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Banking for Beginners

By: freddie_clegg



Banking for Beginners -- Introduction

Most of the action takes place in and around Kolin, the capital of Kushtia. High on the fringes of the Hindu Kush, the small country is moving out of the shadow of its colonial past as part of the Soviet empire. Although trying to become a modern, secular state, Kushtia is still troubled by its immediate and distant past. Its distinctive way of life has been recognised under the United Nations World Heritage Cultures programme (described in the tale, "Anthropology").

Characters

Most of the folk in this tale introduce themselves as they go along but some of them were first encountered in earlier Freddie Clegg stories (Mainly in the story "Market Forces" although some also make appearances in "Anthropology"):-



Banking for Beginners



"Do you have a preference?"

Henry thought for a moment. If he had been honest he'd have expressed a wish for someone more like the stewardess on the Tashkent-Kolin leg of his flight out than the one that had welcomed him on board at London but he felt that would probably be seen as politically incorrect. "I'm sure that any of the bank's secretaries will be well able to fulfil the role, Mr Kerrish," he said to Kerren. "I will be advised by you."

Kerren looked puzzled for a moment but then said, "Well, I shall send you one. I hope you find her suitable."

 Chapter 3 : Suitable Staff 

There was a knock on his office door and, once Henry had realised that whoever was outside was waiting to be invited in, a young woman entered. Kerren Kerrish had been as good as his word and based on his first sight of her Henry thought she would be very suitable indeed.

She was, he supposed, about twenty one or twenty two years old and wore a curious combination of western and what he assumed was traditional Kushtian dress. On her head she wore a pill box hat from which draped a scarf that hung across the lower half of her face veiling all of her features apart from a pair of sparkling, dark brown eyes fringed with long lashes. If her headwear was traditional, Kushtian and modest, the rest of her outfit was anything but. She wore a white blouse that fitted tightly across her breasts and her skirt while straight and tailored was slit so that with each step Henry was afforded an excellent view of her legs. He waved her into the office. To his delight Henry realised that the girl was wearing stockings and, from the way she strode across the room, her skirt dividing at each step, she didn't mind that he knew it.

"Mr Kerrish said I should see to anything at all that you needed," she said. Henry thought her tone distinctly flirtatious. She was carrying a set of files. As she leant forward to place the files on his desk, Henry had an excellent view of her cleavage. He felt it hadn't been accidental.

"Well, Miss .." he began.

"Anchari Astana," the woman said. "I am called Anchari. But my friends call me Anch, please."

"Well Anch," Henry went on. "I hope you will be able to help me. This is all very new to me."

"I'm sure I can help," she sat herself on the desk beside him, crossing her nylon sheathed legs. "Mr Kerrish was very keen for me to do all I can. Oh, excuse me." Henry realised that the top button of her blouse had given up the unequal battle to keep her blouse closed and had become unfastened. Anch refastened it without embarrassment and then turned her attention back to Henry. "So what should I do first of all?"

"Well, why don't you take off that veil," Henry said, "I'm sure you don't need it in here."

Anch leapt to her feet, startling Henry and shouting. "What do you take me for? Mr Kerrish said I should be nice to you but you treat me like some common huna! I am no huna!" She stormed out of the room, practically knocking over Kerren Kerrish as she pushed passed him in the doorway.

Henry was on his feet calling her to come back but she ignored him. Kerren Kerrish looked at Henry. "What ever has upset Miss Astana? She is one of our most experienced staff. She seemed very distressed."

"I don't understand," Henry said. "She seemed - well - very friendly."

Kerrish smiled. "Kushtian girls are all very friendly," he said, "you will have no difficulty finding companionship for your relaxations in the afternoons. Miss Astana would be very suitable. Yes?"

"Well I hadn't thought of that but yes." Henry was surprised by Kerrish's casual suggestion that his secretary would be happy to provide sexual favours. "But I have obviously upset her."

"I am surprised, good friend. Of course the appetites of the Cleggs are legendary but even so I cannot imagine what you could have said that would have scandalised Miss Astana so."

"But I made no improper suggestion, I simply suggested that she take off her veil and ...."

"Ah!" Kerrish threw up his hands. "Ah! I understanding. Such a thing is not nice here in Kushtia. For a girl to show her face before her marriage. No! Only the poorest of women in Kushtia would dream of going without a veil. You will find that Kushtian girls are most accommodating in every other respect but they would find such a thing deeply insulting."

"She said I was treating her like a common -- what was the word -- huna?"

"Oh yes. A girl dog."

"Bitch?"

"Yes, bitch. It is an insult to call a woman so in English? Even though you love your dogs?"

"Yes. Look can I apologise to her?"

"No. No. That is not the way." Kerren's face had a look of astonished disbelief. "No man can apologise to a Kushtian girl. That would bring great loss of face. Please let me explain to her your misunderstanding. She may forgive you. I will do what I can. This is what friends are for. Leave this to your friend. See." Kerren excused himself and left the office.

A few minutes later the girl reappeared, knocking politely at the door to the office. Henry beckoned her in. Before he could say anything she spoke. "Mr Kerrish has explained that you do not know our ways and traditions. I should have explained how things are here. Please forgive me." She lowered her eyes to the floor.

Henry was grateful for the opportunity to repair things. "That is quite all right," he said. "I have much to learn. I am sure you will be able to help me."

"So, you would like me to stay?"

"Yes, yes indeed."

"Oh, thank you. Thank you," Anch said. "I was afraid that you did not like me and that your words were intended to make me go."

"Not in the least. Now perhaps you could explain these files. I suppose that I should try to understand them."

"First some coffee though? You would like?"

"I would like very much. Thank you, Anch. What is 'thank you' in Kushtian?"

"Thaknarish."

"Thaknarish," Henry imitated.

"Very good," Anch clapped her hands delightedly. "I will get coffee."

She returned moments later with a large brass jug and two tiny porcelain cups and poured them each some of the thick, black liquid. Henry took a sip. The coffee was warm rather than hot and extremely sweet and strong. "Thaknarish," said Henry, raising his cup to Anch.

She lifted hers in response, "You say 'cheers' in English?"

"That's right. You speak very good English."

"Thank you," said Anch. "We learn at school. It is a difficult language. Much harder than Kushtian. So many words."

Henry was enjoying the discussion. Anch was an attractive girl. Even if her face was veiled, the rest of her physical attributes more than made up for that. His eyes were drawn to the swell of her breasts and then, as he looked up, he saw that she had noticed his stare and her eyes told him that she was smiling behind her veil. "Ah, err, yes," Henry stuttered.

"Do not be embarrassed Mr Clegg," Anch said. "All Kushtian men admire the woman. They all like the breasts. Do you think mine are nice? Sometimes I think they are too small. Perhaps one day I will go to America or London and get new, big breasts."

"They are lovely, Anch. I don't think they need to be any bigger."

"I'm not sure," she started to unbutton her blouse, obviously anxious for some further reassurance.

Henry was more concerned not to get thrown out of his job on his first morning and was anxious to encourage her to put them away without offending her again. "Err, your medallion," he said pointing to the disk that hung from a cord around her neck. "That's very attractive. Is that gold?"

His question distracted Anch from inspecting her breasts although she did nothing to fasten her blouse. She lifted up the bright disk and nodded. "Yes," she said. "It is my properta. All Kushtian women wear them. I am lucky to have this in gold."   

"Properta? Like the English word 'property'?"

"Yes that is right. It shows the household that I belong to. Luckily my household is wealthy so my properta is made of gold. With the properta anyone can tell from which household a woman is belonging to. The household is very important in Kushtia. It is the centre of our lives. To wear the properta of a wealthy household is to have high status. I am very lucky. Now please come and tell me what you think of my breasts."

"Ah, well, surely not here in the office."

"Of course. This is why we have cubicon."

"Cubicon?"

Anch gestured to a curtain against one wall. She took Henry by the hand and led him towards it. Pulling back the curtain, she revealed a small recess with a couch littered with large cushions. "Here," she said leading him to the couch and encouraging him to lie down. "Cubicon is very important for senior managers. Too much stress is very bad for you. Here you can have your stress relieved. Part of my job is to ensure that your stress is least. I feel you are tense and need to have less stress." Henry gulped. He had to admit feeling stressed but he wasn't prepared to tell Ann that she was the cause rather than the cure. "All Kushtian men like breasts. Are English men the same?" she said, kneeling astride him, pulling off her blouse and reaching behind her back to unfasten her bra. Her full, dark breasts spilled forward towards him.

"Ah," said Henry appreciatively. "Yes, ah, yes, English men do like breasts, generally. And these are very nice indeed, err, very nice."

"But they should be bigger? Yes?"

"No, not at all Anch," Henry was thinking that if these were any bigger he would be in serious danger if one or other of them hit him. "I don't think they need to be any bigger. No, not at all."

"You English men are so polite. It is very nice. I shall play your piscalo."

"Piscalo?"

"Oh, in Kushtian, it is a musical instrument. Like a -- what? -- flute. But it also means..." She pointed down to his crotch and in response to his "Oh!" dived for the zip of his trousers and, pushing her veil aside, quickly had her tongue around his prick. Henry decided that he was in no position to argue with Kushtian traditions and leant back to enjoy it.

Anch didn't pause when Kerren Kerrish put his head around the cubicon curtain. "Ah! Good! You are falling into our ways. That is excellent. Miss Astana is very capable as a secretary is she not?"

"Indeed. Ah!" Henry gasped in between Anch's enthusiastic sucking and licking. He found it difficult to hold up his part of the conversation while his other end was being kept up so effectively by his secretary.

"Well. Shortly in my office please join me. No needing to hurry. Just when Miss Astana has finished her present tasks."

Henry nodded and Kerrish left. Anch continued. She was apparently undisturbed by Kerren's arrival but skilfully and swiftly brought Henry to orgasm, licking him clean of his jism with enthusiasm. She reached down beside the couch and pulled out a small silken cloth with which she wiped and dried Henry's member. The gentle touch of the cloth, so carefully used, seemed to encourage Henry's prick back into life. "There," she said. "Now you will feel much more relaxed. Ready for your meeting with Mr Kerren." Henry had to admit that he was feeling significantly improved by his encounter with Anch. He got up from the couch, zipped his fly and headed off towards the office of Kerren Kerrish.

 Chapter 4 : Loan Agreement 

Kerren Kerrish's office was even larger than Henry's. It was hardly surprising, Henry thought, but it did mean you ought to be able to get a taxi from the door to the desk. As he arrived, Kerrish emerged from what Henry took to be his own cubicon, followed a moment later by a leggy dark haired women in her late thirties, Henry guessed. She gathered her wrap around dress about her with a flourish that left Henry uncertain what, if anything, he had seen of her body and left the pair of them to their discussions.

At Kerren's suggestion,. Henry took a seat. "I have small project for you," he said. "No doubt simple after your many triumphs for Bank of England" Henry thought for a moment -- he didn't remember claiming that but maybe Freddie had polished Henry's CV a little. "One of our best customers has a chance for new business making. An opportunity but -- as is always -- it needs funding."

"I guess that's good news for us," said Henry.

"Indeed, indeed. With no need for money where would a bank be? But, of course, not all opportunities are as splendid as they seem. Some have greater risk than others, some require more security than others, some will generate a greater return than others. I would like you to talk to our customer, assess the opportunity, advise me on the risk, determine what interest you think we should charge."

"Fine. I can do that." Henry wasn't at all sure that he was qualified. Back in London whenever anyone wanted a loan they just fired up the computer and filled in the forms and the system said yes or no. Nevertheless, Henry thought, how hard could it be? It was probably some farmer looking for a loan to build a barn or something.

"You need to talk to Kushnati Koresh, he is one of our Council Elders. He is not too able to speak English but his wife is American. He has asked for her to deal with this. It is unusual but I suppose we must move with the times in some things."

Henry didn't see what was so odd about Koresh's wife discussing a bank loan but he let Kerren continue.

"Miss Astana will provide you with the files. She will arrange a car for you. Mr Koresh and his wife will be able to see you tomorrow morning. I am sure you will be able to assess their application. Of course as a Council Member Mr Koresh has a preferred status with the Bank, he will be very happy to meet with you."

Henry wasn't entirely happy. He felt he might be getting out of his depth in political waters. It sounded like his boss didn't want to hear that this loan wasn't a good idea and that, if it did go bad, he'd be the one carrying the can for the bank. Oh well, no change there.

Back in his office, Anch was already waiting for him with the Koresh file. "I have asked for your car to collect you from the hotel in the morning," she said. "It is one o'clock now so you will go back there, I think. For me it is time to go back to my household too."

Henry was disappointed, he'd been looking forward to spending some more time with Anch but there would be plenty of other opportunities he thought. "That's all right, Anch," he said. "I'll see you when I get back from talking to Mr Koresh and his wife."

"His wife? On bank matters? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mr Kerrish said that she was to be involved in the discussions. Why? Is that odd?"

"Very, Mr Henry, very," Anch responded. "In Kushtia a woman is not able to have a bank account. Such things can only be had by a man."

"But how do you manage? What do you do with your wages? Surely they don't pay you in cash."

"No, of course. But I don't receive wages. The earnings from my work here go to my household. They provide my food and lodging and my clothes and for my care. That is what the properta means, I contribute to my household and they take care of me."

"I see," said Henry, not really seeing at all. It sounded very odd.

"Now, I must go, if that is all right, Sir. I have to be back at my household for two o'clock. There are domestic duties to take care of."

"Yes. Yes. Of course. Well, you must tell me more of your household, Anch. I would be interested to learn more about your life."

Anch nodded her head and walked across to her desk gathering up a few things for her handbag. She took a magazine from her desk and was about to put it into her bag when she said, "Here is another good Kushtian word for you." She held out the magazine and pointed to the title. "Yassi!" it said.

"Yassi?" Henry responded, taking the magazine.

"Yes, good," said Anch. "It means 'Hello' or 'Greetings'."

Henry nodded and looked again at the magazine's cover. "Victoria Beckham is as much a celebrity here then?" he said pointing to the cover.

"Oh no. That is not Mr Beckham's wife. She does look very like her though, I agree. Also called Victoria. That is the chief wife of the son of our Kalinin, our president. She is an English girl."

"The chief wife? I suppose his others are called Gerri, Emma and Melanie."

"So you know them? It was very odd, first for a son to marry five wives at once and then for them all to be foreign. He was a big fan of the Spice Girls they say. His wives are all very like them."

Henry certainly thought the whole thing very odd. "Well, I guess the cult of celebrity extends everywhere these days," he said. "Well she certainly looks like Posh Spice, or at least the way she looked when last I saw a picture of her. What do people in Kushtia think?"

"She is very scandalous!"

"I see. Because her face is not covered?"

"No, silly. She is a wife, once you are a wife your husband may be happy to display you, if he allows. No, there are rumours about her and other men and that her husband encourages her behaviour. But she has nice breasts, doesn't she? Should I have my breasts made like those, do you think?"

"Anch, I think your breasts are just fine."

"Only fine?" In spite of her veil Henry could sense the sulky pout. "But I must go." She pulled a heavy shawl around her shoulders and then, finally took out a pair of heavy brass bracelets and fastened them on to her wrists. As she stood up to leave Henry saw that the bracelets were linked by a short length of heavy brass chain.

"What are those?" Henry said.

"These?" said Anch turning towards him. "These are manuses."

"But they're like handcuffs. Do you walk home wearing those in the street?"

"Yes, of course. Many Kushtian girls wear them. These are very grand. You see how the cuffs are broad and the chain is quite short. That is very much the way they are being worn this year. My household was very good to buy me such fashionable ones. My friend Harana is very jealous. Her's are not so wide. She tried to hide them under her shawala when she saw mine." Anch laughed. "I will see you tomorrow Mr Henry," she said and left him bewildered.

Henry shut up the things in his office and made his way back to the hotel along the empty streets of Kolin. The hotel lobby was deserted he grabbed his key from the rack behind the reception desk and made his way upstairs to his room.

He flicked on the TV. Three channels of TV Kushtia all showed a blank screen with words that said the same thing. "Back at 20:00" he looked at his watch. It was 20:15. There wasn't anything else. He looked out across the square. It was empty. There didn't seem much else to do except to sit down and go through the Koresh file. Oh, and maybe introduce himself to the contents of the mini-bar.

By the time it came to think about dinner he'd formed a good view of the nature of Mr. Koresh's finances. The mini bar had been a disappointment. In a country where you had to show your passport to get hold of alcohol it shouldn't have surprised him that the small fridge contained only fruit juice. He was glad to toss the file aside and go in search of food and a drink to go with it.

 Chapter 5 : The Household of Kushnati Koresh 

Henry's car bounced its way across the potholes on the road leading out of Kolin. They crossed the bridge across the almost dry river bed of the Kolin River and headed out through scrubby rocky countryside.

The car stopped outside a large, low, seemingly derelict building. A honk of the car's horn brought someone to the tall door that filled a high archway halfway along the front wall. Henry peered out of the car. This didn't look very impressive for someone that was supposedly a Kushtian Council Elder. He climbed out and headed to the door.

As he entered, his opinion changed. The doorway gave onto a courtyard that, in contrast to the barren land outside, was filled with luxuriant foliage. Water played from fountains in the corners of the courtyard. Two veiled women sat chatting on a bench to one side; two others were carrying large baskets of fruit across the courtyard. Henry's bemusement at the extraordinary difference between the courtyard inside and the countryside outside the walls of the building was interrupted by the muscular young Kushtian man that had opened the door. "For Mr Koresh? From the bank?" he said.




Banking for Beginners



Henry nodded and the young man led the way further into the building. The verdant greens of the courtyard gave way to opulent gold silk and purple velvet wall hangings and finely knotted silk carpets inside. Henry was astonished by the sheer luxury of the surroundings. His mouth was still hanging open when he was shown into a large room furnished in even greater splendour. At one end of the room an old wizened man sat in a wheel chair, gazing vacantly across the room. To the side, on two large padded leather couches, two women reclined, talking to one another in animated fashion. Henry recognised one of them immediately as the woman he had seen earlier on the cover of Yassi! Magazine. The other, much younger, he took to be Koresh's wife. She got up and approached him, her long skirt brushing across the floor.

Henry offered his hand. "Henry Clegg," he said. "from the People's Bank."

Koresh's wife and the woman from Yassi! exchanged puzzled glances but then waved him towards their couch. "Hi," the woman said in a sharp Brooklyn accent, "I'm Lauren - wife of Kushnati Koresh. My friend here is the wife of the eldest son of the Kalinin. He calls her Victoria."

"I can see why," Henry said, conscious that she was watching him closely. "I understand that your husband wishes to discuss some financial matters." Henry looked across to where Kushnati Koresh was sitting in his wheelchair. He didn't look as if he was up to discussing anything much.

"Of course," said Lauren. "I will bring him over. I shall need to translate for you." She walked across to where Kushnati sat, unlocked the brake on his chair and wheeled him back to where Henry was sitting. He stood up and offered his hand. Kushnati Koresh continued to stare straight ahead giving no sign that he had any awareness of Henry's presence. "I will explain things," said Lauren. "but first, tell me, Clegg isn't a very common English name is it? Do you know a Freddie Clegg? A dark haired man with a wiry moustache."

"Well yes. It's not a common name. Freddie Clegg is my uncle. That sounds exactly like him. How do you know him?"

"Ah - both Victoria and I had some involvement with one of his companies before we came to Kushtia."

"I'll mention it when I talk to him next," said Henry sociably.

"Oh, I shouldn't think he'd remember us," Victoria said acidly.

Henry blinked, puzzled by her response. He knew Freddie had some dealings with the Kushtian's but why these two women should have been involved he couldn't imagine. Lauren interrupted. "Can we get on?" Henry nodded. "OK, here's the pitch. Mr Koresh here has very good contacts with the elders of the tribes in the northern hills. For many years they chose their wives from Russian stock. Recently they have found it difficult to find wives. Through my father in the Trade Ministry I have found how I can solve that. What is need is funding to allow us to satisfy that need; finance for the initial expenses until we can recoup them from our fees."

Henry was bemused. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm not sure if I've got this straight. These elders will pay you to find them wives? Oh, I'm sorry I should be talking to your husband, shouldn't I?"

"Of course," said Lauren, "everyone knows that a Kushtian woman cannot borrow money." Even so Kushnati Koresh showed little sign of understanding what was going on. "But yes, you're right. They'll pay a premium because of my husband. He is well respected. They will feel his choice guarantees a good wife."

"A premium brand?"

"Precisely."

"So you'd be running a sort of marriage brokers."

"Sort of."

"And is it easy to persuade Russian girls that there is a good life to be had in Kushtia?"

"Easy enough. But that will be what we're doing." She pointed to herself and Victoria. Henry wasn't at all sure how Kushnati could contribute anything to the business. He was lolling limply in his chair, dribbling from one corner of his mouth.

Henry quizzed Lauren on the funding required. She made a pretence of consulting her apparently unhearing husband on several occasions but gave Henry all the data he needed. The costs appeared to have been well thought out with substantial sums allocated to the recruitment of potential brides. The girls were very confident of the level of fees that the business could charge. They explained how they needed cash to support it although there was sufficient collateral with Kushnati's assets.

Well, it was hardly the Dragon's Den, thought Henry, but, apart from the fact that Kushnati Koresh looked to be pretty much a sleeping partner in the enterprise, there seemed to be no reason why the bank shouldn't advance the money. "If you can have your husband sign the necessary documents, I am sure that the bank will support this," Henry said.

Victoria raised an eyebrow at Lauren but she simply said, "Leave the forms with me, I'll get him to sign them when he's feeling better. Won't you darling?" This time at least Kushnati managed a flick of an eyelid, though whether of agreement or not Henry could hardly say.

Henry got up to leave. Lauren rang a bell and a muscular man appeared. He gave Lauren a lascivious leer. "Our overseer will take you back to your car," Lauren said. The man looked disappointed but turned to Henry to indicate the way he should go.   

As Henry began to walk towards the door, the overseer stepped between Lauren and her husband and, ignoring the old man in the wheel chair, gripped Lauren in a tight embrace, locking his mouth onto hers and pawing at her breasts.

Victoria looked on with an air of amused tolerance. "He's too eager," she said. "Lauren, you really should tell him to control himself."

Lauren disentangled herself from the overseer's grasp and shooed him away. With a disappointed air he gestured for Henry to follow him towards the door. Henry felt grateful to get back to his car.

 Chapter 6 : Financial Evaluation 

In the office, Anch was in shocked disbelief. "You actually met Victoria? The wife of the Kalinin's eldest son?" Henry had hardly got through the door, Anch hadn't even removed her manuses but she was anxious to hear the slightest bit of gossip and was bombarding him with questions. "There are really shocking rumours about her now. Some say that she has men that she treats as her doenyes -- her servants. That she has made her own properta for them to wear in secret. That she makes them wear manuses for her or even the chanoosh! Can you imagine a man doing such a thing?"

Henry didn't know what to say. Victoria had just seemed like one of many pushy women entrepreneurs he had come across. He wouldn't have been surprised by anything that she got up to in the bedroom if she felt it would help whatever scheme she was involved it.

Anch was still chattering on. "Is she as beautiful as she looks in the magazine? What was she wearing? Are her breasts really like they look in the photographs?"

"You shouldn't worry about your breasts so much," Henry chided, enjoying the fact that Anch was wearing an exceptionally tight sweater that provided him with all the information he needed to reassure her.

"We shall have to go in the cubicon later," she flirted, "so you can be sure."

"Well, Miss Astana" Henry responded playfully. "I am most anxious to be certain. We shall most definitely find some time to review the matter. For now though I would like some coffee."

Anch nodded her head and got up to go in search of the brass pot and tiny cups. They had only time for a single cup before Kerren Kerrish summoned Henry to his office.

"So, Mr English Banker, your assessment of this project, please. Should we advance money?" Kerren was in expansive mood.

Henry was keen to tread carefully. "Well, Mr Kerrish, the business proposal seems sound and the sums involved are not large. Of course the credentials of Mr Koresh are beyond reproach and in any case there is sufficient security."

"I am hearing an unspoken 'But' in your assessment, I fear."

"It is only my concern regarding his wife, Mr Kerrish. It seemed to me that this was more her scheme than his, if you understand me."

"Indeed I do, Indeed I do. Many of those who take westerners as wives or concubines discover that their women find it hard to give up their traditions of independence. Fortunately we need not worry. In Kushtian law no woman can make a contract. So the husband is always responsible for the actions of his wife."

"But in this case -- with Mr Koresh so unwell - I suspect he is much less able than his wife pretends."

"You are right to be concerned. I think we should proceed as you suggest but we should also protect our interests. I think you should keep a close eye on this business enterprise. It would be most unfortunate if anything were to embarrass a council member or, worse still, the Kalinin."

"Oh good," thought Henry. "No pressure." What he said was, "Absolutely, Mr Kerrish, you can rely on me. I will arrange review meetings with Mr Koresh's wife, so that she can keep me up to date with progress."

"Very good. I will inform Mr Koresh that the bank will approve the loan."

When Henry returned to his office, Anch was waiting for him. "Your ten o'clock appointment is here, Mr Henry," she said. "Mrs Hallanan wishes to discuss with you a loan application."

"Anch, I'm puzzled," Henry replied "I did not think that the bank could lend to a woman. This is not more of the Koresh business is it?"

"No, not at all. The loan is for her husband but she has come here to plead his case."

Henry was beginning to wonder if any Kushtian man handled his own financial affairs. "Well," he said, "I suppose that I had better see her."

Henry's reluctance was immediately overcome by the appearance of the woman. Although veiled, of course, she was dressed for the rest in the most elegant of western fashions, with a conspicuous display of expensive finery. Henry wondered how much of a loan her husband was looking for. It had to be substantial, otherwise he could just pawn his wife's designer clothes. "

The woman spoke out in a stream of a guttural dialect of Kushtian. Henry had to apologise. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't understand. Do you speak English?"

His question brought forth a similarly unintelligible response. Henry called Anch across. "This is no good," he said, "you'll have to translate for us."

Anch looked slightly embarrassed. "She says she has been sent by her husband to do anything that you need in order that the loan is approved."

"Well," said Henry, misunderstanding comprehensively, "I'd better look at the file, make sure that all the forms are here and so on."

Anch blushed. "No, Mr Henry," she said." She says she must go to the cubicon with you for discussions. Her husband insists. This is how things are done."

Henry looked at the dark almond eyes of the woman as she stared intently at him over her veil. He took in the way that her well cut suit fitted what was evidently a trim figure and how the shortness of her skirt showed off the shapeliest of thighs. It would, he decided, be rude to refuse to discuss matters further and gestured to the cubicon. The woman took him by the hand and led him to the curtained couch..

Almost as soon as he had spread himself out on the couch the woman was kneeling beside him, gabbling away. "Anch," Henry called, "You must come and translate. And bring your pad, there may be things we need to keep a note of."

Anch looked embarrassed but joined Henry behind the cubicon's curtain as the woman started to fumble with Henry's fly zip. She chattered on, apparently unconcerned by the presence of Anch who was translating as best she could to keep up with the woman's constant stream of talk. "The loan details should be all that the bank requires," Anch translated, ""There is quite sufficient security to meet the bank's requirements and there should be every reason to grant the loan. Of course it is recognised that first families get priority in these matters but surely the bank recognises the importance of the stimulus to the economy... " by this stage the woman had pushed Henry's trousers and underpants down and had knelt astride him, pushing her skirt, with some difficulty, up over her hips.

Henry, somewhat nonplussed by the turn of events still managed to turn to Anch and ask "What is this about first families?"

Anch explained the way in which Kushtian society was divided into two well defined ranks. There was the upper rank that made up the Council and the Kushtian elite with people like Kushnati Koresh. Then there was the next rank, people like Anch's own family. The policy of the bank was very clear. There needed to be a much more convincing case made for loans to those of the lower rank. "And," said Anch, "that is why Mrs Hallanan is here to plead her case..."

Mrs Hallanan had by now taken Henry's cock between her hands and was drawing her long scarlet finger nails up it in a way that Henry found both arousing and disconcerting. A short statement was translated by Anch, "Mr Banker, I am sure that you will see the benefits of advancing to my husband his requested sum he has asked me to make sure there is no amusement in your desires that is left unsatisfied, Perhaps I could. .. Oh!" Anch stopped evidently embarrassed by Mrs Hallanan's offer. Mrs Hallanan however continued her monologue, ignoring the fact that the translation had ceased, and instead, taking her cue from the Henry's steadily increasing tumescence. Then, without further remark and with seemingly practised ease, she pulled aside the crotch of her knickers and slid her cunt down over Henry's erect prick.

"Ah, haha, ahhh, Mrs Hallanan," Henry tried to remain calm as the woman sat perched astride his member, "I will - - ahhh -- of course -- mmm -- give appropriate consideration to your husband's request. But the bank's conditions on security are quite stringent. I need to know -- ahh -- against what we would be advancing the loa -- oh -oh -- n." Anch still evidently embarrassed by having to stand by while Mrs Hallanan sought to ply her influence, translated Henry's words. Mrs Hallanan nodded and muttered some more remarks leaving Anch looking scandalised as she scribbled in her notebook and Henry abandoned himself to the attentions of Mrs Hallanan's virtuoso flexing of her vaginal muscles.

Mrs Hallanan stopped, evidently waiting for Anch to complete her translation. Anch evidently distressed stuttered a few words for Henry. "She will give you her daughter ... as security... to hold in the bank's employ or in your own household as a doenya or if you so please a concubine. She has learned well from her mother and has all the energy of an eighteen year old girl."

It was hard to tell who was the more horrified, Henry for whom such a thing was barely believable, or Anch who had never even imagined that such a thing could be considered by a parent. Henry, in spite of Mrs Hallaman's attentions, was the first to recover. "Please," he said to Anch, "tell Mrs Hallanan that I will give her request due consideration and that she has been eloquent indeed in putting forward her case." Henry gasped again as another flexing of the woman's muscles gripped at his engorged prick. He was almost kicking himself as he spoke his next words. "But Mrs Hallanan must go now." I have another appointment. Perhaps we can discuss this again when I have taken some time to examine her husband's application further." Anch translated. Mrs Hallanan looked disappointed but then disentangled herself from Henry, stood up from the couch, smoothed down her skirt, adjusted her veil and muttered some more words of Kushtian before bowing towards Henry and respectfully backing out of the cubicon. Henry felt relieved as the woman left; frustrated, certainly, but relieved.

Anch felt able to vent her anger. "How could she do that? Offer her own daughter! For a mother to do such a thing! It is the thing a man may do; often such arrangements are made by a father to make a good alliance or to help further his daughter in society. But a mother? Never! Unthinkable!"

"I'm sure she didn't really mean that, Anch," Henry replied, trying to calm Anch.

"What do you know?" Anch responded angrily. "You know what she said last of all? 'I will come back when you have had the chance to examine the application'...."

"That's not unreasonable, Anch," Henry interrupted.

"I didn't finish the translation," Anch said, still outraged. "...'I will come back,' she said, 'and I bring my daughter too so you can be sure of the good will we extend to the bank.' Of course she meant it!"

Henry was nonplussed. He tried to comfort Anch, telling her that he thought the woman's behaviour was, indeed, outrageous. There could be no question, he said, of his decision being influenced by such a thing. And besides, the woman's promiscuous behaviour compared badly with the open hearted and delightful way that she, Anch, had always treated him.

Anch looked more cheerful immediately. "That is a nice thing to say, Mr Henry. For that I give you a treat right now in the cubicon. You need to relax after that unpleasant woman...." Anch began to peel off her sweater, revealing her ample breasts. Henry lay back on the couch resignedly. Oh well, he thought, when in Rome... And besides, the woman hadn't been that unpleasant.

Chapter 7 : Over The Border 

Natalya Uranova sat quietly in a small room at the one hotel in Pestrovya waiting to be called. She was looking forward to the interview. Everything she had heard about the job made her think that it would offer her the chance she longed for to leave this provincial town for a more exciting life.

It wasn't clear what the job was really about; she was hoping to find out more at the interview. All she knew was that it would involve travel. As far as Natalya was concerned that was what she was really interested in. When she was shown into the interview room the exotic appearance of the women interviewing her was enough to make her think, "Yes!" straight away.

The two women introduced themselves. "Victoria," the small dark girl said, offered a gloved hand to Natalya. She was dressed entirely in black, wearing the tightest of high necked tops and leggings. The severe, sleek look was only relieved by a silver neck band from which hung a large jet plaque set in a silver surround. If her appearance was daunting, her demeanour was welcoming. "Take a seat," she said. "Please don't be nervous."

"I'm Lauren," the other woman said as Natalya sat down. Even from those two words she was obviously American, but although her accent said USA, her clothes were those of a high ranking Kushtian woman. Her outfit was as loud and colourful as the other woman's was sober, a brightly striped wrap over a deep turquoise coloured robe. Natalya felt very drab in comparison. Her pale green blouse and the straight, dark green, skirt had seemed like sensible dress for an interview but now she was not so sure.

Natalya smiled in response. It was even exciting to be talking in English. She had studied it at school, of course, and there was always plenty of American television to practice her understanding but she hardly ever had the chance to speak it. "Thank you," she said.

The interview got under way. Natalaya was pleased with how it seemed to be going. Lauren asked most of the questions. "How did you enjoy your studies? What were your favourite subjects? What do you enjoy in your free time? How does your boyfriend feel about you taking a year away from here?"

The last one was the easiest to answer. Her boyfriend had been pretty cross when she'd told him she was thinking of doing this. He seemed to think she was there just for his amusement. Well, Natalya had told him she wasn't going to build her life around him. Natalya hadn't minded, it wasn't as though it was any sort of life-time commitment.





Banking for Beginners



Lauren nodded with an understanding smile. Both she and Victoria seemed to be happy with Natalaya's replies, she thought. Victoria nodded to Lauren and Lauren asked if Natalaya would like some tea.

Natalya nodded. "Yes, please," she said. Victoria disappeared for a few moments and returned with a glass of pungent black tea. It was stronger than Natalya liked as a rule but she didn't complain, sipping it happily as the questions continued.

Suddenly she felt a little odd. She reached forward and put the glass of tea down, worried about spilling it on the carpet. As she sat back she felt even more peculiar; as though her arms had become like logs; as though every joint had become frozen. She tried to speak but even her mouth would not do as she wished. Victoria was the one now smiling as she stepped forward. "Good," she said, "that's the last one."

"No!" Natalaya was thinking. "You don't understand, I can't move. Please help me."

Victoria stepped forward towards her. Far from coming to her aid, Victoria reached for Natalya's blouse, unfastening the buttons and pulling it open to expose her. "There," she said, "I told you this one would be all right."

"What does she mean?" Natalya was thinking. "All right for what? And why can't I move?"

Natalya was helpless to resist as Victoria and Lauren went to work on her. First they laid her on the floor and then began fitting straps around her arms and legs, fastening them so tightly that even if Natalya had been able to overcome her paralysis she would still not have been able to move. With the straps in place Lauren disappeared for a moment and then returned with a small trolley. Together she and Victoria lifted Natalya onto the trolley and wheeled her out into an adjacent room. Four large cases, each of them black with chrome plated strapping and corner reinforcements stood along the far side of the room. Another case stood open in the middle of the room. Inside Natalya could see heavy padding and more straps. Victoria pushed the trolley across to it and together she and Lauren began fitting the unresisting Natalya into the case.

Lauren and Victoria went to work with the straps, fixing Natalya in a sitting position within the padded case. It was as they fastened the last of the straps that Natalya began to feel some feeling returning to her muscles.

"Uh oh," said Lauren, "she's coming out of it more quickly than the others. Let me have the mouangf."

Natalya didn't recognise the Kushtian word but she knew what it was as soon as Victoria responded, passing Lauren a leather plug gag. Lauren pulled Natalaya's mouth open and pushed the plug of the gag in. The plug held her teeth apart and filled her mouth. As Lauren fastened the strap around her head, Natalaya felt the muffling effect as the heavily padded face piece pressed down over her mouth. The slight groan she managed as the effects of the paralysis subsided died in her throat. Lauren smiled, evidently pleased at the effect of the moaungf. Natalya, feeling movement returning to her arms, tried to struggle against the straps but to no effect. Lauren smiled again and fitted two more straps, one around Natalya's forehead and one more over the moaungf locking Natalya's head solidly in place. As Lauren began to close the case, shutting her into inky blackness, Natalaya caught sight of the other cases again. She wasn't alone, she thought. There must be four other girls like her in those other cases. What on earth was happening to them all?

She had no chance to do any more than think. As the case closed all light was extinguished and she felt the padding of the lid press all around her. Only immediately in front of her face was there any gap between her and the padding of the case. At least I can breath, she thought. There was a clunking noise; locks fastening on the case, Natalya guessed. Then there was nothing. No sound. Nothing. Just the blackness of the inside of the case and nothing.

Natalya had no idea how long the nothing went on for. She tried to push against the straps a few times but with no result. In time she resigned herself to whatever was to happen.

Then there was noise and movement. Words barked in Kushtian heard faintly through the padding of the case. Scraping sounds. And then the sensation of the case she was in being moved, lifted she thought; onto some trolley she guessed. Then she was taken on to a truck, if the next few hours of throbbing vehicle vibration and sound were any guide. What ever was happening to Natalaya, she knew that she wasn't staying in the hotel and that she was leaving Pestrovya behind.

 Chapter 8 : Anatoly's Call 

"Come on Freddie, this is not like you," the voice of Anatoly Kustenky was quiet; a sign that always worried Freddie. "We have an agreement I think. I don't piss on your patch, you don't piss on mine."

"Anatoly," Freddie Clegg responded in similar tone. "Please be assured there is no pissing on your patch from my side. We have plenty to do here without trying to take on Mother Russia."

"You say that Freddie but I know you. You see a chance, you take a chance. This has your finger prints on it Freddie, it's just your style."

"I don't have a patent on any of this, Anatoly. I just make it up as I go along."

"Listen, Freddie, this is just like you and it's right across the border from Kushtia. We agreed you could play there. We even thought you might come to us for some product to ship there. Now we find you're sourcing your own in our back garden. That's pissing on my patch, Freddie. Pissing on my patch."

"Anatoly, I give you my word. This is not a Clegg operation. There are no Clegg Enterprises people in Russia. Hell, there aren't any Clegg Enterprises people in Kushtia right now. This is nothing to do with me."

"So if it's not Clegg Enteprises picking up nice girls from Pestrovja, taking the bread out of my mouth, who is it?"

"I don't know but I'll talk to the Kushtian's and see what I can find out. All right? And if it's anything they are up to I'll see what I can do. If they are freelancing I'm not sure I can do anything about it. Sure they are supposed to take product from me but I can't stop them doing their own thing. I'll do what I can, Anatoly."

"OK Freddie, just be sure you're not pissing on my patch."

Clegg put down the phone, annoyed that Kustenky hadn't seem ready to believe him. It was, however, odd, he thought as he looked up the location of Pestrovja. The Kushtian's hadn't shown any signs of wanting to get into the business themselves but Pestrovja was just over the border. It was only a little later that he thought he had only been technically accurate when he said there weren't any Clegg Enterprises people in Kushtia right now. After all Henry didn't work for Clegg Enterprises. The only problem, Clegg thought, was Anatoly might think that was a bit too much of a technicality. Freddie looked at his watch. It would be early evening in Kolin. He tried to call Henry.

The line was terrible. It crackled. Henry's voice faded in and out.

"Hello... hello... yes, Fred? Fred?"

"Hi, Henry .. Henry? Yes. How's it going?"

"Good. Yes. Good. The bank's fine. Very friendly people, if you know what I mean."

"Uh huh..." Freddie knew exactly. "Listen. Can you do me a favour?"

"Sure Fred, sure ... Fred?.. Fred? Yes, sure."

"Can you find out if any of the bank's customers have an interest in Russia. Could be around the borders of Kushtia. Possibly in a place called Pestrovya."

"Can do Freddie, I owe you one at least. Can do. This could be an easy one though. One of the customers I'm working with has a marriage broking scheme for Russian women. I think they've been doing something in Pestrovya. It's Kushnati Koresh. Well his wife really. And one of the wives of the Kalinin son. I'm sure you know them. Lauren and Victoria."

Freddie's heart sank. He remembered Lauren and Victoria all right. Victoria had been one of Larry's first acquisitions and Lauren had nearly caused a lot of problems when the Kushtians had been trying to set up shop in the UK. He could quite believe that they might be involved in something. And "marriage broking"? Good grief!

"Henry, can you let me...? Henry? Henry? ... Are you there?" The line had finally given up. He cursed the inadequacies of Kushtian Telecoms. It was only when he picked up the phone to talk to Harry his operations manager, that he realised the phone line had been dug up outside their office.

It took them four hours to reconnect the line. Freddie, fuming, disappeared off to his club. In the interests of international harmony and avoiding the more excitable sort of responses that Anatoly could be capable of, Freddie called him back.

"So, Freddie," Anatoly sounded abrupt. "You find something with these Kushtians or you want to tell me that you are pissing on my patch?"

"No pissing, Anatoly, I told you," Freddie responded. "Here's what I've found. There are two clients of the People's Bank of Kushtia involved in some enterprise in Kushtia. Those clients have taken product from me in the past. It's possible there is some free-lancing going on."

"Not nice, Freddie, when customers start doing that. Still as long as it's not your boys. I can clean things up without problem."

Freddie was afraid that he was going to say that. It wasn't what he wanted. "Well, it might help if you'd hold off for a bit. I'd like to see if I can sort it out from the Kushtian side of the border."

"Freddie, that's a big favour. Why shouldn't my boys go in and close this down?"

"No reason at all, Anatoly. If I were you I'd want to as well. But, it will be untidy. It will upset people. I think maybe I can sort things out more easily. Isn't that what friends are for?" Anatoly listens without responding. "Look, Anatoly, give me a couple of weeks. If any more girls go missing in Pestrovja, give me a call."

"So two weeks? I can live with that. Nobody from Moscow wants to go to that backwater, anyway."

No, thought Freddie, and no one from his London operation would want to go either but it was better that he sorted things out. If Anatoly's boys went storming in there would be blood on the carpets and plenty of other places as well.

 Chapter 9 : Ellie's Trip 

Ellie was less than enthusiastic when Clegg broached the idea with her. She adopted the pensive, quiet look that Clegg always found worrying.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Freddie?" she said. "Why not just let Anatoly clean things up from his side."

"Because it's our customers that are involved and a confrontation with Anatoly could seriously affect their ability to business with us in the future. That and the fact that I don't trust Henry not to get caught up in it."

"But, Freddie, you know what the Kuhtian's think of women. If it's Council Members or the like that are involved, I won't have a chance to get close to anything that's going on." Ellie folded her arms, convinced that she'd produced a winning point.

"True," said Clegg. "But, from what Henry said, I don't think that's what is happening. This sounds like a little private enterprise from Lauren and sweet little Victoria. If it is, you'll be ideally placed to sort it out. As a woman. Besides if Henry has got his sticky paws on this then I want it to be kept in the family. You're the only real answer, Ellie."

Ellie shook her head. "I don't think I am but I can't think of a better one right now," she said.

Clegg sat back looking pleased. Ellie looked at him in exasperation. He was impossible when he was right, she thought.

While Ellie was getting ready for her departure, Lauren was helping Natalya become acclimatised to her new home. When the case she had been strapped into was opened, Natalya was astonished by the sight of Lauren and Victoria confronting her.

Lauren and Victoria had evidently determined that the best way to start the induction of their captives was with process of intimidation and that the most intimidating thing for the girls would be to be greeted by a site as bizarre as anything that they would ever have seen.

The two girls had taken full advantage of the extensive fetish wardrobe that Victoria had acquired as a result of the indulgences of her husband and the various men that had placed themselves in her thrall in the hope of gaining influence with the Kalinin's son or the Kalinin himself.

The four girls had been forced to their knees. Lauren and Victoria stood before them; Victoria in a black rubber cat suit that she had topped off with a sinister gas mask, and Lauren in leather trousers and jacket. Both were wielding vicious looking whips.

"Welcome, ladies," Victoria began before she went on to explain how they were now to be trained as concubines for Kushtian men that would pay well to have reluctant Russian girls in their beds.

It was only after Lauren and Victoria had left that Husna Hannish, the Overseer, felt able to express his distaste. As the door to the room shut behind Lauren he spat a plug of chewing tobacco in its direction.

"Hunes," he muttered under his breath. "Bitches." His colleague nodded in agreement. It was all very well for the two of them to flounce in here, parading up and down in their high heels and acting like they owned the place but now something needed to be done with the women they had brought back. Husna had thought he had an opportunity to better himself with Koresh's wife, but then she had seemed only interested in sex. Now there was this other game.

"A secure place, Hannish," Lauren had said to Husna, when they arrived. "Until we can arrange for the girls to be seen by their prospective husbands. And they should learn to be docile and compliant. Like good Kusthian girls."

Husna looked down at the four helpless women. Good Kushtian girls! It took a lifetime to make a good Kushtian girl. You couldn't expect to turn these Russians into anything much without time. They didn't even know how to dress respectably. When did you last see a Russian in a veil? Even when they ran the country they didn't respect the traditions!

He called Hakshim, the young man he was schooling to as apprentice overseer. "Do you think these girls are going to be any use?" Husna said to his colleague as they pulled each of the girls in turn to their feet.

Hakshim didn't seem impressed. "Too thin," he said. "Like western girls. Look at this." He put his arm around Natalya's trim waist. "You shouldn't be able to get that far around. You should need both arms. And these," he prodded Natalya's breasts. "How can you rest your head on these."

"She may give other comforts. Here," he said, unbuckling the strap of the plug gag that filled her mouth. "Let's try this."

"Won't the lady of the household object? She seems to see these as her own property."

"A woman with property? Absurd. She takes advantage of the master's sickness. He has always said that his overseer should have such use of the girls of the household as they see fit. Not his wives, of course, but the doenyes; that is all right. These are the rights of the Overseer and must be exercised or they will be forfeit through lack of use."

Hakshim smiled. He was happy to take the advice of his mentor. Natalya looked back and forth at the two men, not understanding a word of their exchange, barely able to make out the individual words from their guttural dialect. 'Doenyes' was one word she understood. 'Servant' it meant. Perhaps that was what they were intended as, servants in this household. A moment later she came to realise that there was more to it than that. The older man -- the one that was called Husna -- grabbed her by the hair and twisting brought her to her knees. The younger one stepped up to stand legs astride in front of her. Unfastening his belt, her dropped his breeches, confronting Natalya with a dark, thick and steadily lengthening cock.

Husna twisted again at Natalya's hair. As she cried out in pain, Husna pushed her forward and Hakshim buried his cock in her mouth. Natalya, choking as Hakshim pushed against her, tried to struggle but could not break free of Husna's grip. The two men were laughing, exchanging remarks that, even without understanding their Kushtian, Natalaya knew to be coarse encouragement of each other. There was more laughter and more jokes as Husna and Hakshim changed places. Husna's shorter, stubbier, cock was less of a choking mouthful than Husna's but the younger man had now found a strap to thrash across Natalya's buttocks, encouraging her to try harder to please the Overseer. Natalya caught sight of the other girls, still gagged, their eyes wide in terror as they each began to realise what was to be their fate too.

 Chapter 10: The Bank Manager Cometh 

Henry had become rather annoyed. Lauren had agreed that she would provide a report on their progress before his regular weekly meeting. She hadn't and, as a result, he had had to suffer the embarrassment of trying to explain to Mr. Kerrish why he still didn't have the details on their plans for repayment of the loan.

He'd called her several times. Mostly he'd got her voice mail and, on the few occasions that he had actually managed to speak to her, she'd promised to call him back and then hadn't.

The only way to resolve it, thought Henry was to go out and see Lauren, whether she was ready to have a discussion or not. Anch was not at all happy with the thought. "I'm not sure that you should be planning to visit a Kuhtian woman without the permission of her husband," she said.

"I'm sure you are right Anch, normally," said Henry. "The difficulty is that he doesn't seem to be in any condition to give his consent. He's very unwell, I feel. The only time I met him, I wasn't even certain that he was conscious."

"It makes no difference," said Anch emphatically. "For a Kushtian man, his wish is his wish. Would you visit his wife when he was sleeping because he could not give his yes or no?"

"I think its different Anch. And I'm worried that his wife may be taking advantage of the situation."

"No, that cannot be possible. A Kushtian wife can only respect the wishes of her husband."

"I think you are forgetting that Mr Koresh's wife is not of Kushtian upbringing. I feel I must go and see what is going on."

Henry arrived at Koresh's estate late in the afternoon. He was welcomed, if that was the right word, at the door by Koresh's overseer.

"Mr Koresh not seeing any one," he said, helpfully. Husna Hannish was tired by the comings and goings. The women brought by his master's young American wife and the English wife of the Kalinin's son would cause nothing but trouble, he was sure.

"That's all right I wish to see Mrs Koresh."

"I have no permission to admit you."

"I really think you should tell Mrs Koresh that I am here."

"I cannot do that."

"Of course you can. I will wait here."

"No I cannot do that. Mrs Koresh, not here."

Henry and Husna Hannish were debating whether or not he should be admitted when a veiled Victoria appeared over Husna's shoulder.

"What is it, Hannish" she asked.

"This bank gentleman. He seeks Mrs Koresh but I tell him, she is not here."

"Quite right, Hannish, quite right. However, I will see if I can help him. Let us extend the hospitality of the Koresh to him."

With ill grace, Husna gestured for Henry to enter. Victoria led the way to one of the comfortable formal rooms off the entrance hall. She sprawled on a pile of cushions and waved to Husna to leave them. Husna, scowling, did so.

"He is a loyal servant but not very able to adapt to western ways."

"I hadn't thought that much of western morality or custom had penetrated here."

"You would be surprised what goes on behind close doors, Mr Clegg."

Henry noticed that as she stretched out on the cushions one of the slits in the long panelled skirt that she was wearing had fallen open affording him an excellent view of her legs. She reached out for the silver mouthpiece of a large hookah that stood beside the couch, slipped it between her lips and inhaled deeply. Almost at once a beatific smile came over her. She picked up a second smoking tube and offered it to Henry. "Won't you join me," she said, stretching sinuously towards him, her eyes wide and looking straight at him.




Banking for Beginners



Even with Henry's usual slowness to react, he realised that what was on offer might be more than a puff on her hookah. But, as he told himself, it would be rude to refuse her hospitality and besides he really needed to get to the bottom of what was going on with Lauren's business. "Thank you," he said, sitting down beside her on the couch and taking the second mouthpiece from her and inhaling himself.

The cool smoke had a curiously calming effect. He found himself smiling as easily as Victoria was. He looked at her as she smiled back at him. "This isn't tobacco is it?" he said.

"Partly," Victoria grinned mischievously. "and partly hunashif. It is a traditional herb, burnt in the halls of the seragla, the harems, to sooth and relax the man's wives and concubines."

"Who needs relaxing, you or me?" said Henry as Victoria lay back on the cushions.

"Let's just say we believe in a more, ah, intimate relationship between a bank and its customers than might be the custom in Europe."

"Hmmm," said Henry thoughtfully, the expression of doubt and curiosity dragged out by the intoxicating effect of the hunashif.

"Mmmm," responded Victoria, stretching out a hand to Henry's thigh.

Henry looked down at it, taking another drag on the hookah that left him wondering if the hand had suddenly appeared there or had been there all along. He looked back at Victoria, somehow her shoulders were now bare, the deep green velvet of the top of her costume contrasting with the soft cream skin of her bosom and the dark shady chasm of her cleavage.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs Kalinin?" he asked.

"Would you like me to?"

"I can't help but feel that might make our business dealings more difficult, Mrs Kalinin."

"It's Mrs Kalanis, Kalinin is the title of my father."

"Oh," Henry found himself laying back on the cushions. He took another puff from the hookah. The hunashif certainly seemed to have a calming effect. "Well, Mrs Kalanis, I most certainly apologise. The bank is at all times concerned with ..." His voice trailed off. He couldn't think what the bank could possibly be concerned with. What interest could they have in the fact that one of their senior officers was sprawled, half intoxicated, in the company of the wife of the country's ruler while her hand slid sinuously across towards him and unfastened the belt of his trousers?

While Henry was enjoying Victoria's company, he didn't notice his mobile phone being slipped out of his jacket pocket. Some time later Anch responded to the bleeping of her own phone and read the text message she had received. "Most important meet you. Spice Market. Old Fountain. 14:00 Please bring Koresh file. Henry."

Anch wasn't sure what to think about the text. She was intrigued by puzzle it presented. Why did her boss suddenly want a meeting away from the office? And why in the Spice Market? Then there was the reputation of the Spice Market itself. Once upon a time the Spice Market had been notorious as the venue for secret assignations between lovers, between errant husbands and their lovers or adulterous wives and theirs. The old tenements of the spice merchants had been the scene of many an illicit tryst and the old fountain was at the heart of the maze of alleys between them. It would have been nice if Henry had discovered a romantic streak during their sessions in the cubicon. However, the fact that he'd asked her to bring the Koresh file rather implied that he hadn't.

She tossed the file into a shoulder bag and headed off towards the east of the old town.

The closer Anch got to their meeting place, the more out of place she felt. She had almost forgotten how different the old parts of Kushtia were. Compared to the modern centre of Kolin, the area around the Spice Market seemed to belong to a different century. Of course as a good Kushtian girl Anch was veiled but she wore her head and face covering with a smart skirt and blouse in the season's fashionable colours for the office. Here though the women all dressed alike in the all enveloping dark chanoosh. They bustled by her carrying wicker tubs containing their day's purchases. She couldn't tell whether they noticed her or not as she made her way through the alleyways of the old town but she felt conspicuous anyway. There were few men on the street, but occasionally as she passed a coffee house one or other would look up from a game of tavla and give her an appraising silent stare as she walked by. She was careful to keep her properta on view; that way she was seen to belong to a prominent family and should as a result be safe from molestation. Even so she didn't feel entirely safe here, she clutched the strap of her shoulder bag tightly.

Anch turned a corner into the square of the fountain. She looked at her watch. She was a few minutes early. There was no sign of Henry and the tiny square, surrounded by Merchants houses that seemed to crowd in on every side and overlooked by the houses' overhanging balconies, was deserted. She sat down on the wall surrounding the fountain.

There was a noise from one of the houses, an argument from one of the balconies. Anch stood up and looked to the source of the noise. As she did so there was a movement behind her and a hand grabbed at her bag. A sharp knife sliced through the shoulder strap and the bag was snatched away from her. Anch turned to see a woman clad in a dark brown chanoosh, running as best she could in the long robe, towards one of the alleyways. Anch gave chase.

In her shorter, albeit tighter, skirt, she began to narrow the distance between herself and the thief as they ran through the maze of alley ways. Then Anch had a stroke of luck, the thief turned a corner and found herself in a dead end. With high walls surrounding her and no doors leading from the street the thief turned to face her pursuer.

"Give it back to me," Anch demanded in Kushtian. "It's only papers, of no value. Give it back to me and I'll let you go."

The thief shook her head, clutching the bag closer to her.

"Come on," said Anch advancing towards her as the thief backed up against the back wall of the cul de sac. "Give it to mmmmm!"

Anch's demands were cut off by a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Another reached around her waist and pulled her back. She was held tightly by an attacker from behind.

"You should have turned left not right," Anch's attacker said to the woman that had been running from her. "It's the other side of the alley. Come on." Anch felt herself being pulled backwards. Unable to cry out she was dragged across the alley and through a door, into, she presumed, one of the Spice Merchant's houses.

"What are we going to do with her? I only wanted to grab the bag."

"Why don't we keep hold of her for the time being. She might be useful."

"All right, I've got some rope here, turn her around."

Anch tried to struggle as she was first spun around and then as her arms were dragged behind her back and rope knotted around her wrists and then around her ankles.

"Put her down in the store room."

"OK. There's a moaungf here too." Anch knew what was coming next. Although she had never had a moaungf used on her they were common in Kushtian households. A servant that spoke out of turn or a concubine that was found guilty of gossiping might well have to wear one. Anch tried to wriggle free of her captor as the woman that she had been chasing pulled up her veil, prised open her mouth and pushed in the heavy leather covered wad of the silencing moaungf. The strap was fastened behind her head and Anch knew that there was no point in trying to cry our with her mouth so well stuffed. Her two captors picked her up and carried her across the room. On the far side was a wooden chute that led to the store room below. Anch was lowered on to the chute and let go. She slid down the chute squealing helplessly into her gag as she fell to the bottom. She slammed against a pile of spice filled sacks and sending a cloud of aromatic dust up into the air leaving her gasping for breath as a result of the impact and the stifling scent of the spices. She looked up to the top of the chute. Her assailants were staring down at her.

"She will be all right there for now," the thief said.

"I guess so," said the other and then the two of them were gone, leaving Anch wondering why they had attacked her, why one of her two assailants spoke Kushtian with a pronounced American accent and why Henry had lured her into their clutches.

Henry on the other hand was greatly enjoying his afternoon with the wife of the son of the hereditary ruler of Kushtia. She had explained to him a great deal about the constitution of Kushtia, about the way in which the Kalinin was appointed and the access that this gave her to some of the most powerful men in the land. While she was doing this and servant girls were bringing cool drinks or sweet meats as Victoria asked, he had managed to lose more of his clothes. At the same time she had been able to demonstrate some most acrobatic poses learned, she said, from the great practitioners of the art of love in the Kalinin's seragla, his harem. Henry, bemused by the circumstances as much as the hunashif, had found it easy to while the afternoon away in her company, persuading himself that he was, indeed, getting to grips with a deeper understanding of his clients.

While Henry was being entertained by Victoria, Natalya Uranova was being subject to yet more humiliations as her captors insisted that she progress with her training. "You learn to be good slave girl," Husna had said to her. "You fetch and carry for your Master and Mistress. You practice that now." And so he had taken her from her cell, put manacles around her wrists and ankles and taught her how she should serve drink or offer a hunashif pipe; kneeling beside her Master and offering up the item in question with her head bowed submissively. The slightest failure to conform to her teacher's exact instruction had earned her blows from a cane. She had been beaten so many times over the past few days that she had no desire to earn more cuts and so she was trying very hard to carry out each task to the letter.

She was following her teacher along some corridors, as they passed one open door she looked through. Within, a veiled woman - another slave like herself, she guessed -- was sprawled on a couch with a man, a westerner. "You money has already bought you all of this," she heard the woman say as she leant back on her cushions. Natalya recognised Victoria's voice. Victoria's remark had been in response to Henry's expression of concern about the bank's finance for her project but Natalya interpreted it as Victoria accepting her status as the man's slave. So, Natalya thought, she is as much his captive as I. As Natalya watched the man's lascivious reaction she was in no doubt that he was the ring leader of this gang of white slavers. A moment later her trainer realised that she had stopped and returned to drag her away from the doorway.

Suddenly Victoria announced to Henry that he would have to leave, declaring herself delighted to have enjoyed his company but explaining that she needed to be ready for a dinner for some ambassador or other that evening. She swept out of the room, leaving Henry to pull up his trousers, button his shirt, refasten his belt and to try to quell his unsatisfied erection.

As he stumbled out of the Koresh's house he looked at his watch and thought that he had better phone the office. It took him some time to find his phone. It wasn't in his left hand jacket pocket where he always kept it. Somehow it had found its way into an inside pocket. "Odd," thought Henry, "I can't imagine how that happened."

 Chapter 11: Cellar Struggle 

Anch struggled helplessly, sprawled on the sacks in the spice store. Each attempt to dislodge the ropes that held her wrists and ankles sent a cloud of dust into the air leaving her choking, unable to catch her breath because of the mouth filling maoungf that had been strapped around her head.

The scent of turmeric, cumin and coriander filled the air. Anch wriggled herself around until she was sitting up. In her efforts to free herself she had torn her skirt and stained her blouse with the deep yellow of turmeric. Her head covering and veil lay beside her on the floor where her attackers had tossed it down the chute after her.

As she wriggled her arms once more she became aware that she could feel a little give in the ropes. She looked around. On the far side of the cellar, a hook held ropes from the cellar's hoist. Anch felt sure that if she could get to it, the combination of her struggles and the sharp hook could free her. Slowly she started to move herself across the floor of the cellar. Eventually she managed to shuffle herself close to the foot of the wall beneath the hook. Turning around, she levered herself up against the wall and finally managed to snare the loops of the ropes around her wrists onto the hook. Tugging against the hook and flexing her wrists she slowly felt the ropes begin to give.

Her efforts were interrupted by the sound of voices in the room above. She threw herself back onto the floor just as the trap door at the top of the ramp was pulled up. The veiled faces of two women stared down at her.

"She's moved," one of the women said.

"Not far," said the other, her American accent revealing her as one of Anch's assailants. "And she won't get out of there for a while."

"How is the banker?"

"Oh fine. He's busy with Victoria."

Anch was furious. It seemed that Henry was in league with these women; that he had staged the whole thing so that the Koresh file could be stolen. She had to escape and try to discover what he was planning. Perhaps he intended some fraud on the bank? He had seemed like a reasonable man but you could never tell with these westerners. And the text message that had brought her to the Spice Market had come from Henry's phone.

The cellar hatch cover was dropped back into place by the women. Anch listened quietly as slamming doors in the rooms above announced the departure of her attackers again. She worked her way back to the hook and started once more to try to free herself.

It seemed to take forever but eventually she managed to work a loop of rope free. With the freedom that gave her, she wrenched at the ropes with renewed vigour. From that moment she soon worked the remainder of the rope loose and with effort she got her wrists free.

Wasting no time she freed the ropes from around her ankles and unbuckled the strap of the mouth filling moaungf, pulling the plug free with a gasp of relief. She stood up, brushed as much of the mess from her clothes as she could and looked around hoping to find a way out.

The door into the cellar was locked but eventually she managed to pile up spice sacks into a sort of pyramid that let her climb out of the cellar and up into the room above. Listening all the while in case her attackers returned she pulled on her veil and slipped out into the street. One thing was certain, if Mr Henry was involved in trying to defraud the bank she would have to try to talk to Mr Kerrish but for now the best thing would be to go back to her own household.

++ ++ ++ ++

Much to Anch's concern, Kerren Kerrish was not in the office the following day, having gone up to the north of the country with Henry to meet some of the bank's clients there. Henry had been keen to go, Anch remembered. Perhaps the trip had something to do with his plans. Anch decided to stay put until Henry and Mr Kerrish returned.

It was while Kerrish and Henry were visiting one of their Northern clients that they encountered Dana Harris. "Hi," she had said with a breezy tone and an American accent. "Guess that you're a foreigner here too."

She scrounged a lift with the two men back towards Kolin and spent most of the journey telling them about herself. How she'd been in Kushtia for almost a month now, how it was so different from her home in Ohio, how she really didn't understand why the women put up with the way they were treated and so on. Kerren Kerrish affected an air of quiet interest. Henry made the mistake of asking the occasional question which had the effect of her embellishing her views with even greater detail.

"But that's not the main reason that I'm here," Dana said as the car staggered gratefully onto tarmac roads as they got into the outskirts of Kolin. "I'm really hoping to get to the bottom of this United Nations Cultural Heritage Programme. I mean, OK, it's understandable for Kushtian women to be happy with the way they're treated -- they've been brought up to it, I guess. But what is it with Brits and Americans coming here to live the same way? Seems crazy to me and nothing I've seen so far is going to seem any different to my readers."

Dana's words sent a chill up Henry's neck. "Readers?" he said.

"Yes, sure. I write for a number of magazines back home. Women's issues, current affairs, that sort of thing. Maybe I should interview you about the UN Programme -- it would be good to get the view of a British man living out here."

"I'm not sure," Henry responded. Actually, he was, the last thing he wanted to do was to attract attention to himself by talking to a reporter. "I don't really know anything about the programme."

"That's OK, I can give you some details."

The car stopped at Henry's hotel. He climbed out, hoping that Dana would forget about their conversation.

Dana wound the window down of the car and called towards him as he went inside. "And come to think of it, I could get your views on some of the things going on with the credit crunch in the west. Get a slant on how Kushtian banking compares. That could go down well. Especially for some of the UK titles -- there's a real fuss on back there at the moment about some banker that disappeared leaving a trail of chaos. Could you see something like that happening here?"

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he said. He was horrified. It could only be a matter of time until Dana figured out his connection with that affair.

"Well, I'll buy you dinner. We can talk then. See you at eight."

Henry nodded. Normally an invitation to dinner from an attractive, leggy, twenty five year old, American girl would have been a welcome proposition but that wasn't the case. There didn't seem to be much point in trying to argue about it now. What he would have to do was to make himself scarce for a while. He started to think about his options. As the car pulled off he was certain of one thing though. Dana was going to be stood up for dinner that evening.

Chapter 12: Funeral Games 

In the palace of Kushnati Koresh, Victoria and Lauren were taking the opportunity to provide their captives with a little further "encouragement", as Victoria called it, in preparation for their new homes. Both Victoria and Lauren appeared in the cellar where the girls were being held. The two of them were fully robed in white silk versions of the traditional Kushtian chanoosh, appearing like malicious ghosts in the gloom of the cellar.

The overseer of the household of Kushnati Koresh, was unimpressed. These two women were causing trouble in the house with their schemes. Koresh seemed unwilling or unable to do anything about them but the last that had been said to Husna Hannish was that he should indulge Lauren and, as overseer, he would see that his masters bidding was done. That didn't mean that he liked it though. Russians in the Palace of a member of the Council! He thought he'd seen the last of that when the Russian troops had left. He watched as the helpless girls struggled against their chains. Two or three of them looked sullenly at the ghostly figures of Victoria and Lauren. The others seemed to ignore them completely. Hannish understood, they were still trying to deny their circumstances.