Prologue - Surveying the market
Ricky had a pitch in the lobby of one of the busier stations on the
London underground. To a casual observer he seemed like many of the other
vagrants haunting the streets of the capital city; a rough looking tramp with
greasy black hair, a coarse red weathered face and dirty fingers poking through
a pair of old brown gloves. In one hand he held a thin silver flute. A battered
ghetto blaster sat beside him and there was an upturned cap in front of him to
collect coins from passing commuters. But Ricky was no ordinary busker. The
notes of his music made strange echoes as they bounced round the old Victorian
air vents and tunnels. The hiss of passing trains and the white noise from the
station loud speakers all combined to produce a weird resonance which could
produce some very peculiar effects in susceptible individuals. Ricky was a
hunter and his job was to watch for those effects. Disguised by his very
obviousness he stalked the crowds of commuters like a big cat surveying a herd
of antelopes, just waiting for that one weak individual.
One wet Monday morning in early September Ricky identified a promising
prospect. She was a little brunette in her mid to late twenties wearing a smart
white blouse, shiny black high heels, black tights or stockings and a knee
length blue cotton skirt moulded firmly round a cute little rump. She was
obviously an office worker of some sort - an accountant or a secretary perhaps
but certainly a very tasty looking specimen. Her hair was an artful tangle of
chestnut brown cut just above the nape of her neck and her skin was tinted with
the faintest hint of a golden tan. Generous lips framed her mouth and a neat
little snub nose gave her face something of the quality of a sexy little pixie.
Delicious, Ricky thought. But best of all she was responding to the stimulus. He
blew a few more speculative notes on the flute and watched as the young woman
drifted with unthinking intent towards his corner of the station. Perhaps she
was still a little bit tired this early in the morning - half asleep. That would
help of course but even so the tramp could sense that she was naturally
susceptible to the subliminal commands in his music and that was the most
important thing. His hunting technique was far from perfect. Maybe only one in
fifty of the commuters exposed to the secret aural assault ever responded. And
of those so few were suitable. But this one would be perfect. The tramp felt a
burgeoning excitement as the young woman came closer and closer.
"Come to your Uncle Ricky my pretty little girlie", he muttered under
his breath. "That's right, I need you just a little closer..."
And she came toward him! The automatic ticket machines were ranked by
the walls where Ricky was sitting and the young woman might have been one of the
many people considering their purchase of a daily ticket. But Ricky knew better.
This wench had been on the point of passing through to the escalators before he
had caught her in his invisible web of suggestion. She was nearly close enough
now. He could almost reach out and grab that lovely nylon clad calf...
And then he did. All of a sudden the young woman screamed. Ricky had
acted too soon. Carol felt the horrid grasp of the filthy old tramp and came to
her senses, unaware of exactly how she had been sucked into his orbit - unaware
even that there had been anything odd about her own behaviour. She kicked out,
lashing at her assailant and staggering back into the station lobby. One shoe
came off as she struggled and Ricky received a nasty blow to the head.
"You'll pay for that bitch!", he cried but suddenly a new arrival had
taken control of the situation. Even as Carol squealed for a second time a tall
station Inspector strode quickly toward them. He grabbed the sinister busker by
the scruff of the neck and yanked him away from his pretty victim.
"What do you think you're doing mate!"
Carol sobbed with relief, as the tramp was physically frog marched out
of the station. She found her shoe again and slipped it on, shivering with
delayed aftershock. It was noticeable how little attention the crowd of
commuters had paid to the whole affair. No one else stopped to ask after her
until the Inspector returned.
"I've taken care of him now miss. I think you'd better be on your way."
Part of her wanted to take things further. Perhaps she should call the
police? But the Inspector seemed to know what he was doing and now she was late
for work. Her new boss was a fearsome Japanese business man brought from half
way round the globe to set the affairs of the bank in order. He already thought
that English staff were lazy and inadequate and in truth Carol was a little
afraid of him. No, it was better just to try to forget about the whole thing.
She hurried off with a last grateful smile for the Inspector and had soon
vanished in the teeming throng of the morning rush hour.
