with the Subject. The barrier between what he believed and the alternate reality Sally had created was quickly breaking down. Guilt, even if it had no basis in actual events, was a powerful psychological tool. Once she found the foot in the mental door, the chink in his armor, all it took was time to widen it into an opportunity to rewrite his version of the truth. Meanwhile she’d let the worm of doubt burrow deeper into his psyche.
“How did you know about his involvement with the wife’s death?” Edith asked, interrupting Sally’s reverie.
She looked up at Edith and shrugged. “What involvement? The police report was clear. He had no knowledge or connection to the car crash.”
“But…” Edith looked confused. “You quoted from the detectives and the medical examiner. ‘Strong evidence of foul play’ you told him. You all but forced him to admit it was his overpowering guilt that drove him to my dungeon. He was ready to confess to murdering his own wife and child when you stopped.”
Sally picked up her folder and handed it to Edith. She opened it and looked through the papers inside. “Wait, this is his Facebook profile, this one is his property tax bill, and this is an ad to sell insurance. Where’s the police report, the detective’s notes, the results from the autopsy?”
Sally began laughing. “Edith, there are times you can be so gullible. There was nothing useful in any of those documents. Not that it matters; I made up whatever I needed. Those are official looking forms, aren’t they? You should know about props, Edith; details to add to the atmosphere of your dungeon.”
Edith couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sally had made it all up, and then talked Denny into believing it. And all the effort was purely for her entertainment, regardless of what happened to that poor man. She had seen Sally in action before, but there had always been some reason for her endeavors, even if it was no more than revenge to satisfy a customer.
But this was different. For the first time Edith comprehended the utter indifference Sally had for other people. Not in a bloodthirsty, serial killer fashion, but a callous disregard for her fellow human beings. Sally was a sort of vampire, sucking the soul out of her victims like a spider with an insect caught in the web. She could turn on me, Gary, anyone who ever worked for her, without a moment’s hesitation or regret.
“It shouldn’t take long to finish this. I received an email today. It seems my services are urgently needed in some godforsaken corner of the world. Sorry, Edith, nothing for you in this one, but you and Gary will of course be compensated for your time with our Subject. The next assignment the client will be providing all resources I require. The pressure of time; we’ll wrap it up tomorrow.”
She handed Edith a sheet of paper. “Can you arrange this with Gary? We need to apply some pressure to move things along.”
Act of Penance
Deny looked up at the bonds confining his wrists. They reached far above his head, with a cable connected to a pulley. His ankles were solidly clamped to the table on which his body was stretched. The table was tilted back at a forty-five-degree angle.
He knew exactly what it was, since he’d seen it before. It was a medieval Rack, straight out of the Spanish Inquisition. Mistress Edith had one in her dungeon, though Denny had never been subjected to its delights. A wide leather belt across his midsection kept him flat against the polished wood of the table. Only his head was free to move around.
A bright spotlight high overhead drew a circle of light around him in an otherwise darkened room. Dimly, he could see some unoccupied chairs facing him. A shaft of light briefly drew a rectangle on the floor when a door opened behind him.
Mistress Edith appeared on his left, in full costume, with the addition of a small mask around her eyes. It must be symbolic, Denny thought. It didn’t hide her identity. Three shadowy figures filed past his right. Dressed in judicial gowns, with those pointed hoods, they silently lined up in front of him and sat down. The so-called Tribunal, supposedly sitting in judgement over him; who they were and why they were here was still a mystery.
He heard one other person enter, though whoever it was stopped behind Denny, remaining hidden from sight. The door closed, plunging the rest of the room into almost total darkness.
Mistress Edith got his attention when she slapped that quirt against her leather boot. “We know all about it, Denny. The Tribunal has all the facts. No more lies and half-truths; we’re beyond that. This is your last chance. We are willing to hear your side before you are held to account.”
“Look, I’ve already told you all I know. What more do you want? It was tragic but unavoidable. I wasn’t even there. I have nothing to answer …” The rest of his remarks were lost in the scream of pain. The cable on his wrists was tightening, pulling him apart in painfully slow motion.
“Stop it, Edith! Sally won’t tolerate this kind of senseless brutality. Reduce the tension, now!”
“Back off, Sally,” Edith shouted in anger. “I’m going to make him confess, no matter what it takes. Don’t worry, I won’t damage him. Not permanently, just make him a little uncomfortable.”
She ran that quirt under Denny’s chin. “Ever been close to drowning, Denny? Do you know what waterboarding is? I’ll get the real story out of you. I guarantee it.”
Denny had heard the descriptions on TV. A cloth over his face, with water poured onto it. Simulated drowning, simple but extremely effective. Civilized countries had universally banned the practice. He struggled in his bonds, desperately searching for some way to escape. From accounts he’d heard it was excruciating.
One of Edith’s assistants walked up to him, a burlap cloth in one hand, and a bucket of water in the other. “How about it, Denny? Ever been close to drowning? No? Well, this is your lucky day. Ready for a brand-new experience?” The assistant put down the bucket and shook out the burlap into a hood. He began slipping it over Denny’s head.
“No!” Denny recognized Sally’s voice. “What do you think you’re doing, Edith? Sally is still the Inquisitor. We will conduct the questioning without resorting to your barbaric methods.”
The burlap hood was already down to his chin, despite his feeble attempts to fight back. “Sally, please help me!” he begged, pleading for his life.
“Fine,” Edith exclaimed. “The verdict is on your head, Sally. If he walks, you’ll be the one who has to live with letting him go.” She stomped out of the room, followed by her assistant after he pulled off the hood from Denny’s head.
“Thank God you’re here, Sally! Did you see what they were about to do to me?” Denny’s relief was readily apparent. He tugged at the restraints on his wrists. “Could you do something about these? I can’t stand much more.”
Sally ignored his appeal. “The drugs, Denny, your wife’s full toxicology report showed her blood was full of a cocktail of antidepressants. She was in no shape to drive.”
“Pills? She wasn’t taking any pills. I would have known…” his voice trailed off. Sure, I’d have seen it, he told himself. Except he hadn’t been looking for the signs. Sally was right; he’d been so wrapped up in his own problems he had deliberately ignored what was obvious in hindsight.
She came around to his side, reached out and took his head in her hands, one on each side. “You did know, Denny. The last moment, when the bus struck them, it was you she thought about. She cursed your name, Denny, for what you’d done to her, and especially for the life you’d taken away from her baby daughter. Every night her ghost will come to you, the baby in her arms, so that you will never forget what you have done. For the rest of your life, Denny, she will haunt you.”
He thrashed around, but the Rack held him tight. Sally leaned in close, staring into his eyes. “Endless torment, Denny. Who can stand it? Every waking moment, and then in your dreams, it will come back to you. There’s no escape, Denny, no way you will ever atone for what you did.”
“No,” he croaked, “no, no no…” The tears flowed, and his babbling became incoherent.
Sally stood up and turned away from what was left of Denny. “My thanks to you all,” she announced, facing her audience. “Gary, I’ll call Mexico to arrange for his disposition,” she gestured toward the table. “Also, a plane will be arriving to pick me up in about an hour. I’ll see each of you about the financial details before I leave.”
With that she walked out the room. The details she would leave for others to clean up.
Epilogue
Sally was packing her bag when there was a knock at her door. “Come on in,” she called out.
Gary, still wearing his Tribunal costume, cautiously opened the door and looked in. “Can you spare a moment?” he asked.
“Certainly. The plane’s not going to leave without me on board.” Out on the runway a twin-engine Beechcraft King turboprop sat waiting for her. It was the kind of plane Gary could only dream of owning, after winning the lottery. Someone with a lot of money must be in desperate need of Sally’s services.
Sally looked up from her bag. “What can I do for you, Gary?”
He looked uncomfortable. “It’s kind of a personal question…”
Sally shrugged. “Ask away, I don’t mind. This was a wonderful vacation. I needed a break from work. You’ve caught me in a good mood, so say whatever’s on your mind.”
A vacation? Her bright attitude weighed against what she’d done seemed incongruous. “Okay, basically…why?”
“Why all this?” she replied. “It’s very simple, Gary.” Sally’s expression suddenly became very serious. “It’s because I can, that’s all there is to it.”
She held out her hand, flat, palm up. “Once I have a Subject in my grasp, nothing can stop me.” Slowly she closed her hand into a fist. “Everyone in this world has a special talent for something. My gift is slowly crushing the life out of a Subject. I was fortunate; I discovered mine in time to make something of it.”
Her innocent, girlish smile returned. She ran her hands down the sides of her skirt. “This is probably too short for the plane, but I’m the only passenger. You take care, Gary.”
“Here, let me get your bag.” He walked over to her bed.
“You are such a gentleman, Gary. Thank you!”