The Dorvak Reckoning 3
Comrade Rukiya, the former Aisha Washington, straddled the longboard working hard to both keep afloat and the water proof camera focused on the Breckinridge Estate. She had taken nearly an entire roll of pictures. While the rolling surf added a good deal of difficulty to her photography, you couldn’t beat the view of the property.
She paddled to shore. Once there, she turned and pretended to take pictures of her two new surfer friends.
Rukiya had just finished fastening her board to the top of her car when Toph and Kip breathlessly ran up, leaving their boards on the sand. Kip won the race.
“Hey....where are you going.....trust me.....the wind’s picking up. There’s some bodacious sets coming. It’ll be a short lull”
Toph arrived at the car as Kip spoke and nodded his agreement. Both young men struggled not to stare at her fine body. She wore a white bikini that contrasted nicely with her dark skin.
Rukiya’s face had been utterly blank, but as she turned she had a brilliant smile that highlighted her high cheek bones.
”It’s all groovy, Babies.....I got primo shots of both of you. One shot with you both is so tubular, it might even make the cover!”
Both surfers looked overjoyed. Then Toph spoke, his face and voice earnest.
”We just want to say that we think it’s totally righteous to see a foxy momma like you out here, shooting the curls and working for ‘Surfer Today’ magazine.”
Kip nodded his head and made the closed fist Black Power salute.
“Right on.”
Rukiya made her face look touched.
”I can’t tell you how much that means. It’s hard enough out here being a Sister and all. You two are so rad...I could eat you both up.” She hugged Toph, and kissed him with a little bit of tongue. She then did the same to Kip. She pointedly looked down and saw their bathing shorts looked like circus tents. Now she just needed to get them behind a sand dune to kill them. She’d do it with her bare hands. But first, she looked around, then noticed they were being watched. A fat man stood over on the Breckinridge pool deck. He was pointedly staring at the three of them through binoculars. A quick change in plans was in order. She grabbed the camera.
”Tell you what, dudes, let’s do one out of the water so the readers can see how cute you two are“. She maneuvered them into position. They didn’t know enough to ask why she had a telescopic lens still on the camera. Soon, she had several pictures of the fat man. That done, she blew them a kiss and slowly licked her lips. “You two are just so scrumptious.....I’d like to eat you both up.”
The surfers were speechless as she got into the red Corvette.
Kip recovered, and knocked on her window. She opened it.
”Say, our compadre Kerry is hosting a bash tonight...there’ll be kegs and.....lots of primo ganja.”
Rukiya pretended to consider it. “I wouldn’t want to be a drag.....me being a Benny and all.”
Toph quickly added: “Around here, if you’re with us, you’re a local. Besides, Kerry’ll be glad to have you. Bettys like you have gotten a little scarce since that place turned looney bin.” He looked over at the Breckinridge property.
”We’ll see. I got a grody amount of developing to do if I’m going to make my two new boyfriends famous.” She started the car.
”Well, keep it mind. It’s going to be a far out scene.” There was pleading in Kip’s voice.
”I will” she lied. “Shaka, dudes.” Then, she drove off. Then Kip suddenly slapped his forehead.
”Shit. We’re a couple of Barnies.” Toph stared at him, uncomprehending.
“We didn’t tell her Kerry’s address.”
Rukiya felt the sports car’s power through the gas pedal’s vibration against her bare soles. She fought the urge to gun the powerful engine. Her Comrade Leader wouldn’t want her pulled over by some beach cracker traffic cop.
She was going over the encounter in her mind. Should she have killed the two surfers anyway? She certainly had no moral qualms. They were two pathetic honkies mired in decadent self pleasure. They surfed their waves and took their drugs while her people suffered abroad from colonialism and in the States from racism. They deserved to die. But her Comrade had commanded discretion. The Target’s minion now saw her together with the surfers, so termination was no longer on the table. Aisha just had to hope they’d continue to buy her cover story.
Later, the Vette pulled into the motel parking space. Rukiya had rented a beach efficiency for the week. Soon, she was hard at work in the bathroom, which she’d converted into a dark room. Once the photos were all developed, she checked the time.
It was after six, far later than she’d thought. She quickly hung the last batch of damp photos, then quickly stripped out of the bikini. She then went to her suitcase, and found the yellow minidress with daisies. Comrade loved her in that. She knew she needed no make up other than some lipstick. Comrade loved full red lips. She never considered underwear.
The door knocked. Rukiya got up, a silenced pistol in hand. She carefully looked through the peephole. After a second, she lowered the pistol and sighed. She quickly unlocked and opened the door.
The Big Man, Daniel Flanagan of the CIA, strode into the efficiency. But that was not what Rukiya saw. To her hypnotized mind, her Comrade was a tall, muscular and handsome black man in his early twenties. Rather than a black suit rumpled by hours in a 707 seat, she saw him in a tight black tee shirt and a black beret. Instead of her CIA master, she saw a revolutionary leader she loved and would gladly die for, if asked.
The Big Man hungrily gazed at her.
”Fuck.....I have truly missed you, Darlin, I truly have. But business before fun.”
Rukiya stood at attention. “I stand ready to serve the Cause, Comrade.”
Flanagan loved how many of his girlies thought they were serving the Commie agenda. Their doctrinaire minds made them ripe for brainwashing.
”That’s good, Darlin. Report.”, he commanded.
“Yes, Comrade. Per your instructions, I have focused surveillance efforts on the Breckinridge Compound. There has been an unusually high amount of traffic in.” She handed him some photographs.
He whistled. “That cuts it.......the Breckinridge broads are now in production phase. How many do you think they’ve processed?”
”It appears between one and ten a day, over the last two weeks. Most of the women remain....but some do leave, Comrade. I’ve also seen parties, local government and business leaders getting a lot of personal attention.”
Flanagan shook his head in envy. He’d seen his first Dorvak zombie during the War, but didn’t know what he was looking at. Then learned about the Dorvak Process from the old Nazi, Doctor Helmuth Volkner, just after the war. Flanagan had been instrumental in shielding the SS doctor from the war crimes tribunal and bringing him to the States. Between the old Kraut and other sources, the CIA had much of the process figured out. Enough to pick out susceptible Aishas and Cassies and over the better part of a year, turn them into Rukiyas and Daisys. But what Norma Breckinridge apparently now had at her disposal, the genuine article, worked on any woman, and took only a day. That was the treasure he sought.....mass production.
After a moment, he spoke. “What if we sent in a strike team, prediction?”
”Security on the compound seems to be improving, Comrade. At first, it appeared to be just thugs, but lately I’m seeing an upgrade......mercenaries and such. The local police answer to them, as well. Also, they’ve spent a fortune on electronic defenses. I would not recommend a strike team, Comrade.”
”What about just you making a stealth entry?”
Rukiya closed her eyes and her brow furrowed. Then her eyes snapped open.
”It depends on the mission, Comrade. Getting just the papers, assuming they’re not locked in a safe...32 percent chance. Getting Trevor Dupuis out alive, 11 percent.”
Flannagan shook his head. “We need more.....better options, Darlin. We need to find them and soon. Soon half the women in Southern California will be brainwashed robots. I wouldn’t mind, but they won’t be my brainwashed robots.”
Flanagan picked up a photo that featured Norma sunning herself by the pool. He held it in front of Rukiya’s face.
”Queen Bee here is the key. We get her under control, the whole hive will be ours.”
“Comrade, she’s awake now.....free from the Process.”
”Darlin, no woman who’s been processed is ever free. Someone woke her up, but her trigger is still there. It can’t be erased or changed. And it’s sitting in that ledger.
”Then, Comrade, there’s no other option. I go in and get the ledger.”
Flanagan was about to reluctantly agree, when he looked at a hanging photo. It was the last one she had taken of the heavyset man surveilling her and the surfers through binoculars. He pulled it off its clip and stared at it for a long time. Then, he laughed.
”Maybe not, Darlin......not if this is who I think he is.”
Ruykia looked confused. “I don’t understand, Comrade.”
He didn’t answer at first, instead he just took off his coat, then his tie. Finally, he looked back at her.
”Don’t worry about it......seeing as we are now......off duty.”
Rukiya’s eyes briefly fluttered. Her lips slowly formed into a lascivious smile. Her voice was a sexy purr.
”Hmmmm...Sugar....let me help you out of those clothes.....I’ve been wanting you so bad.”
Flanagan looked at her. Typically, he liked her in this “girlfriend” mode. But today, he wanted something more exotic.
”Listen to me. Sleepy Dream Angel.”
Again, her eyes fluttered. Then they remained wide and locked on him. Her arms fell loose to her sides, and her smile faded. When she spoke, her voice was filled with sleepy submissiveness.
”How may this hypnotized slave serve you, Master?”
”Why, on your knees, of course, Darlin. But take those clothes off first.”
“Yes, Master.”
She slipped out of the minidress, then went to her knees. She slowly opened his pants.
Flanagan laughed.
“Now, that’s a good slave.”