The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Broker

Chapter 6 The Takedown

Three days later, as Bridget’s denial statement hit the papers, Elite 1 reconvened, and everyone was smiling.

“Janet Michaelson, better known as Granite Janet Clarke in her playing days. She’s doin’ missionary work, if you know what I mean, in Cape Town. Husband is wiling to turn witness if we give him full Fifth protection,” Cynthia said as she went through the list of possible informants.

“Full Fifth protection? Rhonda, do you feel comfortable with a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy? I didn’t think so,” Claudia said, taking Rhonda’s middle finger under advisement. “We’re not some lower unit. I’m not going to grant immunity to part of some pretty hate machine I might get a death warrant for in six months. Next on the list, Cynthia.”

“Leslie Stevenson, who’s bounced around until she ended up with Goodwitch Productions. Fortunately for us, intake of anyone brought in for pornography is public record for age and health reasons, and Goodwitch already knows who killed the Kennedys. Now, don’t all raise your hands at once if these pictures look familiar,” Cynthia said, holding up first a picture of the tall post in powder blue and gold preparing to flop in the lane, then the tall veteran porn princess in powder blue sports bra and tight shorts preparing to flop into bed for the schoolgirl with the strap-on.

“Wait... the Zhukovs created Lisa Lezzie? Holy shit... I may have to rethink this mission. We’re talkin’ the best thing to happen to the Internet since Al Gore,” Rhonda said with a smirk—but her fists were clenched at her sides, and a muscle at the back of her jaw was working furiously.

“Well, since you know so much about this particular informant, you can go to LA and get the information we need. Autographs are fine, pictures are fine, but no video,” Claudia teased.

“You know how to treat your unit,” Rhonda said with a salute and a smirk.

“I’ll get the public records. And maybe some video for Rhonda. I think Mom still can’t remember what’s in Reggie’s room,” Cheryl said with a giggle.

“That’s one, and we have Jeffrey Rice’s testimony for two. Three is the magic number, so who’s next, Cynthia?”

“Go back to the missionary. The next three are going to hit too close to Moscow,” Cheryl warned.

“Fuck that noise. Let me guess, trophy wives of Russian hockey players?” Claudia asked.

“Ain’t bad,” Cheryl muttered.

“Paula Carlotte, now Polina Malkina—”

“If I wanted to cause trouble in that town, it wouldn’t be over a mind-wiped woman. That’s about the only saving grace of Three Sisters, so let them deal with him. Next.”

“Alana Dawes, now Lolita... yes, her husband’s a goalie...”

“Goalies, not so good with the subtlety, are they? Save that as a backup plan, but I’d rather not go to Silicon Valley if I don’t have to. What’s the last one?”

“She said ain’t bad,” Cynthia said. “Means two out of three. The third one is Denise Sadler, now Davlina Pavlickova, last in the tennis tournaments, first in the cheesecake photos. Her husband’s Stepan Markov, but she strings everyone’s rackets, if you know what I mean.”

“Tennis doll? Hmmm. Markov has a sister, right? One who’s better than the one-hit wonder brother? Leverage,” Claudia said as she motioned Cynthia to pack her bags and head out.

Winter being summer and summer being winter in Australia might have been the least disconcerting part of the trip as Claudia and Cynthia headed into the stadium in Melbourne with their press passes on clear display. The split was fifty-fifty among the women’s field. The competitors were focused and hard-nosed, separated from the pretty girls there to be a traveling sex circus for both the men’s field and the fans who could pay for the VIP treatment. The tennis dolls wore tight skirts and showed just a little more leg, enough to drive the point home. Some were good enough to win a few matches, and maybe even earn a ranking, but most were full-on dolls, there to be auctioned off in front of twenty thousand clamoring bidders. Claudia sighed and looked down at her program.

“Want to go for Pavlickova or Markova first?” Cynthia asked, watching for anyone wearing shorts that were just a little too tight in the appropriate colors.

“Markova. They don’t ship here. Too low a return and too specialized. Besides, we’ve got enough leverage on Markova if we need it that this should be quick and simple,” Claudia replied, inclining her head towards their target. Valentina Markova wore yellow, and while her skirt was tight, it wasn’t tight or short enough to belong to a doll. More, she had an air of confidence that showed more than a competitor’s spirit—it indicated the strong will and dominating nature of a controller. Cynthia tapped Claudia on the arm to warn her, but Claudia was already on alert as she came over and pulled out her notebook.

“Hi, Miss Markova? I’m Christina Smith, and this is Angie Mally from Sporting Way. We wanted to do an article about you, your brother, and his wife. Aren’t you playing her tonight?” Claudia asked, showing her credential.

“My brother, and his wife, and you want to talk to baby sister? Sure I can help you,” Valentina said, ostensibly checking the credential. The sarcasm in her voice put Claudia and Cynthia on alert as Valentina led them into her dressing room and closed the door behind her. The red and white stripes on the racket covers, a stark contrast to her yellow dress, were warning enough for Claudia. She wasted no time grabbing Valentina from behind and throwing her into the chair as Cynthia pulled out her gun and held it at Valentina’s face.

“First question. Who killed the Kennedys?” Cynthia growled.

Americans. You always think it is reflective racket, or rinky dink moron with needle. Please. I am Russian. I do not need toys like that. I know you are spies from the start, so you can stop pointing that long hard thing at me. I do not appreciate them. No fear? I like it, or you like me. I do not normally do Africans. In land of endless winter, too odd for me. You with the gun, I would glaze your legs in finest stockings and make you press agent. But you are here to play with me, and I am in good mood, so I will play as long as we are both playing and not keeping. See?” Valentina said, pulling down her socks and pulling off an ankle bracelet that she waved in front of Claudia and Cynthia. Claudia had to blink her away for a second—but in the next she was ready to attack until Valentina threw it across the room.

“I lay down my weapon. You lay down yours, and I talk.”

“Do it,” Claudia ordered. Cynthia put the gun away, but kept her hand at the ready.

“Good. What do you want to know? You are friends of Darling Davlina? Moral crusaders who are wondering if I am sharing my brother’s bed so Davlina can please us both? Nyet? You are spies, yes? So you are wanting to know about the... extended family. I am no Zhukov. When brother won US Open, he tried to make American girl his real trophy. But he was not taking care of her parents, and by the next tournament Mindcrime knew him. Stupid boy. I was still learning, so I could not protect him. Zhukovs saw opportunity and put me in tennis school to learn or die. For that, they charmed local police to get Stepan back to Russia. I have four girlfriends and anklet out of deal, and all he has is Davlina. At least she is expensive sooka. I am bored.”

“Well, if that’s the case, we’ll—”

Valentina raised a hand to cut Claudia off. “Not with you. With Zhukovs. With stupid brother. With losing to Davlina every time we play so she is not exposed as fraud. I want a life. I tell you what you want to know, and you leave me to live that life.”

“When Davlina was still Denise, who made her Davlina?”

“Who you think? Ohh, yes, Bridget and silly show trial. You think secret of Davlina will kill her? It will not work. Bridget is no controller. She cannot control. She needs to be controlled. She blanked out staring at my anklet in its box. She is weak, but she knows where to stop and she stops very well. And your people, you cannot kill anyone but controllers. I have heard of you. Not first time they are wanting me to talk, but first time I am feeling like talking. They do not send such pretty girls before.”

“So talk,” Claudia said, losing patience.

“Whole thing is silly,” Valentina said with a shrug. “She leads them to us. Promise of high pay and good living is enough for silly American girls. They are so easy to control. They trust so easily that a dull ruby puts them past point of no return. And Bridget is master. Her trial will damage sports group very badly. Zhukovs will live, just leave sports. Sergei Illyich is not stupid man. Bridget thinks control is good. Makes her useful. She calms them into accepting it, and then you are having precious little Davlina.”

“So you get half shares in her for your service? And the rest are auctioned off to be trophy wives to the richest athletes?”

“Nothing is that simple. These girls with good stamina and strength, they are for longest lasting, strongest men. These men wear out common whores. They are most loyal, and girls are prize award. Bridget finds our best livestock, the one we are sending to shows to prove our dominance. But was accident, Bridget.”

“What?” Cynthia blurted out.

“Barnevsky creates... what is your phrase, disposable heroes? When Bridget went to Russia, she was begging on her knees for someone to take her will. She could not live without being told what to do. It was release and passion. But Olga Olegnova is clever woman, and she turned programming into useful bloodlust. There is only one Bridget, and she is more valuable than controller. She pushes people toward us. Easier they go under, harder it is for them to leave. If they gave her drugs, it was biggest mistake in family’s history,” Valentina said.

Claudia and Cynthia looked at each other in disbelief as they left. “Did she just jump sides over the trial?” Claudia said, shaking her head.

“It’s the proof we need,” Cynthia acknowledged.

B Sample Tests Positive In Eagleton Scandal! the headline blared as Claudia prepared her final report, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Got some souvenirs from LA for you. Let’s see... Lisa Lezzie’s autographed panties, all nude group photo of the Goodwitch girls, and oh yeah, the complete takedown diary. They demanded it from Russia because they thought Stevenson’s high profile would cause a raid, and not even the Russians mess with Hollywood,” Rhonda said with a snarky smile.

Claudia leafed through the pages. “Bridget brings her in. She visits Sergei’s office, gets her first treatment. Bridget counsels her, also known as tests for resistance. Lots and lots and lots of conditioning. She gets bum-rushed by her teammates. Lots more conditioning. Bridget’s there for the bum rush. Oh, shit... Bridget gets the test drive. That confirms Rice, and the public records that state that Bridget holds her bank accounts. The general will be pleased with this.”

“Hey, if he don’t want the panties...”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t,” Claudia said, tossing them back all too happily.

When General Marion was finished looking through the report, he looked up at the team and said, “This is what I hoped for. It’s simple. The Zhukovs need to extract the truth, one way or another. When they find out she’s not guilty of this particular time, they’ll do anything they can to find us out, and there’s nothing easier to shoot than a scattering pack of lost dogs. We’ll put strike teams out across the country. As for in Russia, they will pounce on the bones and spit out the wreckage. If Eagleton is released, we’ll strike her down in America and the American public will blame the Russians. If she’s not, some group somewhere in Russia will take her, and we can deal with the threats above her. You did exemplary work. This is beyond what I hoped for. And as for your friend Valentina, if lower operatives are switching sides or bailing out, we know that the positive test was enough to push them to the bring of ruin as it is. You’ll know in a week f you’re needed, or if the Russians finished her off for you. Remember, in this world innocence is guilt, and the best success is masked as failure.”

Claudia grinned at her team in appreciation of the hard work they’d done to put this together.

Bridget stalked into Sergei’s office, trying not to show him how furious she was for fear of it being seen as disrespectful. She had been set up and she knew it. Maybe it was an angry family member of one of the girls she’d sold off, or a betrayal within the Zhukov family. Maybe a rival family had stepped in to take her down. Maybe it had come from America, some W rival jealous of her success. Maybe it’s that bitch we got from Michigan. She always fancied herself a wolf in domme’s clothing.

Sergei was fair, but very tough. She knew that when her credit cards stopped working and she had to do things by herself. This scandal was someone else’s doing, but she couldn’t answer anything else. She had made too many enemies in her work to be sure.

But the moment that she opened the door, she was unable to figure out anything else. Crystal reflected rainbows of colors that twisted and turned and had her blind as soon as she came into the room. Two sapphire eyes, paler and more hypnotic than any vampire she had ever let take her to bed, bored into her mind. The polished metal of the wings bounced the light back and forth until it looked like the Falcon was flying toward her. Closer and closer it came, faster and faster, until she was right against it, completely mindless and completely subservient to it.

“Did you ever use illegal drugs?” it asked her. It had to be the Falcon; she could see and hear nothing else.

“I have never used illegal drugs,” Bridget droned out, her eyes almost black orbs as she stood before the statue.

Sergei cringed at the denial, but he dug deeper. “Have you ever used any detectable performance enhancers?”

“I have never used detectable performance enhancers. My only performance enhancer was Anton’s control.”

Sergei winced. He had his orders from higher up in the family, though. The guilt by association made her useless in the athletic community, and as cliched as it was, she really did know too much. He spoke, and his words came through the Falcon as Bridget stared into it. Its shine enveloped her. Names became useless, as did dreams, memories, thoughts—anything but the beautiful bird before her and what it wanted.

Even the simplest things faded away as she sagged to her knees, her gaze never breaking the Falcon’s. If it wanted her to, she would lie down and die, but it did not want that. It just needed a simple-minded, cocky princess, one who was happy to the fans, madly in love with its women, and simply the best player out there, versed in only two things: basketball and sex.

“Line up! We all know the trials Bridget is going through. So it is time for some relief for her as well as us. So she’ll be joining us for the Stars and Stripes drill,” the head coach said with a smile, and the Russians on the on the team laughed until they were red in the face. They were sick of their American pet, and every single one of them was glad she finally got what she deserved. As she walked in, wearing the trademark smile and with her empty eyes, everyone around her reveled in giving Bridget what they had wanted to for years. Even Katie, thinking that Bridget was just drunk and putting on a show, got into it, and was the one who got Bridget to strip off her bra. Then came the command and the response.

“Bridget, we hate to see you go, but you have been assigned to a new team. You will perform for this team as you would for us. Do you understand?”

“I am a member of the team. I am part of the team. I am property of the team. I will serve the team in any role assigned to me,” Bridget said, just like over a hundred women before her, helpless, mindless, hopeless.

“So she’s just another worm for the Falcon. For all her service, you couldn’t just extract the truth? You had to kill? You should have been kind and stopped her heart,” Olga said with steel in her eyes. She wore the shapeless gray rags that marked her off limits, inactive, and untouchable, there to raise the next generation in peace.

“It would have confirmed the lies. And you know that as easily as Bridget gave up control, she could control herself there. She could have lied under any trance and we would not know. Only the Falcon could extract the truth, and it did. I will release her from her contract. I have a buyer, and the fools in Yekaterinburg are stupid enough to take damaged goods. I will give you all her false face money if you stay, find me a new broker, and train Maria to take your place.”

“No. I am a mother, and I have a daughter. She just spoke for the first time. An empty word meant to do nothing but test her consciousness for the first time. Cute and beautiful at eighteen months. Devastating and tragic at eighteen years. I know Russia. I know it is kill or be killed. It does mean my heart approves of all of it. Maybe when I was young like Maria, loving that your teammate who crossed you over just a week ago is on her knees because you won her. But no more. Bridget was a good woman who fell in with the wrong people. And the wrong people were not us, but Anton and that blasphemy of Russia that he set up in America. Give me my right to raise the next generation in peace. You did not need to kill her. Whoever exposed her was after her, not us,” Olga said bitterly as she turned in her toolbox and headed toward the door.

Eagleton Released From Russian Squad, Stays To Defend Her Innocence the headline read as Elite 1 gathered for the after-action report.

“So they killed her, or the next best thing,” Brenna said sadly, looking at the picture with the telltale empty grin. “More humane to use a gun. Everyone deserves a proper burial.”

“They panicked. We did what we have to do. Our teams have fifteen kills worldwide, and Mindcrime has a good twenty arrests in the US. The family is dying. This was the real mission. Bridget was the mouse, and the elephant ran scared. Sergei Zhukov has days to live, either literally or figuratively. One of the largest crime families in the world is gone, and one less slaver is on this earth. That is our wealth and taste—anyone have any objections?” Claudia asked with an assassin’s coldness.

“Nope,” Cheryl, Brenna, and Gianna said.

“You shittin’ me, ma’am?” Rhonda said with a salute.

“Only one is that we didn’t pull the trigger,” Cynthia said with a smile.

“We have been ordered to show sympathy to the devil! The Zhukov family, or what’s left of it, has surrendered. Hundreds of new operatives will find new families, but until they do, they’re vulnerable, and we can still attack. Sergei is dead, as a rival family took the opportunity to dispose of him and claim his treasure. Rumor had it that he possessed a Maltese Falcon, and we should pray tonight that he didn’t. Mission accomplished. Dismissed! Two weeks home, two hours in the pub!” General Marion announced.

Claudia unbent and shed her military coldness to give her uncle a hug. Everyone slapped five and shut down their computers until the next mission. As everyone left, General Marion turned one of the computers back and indicated that Claudia should sit down next to him.

“You need to close the case. Here’s the e-mail. Universal surrender code—the call to show sympathy and taste is where we come in. It’s a priority channel; you can only access it if you know about it and can trance someone into giving it to you. It’s used to claim innocence, provide leads, or surrender. So can you certify that Olga Lyashenko is of proper rank to surrender?”

“Captain of the team for eight years,” Claudia said, remembering her background reading. “I guess that’s enough.

“Then read her statement of surrender,” General Marion said.

Claudia turned back to the screen and read the statement to herself.

Please show some Sympathy and some Taste.

I am Olga Olegnova Lyashenko, third in command of the Zhukov Family in the sports division, commander of the D-2 and D-3 squads and all sales of women thereof. I have invoked my Russian right to sanctuary to raise my family. I beg of you to end the killing. My teams are bankrupt, with no way to sell any of the women we have brought over. Public record will confirm this, if you choose to believe it. Sergei Zhukov is dead, shot by the Yagudayevs to steal his Falcon and other objects. You have no other reason to kill us except sport.

We are more the same than you like to believe, it turns out. We end for the sake of ending, and we forget what the means are, and therefore we cannot justify ourselves. Your exposure should have stopped with Bridget, but your continuance destroyed honest men and women. We are all ventriloquists with strings and dummies. Yours shoot and ours sparkle, but they are the same. I hope whoever did this will figure it out so that they can cut my arm while I make them act like a cow—and then we can drink afterward and realize that we can live together. Until then, I beg for your mercy.

“Do you have any remorse?” General Marion asked.

“She called me a fucking controller and thinks the Zhukovs are honest? Hell no,” Claudia seethed as she walked away.

General Marion looked at her with confusion and pity on his face, but held the door for her as she went to the bar to celebrate a successful mission.