Calypso smiled broadly and nodded.
"I am prepared to pay you one hundred million dollars for that map, Mr. Calypso," Viktor declared.
An audible gasp ran through the crowd at the mention of the large amount of money.
Calypso laughed again, this time louder. "I don't want your money, Mr.
Robotov," Calypso said.
"Two hundred million in real silver," Viktor said quickly. He enjoyed the bargaining.
Calypso shook his head. "No, not money," he replied.
"Three hundred million dollars…"
"Please!" Calypso said, drunkenly looking for his cocaine cocktail. "I have enough money."
"Then what do you want, Mr. Calypso?" Viktor asked, showing some authentic curiosity.
Calypso smiled and reached inside his pocket. He drew something out and slowly unfolded it. It was the photograph of Viktor and Dominique, the same one found all over the Badlands. He handed the photo to Viktor, then set his eyes on Dominique.
"This, sir," Calypso said lecherously. "This is what I want."
The partygoers were on the verge of shock by this time. It took a few seconds to sink in that Calypso had turned down $300 million in real silver.
Viktor looked at Dominique. Her eyes had been cast down since they had entered the party. She had fulfilled her role nicely over the past several years, he thought. A student of mass hypnotism and propaganda, Viktor knew that Dominique's mysterious sexual allure would serve to increase his control over the vast Circle Army.
Carefully staged photographs, released only sporadically at first, were the vehicle used to introduce her to the troops, while their field commanders were under strict orders not to let them near anything even resembling a woman.
Thus, Dominque became the pin-up girl for this war — an X-rated queen in a land that hadn't seen a nudie magazine in more than five years. It was that "something about her" that got to them all. She became New Order America's fantasy girl, at least in the Circle lands east of the Mississippi. "People will fight for a king," Viktor was fond of saying. "But they will die for a queen." And that she was Hunter's love made it all the more appealing to Viktor.
Dominique had been his prisoner since the day two of his agents kidnapped her right after she stepped off the plane in Montreal a few years earlier. Hunter had put her on that flight shortly before the Mid-Aks put Hunter's former employers — the Northeast Zone Patrol — out of business. Some way — she never found out exactly how — Viktor knew of her close relationship with Hunter. His agents knocked her out with a drug, then she was shipped to some unknown country — possibly Switzerland — where she was held against her will in a huge chalet. She was confined to a suite of rooms, though she never wanted for anything. Except her freedom.
Viktor would sometimes come in the middle of the night and take photographs of her, frequently drugging her food beforehand. Sometimes, he'd take her. She resisted at first. But he had convinced her of one thing which made her give up hope. Hunter was dead, he told her, over and over. Killed during the Battle for Football City. Viktor even went through the trouble of showing her photographs of a crashed F-16, the bloody remnants of the pilot clearly visible through the wreckage. She didn't want to believe him at first, but he broke her down. And although she never really accepted in her heart that the man she loved was really dead, she frequently questioned whether it was true.
And that's all Viktor needed.
"But, Mr. Calypso!" Viktor said. "This is my queen…"
Calypso took Dominique's hand and kissed it. "Yes, he said. "And this is what 1 want."
Viktor laughed. He owned her. He could give her away.
"Granted." he said.
Another gasp ran through.,the captivated crowd. Even the air pirates — slugs who worked hard at maintaining their reputation — were fascinated at the ritual of high shelf white slavery.
Calypso held up his hand. "Wait, Mr. Robotov," he said. "You have only heard half my offer."
Viktor looked at him curiously. "I have given her to you, Mr. Calypso. What more could you want?"
Calypso leered at Dominique. The cocaine had his hormones boiling. She looked so innocent, standing there, shy, like a schoolgirl, yet dressed in a gown so low, he imagined he could see the outline of her nipples. Her long blond hair was curled so seductively. She reminded him so much of Bridget Bardot.
A soft little sex kitten, yet really a mature young woman. This is what Calypso knew he needed.
"I want her," Calypso said. "Here. Now." With that, he clapped his hands. Some one of his aides, off in another room unseen, pushed a button and two fur-lined chains slowly descended from the ceiling. The room doubled as Calypso's sexual playground. For the first time, Dominique looked up. She felt a shiver go through her. Did the man really want to chain her up and force love on her? In front of the crowd?
"Wait!" Viktor said, bringing a quick end to the hushed conversation that had rippled through the guests. "My queen is one thing. To expose her is another…" He bit his lip in thought, then said: "What else do you have to offer, Mr. Calypso?"
The man had not taken his lusting eyes off Dominique. "Name it, Mr. Robotov.
It's yours. Jewels. Gold." Calypso started to undo his toga's belt.
Viktor countered. "I have jewels, Mr. Calypso. And I have gold. I want something of value."
Two words popped into Calypso's head. "The black box," he said, smiling at the black uniformed, goateed man. "It belonged to the U.S. Air Force before the war. God knows what it does. But I'm sure you — or your allies — would want to disassemble it. Study it, perhaps." With that, the big man clapped his hands and a moment later, another aide appeared, carrying the black box.
The Russian officers looked on enviously as Viktor took the box and examined it. He was smart enough to know it was more valuable than all his money. Or his queen.
He looked at Calypso, then at Dominique. He ran his hand through her blond hair and laughed.
"Take her…" he said finally. "Do what you want with her."
Chapter Twenty-five
It took Calypso's men just a minute to secure Dominique to the fur-covered chains. The drug-induced guests cheered as she hung helplessly, her arms stretched out, her feet barely touching the ground. Calypso undid his tunic to reveal his largish plump body, grossly clad now only in briefs. Once Dominique was secured, he ripped off the front of her dress, exposing her pert breasts to the crowd. She gasped and moaned: "No… please. No." But her pleas only brought laughs and jeers to the crowd. Even the paranoid Russians seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.
Viktor laughed as Calypso stepped up and roughly fondled Dominique's beautiful body. He ran his hands down her breasts to her exposed soft stomach, then down one of her black-stockinged legs. He tried to kiss her, but she spit at him, much to the crowd's delight. He then slapped her cruelly and removed his briefs to reveal a stubby erection.
"I am the king of New York City!" he proclaimed, drunk and drooling. "What I want… I get!'
With that, he charged forward and attempted to enter her.
One of the Russian officers saw it first. A flame, outside one of the huge plate glass windows, clearly reflecting against the night sky. It was getting closer — moving very fast…
"What the fuck is… "he began to say in Russian. But before the words came out, he had his answer.
There was a mighty crash, ear-splitting with the sound of exploding glass, as one of the huge windows near where Dominique was about to be raped exploded inward. The glass, shattering into pebble sized shards, flew all over the room like a million diamonds, reflected in a ball of flame.
Behind the smoke and the shower of the glass was the minijet — with Hunter behind the controls.