The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

San Finzione’s Ministry of Science did not conduct regular tours. But because San Finzione’s economy was primarily based on tourism and wine before branching out into the entertainment and home electronics industries, it was recognized that tourists might still be interested in visiting the Ministry. Therefore, tour guides were kept on staff and private tours were arranged on an individual basis. It was one of these that Alice Mei and Franz Hauber managed to secure late in the day.

Alice had specified an interest in the Geology department. A guide led them through a maze of displays of rock samples. Franz admired a geode while Alice asked the guide more questions.

“There’s just so much.” Alice told the guide.

“La Contessa funds her Ministry of Science.” The guide replied.

“What can you tell me about the rock strata on La Collina?” She asked him. Franz didn’t pay attention to the answer. He wouldn’t understand it anyway. That was Alice’s job. He spent his time studying the people he’d have to talk to when he came back here with a different disguise in the morning for the machine.

The guide led them on through various rocks and minerals until finally they got to see some of the tools of the trade. Franz tried to pay attention while the guide prattled on about brushes and streak plates.

“But what about gear for larger scale operations?” Alice asked.

“Well, we have equipment for larger surveys. If you’ll come this way.”

The guide led them past a row of machinery along the wall. When they came to the one she was looking for, Alice nudged Franz. He stopped to take note of the white machine that resembled an oversized pushing lawn mower or a pavement resurfacing machine with some high-tech equipment on top. This was the Ground-Penetrating Radar unit that Alice would need to find the secret entrance to Castle Finzione.

He could see why she said it would be clunky and unsubtle. And why she’d have to stop and take readings in multiple spots. Alice was right again. This would certainly attract attention.

Franz finally had a question to ask the guide.

“Bitte, who authorizes the use of this equipment?”

“The head of the department. Or the Minister of Science, Dr. Miguel Rocco.”

“I see.” Franz replied. He lightly clutched his stomach. “And where is the lavatory?” The guide pointed the directions. Franz gave Alice a little peck on the cheek. “I shall catch up, Liebchen.”

Alice took hold of the tour guide’s arm and started asking more in-depth questions about the geology of San Finzione. Franz rounded the corner and returned to the elevator. He rode it down to the ground floor lobby and walked over to a directory to find out where Dr. Rocco’s office was. It was late in the day and people were starting to leave. On his way back to the elevator, Franz picked one who had an employee ID and a keycard on a clip hanging from his shirt pocket and was on his way out. He bumped into the man, lifted the clip, and proceeded back into one of the empty elevator cars, hitting the button for the fifth floor.

“I’ve got…” Franz said into his comms before turning his new ID to read it. He clipped it to his blazer, then removed the jacket and folded it over. “Giorgio Estrada’s access. We’ll see if it gets me into the Minister’s office.”

“Looking him up.” Spencer Malone replied in his ear. “Senior Botanist. He works on the fifth floor.”

“Fortunate. I am heading there. And if someone asks me any questions, I shall have to tell them about ferns, because those are the only plants I know. It should get me onto the floor at least. I can improvise from there.”

The elevator door opened onto the fifth floor. Franz stepped out and walked to the door behind the receptionist, who was getting ready to leave for the day. Muttering in Italian under his breath about getting all the way to his damn car, Franz held the bundle of blazer containing his keycard against the sensor next to the door. The red light turned green, and the handle turned. Once through, he put the jacket back on and looked for the Minister’s office.

Franz moved through the cubicles of people in various stages of getting ready to leave for the day. He grabbed a folder from out of an empty cubicle and put it under his arm as if it were something important. He tried to avoid eye contact with anyone. He was going to have to come back here in a different disguise tomorrow to get Alice’s machine and didn’t want to be remembered on this trip.

“Ok.” Oscar Dodge came on the comms. “There’s probably a requisition form to be filled out. The Minister wouldn’t keep those, his secretary would. I’ll also need a copy of the Minister’s signature to work with.”

“Coming up.” Franz muttered back as he spotted the Minister’s office door. He stepped inside.

The Minister of Science’s secretary was shutting things down for the day. She had her coat and purse and was turning off her computer when Franz entered. He held the folder so that it covered Giorgio Estrada’s name and face on the badge.

“I’m sorry, the Minister’s already left for the day.” The secretary told him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Boy, I sure hope so.” Franz replied, faking an Italian accent. “I got all the way to my car when I remembered that some archaeology students from the University are coming tomorrow for a practical demonstration of the big GPR unit and…” He opened the folder and sifted through the papers inside. “I can’t for the life of me find my authorization to take it out into the field.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” The secretary said, sensing that if she got wrapped up in this man’s end-of-day problem, she might never make it home. She looked in her desk for the right stack of forms. “Dr. Rocco will be back in the morning. I can leave you a requisition form to fill out, you can bring it to him then, and I’ll make sure he signs off on it first thing. Please press hard as the form is in triplicate.”

Franz gave her a look of frustration, followed by resignation. He sighed.

“All right. If I have to start the whole process over, let’s get on it. Give me the form.”

She handed him the correct one. He looked at the blank triplicate form, trying to act like he understood it.

“Ok. Grazia. I guess.” He grumbled and started to show himself out. He took a piece of gum from his pocket and placed it in his mouth. As he opened the door out, he wedged the gum wrapper into the latch bore in the door frame. When the secretary got her things, Franz held the door for her. She nodded graciously and stepped through, turning to lock it.

“I just wanted to apologize.” Franz sheepishly stated, standing closer and distracting her while she locked the door. “It’s been a rough day, this university thing got dumped on me at the last minute. I certainly hope I haven’t made your day difficult.”

“Oh, no.” The secretary said, now wanting to get this man away from her personal space. She locked the door quickly and didn’t bother to check it, which was what Franz was hoping getting in her face would accomplish. They said a relieved goodbye, she walked toward the elevator, and he walked in the opposite direction. Once the secretary was around the corner, Franz came back and quietly re-entered the office.

“I’m alone in the secretary’s office and have the form.” Franz told the comms, sticking the paper into his jacket. “One door between myself and the Minister’s.”

“Think you can get it?” Morris Sinclair asked. Franz produced a couple of picks.

“I’m not you, but I think I’ve got this.”

Franz spent about a minute on the lock before it opened.

“Hurry up and get back here.” Alice hissed into the comm channel. “The tour’s nearly done and I’m trying to make small talk, but geology humor’s all puns and after ‘gneiss’ and ‘schist,’ I got nothing.”

Franz walked over to the Minister’s desk and looked around. There were no papers on his desk, just pictures of a blonde woman. He checked the drawers for any slips of paper that might have the minister’s handwriting on them.

“Shit.” He told the group. “I can’t find any papers with his signature.”

“But you got the form, right?” Oscar asked. “What kind is it?”

“It’s one of those old ones with the sheets of carbon in-between.” Franz told him.

“Ok,” Oscar replied. “If they’re still using carbon paper, check the trash for those carbons and thank God for low-tech.”

Franz checked the bin. The janitor hadn’t been through here yet. He sifted around until he located one and held it up to the light. He could see the indentation of the minister’s signature.

“I got something that I think will work for you.” He told the group, folding the carbon paper and securing it into his jacket before taking out a handkerchief to wipe off the smudges on his hands. Franz retrieved his gum wrapper from the door and returned to the second floor, searching for Alice and the guide. He returned the folder to the desk he’d borrowed it from along the way. Just before the door opened to the first floor, he remembered that he was still wearing Giorgio Estrada’s ID and removed it, dropping it in the elevator so someone could later find it and turn in to lost & found. He continued wiping his hands as he approached them.

“It appears I have missed the whole tour.” Franz sheepishly said, stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket. He gave Alice a peck and turned to the guide. “I must apologize. We are tourists to your country, and I am not accustomed to your delicious cuisine. Shall we let this man clock off and go home, Liebchen?”

The guide escorted them to the exit. They thanked him and walked away from the building.

“Everything all right?” Alice asked.

“Ja. Got the paper, got the minister’s signature for Oscar. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be able to wrap your hands around that big machine.”

“Can’t wait. Now, let’s get back, so I can wrap my hands around something else.”

“We can all hear you.” Tracy pointed out over the comms.

“I know.” Alice replied, laughing.

They returned to the yacht.

On the other side of the city, three battered and bruised men knelt in the middle of a smashed-up pawn shop before Contessa Helena de San Finzione.

“I was just having a talk with someone about manners earlier.” Helen said, lighting a cigarette. “And how I wasn’t expecting to find any here.” The three men moaned from their injuries, unable to get off the floor and run for it like they wanted. La Contessa paced through the debris of their pawn shop before them. She picked up a baseball bat from the wreckage that Nigel Mander’s fight with the three men had created before Helen used her Thing to stop the fight.

“I coulda taken ’em.” Mander assured her. He stood behind the three men, his hand on the Desert Eagle .50 pistol he carried.

“I’ve got the San Finzione Orchestra setting up in the Ballroom right now.” Helen told him. “Decided to make it quick.” She held the bat under the chin of the kneeling man in the middle. “I’ll be honest, Ivan. I wasn’t expecting you to know anything. We just came from a coke dealer who understands who’s in charge in this country and I’m expecting more to come of that than I am of this activity. No, we’re here for two reasons: To give Mander something to do after that visit kind of let him down and on the off chance that whoever stole something of mine is dumbfuck enough to try and sell it to you. I don’t feel like telling you what it is; you’ll know it if you see it. But it’s mine and I want it back.”

“Fuck you.” The man hissed at her in Russian. She tossed Mander the bat before answering in Russian.

“I’m in a slightly committed relationship. A few of them, actually. Back to the topic at hand, I tolerate your presence in this country because your bosses know how to show proper respect. They understand my rules and what happens if you don’t play by them. But you’ve always had a problem with that, Ivan. Maybe you’ve got some issues understanding Italian. Luckily, Mander speaks a language I know you understand.”

She nodded to him. Mander took his cue and started smashing more of the shop’s inventory. Bits of televisions and Blu-ray players showered the three men. Helen watched and smoked while he broke more stuff, then motioned to him that it was enough. He stood behind the man to Ivan’s left.

“Do you have the fucking message, Ivan?” Helen asked him. “Or does he start on skulls?”

“I have it.” The Russian begrudgingly half-muttered. “And I would have started with skulls.”

“That’s why your cousins set you up in my country as a fence and not something you could fuck up.”

It was at that moment that La Contessa’s phone started ringing with Generalissimo Hernando Ramirez’s ringtone. She answered it. Ramirez relayed the information Luc had given him. Helen thanked him and ended the call.

“Well, it turns out we didn’t need to engage in this little exercise after all. But, you know, it was fun.” She looked to Mander. “C’mon. We’ve got something.”

Helen walked over to a clock that had survived the fray. She turned it to face the three men.

“And you can move in five minutes. It’s been a pleasure frequenting your establishment, Ivan.”

Mander nodded and dropped the bat. He punched Ivan in the back of the head before going to hold the door for La Contessa. She walked out and he followed.

“What’d you get?” Mander asked when they were out on the street.

“Luc’s got a couple names for us. That’s more than we’re likely to get by beating every thug in San Finzione until someone knows something. Morris Sinclair or Gordon Walker mean anything to you?”

Mander thought about it.

“Names I’ve heard. Supposed to be good.”

“Well, he says they’re likely the two guys we’re looking for. Sinclair’s a safecracker, Walker handles violence. Still no lead on the hacker or if they’ve got anyone else with them. Luc says Sinclair was wearing a disguise on the Eye of Andalusia job, and he’s not normally known for those, so there might be a fourth person taking care of the disguise department.”

“Disguise, eh?” Mander mused. “But they wore ski masks on the job.”

“Well, why bother with all that on a heist? If you’re caught, you’re caught. No sense posing for your mugshot with and without all that latex shit on your face.”

“Then if Interpol knows who they are, they might be using disguises to get around here.”

“Could be. They’d have to be good enough to fool the facial recognition on the Propappous or La Policia would’ve picked up Interpol’s flags on them by now. If they’re still in San Finzione, it’s for one of two reasons: Luc’s idea about meeting the buyer here, or they’ve got another score planned. Given that they’ve pulled off two jobs in three days, it could be both.”

She put out her cigarette and dumped the butt into a nearby trash can while she thought on that.

“Good point, though.” Helen continued. “Maybe it is both. They’ve got the Star of Uongo and we’re pretty sure the buyer is on their way for it. They must have gotten something for the Eye. And then they turn around and do this right away. Why?”

Mander thought on that.

“Opportunity came up? I mean, a few days later and the President would’ve given it to you and you’d’ve stuck it in your vault and it’s gone forever. Gotta be now.”

“Luc’s got people checking Faraji’s staff for leaks. Still, San Finzione isn’t where you steal; it’s where you retire to after you steal. Most of your more competent criminals know better than to try something like this in my country.”

That thought caused Mander to do more thinking.

“If these guys have been in the game long enough to be on Interpol’s radar, then we can presume they talked to others at some stage before coming here and have heard stories about Your Countessness. And they decided to pull the job anyway.”

“Well, what could be a bigger score than the Star?” Helen asked. “Unless they’re stupid, and we can guess from all this that they’re not, they’re going to get millions for it. This is that Big Score you get out of the game and retire on. No, you do it because there’s a better score out there. Maybe not bigger, but better. Something that matters to you more than money. So, what’s next? How do you top this?”

“Maybe you’re rich now, but there’s still something you’re missing.” Mander thought some more on that. “Maybe it’s not enough to get out a successful criminal, you’ve got to be a legendary one as well.”

“Establishing a rep? They’ve got one already, they’re wanted by Interpol. They didn’t leave any calling card, so they can become ‘world-famous jewel thieves’ and make the news so they can get their asses caught. Bragging rights, though? Amongst the right people, I mean. Criminals who aren’t going to rat you out. Being able to tell them you did it? That’s something that’s worth more than money. That brings us back to the question of what, then. We’re not looking for a bigger score, we’re looking for a more meaningful one.”

“Then the question becomes ‘What could be more meaningful than stealing the fucking Pink Panther?’ What could possibly be construed as a bigger, juicier target than that? In this country, the answer to that’s obvious.”

Mander looked at Helen. She already knew what he was going to say.

“Getting one over on the biggest criminal of them all: Your Countessness.”

A house stood on La Collina, in the neighborhood where San Finzione’s wealthiest citizens lived. It was about midway up the hill and had been old back when the armies of Napoleon were a serious concern for The People. It was the former home of La Familia Denti, who had served as faithful retainers to La Familia Royale de San Finzione for generations before the entire Denti line perished during the cholera pandemic of 1832. A brass plaque inside the front door told their story and commemorated their service.

The plaque was never read by tourists, nor did tour guides explain these things to them, because the historic site was closed to the public and not mentioned in guidebooks. The Denti family was all but forgotten in San Finzione’s history, so a wrought-iron fence that was well maintained served as the only external security. A monthly team of housekeepers were the only regular visitors the house received, and all of them had been instructed to keep out of the basement. Rumors that the house was haunted, and figures could sometimes be seen moving around inside, kept most curious locals away. Requests by historians and ghost-chasing reality shows to investigate the Denti house were universally rejected by the Government of San Finzione.

Other rumors about the house involved La Contessa using the place for purposes ranging from secret trysts to diabolical witchcraft to being the place where those caught harming children in San Finzione disappeared to, as onlookers claimed to see her visiting the house occasionally. Fear of her wrath for disturbing La Contessa’s special place took care of the ones that weren’t dissuaded by the ghost rumors.

The well-oiled gate swung open for Helen and Mander, and they made their way up the drive to the house. Helen produced a key, and they went inside.

Admiring the antique furniture in the darkened house that they passed on their way to the basement, Mander made an observation.

“They know about the secret entrance to the La Contessa suites. Which, since one helped Susan, Velasquez, Rita, and myself, I should thank you for.”

“Welcome.” Helen replied.

“But yeah, if they sorted that out, they could figure out this place too. And then they’ve got your back door into the castle. Especially if Fear of Your Countessness is your only real security on the secret entrance. Which they obviously don’t have or they wouldn’t have come to San Finzione in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Helen agreed, descending the stairs. “For years, this passage was lit by lanterns. The only upgrade that’s been made since it was built is those motion lights you installed.” She walked to a wall that held a cooking alcove, which had been an odd feature for a basement room even back then. Helen pressed a stone on the wall. The alcove slid open. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to get on since Susan pointed out that I could bring in workers to upgrade the tunnel, then do the Thing and make them forget it exists. Now it looks like I’m going to have to arrange all that.”

The two stepped through the alcove, and Helen touched the stone on the other side that closed the door. She pointed out the two old lanterns hanging from hooks on one wall that she’d been talking about. The motion sensors picked up her movement, and the passage was illuminated by regularly spaced lights that Mander had secured into the rock ceiling. They set off on the long trek deeper into La Collina, and up a series of corridors and stairs that would lead them to Helen’s Study.

“I’d think the San Finziones of Old would’ve put some traps in here.” Mander noted. “Spike pits, poison darts, something.”

“Nobody was ever supposed to know about it except La Familia Royale and La Familia Denti. And we didn’t want to hurt them. Sometimes, they used the tunnel as a shortcut to work.” As they climbed the stairs, she thought some more on the matter. “I suppose I can put a couple Ultimados on guard duty in the Denti house until we can install some real security.” She took out her phone to call Capitan Gregario Ortega, commander of La Squadra de Ultimados, but they were too far underground for a signal.

After a few minutes, they came to a seeming dead end where two more old, unused lanterns hung from pegs on the wall. Helen pressed another stone, and the door slid open to reveal her Study. Jeanne Carpentier was vacuuming the room and waved to her Contessa before continuing her duties. Helen returned her purse to the safe and opened the door out to the hall. Sounds of instruments tuning came from the direction of the Grand Ballroom. She immediately closed the door again.

“We’re not going to be able to get you out that way.” Helen told Mander. “The concert starts soon and the Uongoian delegation is probably already out there.” She texted Nunzio and walked over to the wall with the secret passage to her and Jeanne’s bedrooms. “Nunzio will meet you outside my room. He can guide you back to your car while avoiding them. I need to get cleaned up and change for the performance.”

“Once that’s done,” Mander replied. “And Your Countessness gets some rest, or touches up her makeup, because she’s starting to look like she’s been up all night, what’s our next move?”

She opened the wall and they proceeded up the stairs, leaving Jeanne to her vacuuming. As she ran the machine under one of the couches, a noise like something had been sucked up into it and gotten caught in the brush bar could be heard. Jeanne plucked the sticky, fuzzy thing from the vacuum and flicked it into the wastebasket next to La Contessa’s desk before resuming her work.

At the top of the stairs, Helen and Mander turned right to go to her room instead of left to go to Jeanne’s.

“Julie and Susan will get here sometime in the middle of the night. Then we should probably meet with the Law People in the morning and see what everyone’s learned.” Helen answered him. “Luc’s going to come up with some known associates for us. If Walker or Sinclair have any friends in San Finzione, we can check them out. For now, I need to clean up and get changed.”

Mander nodded his understanding. They emerged from the column next to the fireplace and Mander left the room to go wait for Nunzio. Since Jeanne was busy downstairs, Helen went to her closets and selected an evening dress for the symphony. She showered quickly and put it on before returning to the Study to take the shorter route to the Grand Ballroom, where the concert was being held. When Helen heard the national anthem of Uongo play, she broke into a run and sprinted to the Ballroom. She stopped a moment to make certain she didn’t look like she’d just been running before taking hold of the door handle and preparing for her entrance.

The Uongoian anthem ended and “Glory to San Finzione” followed it. There were no lyrics, but at the point in the song where the lyrics came in, Helen opened the double doors and entered the Grand Ballroom.

Every head turned and everyone stood as La Contessa made her way through the chairs that had been set up for the delegates to the raised seats where Maria and President Faraji were seated. Smiling to the others attending, Helen made her way to her seat.

“Good evening, Balozi.” Helen said to the President, settling into her chair. When La Contessa was seated, the rest of the room sat as well. She turned to acknowledge Maria before addressing him again. “I’m sorry I was unavailable to take you on the tour. I hope Lady Maria was able to provide a good one.”

“Oh yes.” Faraji said with a smile, looking over at Maria. “Lady Maria has been most enjoyable company this day.”

Helen smiled at that. Everybody loved Maria. Faraji spoke again as the lights dimmed.

“And that other matter?” He asked pointedly.

“Our top people have been put on it and we’re checking every possible angle. I have some people arriving from America tomorrow who may also be able to help. Interpol has a couple of leads. I meet with them in the morning.”

The President acknowledged this. La Contessa was taking steps to solve the problem. It was progress. He turned back to the conductor, who was about to address the audience. An interpreter was on hand to translate his words to Swahili for the Uongoians.

“Esteemed members of the Uongoian Delegation.” The conductor said with a respectful bow of his head. He turned to the platform where the three of them sat, overlooking those assembled in the chairs below. “Your Excellency, Lady Maria, Contessa. The San Finzione Orchestra Simphonica, in celebration of La Contessa’s impending birthday…” He paused for light applause. Helen turned her head in a faux blush. “Declares it our privilege to welcome you an evening of music that we’re certain will brighten her special day.”

The audience applauded again. When they were finished, the conductor picked up his baton, turned back to face his orchestra, and started the show. They launched into a performance of Warren Zevon’s “Poor Poor Pitiful Me.”

Helen grinned her approval. It was the sort of thing she needed after a day like this.