20. A suspenseful afternoon

A gale of mirth erupted, the three stooges being all too glad to be done and successful.

“Let's count the sheets we got. I found one myself, Travis had put it behind the Saint Sebastian painting in the dorm; did you find one too, Fred?”

“Yes, it was in the DVD case of the picture we watched yesterday; but they stole it from me when they caught me. They had another one too. Have you searched their rucksacks yet?”

“Not thoroughly, we just grabbed a few of the needed supplies to restrain them.”

The bags were grabbed and investigated again, and Fred let out a successful “I found one!” He looked at the piece of paper he'd extracted from his friend's bag, and his smile disappeared. “This is not the one I found in the TV room.”

Ben felt awful at having allowed them to get the plan so easily. He'd been so happy to spot it behind a tapestry depicting a Biblical scene on the top landing, with merely a millimetre of paper sticking out.

“I'm positive they put mine in Cowboy's backpack when they took it. Maybe they hid them on themselves.”

Some patting went on to make sure it was not secured underneath their jerseys.

“Maybe they put it in their underwear?” Philip suggested.

“Knowing the disgusting habits of these filthy scoundrels, it wouldn't be much of a surprise,” Lewis sniggered as he went on checking whether the shorts contained the plans, which drew some protests from the prisoners.

“Mmmmblnndpfffvmt!”

“I doubt you're in a position to call me a “dirty pervert”, my cattle guarding blond friend. But I must say this is an interesting display of bravery, or should I say bravado? For if you don't have the plans here, it means you concealed them somewhere else, and we'll have to torture this hideout out of you.”

His face had assumed the most devious expression Lewis was capable of, but all of a sudden he turned into the mild benevolent little angel, the face he fooled teachers with when he didn't have his homework ready to be handed out and made the most extravagant excuses that they (almost) always bought.

“But we wouldn't want to inflict incomparable pain to our little band of thugs on an empty stomach, would we, hey, lads? Let's have lunch, it's noon already.”

The lunches were taken out of the rucksacks and sandwiches and crisps were drained down heartily, with taunts and rejoicing for the easy victory. Being done with what he had packed, Lewis grabbed Billy's backpack and removed the food it contained. He sniffed the sandwich.

“Chicken, tomatoes, pickles, and a hint of marmite. Some people find it gross, but I must confess I like it myself. I'd say the cheese is Stilton.” Billy was not exactly impressed by Lewis' olfactory examination, since they'd prepared their sandwiches at the same time and next to each other. But his contemptuous retort was lost in the wadding of the gag.

“Billy, my friend, I know you're a sensible boy. You're not brash as young Cowboy here, and you're someone who'd accept defeat if confronted to it. The unpleasant situation you and your friends are facing can stop very quickly, if you let us know where the plans are. Are you willing to talk?”

An energetic shaking of the head and some muffled insult were the reply.

“I'll take it you mean no.”

Billy nodded, never letting his eyes leave Lewis' intent stare. His captor grabbed his chin between his thumb and index finger.

“That's too bad, for how would one want to eat with a gag in his mouth?” He took a bite, then turned to his henchmen, “If you're still hungry, soldiers, there's more food to be eaten. Let the spoils go to the victors!”

The three captives stoically took in the fact that they would have no lunch.

“No protest? No arguing? No funny and entertainingly annoyed grunts? The losers are playing it hero-style, lads!”

There was some laughter, followed by the chewing noises and appreciative comments of the three boys leisurely enjoying every bite of their captured enemies' lunches.

The last crumb of food having eventually been swallowed, Lewis went on designing tactics for the afternoon.

“We have two of the five pieces, and our sneaky opponents hid two others. This means there's one final plan to be found. So, what should we start with? Finding the remaining plan or extorting the location of those that they managed to put away?”

“Actually,” Philip said, “if we keep the other team captive until dusk, we win anyway.”

“Yes,” Fred added with a meaningful grin towards Ben, “there are lots of fun things we could do to our prisoners until then...”

“Indeed, my friends, indeed, but we cannot satisfy ourselves with a half-win. I'd say that crossing the threshold to Travis' office with the five sheets AND three prisoners in tow would be the ultimate achievement. And the sooner, the better.” He paused, taking a concerned expression. “Of course, when a cigar and a swig of brandy cannot follow a meal, a substitute can be obtained by having a pleasant session of torture. And who knows, maybe we'll even get our tough customers to talk a little. Don't we need to loosen up a bit after such an eventful morning, crowned by such a pleasant outcome? Let's get the scumbags ready.”

They took care of Keith and Billy, leaving Ben on his chair for the time being. The two friends ended up tied up back to back, sitting over a small stool. Their elbows got intertwined, with their hands bound in front of them. More rope held them at the shoulders, and one long piece of rope was looped around Billy's wrists, taken above their shoulders, tied around Keith's wrists, down between his thighs and back up between Billy's to be wrapped again around his wrists. The two threads were then used to link the rope to the one at their shoulders so it could not slip easily. Lewis frowned upon Philip kneeling down to tie their ankles together.

“Huh, how are we going to tickle their feet if they're bound like this at the ankles?”

“Excuse me, but you had talked about torture, not tickle torture, so let me finish this and I'll show you.”

It was unpleasant having a subordinate not following guidelines; at the same time, a good subordinate could be taking welcome initiatives also. Once their ankles were tied together, Philip finished his job by wrapping ropes high on the thighs, and threading them underneath the seat to prevent Keith and Billy from standing. He then blindfolded them.

“My brothers are kind of sadistic, so I've had to learn to endure pain. I'd say Billy's got the information we need; Billy, last chance, are you willing to tell us where you hid the plans?”

A head shaking let him know it wasn't the case. Billy wondered what was about to happen. Lewis, to show he was involved, repeated the question. He had seen where this was heading, with Philip moving towards Keith.

“He's being stubborn, Phil, you should get started on Cowboy.”

Philip grabbed a wick of thin hair at the temple and pulled on it, eliciting a grunt. He then pulled slightly harder, which got Keith to twitch a bit, as a low moan filled the room. Billy could feel the vibrations course through his body, and he felt awful. What the heck were they doing to Cowboy?

Lewis moved closer, within reach of Keith's other temple. He grabbed the hair and yanked it really hard for a split second. The muffled scream came more from surprise than from pain, but Billy now felt all queasy, wondering whether the game was not going totally wrong.

“Going to let Cowboy suffer, Billy? We're only at level one, and if we get to ten, well, he might faint for good...”

Keith shook his head no, so his hair brushed against Billy's who understood the message, and also shook his head accordingly. They'd stand whatever evil tortures would be performed on them.

Lewis didn't feel too good as they kept on trying to get their blond hostage to grunt and squirm for another ten minutes, which put Billy in a dilemma. He’d rather spill the beans and have the opponents win than having Cowboy suffer. To Lewis also it was clear: taunting a bound and gagged captive was fun; inflicting pain was a whole different matter.

“Maybe you should stop for a while, Phil, we're not supposed to draw blood, and this most interesting ancient Asian technique you're using will eventually get us to this most unpleasant point.”

Philip looked puzzled: he was just using the technique his brothers used to get him to tell them where he'd hidden their shoes overnight. That usually was the last way they used. Confessing too early on induced being called a wimp for days on end afterwards.

“Should we move on to Ben?” Fred asked eagerly.

Lewis knew that Fred had some uncanny interest in “taking care” of Ben, and keeping the troops' morale high was paramount to the success of the mission.

“Yes. You guys may handle the little weasel, I'll seek the remaining plan, and I bet that sweet and brave Billy must have made a lousy job at hiding the papers, so I'll be back with all three missing sheets in a jiffy.”

Philip didn’t like the idea of having his new friend away from him already: “I'll come with you Lewis. We'll be more efficient, and Fred can take care of the prisoners by himself, since we've tied them up so well.”

Billy was glad to hear Lewis accepting and Fred approving; having the unsuspected devious torturer move away from poor Cowboy was a temporary relief, and it got the prospect of losing to disappear momentarily. He heard the door closing behind the two villains. Fred didn't waste time into turning to Ben. The snide comments and the various noises allowed Keith and Billy to understand Ben was being released from his chair, only to be brought to a nearby table. All this time, they twitched a bit, feeling the ropes slacken. It had been an utterly stupid move from Lewis not to use duct tape as previously, and his leaving so fast certainly amounted to a mistake.

Knowing knots of the rope linking their bound hands were somewhere around Keith's shoulders, Billy lowered his hands as much as he could. He didn't dare grunt, in case Fred would hear them, for it seemed he was quite busy with Ben. But he knew Cowboy would get the clue, and felt the vibrations through the rope emitted by fingers rubbing and searching the rope. Then it stopped, but Billy faintly heard the sound of a knot being unfastened. Then the whole rope loosened. The knot was undone. Twitching a bit, the rope just below their shoulders slipped upwards and soon no longer held anything.

They both lowered their blindfolds ever so cautiously, so they could peek at what was going on. By now, Fred his back to them, was engrossed into preparing Ben for a “masterly spanking” by tying him face down to the table's length, feet tied to the table's, butt sticking up, and repeating the various ideas his captive had proffered in the morning, pointing out how much fun it was to have the tables turned around on his friend.

Keith was first to get his hands out of ropes; he slowly entangled his arms from Billy's and bent down to release the rope linking their ankles. His roped legs didn't prevent him to jump to his feet, and a single leap got him behind Fred, and in possession of the treasured scarf. There was a soft “Damn!” uttered, and Fred fell forward, lying down over the bound Ben. Billy had joined Keith, hands and feet still bound, but he grabbed Fred's wrists so Keith could bind them. They moved on to gagging him with the scarf they'd grabbed. Following the adrenalin rush caused by their escape, they had not counted up to thirty, but it was surprising they had time to tape his mouth and tie his ankles and elbows before he “woke up”. He must have counted to thirty really slow.

“Mmmrmmmmpt!” Keith said, winking at Billy, who had had the same “Get a room you two!” comment come to mind. They both chuckled in their thick gags. Keith untied Billy's hands, and they peeled off the tape, spitting out the soggy wads with a sigh of relief.

“Damn, this was some serious gagging!” Keith said. “Let's get Ben free and scram.”

Ben looked only half-happy of having been saved from what was turning into a fabled masterly spanking, nevertheless the idea of getting some payback on Lewis and friends cheered him up. After having stuffed the tangled ropes and all of the gear lying around in the rucksacks, they framed Fred and dragged him outside the room, once Keith had stuck his head out to be certain the treasure hunters were not around.

“Where should we go?” he asked.

“Follow me,” Billy replied, walking only two doors away. He turned towards the trio, and looked at them. He then stuck his hand inside his shorts and fumbled around.

“Hey, you're not going to flash in front of everybody?” a concerned Keith asked.

“Nah,” Billy said as he triumphantly withdrew his hand, holding a key.

“Tah-dah! Lewis's pass, the one that allowed him to imprison us last night in the storage room. Actually, I'm glad he didn't realize I'd pinched it after we broke free.”

“You went into our room!?” Ben said, “If he’d found out, he'd have really tortured you guys, then.”

“Let's get in,” Billy ordered, pointing to the prisoner. There was a short corridor, and another thickly matted door that wasn't locked. Then they entered a meeting room meant to host twenty people at the most.

“We’re safe here, guys, as you need the key to open the latch on the door outside. Plus even if Fred squealed like a stuck pig he most likely wouldn’t be heard.”

Fred frowned and shivered, wondering what would happen with three enemies and no hope for rescue. Billy chuckled.

“I see fear in your eyes, Fred,” Keith took over, “but I bet that Billy has got other plans in mind than us having our way with you.”

“Really?” enquired a slightly disappointed Ben.

“At least at the moment,” the pixyish blond grinned.

“I think we're all as hell-bent on having Lewis lose, even more than winning ourselves, but of course we'll win! I think I might have some idea of where to look for the last plan, if our elite platoon hasn't found it yet. But it's been only half an hour, and if they seek it at random, they might not find it in time anyway. Just one thing, Ben, where did you find your piece of the plans?”

“Behind the tapestry at the top of the stairs in the west wing.”

Billy beamed as he turned to Keith.

“And what's on this tapestry, Cowboy?”

It all clicked in Keith's mind.

“A poor reproduction of a Caravaggio painting depicting a scene from the Bible! I think I see a pattern.”

“Exactly. We'll go together, so we'd better tie and tape down our friend Fred so he's not tempted into following us. What do you think of this?” he asked, pointing at a seven-foot high coat rack in the corner.

“Perfect, let's get to work...”

They were really getting good at teamwork, for they made a really good job trussing up the poor Fred to the thin metal pole, first with ropes, then reinforcing the mesh of rope with tape in strategic places. Keith then untied the scarf holding the tape and the muffling wad in, and removed the gag.

“No need to suffocate you.”

“Thanks,” a truly grateful Fred admitted.

“You're welcome, but you still need ‘a makeshift gag, to remind a nice fellow that we caught him and that he has to abide to our rules’, is this how your so-called leader said last night? Ben, will you?”

Ben approached with a wide rectangle of glimmering white surgical tape, that he smoothed lengthily over his friend's lower face.

“OK, people, we're ready to kick some butt, and having a superiority in numbers, muscles and brains, this will be a cinch!” Keith roared.

“Yes, we'll win, but let's not underestimate our opponents, Cowboy, you see where it lead Lewis,” Billy pondered.

They went out, leaving Fred behind, who squirmed a bit before he understood he'd better wait to be freed by whomever anyway.

They heard Lewis and Philip before they saw them.

“Phil, Phil, Phil, don't be daft. It's a piece of paper, so why would Travis hide it in a flush tank?”

“He said we were looking for the plans of a water engine, and a flush tank is full of water, so I thought...”

“Please, just leave the thinking to me, my friend.”

Keith and Billy smiled, as Ben rolled his eyes.

Lewis went on: “I found a plan behind a painting, so the others should be behind paintings, shouldn't they? I'll finish the entrance hall, so go investigate the south wing gallery.”

Uh oh, the little trio thought. This was where they were standing, so Philip would be heading their way. They didn't need to utter a word, though, as Ben crouched behind a large wooden chest, and Keith and Billy found shelter behind the long hanging curtains opposite of each other. The dim squeak of sneakers over the tiles came closer. Keith felt the motion of the curtain moving as Philip passed him, totally unaware of the threat. The first hint he got from the presence of a foe was the scarf being pulled away, a split second before a hand was clamped over his mouth. Then three pairs of hands worked on quickly, and as he'd been rendered helpless and mute, at least for a solid ten minutes, the three assailants left him hogtied on the cold floor.

Keith softly opened the door to the first floor bathroom, and pulled six paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink. He handed two to each of his allies, who looked at him quizzically. He lay the ones he had on the floor and stepped on them; he started gliding towards the corner, without making the least noise. Impressed by the clever trick, Ben and Billy followed him. Peeking behind the corner, Keith got a full view of the entrance hall. Lewis was at the very end, which was a solid hundred feet away. He turned to his friends and signed and mouthed what he'd seen. Then he saw Billy concentrating, taking his breath and...

“Lewis, I found it!”

Billy's impersonation of Philip's voice wasn't as good as the one Philip himself had made of Keith's. But with the hall reverberating, and the confidence Lewis had in having his opponents out of the way, it worked nonetheless.

Lewis turned on his heel and rushed towards the south wing. As he turned into the gallery, he heard some mumbling, and saw three black and yellow figures standing ten feet away. He stopped as he could, the rubber of his sneakers screeching over the tile, and in a rather agile motion spun around to resume his running towards where he came from. Keith had been the quickest to realize Lewis had spotted them, and had burst out into a martial “Ah Yah!” as he went into chase mode.

Halfway through the hall, as they reached the plush wool carpet that ornated the hall, he went for the Rugby Tackle. Having gained speed over his target, and being almost at his side, he dove, his arms wide open, aiming for the waist. From there, letting himself fall to the floor, he slid his arms along Lewis’ legs, solidly grabbing the scarf at the same time. Lewis put his hands in front to break his fall, as he was cut in his run. He had barely touched the floor, though, that he twisted and squirmed to stand up again. Keith was a bit dazed by the speedy action, but he hung with both hands on to the scarf, that weirdly pulled ahead. Then Lewis managed to stand up and run.

“Lewis!” Billy bellowed, “You're out, Cowboy got your scarf.” Lewis froze, and turned around. Keith was standing up, waving his trophy high in the air. Here was the scarf, at the end of which a pair of satiny shorts glimmered. Lewis looked at the other team ruefully; not only had he been caught, but he was standing in just his underwear.

The two prisoners were tightly secured, so the Microtough team marched them upstairs to join Fred. Lewis had been hobbled at knees and ankles, some foul play being possible. Billy bawled Lewis out on cheating, while Keith was still toying around with the shorts, by tugging on the scarf which was sewn to the shorts waistline. Using it like a yoyo, he managed to have the shorts taking a life of their own, like a puppet. He was even making them talk.

“We're Lewis shorts, and we have to stand his stinky self, but we make friends with his underwear, which is always the finest, he wouldn’t wear the regulatory Glidor ones, no, he’s too good for them! We're glad Lewis's not too well endowed, so our front seam doesn't risk to be torn off...”

Ben laughed out loud, as Lewis himself was mortified. He had victory at hand, and now, unless Fred had escaped and managed to trick three people at a time, he had lost. And his fine silk briefs had been made fun of, because of a all so subtle hint of trim satin lacing, which he had not asked for, but that's how these were made. And Keith had not failed to call him a sissy. And kept making fun of his manhood. And his little adjustment with the rules had been discovered. So he was, to say the least, quite miffed.

As they reached the corridor to the room where Fred was kept, Billy stopped. He took the key he'd now put away in his back pocket and opened a closet. He took two pieces of paper out.

“The odds for finding them were nonexistent, Lewis. Not without YOUR key.”

“Mmmmpllmtrghmmph!” Lewis roared, now very mad at Billy.

“Cheating? Not that I know of, the rules were ‘any door that's unlocked’, and I just unlocked it. And if you want, you may complain to Travis later on that the pass you own was filched from you. Unless, of course, you're not supposed to have it in the first place....”

Lewis blushed under the heavy gag. Travis would not be happy at all were he to learn that some students owned keys of the building, especially passes. He nodded.

“So, this means you're not going to make a fuss of this little inconvenience?”

Lewis nodded again. Billy playfully patted his head.

“Good boy. Glad to see we can get some fair-play through your head.”

Sadly enough for Lewis, Fred was exactly in the state he'd been left in. While Ben and Keith released him from the coat rack so he'd join his friends, Billy searched the rucksacks.

“So we've got four of the plans. And I know where the fifth one is!”

“Do you really?” Ben asked incredulously.

“Think about it: Fred found one in the case of War of the Buttons; Cowboy got one inside the Greek vase in the entrance hall. What’s on the vase, Cowboy?”

“Ulysses tied to the boat’s mast so he doesn’t get drowned by the mermaids?” Keith smiled, proud both of Billy and of having understood earlier on what he meant. “Ben, what’s on the tapestry, the copy of the Caravaggio’s?”

Ben racked his brains for a second, picturing in his mind art that was so familiar that he barely noticed it.

“Oh, this is this scary picture with Abraham about to slay Isaac…”

“And our very own Lewis found his behind the Saint Sebastian painting upstairs in the dorm. I guess there’s some pattern in Travis’ choice for hideouts…”

Lewis was now quietly fumbling at being outsmarted by Mr Perfect. Indeed the plans were not hidden at random, and he knew what Billy was about to reveal.

“What other piece of art featuring restraints is there in the building?”

“The Prometheus poster where he’s chained to a rock, in the Greek class!” Ben yelped.

“Billy, I’m glad to be your friend,” Keith simply acknowledged.

So the little troop set off for another journey through the House, Lewis followed by Philip and Fred, pieces of rope linking the coils wrapped below their shoulders. Keith was leading the “chain gang”, pulling Lewis behind, and having more puppeteer fun by bringing his shorts to life, and having them use words such as “bombastic”, “minuscule” or “fraudulent”, which brought lots of good-hearted laughter from Ben and Billy who followed. Even Lewis, who’d never admitted it of course, thought it was wittier than expected from Cowboy; to save face he cursed in response, which only triggered Keith into finding more outrageous remarks.

Of course, Billy was right: the fifth piece of the plans was in the Greek class that was not locked, another clue from Travis that had been overlooked by Lewis. Ben unstuck it from behind the frame that held a copy of the Gustave Moreau’s interpretation of the myth, with Prometheus waiting for his liver to be eaten out.

“Thinking of it, this is a bit creepy,” he said as he hung the frame back in the light of a late autumn afternoon sun. He turned to the window, gazing at the big red disk that was still far above the horizon. “Talking of creepy, should we have some fun with them,” he pointed to the three captives, “until dusk? I’d say we’ve got a full hour at least.”

“That’s quite tempting, especially for the one who tortured Cowboy,” Billy said casting a nasty look towards Philip.

“No worries, Bee, I reacted more from surprise than from pain. I think we should rather validate our win by going to see Travis. But I’d like to offer them a deal.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him intently, wondering what devious offer would be made.

“I agree, lads, they put us through some really rough stuff, and we have barely had them captured for half an hour.”

Fred grunted.

“Yeah, except you, Fred, but if you’re the sorest loser of the bunch, you can’t really complain.”

Ben frowned; Keith caught his eye and winked, unseen from the others, to let know he was kidding.

“So I think we should go upstairs so Travis declares us the winners, and let him know that the Commander Electric consultants pay a forfeit by being our captives until this evening’s meal. By the way, we have to decide whether we rat on little cheater Lewis about his tricked shorts and scarf.”

He stepped in front of Lewis and locked his eyes into his.

“Should we?”

Lewis timidly shook his head no.

“We’ve got a problem, then; how are we ever going to explain you lost your shorts? We can’t put them back on with the scarf hanging.”

Billy knew Keith was having his revenge, because it would have taken three seconds to remove the sewn scarf. But it was Ben who picked up on the idea that was building up.

“Let’s remove Fred’s and Phil’s shorts. We’ll claim they are trophies, just like in the French picture!”

“Nice thinking Ben, I’dn’have thought of this myself,” Keith said, feigning surprise. He turned back to Lewis.

“Is this a fair deal?”

Well, yes, it was a fair deal, according to Lewis. It had to be a bit after four, and dinner was at five thirty. Plus, he had already paraded in his briefs, so a little company would lessen the humiliation. He nodded.

“How do you strike a deal with a bound and gagged guy? You can’t shake hands, he can’t spit on the floor, he can’t promise anything… I know!”

He extended his hand one foot from Lewis face at chest level.

“What the French call the ‘baisemain’. Just kiss my hand please.”

Lewis stared at him wide-eyed, but as the stare kept on, he eventually complied, bowing to Keith. Ben rushed into having Fred promise in this highly entertaining way, and so Billy collected Philip’s oath.

They stepped triumphantly into Travis’ office. The prefect smiled as he lifted his eyes from his anatomy books, and saw the three winners framing a procession of keenly restrained players. In briefs. Ben solemnly advanced to the desk and handed out the plans.

“ Mission accomplished, Travis. Though our competitors didn’t make it easy for us. As they were rather feisty, we had to restrain them a bit. One question the team had: what about a reward?”

“Knowing you saved the world isn't reward enough?”

“Oh yes, it makes us quite proud, but then it’s more like a favour then. We have a couple issues to settle with Commander Electric.”

“So?”

“So if we could have them at our disposal until mealtime, as agreed with them, it would be nice.”

“I guess the spoils go to the victors, in a way,” Travis said, “and it seems you’ve already gotten their assent, so I have no reason to oppose.” The fact he repeated Lewis’ own phrase was a source of much mirth for Keith and Billy.

“By the way, I had a question about mealtime,” Keith said. “Isn’t it the custom in Saint Sebastian that on Saturdays, the meal is a late supper rather than dinner?”

Travis kept a straight face and played along.

“Yes, of course. Between nine thirty and midnight, you choose your time. I had also planned a late tea, so you may proceed to the prefects’ room.”

They all went, and Travis distinctly saw the merriment in the winning team’s eyes, and the annoyance in the losing one’s; plus the wide unbelieving stares of those who’d got tricked by witty, wicked rivals.

© Copyright Bondwriter 2008

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