Chapter 24. The Kitchen of the country home of Åke Persson, Thursday, 22 January, 07:53.
The previous half hour had been an eventful one for Barbara, Gun, Åke, Bill, Marina and Min-Ri as they worked to put Gun’s plan to deceive and disorient their attackers into action. The idea was to bind Marina to the old whipping post that stood behind the house, where she would be sure to be spotted as the Syndicate’s special-ops team approached. She would be stripped to the waist and her back would be made up to give the appearance of a brutal flogging. The hope was that the sight of her bound to the whipping post might confuse them and disrupt any plan they might be following, and possibly cause them to expose themselves prematurely and vulnerably to their outgunned prey.
Marina had readily agreed to the plan, a sign of her commitment to her change of allegiance in the ongoing drama. She had readily peeled off her top and set herself on a kitchen chair while Barbara attempted to paint whip markings on her bared back with catsup and eye liner. Marina already had a pattern of weals on her chest from earlier when the lash had been applied while she was stretched outs for interrogation on Åke’s torture rack.
In the meantime, heeding Min-Ji’s cautioning that everything needed to look realistic for their plan to work, Bill and Åke had donned winter gear and gone out back of the house to clear and trample the ground around the old whipping post, as well as to free up the rusty old manacles bolted to its top.
Now, as the two men returned to the kitchen, Min-Ji was giving Marina’s painted back a critical look.
“This won’t do,” she announced. “Wipe it all off! It looks like a poorly done Hollywood make-up job! They’re pros. They’ll spot it as fake from a distance. See how differently the marks on her back appear from the real marks on her breasts?”
Barbara frowned. She’d thought she’d done a pretty good job of it. But then, Min-Ri was probably right, she told herself, and went off to dampen a towel.
“Why don’t we use a real whip on my back?” offered Marina bravely. “I endured far worse when I trained for the Russians.”
“Are you sure?” asked Barbara as she wiped her artwork from the Estonian woman’s back.
“Yes. I’ll do it.”
“Åke? Can you run downstairs and get that whip, please?” said Gun.
“Right away,” he replied, disappearing. And when he reappeared a few minutes later with whip in hand, Marina was already bent over the kitchen tabletop and gripping it’s far side with both hands. She had placed the edge of a dish towel between her gritted teeth.
“I’ll do the honors,” offered Bill, holding out his hand.
“Be my guest,” said Åke softly.
*************************************
Forest lane leading to the country home of Åke Persson, Thursday, 22 January, 07:59.
“How much farther?” asked the special-ops team leader.
“Still another kilometer and a half to go. At least another three-quarters of an hour at this rate,” replied Skogman wearily.
There was no response. Skogmman’s doubts were not going away, and his determination to position himself in a backup position with an escape route in mind had only deepened as time wore on.
**************************
Forest lane leading to the country home of Åke Persson, Thursday, 22 January, 08:01
“Shhhhhh,” they’re not very far ahead of us now. I just heard them talking,” whispered Annika to Hansson and the Chief slogging along some distance behind her. “We’d best slow down a bit. We don’t want to overtake them.”
“Little chance of that,” groaned Hansson, looking ruefully at the nearly new shoes he had worn to work that day.
“Hunger is all I can think about now,” moaned the Chief.
“SHHHHHHHH you two!”
**************************
Kitchen of the country home of Åke Persson, Thursday, 22 January, 08:05
“That’ll do … enough!” ordered Min-Ji.
“Okay,” agreed Johnson. He’d just laid his twelfth whiplash across Marina’s bare back and was relieved to not cause her any further pain. Regardless of how stoically she had endured the bite of the lash, he knew how painful each and every one of them must be. The fact that the fair skin of her back was literally aflame was testament to that.
“Are you alright, Marina?” inquired a concerned Barbara.
“I’ve endured worse,” she said straightening up slowly and wincing.
“So, now we take her out to the post.” concluded Min-Ji, who had seemed to put herself in charge of the operation.
“No hurry,” cautioned Åke. By my reckoning the bad guys still have to be at least three quarters of an hour, or more, away. We’re ready for them. Everyone has their assignments. I think we can take a half hour break, have some coffee and relax before Marina has to go out there. Bad enough we had to whip her. Let’s not put her out at the post too early and have her freeze half to death too.”
Everyone agreed, and Gun got up to set out coffee and cookies. But as they sat at the table together, no one had much to say. There seemed little point in conversation. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts until Barbara decided to break the silence.
“Okay, while we’re sitting here marking time …” she began, pausing to dip her pepperkaka in her coffee before taking a bite, “I’m curious, Min-Ji, about one thing you haven’t filled us in on yet. You’ve told us a lot about the criminal detention system in North Korea and it’s scandalous disregard for justice and human rights. And that’s exactly the information the Human Rights Council has asked Åke and me to gather from you. I’ve seen the transcript from yesterday’s the session you had with Åke yesterday and it’s horrifyingly stunning in its revelations. But, what was it exactly that made you decide to defect? You were, after all, highly placed within the system and personally you must have been reasonably secure. What’s your personal story with regard to making such a momentous and potentially dangerous decision.?”
Min-Ri was silent for a full minute or two before answering. “My decision resulted from an encounter … a personal encounter to be more precise … with Our Dear Leader and Father of the People, Kim Jong-Un. This encounter took place last spring. I had been called in by General Bar, the Head of my Ministry, and told that I was to be personally recognized by Our Dear Leader for the excellence of my service in the Ministry. I was informed that this was an honor of great magnitude, reserved for women, that very few received, and that I was to have a personal congratulatory audience with the Father of the People, Kim Jong-Un, himself. The date and time of my audience were already set. I was sternly admonished by my superiors to take care to observe every protocol, and to make everyone in the Ministry proud.”
“And that made you decide to defect? Why?” interrupted Gun.
“I’m getting to that. So, I went to the Forbidden City on the appointed day, I wore my best uniform and memorized all of the long list of titles I was expected to recite when addressing the great man. On arrival, I was told that I was to be ushered into his inner sanctum, and within that to a special place where few were privileged to meet with him.
But, then much to my surprise on arrival at that special place, I was instructed to remove my uniform and under-clothing, and given but a mere thong … a skimpy red thong embroidered on the front with his personal seal … to wear.”
“What? I’ll be damned!” crowed Bill.
“Go on,” prompted Åke, his interest obviously piqued.
“Well, there had always been rumors circulating about Our Dear Leader and some of his behind the scenes kinks with regard to women. It was often said that he kept a stable of sex slaves, for example, and that he had a thing, in particular, for enslaving unfortunate young Western women, who had reportedly disappeared from sight. I always thought such rumors to be baseless. But on that day, I saw the truth with my own eyes.
My so-called ‘honor’ turned out to be nothing more than being given the privilege of filling his mad sexual desire of the day. In short, sparing you the details, I was orderd to kneel before him and suck his manhood while he mercilessly thrashed my back with a supple cane. And afterwards, when he had recovered his ardor, I was ordered to kneel down, spread my ass cheeks and submit to being taken by him … from behind and not in the usual place. There was no point in protesting. I knew to have done so would have brought dishonor on myself and my Ministry. Honor matters very much in my society.
But what he did to me was degrading and terribly painful. I had to take a full week’s personal leave afterwards to recover, using as an excuse the lie that I had been so honored to have been in his presence that I needed time off to contemplate and appreciate my joy.
And, when I finally returned to my work at the ministry, I related to my curious colleagues, ad nauseum, the fabricated official tale, supplied to me by his office, of the great and gloriously honorable event.”
There was stunned silence around the table, until Barbara finally said, “How absolutely horrible for you! Weren’t you afraid that defecting and telling this story would bring down retribution on your family?”
“No. I was an only child and my dear parents were both deceased.”
“And that bit about a harem of female western sex slaves?” asked Gun.
“I saw them with my own eyes. Poor things. On my way out, my escorts took me down a passageway where they were kept … in cages, like animals … naked and fettered. I counted eight of them … two to a cage … they paid no attention to me … probably drugged.”
Again there was silence around the kitchen table,
“Sorry to bring this up at a time like this,” intervened Åke gently, “but we’d best all be taking up our planned positions now. That Syndicate team will be here soon.”
TBC
The previous half hour had been an eventful one for Barbara, Gun, Åke, Bill, Marina and Min-Ri as they worked to put Gun’s plan to deceive and disorient their attackers into action. The idea was to bind Marina to the old whipping post that stood behind the house, where she would be sure to be spotted as the Syndicate’s special-ops team approached. She would be stripped to the waist and her back would be made up to give the appearance of a brutal flogging. The hope was that the sight of her bound to the whipping post might confuse them and disrupt any plan they might be following, and possibly cause them to expose themselves prematurely and vulnerably to their outgunned prey.
Marina had readily agreed to the plan, a sign of her commitment to her change of allegiance in the ongoing drama. She had readily peeled off her top and set herself on a kitchen chair while Barbara attempted to paint whip markings on her bared back with catsup and eye liner. Marina already had a pattern of weals on her chest from earlier when the lash had been applied while she was stretched outs for interrogation on Åke’s torture rack.
In the meantime, heeding Min-Ji’s cautioning that everything needed to look realistic for their plan to work, Bill and Åke had donned winter gear and gone out back of the house to clear and trample the ground around the old whipping post, as well as to free up the rusty old manacles bolted to its top.
Now, as the two men returned to the kitchen, Min-Ji was giving Marina’s painted back a critical look.
“This won’t do,” she announced. “Wipe it all off! It looks like a poorly done Hollywood make-up job! They’re pros. They’ll spot it as fake from a distance. See how differently the marks on her back appear from the real marks on her breasts?”
Barbara frowned. She’d thought she’d done a pretty good job of it. But then, Min-Ri was probably right, she told herself, and went off to dampen a towel.
“Why don’t we use a real whip on my back?” offered Marina bravely. “I endured far worse when I trained for the Russians.”
“Are you sure?” asked Barbara as she wiped her artwork from the Estonian woman’s back.
“Yes. I’ll do it.”
“Åke? Can you run downstairs and get that whip, please?” said Gun.
“Right away,” he replied, disappearing. And when he reappeared a few minutes later with whip in hand, Marina was already bent over the kitchen tabletop and gripping it’s far side with both hands. She had placed the edge of a dish towel between her gritted teeth.
“I’ll do the honors,” offered Bill, holding out his hand.
“Be my guest,” said Åke softly.
*************************************
Forest lane leading to the country home of Åke Persson, Thursday, 22 January, 07:59.
“How much farther?” asked the special-ops team leader.
“Still another kilometer and a half to go. At least another three-quarters of an hour at this rate,” replied Skogman wearily.
There was no response. Skogmman’s doubts were not going away, and his determination to position himself in a backup position with an escape route in mind had only deepened as time wore on.
**************************
Forest lane leading to the country home of Åke Persson, Thursday, 22 January, 08:01
“Shhhhhh,” they’re not very far ahead of us now. I just heard them talking,” whispered Annika to Hansson and the Chief slogging along some distance behind her. “We’d best slow down a bit. We don’t want to overtake them.”
“Little chance of that,” groaned Hansson, looking ruefully at the nearly new shoes he had worn to work that day.
“Hunger is all I can think about now,” moaned the Chief.
“SHHHHHHHH you two!”
**************************
Kitchen of the country home of Åke Persson, Thursday, 22 January, 08:05
“That’ll do … enough!” ordered Min-Ji.
“Okay,” agreed Johnson. He’d just laid his twelfth whiplash across Marina’s bare back and was relieved to not cause her any further pain. Regardless of how stoically she had endured the bite of the lash, he knew how painful each and every one of them must be. The fact that the fair skin of her back was literally aflame was testament to that.
“Are you alright, Marina?” inquired a concerned Barbara.
“I’ve endured worse,” she said straightening up slowly and wincing.
“So, now we take her out to the post.” concluded Min-Ji, who had seemed to put herself in charge of the operation.
“No hurry,” cautioned Åke. By my reckoning the bad guys still have to be at least three quarters of an hour, or more, away. We’re ready for them. Everyone has their assignments. I think we can take a half hour break, have some coffee and relax before Marina has to go out there. Bad enough we had to whip her. Let’s not put her out at the post too early and have her freeze half to death too.”
Everyone agreed, and Gun got up to set out coffee and cookies. But as they sat at the table together, no one had much to say. There seemed little point in conversation. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts until Barbara decided to break the silence.
“Okay, while we’re sitting here marking time …” she began, pausing to dip her pepperkaka in her coffee before taking a bite, “I’m curious, Min-Ji, about one thing you haven’t filled us in on yet. You’ve told us a lot about the criminal detention system in North Korea and it’s scandalous disregard for justice and human rights. And that’s exactly the information the Human Rights Council has asked Åke and me to gather from you. I’ve seen the transcript from yesterday’s the session you had with Åke yesterday and it’s horrifyingly stunning in its revelations. But, what was it exactly that made you decide to defect? You were, after all, highly placed within the system and personally you must have been reasonably secure. What’s your personal story with regard to making such a momentous and potentially dangerous decision.?”
Min-Ri was silent for a full minute or two before answering. “My decision resulted from an encounter … a personal encounter to be more precise … with Our Dear Leader and Father of the People, Kim Jong-Un. This encounter took place last spring. I had been called in by General Bar, the Head of my Ministry, and told that I was to be personally recognized by Our Dear Leader for the excellence of my service in the Ministry. I was informed that this was an honor of great magnitude, reserved for women, that very few received, and that I was to have a personal congratulatory audience with the Father of the People, Kim Jong-Un, himself. The date and time of my audience were already set. I was sternly admonished by my superiors to take care to observe every protocol, and to make everyone in the Ministry proud.”
“And that made you decide to defect? Why?” interrupted Gun.
“I’m getting to that. So, I went to the Forbidden City on the appointed day, I wore my best uniform and memorized all of the long list of titles I was expected to recite when addressing the great man. On arrival, I was told that I was to be ushered into his inner sanctum, and within that to a special place where few were privileged to meet with him.
But, then much to my surprise on arrival at that special place, I was instructed to remove my uniform and under-clothing, and given but a mere thong … a skimpy red thong embroidered on the front with his personal seal … to wear.”
“What? I’ll be damned!” crowed Bill.
“Go on,” prompted Åke, his interest obviously piqued.
“Well, there had always been rumors circulating about Our Dear Leader and some of his behind the scenes kinks with regard to women. It was often said that he kept a stable of sex slaves, for example, and that he had a thing, in particular, for enslaving unfortunate young Western women, who had reportedly disappeared from sight. I always thought such rumors to be baseless. But on that day, I saw the truth with my own eyes.
My so-called ‘honor’ turned out to be nothing more than being given the privilege of filling his mad sexual desire of the day. In short, sparing you the details, I was orderd to kneel before him and suck his manhood while he mercilessly thrashed my back with a supple cane. And afterwards, when he had recovered his ardor, I was ordered to kneel down, spread my ass cheeks and submit to being taken by him … from behind and not in the usual place. There was no point in protesting. I knew to have done so would have brought dishonor on myself and my Ministry. Honor matters very much in my society.
But what he did to me was degrading and terribly painful. I had to take a full week’s personal leave afterwards to recover, using as an excuse the lie that I had been so honored to have been in his presence that I needed time off to contemplate and appreciate my joy.
And, when I finally returned to my work at the ministry, I related to my curious colleagues, ad nauseum, the fabricated official tale, supplied to me by his office, of the great and gloriously honorable event.”
There was stunned silence around the table, until Barbara finally said, “How absolutely horrible for you! Weren’t you afraid that defecting and telling this story would bring down retribution on your family?”
“No. I was an only child and my dear parents were both deceased.”
“And that bit about a harem of female western sex slaves?” asked Gun.
“I saw them with my own eyes. Poor things. On my way out, my escorts took me down a passageway where they were kept … in cages, like animals … naked and fettered. I counted eight of them … two to a cage … they paid no attention to me … probably drugged.”
Again there was silence around the kitchen table,
“Sorry to bring this up at a time like this,” intervened Åke gently, “but we’d best all be taking up our planned positions now. That Syndicate team will be here soon.”
TBC
