Wealthy young men and their friends indulge in a hedonistic lifestyle of fast cars and faster women. In order to finance it, they abduct families, auction off the women and organ-harvest the men. They have established their main base of operations on the island of Curaçao, one of the three ABC islands in the Caribbean Sea. The tale is told from the perspective of one of the victims.

Excerpts:
It was as if I were awakening from a deep sleep. I felt drowsy, probably drugged. The room was pitch black. Was I alone? My arms were elevated over my head, my wrists bound. It felt like the room was moving. My feet wobbled on an unstable footing."Hello....is anybody there?" I called out.- - -

The camera followed as a drapery was pulled back to reveal a vision of horror on the outside deck. Both my husband and son were precariously perched on the boat railing."How is this for motivation?"- - -

It's all quite legal in certain parts of the Caribbean, especially the Dutch Caribbean. I have found the islands of Bonaire and Curaçao to be best. I have establishments in both places. They are called MM Clubs, millionaire men's clubs. Any woman or girl who cannot fetch a quarter-million at auction goes there.- - -

A few days later the yacht was docking at the Caribbean island of Curacao. There was a yard filled with scantily clad young women wearing colorful halter tops and short shorts. The large sign atop the building said MM Club. Everyone from our group was led inside.

"This is our Grand Central Station," Luke said. "The girls who were sold will be picked up here. The rest of you will get chip implants for tracking and tattooed SLRNs."

"SLRN?"

"Slave Registration Number. In the event you escape as several have from time to time, the chip allows us to track you. It also sets off an alarm in stores as if you were shoplifting. People in the know will realize there is a reward for your return, and will learn where and how by referencing your SLRN on a website. Many of the girls have them tattooed as a barcode on the back of their neck so the people at the transportation hubs can more easily spot them."- - -

Armed guards were positioned around the property perimeter as usual. Their guns had rubber bullets, not real ones, as they didn't want to damage the goods if someone were to attempt escape. Some guns had tranquilizer darts.- - -

A half-dozen scantily clad girls stood atop book stacks, their wrists in rope nooses attached to overhead beams. They could come and go as they pleased, that is until someone chose them and paid. ...Sex at this place was all about pain and pleasure. Once the books were kicked away, the ropes snapped taut and the young woman was stuck there at the mercy of her customer.- - -

I've never played the role of submissive before. Do you think I was good at it?"

Oh fuck! Could she really be the elusive, exclusive assassin? "Somehow I can't see you as a killer. You're too charming....

"I"m not merely an assassin. I'm a raging sociopath. I ad-lib, make it up as I go. Unpredictability is a necessity in my line of work.....You once mentioned I was incredibly charming. For future reference, remember that is the symptom of a sociopath."

Another flash of lightning, a resounding clap of thunder, the table shook, and the gentle offshore breeze grew stronger. The waiter dropped off our drinks, eyeing her pistol lying on the tabletop. - - -