Renard had gained the unwanted nickname ‘the Fox’ after a particularly successful espionage operation that he had carried out in Iran. He was recognised as having a knack for stealth and secrecy. He had the ability to infiltrate the most impenetrable places, perform all manner of covert activities or violence and leave without a trace. It wasn’t long before he was on the American FBI’s most wanted list of worldwide terrorists and anarchists. He was arrested only once, in Korea, and was extradited to Russia. That was where he had met the psychiatrist who had told him he had a problem with women.
Renard’s first sexual experience didn’t occur until he was eighteen years old, which was late by most standards. It was not a pleasant experience. The prostitute taunted him, made fun of his thinning hair, and enjoyed humiliating him when he was unable to perform.
The second experience was a rape. It was a crime that, fortunately for him, went unsolved. It was in Warsaw, and Renard had followed a young girl home from a bakery, forced her into an alley, and viciously had his way with her.
It had left him completely unsatisfied.
The third experience convinced him that he just couldn’t hit it off with women, and he had to accept it. She was a fellow mercenary, ten years older than he was, a tough, idealistic Communist who had an ugly, shrapnel scar across her face. Otherwise not unattractive, the woman seemed to take a shine to him. She managed to seduce him, but the lovemaking was awkward and self-conscious. It ended with a quarrel and he killed her.
From then on, Renard tried to ignore women as sexual beings, but he found that he desired them more than ever. He would stare at photos of supermodels and become attached to glamorous movie stars. He fantasised about some day having a beautiful woman in his control.
When he discovered that Sir Robert King, the wealthy oil tycoon, had a daughter ... he knew he could fulfill that fantasy.
He first saw her in a British financial magazine. It was an article about King Industries and how Elektra was following in her father’s footsteps. In the photo, she was wearing a business suit, but with a short skirt, and was standing in the middle of a group of workmen. Her confidence and authority was easily perceptible. He fell in love with her at first sight.
Further investigation into Sir Robert King revealed that he might be a worthwhile target for ransom. Renard hired four stooges to help him, and they moved into an abandoned cottage in Dorset to carry out their plan to extort five million dollars from the tycoon.
But Renard had an ulterior motive. He wanted to meet Elektra King and see her in the flesh, so to speak. He wanted to touch her skin, smell her hair . . . taste her mouth.
He watched her as she came and went from the King
Industries office in London. She was then living in a small flat in the Mayfair area and it didn’t take long to memorise her daily routine, which rarely changed. Renard and his men abducted her in broad daylight one morning as she left her flat.
They drove to Dorset with her kicking and struggling in the back of a van. He had to hit her a few times, but she finally settled down. By the time they had locked her in the cold, damp room in the cottage, she was frightened and vulnerable. And oh, so beautiful . . .
He attempted to talk to her during the first couple of days. She refused to speak. Once she spat at him. He slapped her and left the room
The first ransom demand went out on the second day of her captivity. Sir Robert’s response was that he needed more time. When Elektra heard that, she was shocked
‘More time?’ she asked. 'For what? He has the money!’ From then on, her attitude had changed. When food was brought to her, she would request that Renard himself bring it. Sometimes she asked that he sit and talk with her while she ate. She no longer seemed afraid of him.
Renard enjoyed watching her and listening to her, so he didn’t mind. He knew that he was failing for his captive, but he was careful not to let it show. He now understood that Elektra could see right through him and knew which buttons to push.
She was the most intelligent woman he had ever met. After seven days of captivity, word was received that Sir Robert ‘still needed more time’ to pay the ransom. It was obvious that he was stalling. A source on the street had told Renard that Sir Robert had contacted MI6 for help in the matter. When Elektra heard this, she became furious.
‘Am I not worth a measly five million dollars? That amount of money is nothing to him!’
That night, something extraordinary happened, and he would never forget it as long as he lived.
Elektra asked for him and specifically requested that he bring a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne. When he entered her room, she was beneath the sheets of the bed and was wearing absolutely nothing.
Slowly and sensuously, Elektra King seduced Renard. At first he was apprehensive and nervous, terribly afraid that he would have yet another bad experience. Elektra alleviated his fears. She was no innocent. She was extremely skilled in the pleasures of the flesh.
The one thing she did that got him to relax was using the ice. She had made him watch her as she took a frozen sliver and rubbed it all over her body, letting the water dribble over her smooth, soft skin. She used it to arouse herself, make her nipples hard, and stimulate her senses. Renard was hypnotised by her act, and he found himself so tantalised that for the first time in his life he was able to have normal sexual relations with a woman.
From then on, he was the slave and she was the master. He made no bones about it. He pledged his devotion and servitude to her, and promised to do anything her heart desired.
That was when she made him a business proposition.
‘How would you like to kill my father?’ she had asked.
She explained that she wanted King Industries for herself so that she could reclaim her mother’s oil. She had grand ideas to create a worldwide oil monopoly.
Renard had thought about it for a couple of days. In the interim, Elektra would skillfully outline her plans for him, how he would fit in to her life, and how they would be lovers.
She discussed with him the possibility of a ‘new world order’ in which they were the masters. To accomplish that. Istanbul and the Bosphorus would have to be destroyed. This would close off the existing oil pipelines to the West, leaving the King Industries source as the only one. She would be the most powerful woman on earth.
Elektra offered Renard the chance to be her right-hand man if he helped her devise a way to do it.
The first step was to stage her escape. After three weeks of captivity, Elektra thought the most believable scenario would be that she had got lucky and overcome the guards. She was not afraid to say that she used her body to seduce a guard, kick him in the groin, and then take his gun. Renard would conveniently be away at the time, thereby allowing him to live to see another day. In fact, it was Renard who killed his own men - he was that much under her spell. He would have done anything she asked.
They had been fairly useless henchmen anyway.
Elektra had shown great courage when it came time to make it look as if she had been beaten. She forced him to hit her three times in the face, bloodying her nose and giving her a black eye.
‘There have to be signs of torture, Renard,’ she had told him. ‘Otherwise no one will believe me. It would have been too easy.'
She held out a pair of wire cutters and ordered him to cut her ear. Renard refused to hurt her again.
‘Come on, you do this kind of thing to other people all the time,' she taunted, but still he shunned the notion.
‘I cannot harm one hair on your head,’ he told her. The woman enraptured him, and he didn’t mind admitting it. There were times when he wanted to run in the streets of London and shout out that he was in love. He wanted to show his old schoolmates that he, too, could have a lover. If only his stupid mother and sisters could see him now . . .