Undercurrent: Sex Slaves & Vengeance

By Tom Edwards

This is not a pleasant book. It depicts the worst side of lifethe extreme cruelty of gangs that live off demeaning women. I did not like writing it, but I thought it needed to be exposed.

A senior police officer runs afoul of the local boss of an international crime syndicate who has his wife gangbanged and beaten up. He vows retribution outside of the parameters of the law and hunts the gang down to exact his revenge. During his pursuit of the gang, he meets up with the brother of his wife, who is attached to an M16 and who has the same intention. Jason has been ordered to destroy the women-smuggling side of a massive crime syndicate based in America; they team up. The final chapter asks why the police do not clean up this appalling trade in humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: May 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543408911

Tom Edwards

Tom Edwards, originally from London, England, settled in Sacramento, California where he met his wife Jenna Edwards. Both work in the tech industry, Tom is a web designer and Jenna is a graphic artist, they share a passion for technology and embrace all the latest gadgets with gusto! The reviews of all the apps in their bestselling ebook 250+ Best Kindle Fire and Fire HD Apps for the New Kindle Fire User were written and researched by Tom and Jenna. Jenna also designed the book cover. Other than exploring new tech, Tom and Jenna enjoy spending time with their kids and cooking for friends.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

She had never had that round chubby look that some babies have, nor did she have the blond curly hair and blue eyes that gather all the accolades as a baby. Her face had been rather angular and plain; but as so often happens she had developed into a real beauty by the time she had completed her schooling.

Her eyes had that questioning look that to him was so endearing. Her body was too rounded and feminine for modern tastes – or so the magazines averred. Her hair was the sort that bobbed on her shoulders when she walked causing the auburn locks to catch the sunlight.

Her eyes were large and brown with a hint of green in the irises and the slight pads under her eyes hinted of gentleness and compassion. Her teeth were a little too large and had a slight unevenness that made her seem more real and attainable because of their imperfection.

Her neck was perhaps too long which seemed to emphasise her youth and vulnerability – he loved her dearly.

He ran his fingers slowly through her hair, which was long and soft, he felt her shiver slightly with pleasure and he let his fingers gently caress her ear lobes and then move on to her neck and shoulders. His lips covered hers as he gently slipped his arms around her and unfastened the hook at the top of her dress then slipped the shoulder straps off to allow her dress to fall to the floor. He stepped back and let his eyes roam over her body from the beautifully upturned breasts that were not too large but just large enough to curve gently above her lacy bra. He let his eyes drift to the lovely roundness of her stomach that seemed almost to welcome the thought of her first pregnancy – although she was not pregnant - to her lace trimmed panties that emphasized her small waist. He sucked in his breath as his senses reeled, as they always did when they made love.

Her mouth parted slightly and her breath was warm on his as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, reaching behind her he released her bra and pulled it away from her body as her breasts shivered in their new found freedom.

His lips slid down her neck and across her shoulders as his tongue sought the tantalising taste of her skin, then continued down to her nipples that hardened to the flicking of his tongue and he felt a rising excitement as she pressed her thighs into his body; then on down to her navel where he rested his head on the warm roundness of her belly for a while as the blood raced through his body. She reached down and slipped off her panties.

His searching tongue seemed to have a will of its own as it continued its odyssey. He heard her whimper as she opened her legs and raised her knees. Her heaving body told him clearly that she was nearing her climax and he entered her slowly, penetrating deeply, moving in unison with her. He strove mightily to deny his own release as a wailing cry burst from her lips and she climaxed time after time.

He let out a deep groan of release and contentment as he lowered his body onto hers, taking his weight on his elbows as his tumescence withered. He withdrew slowly and snuggled close. They lay there for a while totally spent then Jane swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. She walked to the bathroom to clean herself, Bob watched her until she closed the door then he reached under her pillow and drew out her nightdress which he raised to his face and breathed in deeply before spreading it out ready for her. When she returned she slipped into her gown and with a deep sigh moved into his waiting arms as he kissed her to sleep.

Bob Stevens loved his wife dearly; there had been no other woman in his life. He had first caught a glimpse of her when she was playing in the Broughton College hockey team. She seemed to him then like a long legged colt, with her short sports tunic showing enough leg to get him interested as she seemed to pour over the ground like warm honey. Although he was drawn irresistibly to her he thought himself too old for a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl. She was in her second year whereas he had only a few months to his final exams, however, she had welcomed his tentative advances and they maintained contact, meeting at weekends until she completed her schooling, when eighteen did not seem too disparate to a twenty-one-year-old.

Broughton Collage was one of those private schools that had sprung up all over England because of the deteriorating standards in government schools due to the banning of all forms of correction, both physical and mental, which resulted in teachers progressively losing control of their charges. This was mainly as a result of the influence of Dr Spock whose book, Baby and Child Care, ruined generations of children and evoked the following quote at the end of his life.

‘We have reared a generation of brats. Parents aren’t firm enough with their children for fear of losing their love or incurring their resentment. This is a cruel deprivation that we professionals have imposed on mothers and fathers. Of course, we did it with the best of intentions. We didn’t realize until it was too late how our know-it-all attitude was undermining the self assurance of parents.’

Broughton Collage operated under the same regulations but their control was vested in their right to dismiss pupils who persistently broke the rules. It was considered to be of a higher standard than most, Built in 1820 it had originally served as a home for those unfortunate women who found themselves pregnant – some through no fault of their own, having been raped and cast aside. The moral standards of the day made little distinction and in many cases they were turned out of their homes to fend for themselves. Many turned to prostitution until their condition forced them to seek sanctuary elsewhere. Broughton House was utilised for that purpose. All the staff and pupils were inordinately proud of the inscription engraved in the masonry above the entrance, MD, which were the initials for Maison Dieu, House of God, signifying that it was a place of refuge. It had been transformed into a school after the first Great War when it had eventually been bought by a consortium of educational reformists who introduced, what was at that time, radical reforms which had proved to be warranted.

Bob’s mother could never have afforded to send him to such a prestigious institution had not his own love of learning and application won him a scholarship. Bob hoped to go on to university with no clear idea of which path he would take, he was not too keen to follow in his father’s footsteps in the police force – not because he had been killed in the line of duty but because he thought it too constrictive. However, he had read an article about the Metropolitan Police who were recruiting SOC’s, (Scenes of crime officers) basically civilians who collect crime scene forensic evidence for the police. It was a fairly new field that began in 1968.Their job was to replace the CID officers who had previously carried out these functions. The initial salary was not too good at less that seventeen thousand pounds a year, but the prospects were an extra inducement. His educational qualifications were far above the requirement but the prospects for advancement were particularly attractive. He read the information supplied.

As a SOCO, your tasks would include:

• Preserving and protecting the crime scene so that evidence can be recovered and recorded without being lost, spoilt or destroyed.

• Finding out what evidence is needed, deciding the best way to recover it and collecting it as required.

• Recording the scene using photography and video.

• Searching for evidence of footprints and for marks left by tools or weapons.

• Developing, recording and capturing fingerprint evidence.

• Locating, recording and recovering evidence such as fibers, blood, hair, paint or glass using various techniques.

• Putting samples into protective packaging and sending them for analysis.

• Keeping written records, producing statements and updating systems with details of evidence.

You may need to give evidence in court or attend post-mortems.’

There was more.

He submitted his application and discovered that there was a considerable waiting list.

He was in no hurry to continue his education and whilst waiting for a suitable opening he embarked on a hiking trip across Asia which terminated in Japan where he spent a year learning the language and became involved in an everyday diet of martial arts of which there seemed to be an inordinate variety. He returned at the beginning of a new university term aching to renew his relationship with Jane. Absence had, so the expression goes, made the heart grow fonder, and he was determined to marry her before some other prospective swain usurped his place in her affections. They were married the following year.

He discovered that the university had begun a forensic science degree course which he joined. Completing his studies he signed on for a nine week residential training course at the police academy where he learned about fingerprint recovery techniques, DNA retrieval, photography, road traffic collisions, trace evidence and many other skills. He took a further two year diploma course and began lecturing other law enforcement officers. Two years later he became somewhat disenchanted with the job he was doing and requested a transfer to the detective branch. He started low on the list but because of his excellent record and qualifications he was soon moved up to his current position as a Detective Inspector (DI) with an improved salary of just under 50,000, pounds per annum – a salary which would not have enabled him to purchase the home in which they now lived had it not been for the generosity of Jane’s parents.

Jane, on the other hand, came from a very wealthy family; her father was a director of several companies related to research. She had a brother, Jason, eight years her senior, whom she idolised. Jason had joined the Royal Navy where he soon transferred to Naval Intelligence. After several years where he excelled in a variety of fields he was seconded to MI6, the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), (military Intelligence section), which is the British agency that supplies the British government with foreign intelligence. His family had no idea what his duties were, except that they were top secret, which meant he never spoke of them. His parents were very proud of him, although his job was a constant source of concern to his mother. They believed that he was currently serving in North Africa. Circumstances decreed that Bob had yet to meet him. The Franklin’s owned a large home near Abbotts Langley. The house had been purchased from the descendants of long dead cotton barons who had spent a fortune having the extensive gardens designed by ‘Capability’ Lancelot Brown, many fine examples of his work could still be found in the area. At one time Brown was appointed Master Gardener for Hampton Court. The Franklin’s two gardeners currently kept it in good order and an excellent cook ruled in the kitchen. There was also a maid, Tilly, who soon became Jane’s confidant and friend.

John Franklin was very proud of his home, more so since his very talented wife had furnished and redecorated it - in spite of her initial objections on the grounds of cost, which ran to over a million pounds. He had researched the history of the village even going so far as to employ a professional researcher from the local library. Its typewritten history, suitably highlighted was framed and hung in his study:-

‘The village of Abbotts Langley had a long history of successful human habitation. The first traces of human habitation in the area were recorded by renowned archaeologist Sir John Evans (1823 – 1908). The village sits on a saucer of clay covered by a layer of gravel, and as a result water supply has never been a problem; records show that in earlier times water could be drawn from a well just 20 ft deep.

In 1045 the Saxon thegn Ethelwine ‘the black’ granted the upper part of Langlai to St Alban’s Abbey as Langlai Abbatis (Latin for Langlai of the Abbot, hence ‘Abbot’s Langley’) the remainder being the king’s Langlai. By the time of the Doomsday Book in 1086 the village was inhabited by 19 families. The area was split into four manors, Abbots Langley, Langleybury, Chambersbury, and Hyde. In 1539, Henry V111 seized Abbots Langley and sold it to his military engineer, Lee. The Manor of Abbots Langley was bequeathed by Francis Combe in his will of 1641 jointly to Sidney Sussex College Cambridge and Trinity College Oxford. The manors of Langleybury and Chambersbury passed through the Ibgrave and Child families, and in 1711 were conveyed to Sir Robert Raymond then Solicitor General later Attorney General and Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench. On the death of his son without issue in 1756 the manors passed to the Filmer family. The Manor of Hyde passed to Edward Strong in 1714, through his daughter to Sir John Strange who left the manor to be shared between his children and their descendents (including Admiral Sir George Strong Nares) possession of F.M. Nares & Co which sold the estate to the British Land Company in 1858.

Pope Adrian IV the only Englishman ever to have become Pope was born as Nicholas Breakspear in Abbots Langley around the year 1100. Therefore, Abbots Langley village includes a number of roads named after its famous son (Adrian, Breakspear, Pope), and at one time included activities of the Breakspear brewery………’There was a lot more. A sign over the gate proudly proclaimed, Langlai Hall.

John Franklin was inordinately proud of his home’s history.

He and his wife Magdalena were well liked in the village and they spent many pleasant weekend evenings at the local pub, sharing their custom between The Swan and The Compasses, where they enjoyed good food and even better company. In the warmer summer months they invariably had their meals in the beautiful gardens which had magnificent views across the countryside with its many walking tracks through the woods with their carpets of bluebells, where the trees met overhead redolent of a magnificent cathedral cloister, where a great variety of birds sang to the glory of nature and squirrels chased each other across the canopy. Magdalena felt truly blessed. The village was quite small, peopled by, mainly, retirees and the council’s annual garden competition ensured that most of the gardens were well maintained. There was in addition a golf club, a bowling club and a swimming pool, although many of the residents had their own pools.

John Franklin, Jane’s father, was a no-nonsense man who had worked his way through college and on to Oxford where he had studied chemical engineering. He proved to be naturally good at the subject and had been signed up by a large industrial company even before he had finished his studies, it being taken for granted that he would finish top in the finals, which he did. He was a large man who kept himself fit by tormenting himself on the golf course at weekends, spurning the electric buggies. After much frustration and effort he had managed to get his handicap down to four, he acknowledged that with the time expended he would never be better than that, however it did act as a business portal and it was possible that he carried out more business in a casual fashion there than he did from his office. Slightly over six feet tall and well built he had a commanding air and an aura of honesty that drew friends to him like a magnet. He had been somewhat sceptical when Jane first brought Bob home to meet her parents, no man could possibly be good enough for his daughter. However his wife had taken an instant liking to Bob, and as is usually the case he bowed to her superior judgment. After the first shock he became increasingly fond of his daughter’s fiancé and the more he got to know him the more his liking grew.

His wife, Magdalena, Maggie, (a nick-name which she hated) was a gentle soul. She had begun her student years as an artist, an art which she had perfected in the small timber cottage owned by her parents in a small wood near Harrow, but had moved into the more profitable field of home design, which was reflected in the beautiful home in which they now lived.

Jane had no aspirations to enter university. Her aspirations were to follow in her mother’s footsteps and leaning on her mother’s experience and expertise had made their home a model of good taste and beauty in a style long past. Fancy furniture was not entirely to Bob’s taste but he was very appreciative of the manner in which Jane had turned their rather plain home into a place of beauty. He particularly liked the dining room which invariably evoked pleasurable gasps from friends. The whole room was a symphony of pale blue carpet, deep red mahogany dining table and chairs – after the style of Chippendale – they could not have afforded the original. The eight chairs had deep golden velvet upholstery and the dining suite had in addition a sideboard full of Royal Albert Old English Roses bone china. Arranged around the top of the room were a series of decorative plates from several famous potteries – procured from auctions at a bargain price. Bob had a deep suspicion that Jane’s mother had contributed considerably to the costs of many of the objects. Several original paintings donated by her mother decorated the walls and they showed a degree of skill that surprised him. The bedroom was a picture of femininity in soft pastel shades which had the effect of setting his pulse racing, even before Jane entered it. There was an ornate brass bed frame that complemented the Dolly Varden dresser with its flowery skirting, triple mirrors and glass top. The carpet was a beautiful pastel colour and so thick that it gave a cushioning effect when walked on.

The only room that he would not allow Jane to touch was his study which contained his old desk with a green leather inset on the top and plenty of drawers in which to store his many files. The room had its original fireplace with a large open grate with two battered but comfortable armchairs set on either side. The walls were decorated with photographs of college friends, boats that he had owned and various trophies. The carpet was thick with an autumn leaf pattern.

Neither of them had ever wanted anyone else in the eight years that they had been married, they had even deferred having children because they wanted nothing to change, no other person to diffuse their passion for each other. If Bob was scared of anything in his life it was not the day to day danger that he faced as one of the youngest detective inspectors in the Metropolitan Police Force facing drug addicts and thugs of all descriptions and nationalities. No! It was the thought of losing his wife to cancer or some other disease. Had he bothered to analyse his feelings he would probably have discovered that this was one of the reasons why he did not want his wife to get pregnant – accidents sometimes occurred and he dreaded the thought. It is possible that ‘uxorious’ would have fitted his passion, but Bob would have shied from the word.

Bob always arose an hour before his wife, where in the coolness of a starting day he would spend the time in his personal training room going through a series of martial arts exercises. He held a second degree black belt in Aikido, called ni-dan, and he carried out a range of warming-up exercises prior to practising the various moves in the Kote series and his own version of Ju-Jitsu prior to taking a shower.

Jane watched him dress for work. She stretched luxuriously knowing that she could have an extra hour or so snuggled under the blankets before she needed to get up. He saw her watching as he shrugged into his shirt and flexed his muscles. From the six-pack on his stomach to the bunched muscles across his shoulders, he knew he looked good and grinned as she pulled a face. At six feet two he topped her father slightly and although similar in bulk Bob had far more muscle. His face was more rugged than her father’s but he also had that same aura of honesty, which his brown eyes seemed to emphasise. She was aware that his chosen profession had many risks, but she was also aware that Bob did not like her worrying and refused to discuss his work – she held her tongue but frowned as he jammed his pistol into his shoulder holster and buttoned his jacket over to cover it. That action seemed to focus all her senses onto the dangers of his profession. As a general rule police in the Met did not normally carry weapons except under special circumstances, however the nature of his current investigations warranted its use, the weapon was a Walther P22 – causing Jane to laughingly address him as James Bond on occasion. He preferred the P22 rather than the standard P99 or the Heckler & Koch because of its weight and size which barely caused a noticeable bump under his jacket. With the advent of Muslim inspired terrorist attacks on London the rules governing police carrying weapons had been relaxed.

He picked up his briefcase and walked over to the bed where he bent