Captured

Chapter 10. The go-go boy in Gibraltar.

One thing most federal prison inmates in North America do not know is they get an RF ID chip implanted they are told is an immunization, but they have no right to refuse. There is a new satellite in orbit that can supposedly detect those chips from low earth orbit. I have not yet seen proof that the system works, but people say it does under the right conditions (the person with the implant has to be outside to be tracked). We were told clouds, trees, power lines, and storms don't matter, but they must be outside, it won't work inside some vehicles but the signal can pass through glass. It only takes a few seconds for every chip to get pinged and located.

The Bureau of Prisons started injecting prisoners with the new implant in 2019; the device is smaller than a grain of rice and requires no electricity to work. It cannot be removed and is nearly impossible to locate with x-ray. Some police departments now have a weapon that fires a capsule that contains the implant. If in a crowded area they cannot shoot a fleeing felon or risk killing innocent civilians they can use special rifle which implants the chip and allows them to locate and apprehend the suspect days or even months later. All the person feels when shot is a slap and a sting and the chip is in and activated.

There are three satellites and they pass overhead every few hours, their orbits are top secret but the point is they are not parked overhead, they pass over and cover an area of land about 1100 miles across and can scan every implant in that area instantly.

Starting next month that technology comes to State. I have to attend a training session in Barcelona at a downtown auditorium that will hold sessions for every State worker in the EU and UK. It's a one-day, six-hour class that includes lunch. I have to take the train to Barcelona, which is fine. It's a nice trip.

Oh hey, did you hear the latest? There is a company; actually they're a group of investors that is looking into running a train tunnel beneath the sea, from Spain to Morocco, like the tunnel between London and Paris. I suppose a big problem is there is a major fault line running under Tangier. The crack between the plates runs along the north coast of the African continent. That fault is why Carthage is in ruins. It's why you don't see many very large/tall buildings along the southern Mediterranean coast. In fact, you don't see any skyscrapers anywhere near the Mediterranean Sea.

A few days later I got the email I actually dreaded receiving, then my satellite phone started to get anonymous calls from the US. I finally answered the call, it was Daniel, and he was out of prison and wanted to know about his belongings.

"I wasn't allowed to bring them with me to Tangier. The place I rented is the size of our kitchen in the house in Maryland, remember how small that was? And my room has no running water, just a twin bed and a few chairs. I had to throw away most of my stuff. The embassy handled your stuff, you might call them." I answered his question.

"How's Jen?" Dan asked.

"Oh she's fine. I think she might start school again, maybe get her doctorate. I'm not sure."

"Didn't she have a Masters in Psychology?"

"Yah, I think so." I answered.

"You're in Tangier still?" He asked.

"Yes, I live there but right now I'm at a train station in Gibraltar waiting for the train to Barcelona for some classes."

"Going back to school too?" Dan asked.

"Nah, work stuff, you know mandatory training. Sexual harassment, benefits, and stuff."

"Sounds boring."

Where I was sitting I could see the approaching train tracks and suddenly I saw the bright headlight on the front of the train so I told Dan the train was here, I had to go. I never encouraged him to call back but I wasn't rude. I mean I swallowed his semen at least twice, that means something, right? It does to me. I promised I'd be a brother to him when we were in high school, I still honor that too.

I was sure he'd call back to talk serious business. His voice sounded normal, like he was sober and not sick. I know a lot of people get out of prison with health problems. TB is rampant in prison. I think he said he was living in a halfway house in Houston. Jobs are tough when you first get out of the slammer, like just the shit jobs nobody else wants. Jobs like trimming palm trees, butchering chickens, ducks, and turkeys, maybe sorting trash in the recycle centers. I never asked.

I made it to Barcelona and took a taxi to the place where the training was held later this morning at 9am.

What I thought was going to be a stand-alone electronic device turned out to be a cell app. They said the map ran slowly because of the level of encryption put a big burden on the microprocessor. After showing us the controls he brought up a live image on the screen and showed us all the people in Spain and Portugal with US Prison chip implants, it was more people than I imagined. And he reminded us the map only showed people that the satellites tracked that stepped outside over the last 24 hours. He said if the satellite was low over the horizon it would capture most people inside cars because it was getting signals through the windows.

He showed us how to pull up information on each blip on the map, how to search for individuals, or how to use wild cards to search, like display all chips in people with the first name of Fred, or display chips on all Hispanic people in my city.

They explained that since the program started they've implanted 6.9 million people, mostly men. And most implants were placed inside the USA in city, county, state, and federal jails and prisons. Most people that get on home detention get them, as do people on work release, and on parole. If you have almost any encounter with the justice system you'll probably get implanted and they don't have to ask the prisoner. Most are installed with a pneumatic gun. Next year the gov plans to inject them into all people in the military, reserves, and National Guard.

At the meeting I sat with the people from the Embassy in Rabat, since I knew some of them now.

For lunch we had a catered meal of lightly breaded fish and fries, then two more hours of how to use the app and coming features. They also offered to all of us if our cell was owned by State we could surrender them briefly to get the app installed and authorized. They went around the auditorium and did four cells at a time, I had it installed in mine.

We swiped our badges on the way out to prove attendance and get credit and coverage for travel expenses. I saw some people swiping multiple badges. People from State came from all over the Peninsula, Algeria, and Tunisia to attend the class. I saw all sorts of interesting looking people in the meeting.

I heard different groups plan to meet for drinks but I quickly grabbed a taxi and made it back to the train station and got back to Barcelona and onto the last Jet Ferry across the strait, the boat was practically empty. I got back to my apartment at 11:25pm and went straight to bed after a quick shower.

At work the next day I had the usual visitors. And someone died in Tangier, an American, 79 years old died in his hotel bed overnight, ruled natural causes by the doctor and they had relatives in Tennessee so they agreed to pay and I got him flown home. The return ticket they already purchased covered almost one third the cost of flying a corpse home.

Jen emailed me that she was in community college Spanish classes at night, an accelerated class for adults that already spoke a little Spanish. The school also had a language lab. They way it worked she explained was each class had a five digit code. You went to the lab which was divided up into tiny cubicles. You put on the headset/boom mic and picked up the phone and set it down, then dialed your student number and the code number of the lesson. It played recordings of the vocabulary then you repeated it back, then it spoke sentences with the words, and you repeated it back. It really helps using the words as you learn them. The language lab also has conversations you can listen to where people use your new words.

Like with many Spanish classes, the vocabulary they teach in school is not the one spoken by real people in real places. And Texas Spanish is different from Barcelona Spanish.

This was the first positive sign that I got from Jen that she was serious about moving to Madrid.

A few days later I got to test the new app in my cell and was surprised to see how many chipped people were in Tangier, in the old city. Since I run my own office I had one secret feature on my app that wasn't covered in class, something I suspected was built into the app but not shown to many. The default setting was it shows American prisoners, but in the upper level you can select which country prisoners you can see, so I selected UK and looked at Tangier and saw only three units in the past 24 hours. Then I switched to France and saw 19 units. And with it set to Italy I saw 9 in Tangier

Sitting in my desk chair I assumed in another 10 years it might be able to show: these people may be thinking about harming themselves or others, according to AI.

Late that day I got a fax from Madrid about a wanted American possibly in Morocco. This time the man was 22 years old and a suspect in a serial murder case in Senegal, which is along the Atlantic coast a couple thousand miles southwest of Morocco. He was a Caucasian American that was believed to be working with missionaries building schools in rural eastern Senegal. They reported finding three boys in a ditch with their throats cut and evidence of torture. We had very little information on the guy other than he was born in rural Mississippi in 1998 and disappeared from the states around age 16, he always said he wanted to hike across Africa.

His name was Wynn Taylor, he dropped out of high school and hitched a ride to Africa on-board an oil tanker. There were all sorts of unsavory rumors in his home town about being a pedophile, an animal abuser, and a drug addict. His father died when he was two and his mother was reported to have had numerous men live in the home. Supposedly, the young boy was repeatedly raped by her mother's boy friends. He reported it in school but nothing was done because he was a violent child at school.

The young man was arrested for shoplifting, auto theft, and shooting cats (cruelty) with a pellet rifle. He had a history of violence and was not taking his meds for bipolar.

I stopped reading because none of it was good and Wynn supposedly had an implant. But the system only looked back 24 hours. They said a bigger tracking database going back 7 days was coming soon.

Following the prompts I built an alert for his implant number, which was a 16 digit alpha-numeric code. I also made sure he was implanted with an American micro chip, you can tell by one digit in the prisoner's code is the country number. There have been cases of people getting the wrong chip, French chips sent to a prison in Wyoming.

There was a call from Rabat, Steven wanted me to ride the train down for an important meeting about something. The next day I hung a sign in the office door at 4am that I was gone to Rabat, the office was closed today. But I was not expecting any temporary passports.

I arrived at Rabat at 9am and sat waiting in the Ambassador's waiting room then got called in by the Secretary to the Ambassador; she said Steven was in Washington. We went into her office instead.

She offered me the chief of staff position in their embassy and tried to convince me to join them, citing all the benefits they received. But I declined the offer and said I wanted to stay in Tangier and continue working the FCA service. She said she would pass that along to Steven, she was sure he'd be disappointed but they had some good people in Rabat to choose from. We shook hands and I made a bee-line for the front door and went straight back to the train station and back to Tangier. I got back to my office at 4:55pm and opened the door for the final hour, then went home.

On the trip home in a taxi Daniel called my sat phone again but I told him I was in transport and couldn't talk, and basically hung up on him. But I did tell him to email me. My personal email address has been the same since 7th grade when I switched from MSN to Yahoo email.

Weeks later one day at work I enlarged the default area scanned by my fugitive tracker app to include Spain and Gibraltar. Not too long after I did that Wynn's implant showed up on my screen in the waterfront resort part of Gibraltar so I decided to go investigate, he had a $40k reward for live capture. I notified Rabat I was leaving Morocco for a few days on a case. I hung a sign in my door and packed a small bag and left for the catamaran jet ferries that crossed the strait.

The ferry lands at Algeciras, then you take the taxi six miles around to the border crossing into Gibraltar. Luckily, the country is tiny so I walked down the main road to the resort area along the coast on the southwest side of the peninsula. I think the place my fugitive was located was inside a night club on the strip. Since this guy has the reputation for being somewhat violent I also brought pepper spray, anthrax spray, and regular stainless handcuffs, and two long velcro cuffs that could hold his ankles or wrists or both. I also had my pistol in the holster on my right side.

As I walked down the street surrounded by clubs and hotels I was looking at the signs trying to figure out which one might be a gay establishment. Then I saw a pub named: Glitter, outside was a tiny rainbow flag.

"Ahh, that's gotta be the place." I went inside and sat at the bar.

Behind the bar was a raised platform with a shiny brass pole in the center of the floor, there were lights on the ceiling looking down but the platform was dark and the bar was rather quiet, except for music playing on the speakers. They had a small dance floor with lights too but it was dark and empty.

After ordering a beer I got out my cell and switched to the tracker app and put it in proximity mode and got a red indicator meaning there was at least one person within 50 feet that had a prison chip implanted so I leaned back in my bar stool and watched the bartenders and listened to what was going on. My cell said it was 7:55pm.

Up on the platform I saw a yellow bucket on wheels suddenly roll out onto the floor from a doorway on the side. I never noticed the door before. Then an older guy in Wombat work clothes stepped out on the platform with a cloth mop and started going over the entire floor around the pole, guys at the bar started cheering, but he kept working until all that was left was the floor closest to the back side of the bar. When he was nearly done mopping-up he suddenly realized the noise was guys cheering at him. He lowered the mop in the bucket and stood there in his gray work uniform with a huge smile, one missing tooth, and thick magnifying eyeglasses and looked across the bar as the applause and cheering grew louder. I could see his face turn red, and his ears too.

After a couple seconds of smiling and nodding at the guys at the bar, he rolled the bucket out the stage door and vanished. Everyone laughed. I whispered to the guy sitting beside me he could have done a dance with the mop handle, and it would have been funny.

Moments later the lights started to come on over the platform and that was the first time I noticed the slowly rotating glass ball above the stage. Then a tiny spotlight came on and suddenly the entire bar was flooded with little yellow squares of light as it reflected off the disco ball and darted around the entire bar.

In the background the music system shut down and people booed immediately but a much louder and nicer one came on and the deep bass notes reflected off the walls and it seemed everyone started to bounce to the disco beat. I didn't recognize any of the songs or understood any lyrics but who cares, the sound was amazing.

A couple moments later an announcer came on and introduced the first dancer, the name was Winter Sommers, "Give it up for the hottest Winter you'll ever see!" and the crowd cheered.

Just then a guy strutted out the door and over to the pole, grabbed hold and started to spin around the floor. He wore a golden cover over his shoulders that went down to mid abdomen. He wore golden shorts that went down to his knees. His hair was obviously a woman's curly black wig, and he had tall high heels, also covered in gold glitter. His face had enough make up to sort of make him look like a glamour model, the eyelashes long enough to rescue a kitten from a tree.

The only exposed flesh was his tummy.

He danced on stage for a bit with his arms up and that was when I saw his pits were shaved and his belly was also hairless.

I thumbed over to the fugitive profile in the app and looked at detailed photos of Wynn Taylor and saw he had a small white rabbit tattooed on his tummy over to the right side and a quarter inch mole several inches above his right nipple, so I relaxed and enjoyed the show.

As the show progressed I was required to purchase another pint, so I picked a different beer. There were no American brands in this bar but they're really not that different anyway, so I told the bartender I wanted one with less hops because they gave me a headache. He poured me one called Meantime IPA.

Back to the show, I saw Winter kick off his platform shoes and started dancing more to the beat and when he started to get heated-up his hat was next to hit the floor. During the next song his shawl came off and landed on the floor near the door. Now I could see his body much better.

His belly button was a narrow but large vertical slit, maybe two inches long. But the cover he wore over his undies hid the flesh below his belly button. His lower legs were shaved hairless. His nipples were flatish, kind of a dark brown, and round but small teat in the center, kinda big - nearly an inch and a half across. His very pale white skin made them look bigger. His entire upper body was shaved smooth. I saw a round quarter inch brown mole about his right tit, and that was the first positive ID, now I needed to see the rabbit and he was going to leave here with me in handcuffs. Wynn could almost pass for a freakishly tall little girl if he hid his dick between his thighs. And he might get practice doing that in prison!

During the third song his bottoms came off with a tug on the string and he was left on stage in sort of a glittery jock strap that supported his dick and balls out in front of him like a rather large bulge. The crowd cheered even louder when his bottoms landed on his shawl.

I wondered how guys here tipped the dancer but so far it was a mystery. I decided to ask the man beside me, I had to shout. "Oy matey, how's a bloke tip a dansah 'ere?"

He lowered his chin and grumbled back, "Wait until he's done, then he walks roit here be'ind us and toss crowns in his bucket and see 'im up close. Maybe grab a handful if you're careful."

I raised my beer toward him as a thanks and relaxed back into the stool back and enjoyed the show. I kind of miss stuff like this, it don't exist in Morocco as far as I knew. It's not that there isn't any desire, it's simply not allowed, so people come across the Strait to see a wild boy dance.

His face was nothing fancy but his body was sort of like mine, rather plain, non-muscular, and soft. He had no chest or shoulder muscles, and sort of looked like me, a man-sized boy.

On my cell I read the fine print on his wanted poster again and saw there was a police station in Gibraltar where I could surrender him. I could cuff him during his tip-walk and take him at gun point into the back of the house so he could get dressed and accompany me across town to the police office which was near the airport at the border. When he walked behind us he'd hold the bucket out which would put his wrist at the perfect angle to snap the cuffs on one wrist. The other end would already be on my left wrist and I used the pair with extra links.

I reached into my shirt and made sure the safety on my pistol was ON so it wouldn't accidentally fire when I pulled it out. I anticipated drawing it in this crowd because they'd surely get pissed when I cuffed him.

The thought crossed my mind that a pair of stainless cuffs in this joint may look like a sex toy instead of a police action. So maybe if I acted the right way nobody would realize what was actually going on.

When he dropped his bottoms and bent backward in the light was when I saw the tattoo of a white rabbit on the right side of his lower belly. The warrant also listed a 3/8 inch oval brown mole about two inches to the side of the base of his penis, he was un-cut, and then I re-read the part that said he was prone to violence, handle with extreme caution. I read that to mean I would be required to pepper spray his face to put him out of action for a while. You cannot see out of your eyes with a big enough dose. Never spray pepper into the nostrils or the mouth if someone is gasping for air.

So that was my plan, when the bucket went by I would cuff him and steer him back in the direction he came from while pulling out my pea shooter with my thumb on the safety. If he resisted I'd spray his face. If anyone tried to stop me I'd spray them too, if anyone got violent, out comes the Mr. 9mm.

Twenty minutes later it appeared his time on stage was ending and another dancer was announced. Winter or Wynn disappeared with his clothes and I had the pepper spray in hand, cap off, and valve off safety. He emerged from a doorway at the far end of the bar and slowly walked along the 3' wide walkway behind the barstools. When he got to me I extended my arm as if to drop money into his rainbow bucket but instead I quickly snapped the cuff around his wrist. The crowd around me suddenly got loud, people reached to pull him free but it was too late. I pulled the pepper spray and waved it at everyone nearby and most of them stepped back, one guy pushed toward me so he got it in the eyes. Then Wynn dropped his bucket and tried to twist free, I guess he didn't know the other end of the cuffs was already around my wrist, it was too late to try to run, but he hadn't figured that out yet. I moved away from the bar into the walkway and got Wynn turned around and walking toward the backstage door. I managed to lift his right arm behind his back to encourage him to do as I ordered: move quickly, stop struggling, and don't stop walking.

Struggling to get him out the door to the backstage area I had to put hands-on and he was nearly naked, wearing just a golden jockstrap, so I caught a lot of flesh as I bulldozed him across the bar and through the employees-only door.

Guys at the bar were getting louder and angrier so I waved the pepper spray can around, which was when Wynn tried to punch me in the face with his one free hand so I reached around and sprayed his face. Then I helped him to his feet and we moved quickly to the dressing room.

We entered the dressing room and I told him to change into his street clothes he was under arrest for multiple felony warrants in Senegal. I took off his handcuff and showed him I was armed and would spray to subdue him or shoot to defend myself. He remained quiet and did as told for someone who could barely open his eyes.

I trusted him enough to holster my pistol and help him into his street clothes and shoes. Once he was fully dressed I cuffed his wrists behind his body and we left through the back door of the pub and down a short dark alley and out to the main street and we started walking toward the airport. He struggled against the cuffs and me holding his elbow. I told him to cooperate or I'd spray his eyes again, he shouted insults at me, which was when his fake British accent disappeared and he sounded like another American. We moved quickly but I had to make sure he didn't trip or fall on the dark sidewalk all the way across Gibraltar. We walked quickly and the weather was kind of nasty, windy, and cold. At least it wasn't raining. It was nearly an hour walk and we finally arrived at the airport. I had to ask for directions to the police building.

"Across the runway to the border fence. Take the sidewalk right to the police entrance."

At the actual border there is a ten foot fence with barbed wire on top, but there is a nice sidewalk beside it from sea to bay. We walked down there and then I saw the sign, we walked in the front doors and I announced I was an armed US Federal Agent with a fugitive to surrender into custody. Two of the cops cheerfully called him Winter, I guess they recognized him from the pub.

I called the number on the warrant sheet to report our location and was put on hold for several minutes then they gave me the name of an officer on duty there to surrender him to once they clarified they would come get him in a private jet tomorrow. The local cops don't want to get stuck with the guy for weeks or worse, having to take him to the hospital if he got sick.

The entire process took about two hours.

After everything was done I took pictures and video of him. But since he had a nice body I took shots of him naked from the base of his penis on up. They had him strip to search him and put him in a prison stripe jumpsuit. Wynn had no idea he had a chip under his skin! I never told him but he asked a few times how I located him. The entire arrest and surrender thing went much better than I anticipated, I thought for sure we'd get in a donnybrook on the long walk across the peninsula. He couldn't punch but he could kick, spit, bite, and run.

Before I left we rinsed his face with lots of water and a small carton of milk which neutralized the pepper and got him out of misery, after we did that the son of a bitch spit on me, but it missed my face and hit my sleeve, so he got a spit screen over his head and I got my photos and receipt and talked to Senegal on the phone, they were trying to get a military flight to come get him.

They'd come tomorrow in a small jet trainer and fly him back to Dakar, Senegal. I already confirmed the reward and that he was alive, talking, and appeared healthy. Like Morocco, Senegal is Muslim so he might not do well in prison there, and he might be one of the few Caucasians in prison too, which could also contribute to his demise. But who knows, he might end up being very popular there too. It wasn't my problem; I did it for the cash. They told me one week for the check to arrive by Fedex to my office in Tangier.

It was nearly 3am by the time I left the police department. I stopped at the front lobby and asked how to cross the Strait at 3am and she said: Swim, but the first ferry crossed in two hours. I walked outside and down the block to the gate and crossed into Spain. After another immigration stamp I got a taxi back to Algeciras and sat in the waiting room for two hours in the cold and wind waiting for the ferry crew to arrive. The ferry boat (the slow one) sat there bouncing on the choppy waters and rubbed against the bumpers on the pier but there was nobody but me to notice.

The cops came by and warned me there was no camping allowed (no homeless). I assured them I'd be on the 5am ferry, unless it doesn't run. I asked him if they still run if the seas are rough. The cop said, "There's only one thing that stops the ferry."

"What's that, thick fog?"

And with a laugh he replied, "U-boats," and walked away into the night.

The check arrived ten days later for $40k in Euros, or about $42,000 US.

Just for fun I searched online for newspapers in Dakar to search for Wynn's name. Instead I saw a video online of the story that the wanted serial killer was finally captured and brought back to Senegal for trial. They showed Wynn with the spit hood on being assisted out of a military training jet (in cuffs and stripped prisoner clothes) down the metal steps and put inside a police van. I doubt the world will ever get to enjoy looking at his body again.

It's too bad actually because he had a very nice looking boyish body if you're into that look. He had a very sexy tummy. What a waste, he'll be a pretty corpse some day. I'd be surprised if he's still alive to celebrate his 30th birthday. He'll probably get shanked in prison in Senegal by someone related to the children he raped and murdered.

Contact the author: borischenaz at mailfence.