It was four o'clock on a cold wintry afternoon and the girls of St Catherines Ladies College were streaming in dozens along the street, having just been let out of that prestigious, if costly, school.
They were being watched closely through the front window of her lounge room by Emily Jennings whose home was a few hundred yards down the street from this well known place of learning. Emily was in her mid forties, mid height with a figure that was just starting to thicken. She had a smooth, somewhat stern face and short brown hair that was just starting to show signs of grey and was wearing a neat skirt and blouse as suited her age.
She was of comfortable means, long divorced and had lived in this large house for many years. She was also a small time collector of art pieces and her home contained, amongst other items, a dozen original oil paintings. Though some were quite old, none were thought to be particularly valuable. However, there was one work that had attracted some attention. This was quite unknown to Emily.
A somewhat less than scrupulous art dealer had learned that a small landscape which now hung in one of Emily's spare bedrooms was actually an undiscovered work by a famous 17th Century master whose paintings now changed hands for millions. Offered for sale in the right place this piece would be very profitable to anyone who had a hand in getting it there. And Emily was quite unaware of its worth.
And so a plot was hatched by some interested parties. This painting was to be quietly removed from Emily's home without her being aware of what a treasure it was. It was to be smuggled out of the country and after a period of time would be "discovered," probably in Europe, authenticated, and then offered for sale at a reputable art auction for whatever millions could be obtained for it. All to the enrichment of anybody who had had a hand in this operation. Very likely, Emily would never hear of this newly found overseas masterpiece, or realize that it had once been under her roof. Though artistically minded, she took little interest in the art scene outside her own country.
A further plan was made to get it out of of her residence. It was finally decided that two operatives, disguised as school girls, would go to Emily's home, overpower and tie her up, ransack part of the house, take a few pieces of her jewellery as a diversion (she had quite a collection, though none of it particularly valuable) and depart with them and also the painting. The whole operation was to be passed off as an outrageously foolish adolescent prank that had got alarmingly out of hand. In the resultant public outcry (Emily was a respected local public figure) it was hoped that the disappearance of a small painting from a back room, thought to be quite valueless, would pass unnoticed in the general furore. And it was further hoped that St Catherine's would get the blame. Their indignant denials would also divert attention from what was the real purpose of the home invasion.
But now, back to Emily, who was watching the parade of schoolgirls passing her home through her window. She did not approve of the St Catherine's girls, considering them rowdy and ill disciplined, for all the money their fathers paid to send them there. She saw two of them stop at her gate, enter and walk up her path. Probably collecting for something she thought. Well, she'd give them short shrift. She walked into the hall towards the front door.
These two girls were impeccably dressed in the regulation St Catherine's uniforms. Pleated tartan tunics, spotless white blouses, black string ties. Green blazers and round straw hats, both with the school's insignia. Regulation black shoes and the mandatory white socks and gloves. Both carried standard school cases. One had an artwork carrying folder, just large enough to fit a small sized 17th Century painting in. They looked like any two St Catherine's girls just out of afternoon school, one who had probably been to an art class.
The reality was very different. They were two professionals, well chosen for the parts they were to play. Both were slim, slight ladies with girlish figures, exactly the size of the senior class students from the school whose uniform they so easily wore. One was Liz, aged about thirty but quite able to pass herself off as ten years younger. The other was called Bub because of her smooth, babyish face. In her mid twenties and with a somewhat shorter figure, she was perfect for the role she was to act. Both wore thick wigs, twisted into schoolgirl plaits behind and both had tinted student glasses. A lot of time and effort had gone into their appearance.
As they advanced up the path they rehearsed an adolescent schoolgirl giggle which they had practiced for some time. It had been agreed on that Liz would would do any talking necessary. Something of an actress, she was the one who had best mastered the mid teen accent and idiom which would be expected of them. They reached the porch and pressed the doorbell.
Emily Jennings flung the door open and faced the pair. "And just what do you girls want?" she snapped. She was going to send them on their way as quickly as she could.
"Just to pay you a short visit Granny," trilled Liz, and to the accompaniment of a shrill giggle, they thrust their way inside the house.
The astonished householder was taken completely by surprise and forced backward. Liz, the stronger of the two, pushed up against her, pinning both her arms to her sides with one arm and clamped a white gloved hand over her mouth. Bub deftly closed the door behind them, quickly got a regulation St Catherine's school scarf from her case and moved behind their victim. She tied it swiftly and firmly over the upper part of Emily's face. Both had agreed it was vital to get the older woman securely blindfolded as soon as possible - while she still thought she was dealing with schoolgirls. And it was thought to be a nice touch to use the correct uniform school scarf to do this.
Next Bub produced a prepared gag and made ready to quieten the, by now, furiously struggling Emily. They were also in agreement she should be silenced quickly too. They did not plan any long social conversation with her.
Liz removed her gloved hand and the outraged houseowner burst out with, "What do you girls think you're doing? I'll report you both to the school principal! I'll ...." Whatever else she was going to do was lost as Bub forced the large wadded gag into her mouth and tied it deftly behind her neck. Both were relieved that this part of the operation was behind them.
"Shh Granny, you really do talk too much," warbled Liz in her best scatterbrained accents and then both gave another rendition of an adolescent giggle. "We're going to have a look at some of your nice jewellery." Emily was further outraged, particularly at the use of the word Granny.
By now Bub had made ready the bindings they were going to use on their captive. These were torn strips from pillowcases bought at a secondhand shop. Untraceable and just what a couple of amateurs would use if they wanted to tie someone up.
Liz, firmly in control of the writhing Emily, crossed her forearms behind her back. Still struggling, she tried to kick with her feet but both young women were sensibly standing out of the way. Bub bound her wrists with a wide strip and tightened this with a large knot. Next, she tied her arms to her sides, using more strips than were really necessary and knotting them with effective but clumsy reef and granny knots. Just the way a schoolgirl would have tied up an adult if she had to. All the time Emily was mewing and fuming furiously, to the accompaniment of rehearsed juvenile sniggers by her two captors. Her upper body now looked like an untidily wrapped mummy.
They pushed her down on to the floor, the better to tie her thrashing legs. Her ankles were bound with wide strip and two more lengths were used to secure her legs both above and below the knees. And finally a strip around the calves, between ankle and knee. This last was quite unnecessary, the struggling householder was more than sufficiently bound, but was just what a couple of overenthusiastic amateurs would have done. Squirming and mewing frantically, the lady of the house was now totally secure. Had she been able to speak, her two captors would have learned she was going to take this matter to the school board of directors, the police, her local member and beyond.
Liz and Bub looked with satisfaction at the completely immobilized Emily, writhing helplessly on the floor. The first part of the operation was over. "Well Maggie," chattered Liz, (it had been agreed they would use false names to each other in the hearing of their bound, blindfolded victims to confuse any future investigation), "Let's see what else we can find."
They knew full well what the next step of the operation was to be. Somewhere in the rear of the house they knew would be Alice, Mrs Jennings' cook, housekeeper, live-in companion. A thin, wiry grey haired woman in her mid forties, dedicated to keeping the household running smoothly. Quiet and unassuming, she could, at this time of day, be expected to be in the kitchen at the back of the building. All the time they were subduing Emily they had been fearful of her coming to the front of the house unexpectedly. Had this happened it would have made their job very difficult. But it had not and now the two disguised ladies made their way down the hall to overpower their second victim. In keeping with the role they were playing they giggled as they went. They carried the school cases with them.
Alice, as expected, was in the kitchen. She was at the sink, washing up and was totally unaware of what had happened at the front door. She was dressed in a sensible skirt and blouse, was wearing rubber gloves and had a plastic apron tied firmly around her narrow waist.
The pair approached silently, planning to seize her from behind and get her blindfolded and gagged before she got a good look at them. They were within a couple of metres of her when back in the front hallway, the already tied up Emily chose to start pounding her bound feet against the floor. The drumming attracted the housekeeper's attention and she turned quickly and saw the two pseudo schoolgirls approaching her. Her reaction was no more friendly than Emily's. It seemed St Catherines' girls were not well thought of in this household.
"Who are you two?" she snapped, "How'd you get in here?"
The duo surged forward. As with Emily, they were both agreed that the sooner they got Alice blindfolded and bound the better. Liz seized her arms and held them firmly to her body, at the same time putting a gloved hand firmly over her mouth. Bub, already with another regulation school scarf in her hand, got behind her and had it tied over her eyes in seconds.
"Stop this," barked the astonished woman as Liz lifted her hand so that she could be gagged, "What on earth... mff."
Anything further she had to say was cut off as another prepared gag was thrust into her mouth. Swiftly, her wrists were crossed behind her back and securely bound. Liz held her firmly while Bub put three lashings around her arms. As with her employer, they put her on the floor and tied her legs several times. Alice struggled furiously at this but was no match for a pair of accomplished professionals as these two. All the time she thought she was in the hands of two unbelievably mischievous schoolgirls carrying out some outrageous prank. Just what they wanted her to think. And this entire operation was punctuated with bursts of tittering and giggling to further this illusion.
So far everything had gone to plan and the two ladies looked to the next stage.
The whole operation had been carefully planned and prepared for. But one thing had not been discovered, or allowed for.
Some months ago Emily Jennings had agreed to take part in the production of a historical account of her suburb with a local historical society. Not being literary herself, her part in this project was to make available the use of a large office annex at the rear of her home, opening off the kitchen.
The actual writing was to be done by a professional lady journalist named Edna Britt who was to have the use of this room for the duration of the work. Edna was in her mid thirties, a thin spare woman with a very scholastic look about her. She had a thin, intellectual face, her brown hair always done in a tight bun and wore heavy rimmed glasses. In appearance she looked the classic picture of an intellectual old maid, though technically she was not nearly old enough for that classification. She was wearing tight fitting black slacks and a cream shirt.
Today she was working away in this closed off office, only about twenty five feet distant from where Alice was being bound and gagged by the two assailants. Such was the degree of concentration she always brought to her work she was only dimly aware of a muffled commotion going on behind the door into the kitchen. At last her attention was attracted to the point where she felt she ought to see what was going on. She got up and went to look.
Edna opened the door just as the pair were finishing tying Alice's ankles and legs at the end of the kitchen. She stared thunderstruck then her detail noting, journalist's mind began to work. Unlike the other two, she had time to look at the two intruders carefully, without the pair knowing. She realized something criminal was going on and quickly saw the perpetrators were not schoolgirls, despite their careful costuming. She was also aware there was no way out of the annex office behind her. The only way to leave the house was through the kitchen itself.
Liz sensed they were being observed, looked up and saw the lady journalist standing in the doorway. This was a totally unexpected development and she knew there would have to be a change of plan. "Hello," she smiled, "Good afternoon."
"Who are you? Just what are you doing?" retorted the startled Edna.
The two stood up and moved quickly toward her, Bub carrying the school case. She raised her hands and stepped backwards. "And why are you dressed like that? I can see you're not school kids."
Liz's heart sank. In less than a minute their cover had been unmasked. This would change things. "Let's say we're on a mission," she said, dropping the schoolgirl voice. "And part of it will be to subdue you Madam. You'd better not resist us. There are two of us and we know how to handle you." The frightened Edna wondered if she was going to be knocked unconscious.
Swiftly the two professionals set to work. They stood behind the worried but now passive journalist (no point in letting her see any more of their faces than she already had) and began to tie her up. Bub bound her hands firmly and then tied her forearms with a wide sash which she cinched under each armpit. Meanwhile Edna, realizing she was not to be knocked out, began to relax. Being of a naturally inquiring turn of mind, even if somewhat naive, she considered talking with her captors.
Liz knelt and pushing the captive's ankles together, began to tie them with another wide strip. As usually happens when tying a person who is standing upright, pulling their feet together tended to make them unsteady. Edna might have fallen if she had not been steadied by Bub. Liz continued to tie her legs above the knees. The captive decided to try and communicate.
"I know the house is full of artistic nick knacks but none of them are worth much and as far as I know there aren't any large sums of money." she said conversationally, "I really can't understand why you've come here."
This comment was too much, and addressed to the wrong people. "You talk too much Madam," snapped Liz. "Time to gag you."
"You don't have to do that," protested the startled Edna, "I'm not going to scream and I'm not the hysterical type."
By now both assailants had had enough of this talkative woman. Liz forced her jaws open and Bub forced another wadded gag between her teeth and tied in place underneath the bun at the back of her head. Her thick glasses were removed, placed on the desk and a thick blindfold was then secured over her eyes. The lady journalist was left standing, bound hand and foot and unable to see or say a word. Her two captors checked her bonds, nodded briefly then thoughtfully lowered her into the leather backed office chair behind her desk from which she had risen only twelve minutes before.
Liz, well aware there would have to be a change of planned procedure, looked quickly around the annex office while its occupant sat somewhat less than comfortably in the seat of her work situation. The desk held a word processor, a notepad, various papers and documents. Some shelves held some reference books and more papers. Edna's handbag lay on another chair but both intruders ignored this for the moment. What did attract her attention was a substantial steel three drawer filing cabinet in the corner. It was securely locked but Liz knew how to deal with this.
She took a small hinged box containing her lock picking tools out of the school case and set to work. Within minutes she had the cabinet open. Edna, though blindfolded, could hear this and showed signs of increasing agitation. This confirmed Liz's suspicions. There was something worthwhile in here.
The two top drawers simply held files and papers relevant to the historical project, but the bottom drawer held an expensive locked leather briefcase. Edna, apparently aware it had been found, began mewing and writhing vigorously. Liz smiled, obviously this was something of importance. She lifted it out and put it on the desk in front of its presumed owner.
"This looks interesting," she said softly, "Let's have a look at it. But first we'll remove your blindfold so you can see too." And she did just that and even replaced Edna's glasses over her wide open staring eyes. Next she used her tools to open the case lock within seconds. The bound and helpless journalist squirmed and writhed as she watched this.
Liz spent several minutes looking at the papers and photographs she found inside. She did this in silence, finally replacing everything and closing the briefcase.
Then she turned to Edna, untied her gag and eased it out of her mouth. "Well Miss Edna Britt," she said, "You may be surprised to know I've heard of you. And of some of the ladies mentioned in your papers here. I met one of them professionally a while back when some colleagues and I relieved her of some of her goodies. I know something of this exclusive group of yours, the Sisterhood as you call it. An upmarket lesbian club really. These papers in here are really interesting. So interesting I'm going to take them away with me."
Edna writhed in her bonds and fumed. "How dare you," she muttered, "This is none of your business. Nothing to do with you."
Liz looked at the bound journalist. "I'm making it my business," she smiled, "And who knows? In time it might benefit both of us." She continued, "But to show my heart's in the right place, I'll offer you a deal. You'll get everything back in a couple of weeks, including this nice briefcase. Much as I'd like to keep it. After we've made careful copies of what we think necessary." Edna glared, but said nothing.
"In return, we want you to go along with the fiction that this whole operation here today was a scatterbrained teenage escapade that got wildly out of hand. Two kids who must have been on drugs. You can say you were seized from behind while you were deep in your work, blindfolded, bound and gagged before you could do anything. All to the accompaniment of adolescent giggling and inane juvenile chatter. We trust the other two will tell something like the same story. After all, it was for nothing to do with you that we came here anyway."
Edna stared stonily at both her captors. Finally she said, "All right," she agreed, "provided I get my material back."
"You will," promised Liz, "But for now we'll get on with the reason for coming here in the first place. My colleague and I will do what we planned to do. Before we go we'll get back to you. We'll retie your knots. Amateurishly," she smiled, "Like a couple of crazy school kids would do. But also loose enough so that you can get free in an hour or two. Then you can go and untie the other two. And then the indignant Mrs Jennings can raise the alarm."
Edna nodded. Obviously unhappy as to how she was going to spend the next hour and also about the loss, if only temporarily, of her papers. But she full well knew the consequences if they were shown in some quarters, as she knew these two could.
Liz smiled again, then leaned forward and softly caressed the bound writer on the cheek, who winced slightly but did not turn her head away. "I'm glad you're being reasonable about this," she murmured, "And now, I'm sorry to say we have to gag you again. Open wide please."
Reluctantly, Edna opened her mouth.
And so the whole affair was passed off as Liz, Bub and their party had hoped. A piece of outrageous juvenile stupidity by a couple of probably drug using kids who hadn't known where to stop. St Catherine's reputation suffered mightily, despite their indignant denials. By good fortune, for the perpetrators, several of Mrs Jennings' paintings were away being cleaned at the time and the disappearance of one small work from the wall of a back room went unnoticed until the others came back some weeks later. By then the valuable work was long out of the country, and in the process of being "discovered" on an other continent.
Two Weeks Later.
The incident was passing into neighbourhood history. The police had been called, had asked many questions, but in the end the three ladies' story of an insane schoolgirl prank had been accepted. St Catherines had been subject to a searching investigation and had to answer a lot of questions. But in the end nothing was discovered and no names had been named. Who the two outrageously impertinent young ladies had been remained a puzzling mystery, and, in the growing opinion of most, likely to remain so.
It was a bleak afternoon and Edna was making her way to the local shops. It was cold and she was wearing an overcoat, buttoned to the neck with the collar turned up. Though still working with Mrs Jennings she had almost finished the history project, despite the violent interruption, which she rarely thought about now.
A woman was standing in front of a shop window as she approached. She was somewhat short and wearing dark glasses with a large head scarf tied over her head and under her chin. She wore a grey trenchcoat completely done up and neatly belted around her trim waist. Edna barely gave her a glance as she hurried past.
"Miss Britt." Edna stopped and spun round as her name was called. The speaker looked oddly familiar.
The woman stepped forward and stood facing her. "Some property of yours was removed some time back," she said smiling, "Permit me to return it." From behind her back she produced the briefcase taken in the home invasion and held it out to the astonished woman. Edna's eyes bulged. She took it with both hands.
"The contents are all there," the woman continued, "They were very interesting and we've made some careful copies. And I wouldn't make a public fuss if I were you (Edna was looking wildly around). Not with what you've got in your hands. Those photographs might be hard to explain."
The raincoated woman raised a gloved hand and gently stroked Edna on the cheek, just as she had been fondled when she lay bound and helpless during the home invasion. "Well Edna darling, I must go. It was nice seeing you again. Give my regards to Emily and Alice if you like. It was a pity we met under such unfortunate circumstances. Perhaps we'll meet again. Who knows? Au revoir." She turned and walked briskly away, her raincoat swishing.
Edna, still speechless, watched her go. She wondered what was going to come of this.
Uto
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