Chapter 2: The Colonel and Intruders

Chapter 2: The Colonel and Intruders

Prince Logan closed his eyes and began formulating tortures fitting a girl with a very sunburned ass. Perhaps a chair with sandpaper glued to the seat for her to sit in, perhaps to be bound into overnight. Or maybe he would experiment with a whipping upon skin pre-conditioned by the sunburn. Would it turn brighter red? Would it hurt much more than an identical whipping upon unprepared skin? Undoubtedly!

Eventually, after several new and inventive punishments had been thought of, Logan heard voices in the distance. One eye peered open, then he groaned. There was a man coming towards him, the last man he had a wish to see that fine spring morning: his father, King William Carter Heinrich. For a brief second he considered faking sleep, but his father would not allow a nap to interfere with whatever it was he wanted to see his son about. With a sigh he sat up in the lounge chair to receive his father.

King Heinrich was a short, somewhat round man, pushing fifty, with gray streaks dashing through both his hair and beard, a fair sized paunch pushing against the belt of his pants, and a frown on his face. For the two thousandth time, Logan wondered how this man could be his father. They looked nothing alike, the Prince being tall, slender and rather handsome with dark eyes and black, wavy hair. Logan wondered yet again if his mother had pulled a fast one on the King and he really was not this man’s son. But he pushed those thoughts down. If it were so, he would not be the next in line to assume the throne of their tiny but ever so prosperous island nation. And he was looking forward to being king.

“Where is your sister?” asked the King without preamble or greeting.

“I expect she’s down in the dungeon,” Logan replied calmly. “It is her favorite place.”

“Torturing the prisoners?” asked the King. “The male prisoners,” he added with a touch of disdain.

“Perhaps,” agreed Logan, knowing full well that his beloved sister, the Princess Kimberly, was, indeed, in one of the many underground rooms beneath the palace, playing with her newest toy, a stout Australian who had been captured after his boat sank and he drifted onto their shores. Officially, he was being held under arrest as a possible spy. Unofficially, he was simply another person to disappear into the very private country of New Caladon, and into the hands of its two main interrogators of prisoners, the brother and sister who had the full blessing of the ruling monarch in whatever activities they desired.

The King sighed. “I had hoped she would be out here with you, but...”

“I could send a slave to tell her that you wish an audience,” offered Prince Logan. He smiled inwardly at the grimace with which the King greeted the word “slave”. Their father simply did not understand the finer elements - and enjoyment - to be found in the torture of helpless prisoners. He was a lecherous old man with a taste for young women and strong whiskey, but precious little for the tormenting of people who could not defend themselves. He was, in short, a stick in the mud, to quote an American phrase Prince Logan had once heard.

“No, don’t bother. What I wanted with her wasn’t all that important.” The King looked down at the kneeling, naked slave girl. One eyebrow lifted a bit but he said nothing.

Which was as usual. His beloved children could do no wrong, no matter how much it pained him to see their cruel nature being expressed in the pain others felt.

Prince Logan rose to his feet, something he often did in the presence of his father, not out of any sign of respect but rather to emphasize that he was almost two heads taller than the older man. “May I get you a drink?” he offered.

His father paused. It was early in the morning, but Logan had seen his father with a glass in his hand this early before. “No thank you,” he finally said. “I’ll get my own.” He turned to go, glancing down at the kneeling, naked young woman as he did. With a mild shake of his head, he turned back to asked his son, “Would you please take Colonel Ramsey’s report on security? I don’t feel like facing that stern man this morning.” Then he was gone before the Prince had a chance to reply.

“Of course, Daddy dear,” muttered Logan. Well, there are responsibilities, he told himself. And he would have to worry about all of them when he was King. Besides, at the rate his father was drinking himself into an early grave, that might not be all that far in the future.

With a glance of his own down at the kneeling woman, Logan drained the last of his tea and set the glass down. Then he walked away without a word to the young woman. By the house, he told one of his personal guards to keep an eye on the slave girl. If she moved from that position, he was to note the time then haul the girl away to be locked up in one of the cells in the basement dungeon, and tell the Prince. Her punishment would be forthcoming, and now that he considered it properly, Prince Logan did not think she would last the whole day.

Colonel Ramsey, like most of the ruling class of that island, did not have an ancestry indigenous to the island. He was stiff upper lip British all the way, a man who was born on the island but had been educated in the finest military academies of the world. He ran the security forces, and did a good job of it. Nobody got through these defenses to the diamond mines. Good on his job he might be, but Prince Logan could not recall ever seeing him smile.

“Sir, I’ve completed a full check of the costal installations. All is in proper order and on the alert,” the Colonel said from a position of attention. For a second, Logan eyed the rigid form in the khaki uniform and thought of the contrast with the naked slavegirl kneeling on the patio concrete beside the pool. Both were frozen in their positions, but this one was not as pretty.

“I’m sure everything is in good order,” he said smoothly. “Please relax. At ease, Colonel. Have a drink.”

“I never drink on duty.”

Logan knew that, and only offered because he liked to tease the rigidly military man. He noted the slightly less rigid position now assumed and wanted to shake his head. Such men were hard to understand - but they had their uses. He was an efficient solider, guarding an enterprise that many would like to snatch from them. Or, at least, steal portions of its product.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“I’ve installed new heat and motion combination sensors at key points around the processing plant and the mines. From this control room I can now monitor the entire western end of the island.” He pointed to some monitors currently showing varying views of two story buildings and high fenced in entrances to the underground mines that provided them with their great wealth. Logan nodded, but really had no idea what the Colonel was talking about.

“A mouse couldn’t sneak into the compound without my knowing about it,” he continued.

“Mice I’m not worried about, only humans. But I’m sure you have everything under control. Why don’t you come up to the palace this evening. I’ll arrange for a beautiful young girl to be strung up by her thumbs and you can whip her.”

Colonel Ramsey did not reply. He did not even bother to look insulted. Which was no surprise to Logan. He always turned down these teasing offers, yet Logan was sure there was a sadistic streak underneath that total control. He often wondered what kind of games went on inside the security building. Every man has his perversions, after all.

The rest of the report was as dry as the first part, but Logan listened and tried to understand. One day, when he was King, all this might be important. Just as he was about to leave, one of the computer monitor screens began to flash a bright red symbol and make a loud beeping sound. Colonel Ramsey immediately was punching keys with single fingers, and gazing intently at the displays flashing by. “Possible intruders in Sector Eleven.” He flipped a switch and spoke into a microphone, “QRS to Sector Eleven. Move!”

Turning to his boss, the Colonel informed, “The new sensors detected movement and a heat signature. We may have intruders!”

The Colonel’s eyes were glowing, and what might have been the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.