The Jungle Room

   Yvette looked up at the sky. It was the kind of day you remember from childhood, with a field of Technicolor blue only sparsely broken up by patches of brilliant white cloud. And here was Yvette, laying in the grass of a field which seemed to stretch on forever. As Steve snapped off a series of photos, Yvette balanced two thoughts. One was that it was just a gorgeous day and it was great to be required to do little more than roll around in the grass while dressed in a Creek Bend bikini. The other thought was the realization that the grass was probably alive with insects and little spiders. It was for this reason that Yvette kept her eyes closed whenever her head was turned toward the ground. What she didn't see wouldn't disturb her, she figured.

   Steve stopped to reload his camera. Yvette sat up and rested her arms on her knees as she looked over at the rolling hills in the distance.

   "You know, Steve, it's nice to get away like this once in a while. I keep so busy at the studio that I sometimes fail to notice just how little free time I have. Sure, this is work, too, but it's pretty relaxing all things considered."

   "Thinking you should cut back?" Steve hadn't thought much about it before, but Yvette really did have a full career. In addition to starring in her own series of cartoons, she was also recording songs, a radio series, and keeping a regular spot in the Morton Duck cartoons where she first gained public admiration. She made very few public appearances just for lack of time to do so.

   "I'm not sure. I like what I do. Acting, singing. I really could use some more free time, though."

   "Well," Steve sat down next to Yvette as he lit a couple of cigarettes for them, "I'm sure the Boss would give you some time off if you want. You've certainly earned it." Yvette smiled as she took the cigarette.

   "I don't usually feel overworked. When we go on one of these photoshoots, though, I notice how nice it is to relax a little. I mean, I'm still working, but it's not as involved as shooting movies or recording songs or the radio show. I guess I'd be happy if I could drop the radio show, maybe. That's really the only thing that sometimes feels like a tax on my time."

   "So why do you keep doing it?"

   "You know why, Steve. I owe a lot to my fans, and I owe a lot to the Boss. I couldn't turn my back on any of them."

   "As long as you're content to still make cartoons, I'm sure your fans would understand if you wanted to drop the radio series. The happier you are, the happier you'll make your audience."

   "I suppose that's true, but I know some people look forward to the radio show. The ratings have never slumped."

   "Listen. Your heart is in the right place. You're putting your audience first. You'll always do better work for them if you don't work yourself out by doing too many things. You need a life, too."

   "Yeah. Maybe I could cut it back to once a month. I have to record four episodes in a row anyway. If we made it a monthly show, I'd only have to record them once every four months. That'd certainly free up some time. We might have enough episodes recorded that repeats could be aired for three weeks before a new episode is broadcast on the fourth."

   "See there? You've got a solution that'll keep the show on the air and still give you time to relax a bit."

   "Sounds so simple, doesn't it?"

   "Most things are only complicated because we make them so."

   Upon return to the studio, Steve and Yvette were surprised to see several uniformed policemen about. Various employees of the studio were being questioned, and there seemed a general urgency in the air. Steve figured they'd better go directly to the Boss. That wasn't easy, as he was engaged in a meeting with several plainclothesmen and ranking officers. His secretary Sally was busy on the telephone, but Steve made a point to break in on her.

   "Sal, what goes on here?"

   "You don't know?"

   "No, we were out doing a photoshoot. Are we under attack or something?"

   "It's Doris. She was taken from her dressing room!"

   "Doris!" Yvette gasped.

   "A man came by to see her," Sal explained, "he left later with a wardrobe bag, and she's been missing ever since. The police suspect she's been taken for a ransom. They found a cloth soaked in chloroform in her dressing room." It made sense. Doris came from a family that boasted one of the biggest farms in the county. They would shell out plenty for her return. Yvette staggered and fell back onto a chair across from the desk. Steve mulled it over, but the whole thing seemed so fantastic.

   "Have the police finished with their investigation of her room?"

   "Just now." Sal looked toward the main office where the findings were reported to the Boss. "They didn't find anything." Steve turned to Yvette.

   "Come with me, Yvette." Moments later, Steve opened the door to Doris' dressing room and escorted Yvette inside.

   "Are you sure we'll be able to find something the police missed?"

   "You might. You know Doris better than any of them do. If something in here isn't right, you'd be the one to spot it." Yvette nodded and began to look around. Steve stood by, scanning the room with his eyes. Doris was an easy target. She was so diminutive that she would be easy to sneak out in a wardrobe bag as the police suspected. In her dressing room, her femininity was on full display. Pink wallpaper was set off by heart-shaped decorations which included her chair, vanity, and even her ornate telephone. The little couch on which she relaxed between scenes was adorned with purple fabric specked with pink hearts. Maybe her cuteness had been a factor in someone thinking she would make a good kidnap victim. Certainly her family would pay anything to secure her unharmed return.

   Yvette was coming up short on clues as she sat down at the vanity and began opening drawers. Nothing out of the ordinary to be found. As Yvette shifted her foot, though, she felt something under the vanity. Reaching down, she fished out a matchbook which carried a logo for The Jungle Room. Yvette froze. 

   "I think I have it, Steve." Yvette shook her head as Steve stepped over to her.

   "A matchbook?"

   "Look at it. This is from a seedy little night club in Amsterville's east end. Trust me, Steve, Doris would have no business in a place like that. The kidnapper must've dropped this in the struggle and it got kicked under here."

   "Then we have something for the police to see."

   "No!" Yvette urgently stood from the chair before composing herself. "If the police go snooping around there, Doris may not... They'll kill her if think the police are onto them, I'm sure of it." Steve took another look at the matchbook before taking a seat on the little sofa.

   "You seem to know more about this than the police do."

   "You and the Boss, you did everything you could to erase any trace of my old life. You bought up and destroyed stills, playbills, posters, anything that might be found by the press. One thing you weren't able to remove were my memories, and some of those remain pretty vivid. I played this club once. I did almost a month there as a torch singer. One of my only legitimate jobs during that period. I remember the place well. The main room is done up to look like a jungle, and lining the upper floor of the room are facades made to look like a tree-top jungle village. What the customers don't know, most of them, anyway, is that those aren't just facades. There are rooms up there. One is the boss' private office, a couple more are private rooms for the hired talent. More of them are for the selling of items other than alcohol. I'm sure Doris is being held in one of those rooms, and if the police come near the building, her value as a hostage is gone and they play for keeps."

   "What are you thinking?"

   "I know the place, Steve. I can get in there and snoop around without raising suspicion. Maybe even sneak Doris back out if I can find which room they're keeping her in."

   "Look, Yvette, I admit you have some awareness of the situation that makes your idea one of value, but... I don't know, Yvette."

   "Doris is my best friend, Steve. I'm going to the Jungle Room with or without your help. But I hope you'll come along. I'd like to have some back-up. I trust you and you already know about my past. But we can't waste time. Every minute that Doris is in that place, her life is in more danger."

   Steve paused and thought it over for a second. Then he took a breath and stood up.

   "Okay. How do you want to handle this?"

   "First, I want to stop by the wardrobe department." 

   As night had fallen, Steve drove through Amsterville's east side. It looked quiet enough, but this was a rough part of the city for non-natives to be in. Steve looked over at Yvette as she sat in the passenger seat and mulled over what she was going to do once she was inside the club. Her platinum locks were stuffed under a black wig which was styled with short Bettie Page bangs. In addition, her naturally pink eyelids had been covered in blue eye-shadow.

   "That's not a bad look for you," Steve noted, "you might want to use that wig to play your twin sister in your next cartoon."

   "I need it," Yvette patted her wig, "there's every chance somebody at the Jungle Room might recognize me. When I played the place, I was a platinum blonde. I've sometimes wondered if it was a mistake to not change my hair more than I did when I became Yvette Pond."

   "We were sure that if we got rid of all the evidence of your former life, that it wouldn't matter. There are enough annie ducks out there that if someone from your past saw you, they should just think you look similar but aren't the same girl. There'd be no old pictures to compare you with. We did consider having you become a redhead or something, but the Boss thought you already had a great look."

   "You two have done so much for me. Quite an investment you guys made."

   "We thought it was worth it. The Boss, and me too, saw something in you we knew the public would adore. Just looking at it as an investment, it's paid off in spades financially. More importantly, we both got a very dear friend out of the deal."

   "Through it all, I never got the sense that you were just doing it for business. It always felt like you were genuinely trying to help me get a fresh start."

   "The Boss has a good read on people when he meets them. I think he saw something in you that even you didn't know was there. As for me, I liked you right away. I could see that whatever sort of life you had before, you were such a sweet, gentle soul that it would be worth any effort to help you. Rummaging through back rooms looking for playbills and posters, bins of pictures, well, I never felt it wasn't worth my time."

   "Thank you, Steve. You know, going back there, it's harder for me than you might think. I hoped that I'd never have to. But now there's a purpose to it. If I hadn't been there, I never would have figured out what happened to Doris."

   "We're here." Steve pulled to a stop across the street from a club which looked entirely legitimate from the outside. The building was converted from an old office building or something, and it looked entirely innocuous. Yvette knew better, though, and she hesitated as she eyed the front door. Finally, she scooted to the passenger door and grabbed the latch before turning back to Steve.

   "I'll go in first. Give me a couple minutes before you follow me in. Take a seat at the bar. If I find out anything or need your help, I'll contact you there."

   Steve nodded as Yvette opened the door and started to slide out. He reached over and placed his hand on her arm.

   "Be careful."

   "Thanks, Steve." Yvette smiled before turning a worried eye on the club. "You be careful, too." 

   Yvette walked across the street and into the lobby. She checked her coat before walking into the main room. Although moderately dressed in a black skirt and a red, short-sleeved sweater, Yvette was still quite a sight and drew plenty of looks as she walked in. Everything was as she remembered. Support columns were shaped like tree trunks, and the walls were decorated with plastic jungle plants. To the immediate left was the bar situated before a field of small dinner tables. Private booths, tucked into the shadows, lined the walls. At the far end was a stage where a woman in a tight silver dress cooed into a microphone. Waiting tables were pretty girls barely dressed as jungle natives. Above it all was the row of rooms disguised as a native village. The big one in the far left corner was the private office of the boss, one Martin Gafford. 

   Yvette stood on the floor across from the bar. She was looking up at Gafford's office as she pondered her next move. This caught the eye of a pretty red-headed mousette who was leaned against the bar. Everything about her posture and tight red dress telegraphed to the customers that she was one of the club's featured attractions, the sort of attraction which men were invited to see more of in private. She could see right away that Yvette didn't belong in this environment, yet showed awareness of her surroundings. Knowing that Gafford could catch sight of her at any moment, the mousette walked over to Yvette and grabbed her arm.

   "Pretend you know me," she instructed, "and look happy. Come with me, honey, you're sticking out like a sore thumb out here." The girl shuffled Yvette into an elevator opening, this too disguised as a tree trunk, which was right near the bar. Yvette played along, hoping this wasn't a trap. Even if it was, it might lead to Doris. The mousette let the elevator car go up about half way before stopping the car between floors. "We can talk here. This is my private elevator."

   "You have a private elevator?"

   "I'm sort of the house special," she explained, "I keep the customers happy enough that my whims are entertained. They call me Ginger." Ginger paused and looked Yvette over. "You don't belong here. I don't think you're a cop, but you knew which office was Gafford's. What are you doing here? Did Gafford hire you? My advice is to leave right now if that's the case."

   "No, I came here to find a friend."

   "I've heard a lot of men say that to me," Ginger narrowed her eyes in scrutiny, "and what they mean is perfectly clear. But I don't read you, so spell it out."

   "I don't know how much I should tell you. When you thought I was a new girl Gafford hired, were you telling me to beat it because you wanted to help me or because I'd be cutting into your territory?"

   "I may not be clean, but I know clean when I see it. I don't like to see it get dirty." Ginger relaxed a little. "I thought I could talk you out of working for Martin, maybe keep you from ruining your life."

   "I really am looking for a friend of mine. She was kidnapped today, and I think she's being held here."

   "That explains it!" Ginger's eyes popped. "I saw a little girl being walked toward one of the huts. I got the feeling she didn't want to be here. A cute little chipmunk. From a distance, it looked like Doris Flowers."

   "I knew she was here! But why didn't you go to the police?"

   "Look, honey, all I saw was a girl being escorted by Gafford's men. She didn't look like she wanted to be there, but that's a look you see all the time around here." Ginger paused, realizing just how her words sounded. She became very somber as she activated the car again. "I'm sorry. You stay in this world long enough and you lose your sensitivity to the way things should be. You're right. At the very least I should have looked into it, but I figured the best way to protect myself was to look the other way and keep my mouth shut. Now that I really see that that's what I've been doing all this time... You must hate me, huh?"

   "I actually have more sympathy for you than you would believe, Ginger." Ginger looked puzzled, then her eyes popped again.

   "You were a part of this, too, weren't you? Only you got out!" The doors opened into Ginger's room. It was all in shades of red, with a huge circular bed the center piece of the room. Beyond that could be seen doors to the closet and washroom. It was pretty opulent for a dive. Yvette walked around the room. Ginger sat down at her vanity, waiting to hear more about Yvette. When Yvette's eyes turned back to her hostess, the desire for more information was obvious. Yvette hadn't spoken about it in a long time. It was difficult to find the words.

   "I made a few mistakes. Thinking back, I actually sort of envy you if this was your own idea." 

   "You mean you didn't have a choice... You were..."

   "Well, you could say that." Yvette figured she should fully explain. Her past was not her current life, after all. "My parents thought I was a freak. I was born to normal parents, you see, and they didn't want a child in the first place." Yvette paused again before looking back at Ginger. "I think they went through the motions of being parents at first. But they never really wanted me to be there. When I became old enough to be considered pretty in men's eyes, then I became useful. They basically rented me out. Eventually, they sold me. That was where it all started. I didn't have any say in it, I really didn't know what was going on, but it gave me a lead on how to handle myself going forward."

   "Terrible." Ginger could barely stand to listen. Knowing Yvette's history put Ginger's own in perspective. "You're right. I guess I did have a choice. I made the wrong one, but I had a choice. I was young, on my own, two days without food. But this guy said he'd pay me. I tried to think only about the hamburger I ate later, the first food I'd been able to pay for in days. I hated myself, but I was eating again. Once you dip your toe in, it's pretty easy to just take the full dive. How did you get out?" 

   "I made a friend," Yvette sat down on the bed, "another annie duck who I met at a beach spot I liked to go to. She and her husband were good people. They invited me over for dinner and it became a regular thing. I never told them, not at first, what I did for a living. I did so many things. I was an artist's model from time to time so I told them that's what I was without going into detail about the other things. As we got closer, I knew I couldn't keep it from them. Not when they were expecting a baby. I figured they deserved to know for the kid's sake. I told them I was a stripper, a nude model, and worse, thinking they'd give me the gate. But they didn't. They saw me for more than I saw myself. They told me about God's Son. That was really the help I needed."

   "That Sunday school stuff?" Ginger thought about it. "I hadn't listened to it since I was a kid."

   "I was never taught any of it. Oh, I'd heard about God a few times. I knew He was out there, but I didn't think He had a personal interest in me. Didn't really know that He'd sent His Son to die in my place. Having someone explain it to me, that made all the difference. We tend to think of God in terms of behaving a certain way so we can buy our way into Heaven, but the truth is the work is already done. It's not our actions that put us into a position to be saved, the work is done. Salvation is just believing that He took our place and gave us His."

   "I've never heard it put that way before," Ginger turned and looked into the mirror, "everything I've done and I can still pass through those pearly gates?"

   "We just have to realize that it's not about us, our works. He did it all and it's just a matter of accepting that. It's simple, but we have a habit of complicating things. We don't do good and get good later. We receive good and start doing good because it's what's been given to us."

   "I don't know where I'd go. This is all I know, this life. A fresh start sounds great, but where would I go to find it."

   "If you're really interested," Yvette walked over and placed her hand on Ginger's shoulder, "I have some dear friends who can help. What would you think about acting?"

   "Acting? Me?" Ginger mulled it over. "I suppose I've been acting for a long time now, in a way. How hard could the real thing be?"

   "You're very pretty. I can arrange a screen test for you."

   "You can?" Ginger turned around to face Yvette. Yvette was completely sincere. Ginger turned back to the mirror and thought it over. Yvette stood by as Ginger got very quiet for a few seconds. Ginger then looked back at her reflection, and then Yvette's reflection. "Lady, I'm game. However it turns out, just meeting you, well, I feel like I've been rescued. But first we need to rescue your friend."

   "Did you see where they took her?"

   "Yeah, I just hope she's okay. Bad things happen in that hut."

   "Which one?"

   "Far right corner, across from Gafford's office. It's used for a lot of things, among them breaking in new girls. That's what I thought she was here for... Anyway, we can get around to it without being seen. There are walkways behind everything, for maintenance, originally." Ginger showed Yvette a wall panel which slid back to reveal a secret walkway.

   "Originally?"

   "This place was built more legitimate. The huts were decoration, but they also served as rooms for the workmen and later the employees, most were expected to be used for storage purposes. Because of the bandstand, these walkways were soundproofed, and so were the access panels. They're all clearly marked, too. Since you can walk right by somebody without them hearing you, Gafford took advantage of the situation and sometimes places cameras to look in on the rooms. If... if we 'entertain' someone with some pull or who might have some notoriety, Gafford gets them on film so he can influence them if he has the chance. That's one reason this place has never been raided."

   "I see. You say the passages are marked, tell me what to look for. Then, go back down to the bar. You'll find a very handsome man with a mustache and wearing a wedding ring. His name is Morrow, Steve Morrow. Tell him Yvette sent you to him, and tell him everything, then bring him along through the tunnel in case I need help getting Doris out of here."

   "Right. You're looking for room nine." Ginger took a step toward the elevator before stopping in her tracks and turning back to Yvette in stunned disbelief.

   "Yvette? You're Yvette Pond?!!"

   "I am now. You're one of the few people who know my secret. I'm counting on you to keep it for me."

   "You risked a lot by telling me."

   "Yes, but I had a reason to."

   Ginger nodded and dashed into the elevator. Yvette slid into the hallway. Ginger was in room three, the arrows for higher numbers pointing to the left passage. It didn't take long for Yvette to find the right place. She cautiously cracked the access panel open and looked inside. Doris was there, alright. She was gagged and her hands and feet were bound, but otherwise looked unharmed as she lay on another large circular bed. Two men stood watch over her. The bigger guy was seated, flipping through the contents of a magazine. The other guy leaned against the door, keeping his eye on Doris. It was a pretty effective way of making sure she didn't try to get out of her bonds.

   Yvette drummed her fingertips against her bill. There seemed no way to get Doris out without alerting the men, and ultimately, Gafford himself. Yvette slid the panel shut as she heard voices in the hallway. Steve had wasted no time in following Ginger once she told him Yvette had sent her. As they ran up the hallway, Ginger was still filling him in on the details. Yvette nodded as Steve came to stop in front of her.

   "She's in there," Yvette motioned to the door, "but two men are standing watch over her. Near as I can tell, she hasn't been hurt."

   "She loses her value if she's damaged," Steve fished a .45 out of his jacket, "do you think we can rush them?"

   "Not like that," Yvette eyed the gun, "even with the soundproofing, a gunshot is going to call attention our way. And I'm sure those guys are armed, too. You might get one, but probably not both."

   "I don't want to kill them," Steve explained, "just hold them back."

   "I have a better idea," Ginger spoke up, "I know those guys, and I know the only way to draw their attention while you slip in and grab Miss Flowers. Help me here, Mr. Morrow." Ginger grabbed Yvette's skirt and held it tight, prompting Steve to take hold and rip a high slit into the fabric along the seam. Yvette was quick to figure Ginger's plan and began looping the bottom of her sweater upward. With a bare midriff and a skirt slit nearly to her hip, Yvette could fool the men into thinking she were an associate of Ginger's. Ginger adjusted her dress slightly by tugging the neckline down, though she couldn't move it very far beyond it's original position. Ginger looked at Yvette, who nodded back. Ginger then turned to Steve. Steve nodded, too, and placed his gun in his lower jacket pocket for easy retrieval. 

   "I'll grab Doris once you have their backs turned. I'm sure they're going to see me about the time I make my move, though, so you two are going to have to cover me somehow."

   "We've got it covered," Ginger pushed Yvette along the walkway, "give us a minute to get around to the front door and keep your eye on the bad guys." Ginger and Yvette ran around to the hatch which lead into the main walkway. This was situated above the ballroom, but was positioned in such a way that foot traffic could go unnoticed. It had been built with more professional motivations in mind, a way to keep stage crew unseen by the patrons below. As viewed from their position, Ginger and Yvette were in full view of Gafford's office window. The girls prayed they would go unseen until they could get inside the hut through the front door. Yvette took a breath.

   "You okay?" Ginger asked. "You can do this?"

   "Yeah," Yvette nodded, "I just have to pull out some memories, routines I didn't think I'd be using again."

   "I'll do most of the talking. I have a lot of experience at this." Ginger had bragged to herself about her experience, as it was for so long her means of living. This was bravado, for the most part, always laced with a bit of self-loathing which she kept hidden from others. For the first time in years, though, she didn't hate herself. Her comments were just a bluff this time. Whatever happened, even if she got shot when the boys caught onto her, it wasn't going to matter. For the first time in a long time she felt clean, even happy. She was doing something for other people now. She liked it, despite the danger.

    Doris popped her eyes when she heard a knock at the door, certain that Gafford had returned and was shortly going to threaten her into helping convince her family to pay his ransom. Her fear subsided and was replaced by puzzlement when the guard opened the door and let Ginger slink into the room.

   "Martin said you boys needed some entertainment," Ginger vamped, "so I thought I'd introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Ducky. C'mon in, Duck." Yvette slipped into the room and giggled. In her experience, men like these preferred girls who were care-free and slightly stupid. She'd perfected a persona like that of a bubbly school girl who would do anything for a thrill, adding a sense of empowerment to the men by becoming wide-eyed and innocent when the thrills began. Ginger picked up on this immediately. It was obvious that Yvette knew her stuff. Ginger's own approach was a bit more aggressive, but it had a similar element to it. She came on all talk and wiggle, but gave the impression of weakness when she was actually alone with her targets. Yvette closed the door behind herself as she playfully eyed the man in front of her.

   "Ginger told me you'd like to see me dance." Yvette looked over at Doris and pretended to gasp. "You boys are interested in a lot more than dancing, I see!" Doris didn't recognize Yvette. With her wig, eyeshadow, and breathy delivery which was more bubbly than usual, Yvette came across as a completely different duck. Particularly when she turned back to the man in front of her and held up her hands while arching her back so as to enhance her curves. "I'm game for anything."

   "She is that," Ginger wiggled back over to the door, drawing the eyes of both men, "she doesn't even need the giggle water. But you should see her when it takes effect." A small bar was to the side of the door, and Ginger reached over it to secure a couple of bottles. She made sure to do so in way that pushed her backside into the air and thus draw the attention of the men to her. Steve knew this was his cue and he quietly slid the panel open. Ginger returned to her feet with the bottles in hand and gave one to Yvette. By now, both men were on their feet and facing the girls. Steve slipped in and scooped up Doris. Not knowing what was going on, Doris screamed through the gag in her mouth. This caused both men to turn and see Steve. Ginger nodded and she and Yvette slammed the bottles down over the heads of the men as they were reaching for their guns.

   The henchmen dropped the floor like wet laundry. Doris struggled until Steve stood her on her feet and spun her around to see that it was he who had her. She hopped with joy to see her friend as he untied her gag.

   "We don't have much time," Steve told her as he started to untie her, "but we've got you." Steve untied Doris' feet and tossed the first rope to Ginger, who wasted no time in securing the hands of the first henchman. Yvette waited for Steve to throw the other rope to her so she could similarly tie down the second. Steve took the gag and placed it over the mouth of one of the men. "Yvette, find another gag for your fella."

   "Yvette?" Doris was stunned to discover her friend was posing as Ducky. Yvette smiled at Doris.

   "I'll hug you later," Yvette said, "but I'm glad we got you back. Are you okay?"

   "Yeah," Doris rubbed her arms, "they didn't hurt me, but they promised to if I gave them any trouble." Steve dragged both men into the washroom and stacked them in the bathtub.

   "They won't be out for long," Steve closed the bathroom door and locked it, "we've got to get to Ginger's room and back down to the ground floor before Gafford catches on."

   "Ginger?" Doris asked. Yvette pulled Ginger over to Doris and presented her.

   "She's a friend," Yvette began pushing her sweater back into place, "we owe everything to her."

   "Thank you, Ginger." Doris smiled. Ginger smiled back.

   "Thank you. You've helped me more than you know."

    "C'mon, girls," Steve pointed to the access hatch, "there's no time to waste." The gang scrambled through the hallway and back around to Ginger's room. Their relief was cut short when they burst into the room and found Gafford sitting quietly at Ginger's vanity. Gafford was far more suave than one might expect, reminding one much of Vincent Price. He played with a reel of magnetic tape as he smiled at the assembly.

   "Martin!" Ginger gasped as the group stopped in their tracks. To reach the elevator, they'd have to go by him. Steve reached for his gun, but Yvette stopped him. He looked at her and she shook her head. There was no misinterpreting the look of fear in her eyes. Gafford stood and continued smiling as he looked at the group.

   "I should be quite cross with you, Ginger. But I'm not. What ransom I could get for Miss Flowers is nothing compared to what I can get from Miss Archer."

   "Who?" Doris was puzzled. Yvette stepped forward.

   "He means me. My real name is Archer. Nancy Archer." Doris looked at Yvette in confusion. "I was going to tell you once, but you said my past didn't matter. You didn't need to know, you said. But Yvette Pond is just a name Steve and the Boss came up with."

   "Why?" Doris still felt her friend's business was her own, but curiosity had been forced to the surface by the current situation.

   "Because I needed a completely fresh start. To protect me, and the studio, from guys like him." Yvette motioned to Gafford, who continued to smile.

   "Yes," Gafford happily hissed, "and I know you'll pay through the nose to keep your secret. Particularly since your audience includes so many innocent children. They'd be so disillusioned to find out what kind of a woman you really are."

   "I'm not the woman you knew," Yvette insisted before taking on a defeated look, "but you're right about the kids. I can't stand the thought of them finding out."

   "Your disguise is a good one," Gafford paced triumphantly, "even I didn't know who you were when I saw you looking up at my office window. But Ginger's initiative to keep you away from me only spurred my curiosity. I'm surprised you didn't assume that I would have your elevator and private room wired for sound, Ginger. I have the whole conversation on tape, from the moment you got into the elevator to just before you entered the access hallway."

   "I gave you everything you wanted from me," Ginger spoke up, "why would you bug my elevator?"

   "For the same reason I position motion picture cameras outside the access hatches. One never knows when someone of influence may pay a visit to one of my girls, so it pays to be ready."

   "That reel incriminates you as much as it does me." Yvette insisted.

   "True, but only the parts pertaining to you will be recorded by my friend at the largest of Los Angeles newspapers. Of course, you can prevent that. I obviously haven't had time to make multiple recordings, so this reel I'm holding is the only copy. I can turn it over to you and we can forget any of this ever happened, if you're willing to pay my price."

   "Just what is your price?"

   "I did my research on the Flowers family. I was certain they could put forth $500,000 to secure her return, and it not throw them into bankruptcy. You see, I don't want to destroy anybody, lest their troubles become public and it gets back to me. You, my dear Miss Pond, I'm sure can shell out a figure much more agreeable. I want a million dollars from you."

   "A million?!!"

   "And another three million from the studio. That'll give me a nice round figure of four million. I can retire to some little island somewhere and never be seen again. That's really quite a small investment from your studio, isn't it, Mr. Morrow? You get to protect your golden duck, and I walk away from all this. What do you think?"

   "I think it's worth it, Steve," Yvette blurted, "if he stops operations here, it means Lord only knows how many girls don't fall into his clutches." Ginger nodded to herself, Yvette's sacrifice would indeed save a lot of girls from trouble if Gafford kept to his word. 

   "Men like Gafford don't just walk away from this business," Steve insisted, "he may retire to his island for a year or two, but he'd pop up again sooner or later. Yvette makes a good point about the girls, though. How many will be spared the pain suffered by you or Ginger if he's taken out of the picture. And he's right about that being the only reel of tape, he hasn't had time to make copies." Steve produced the gun from his pocket and held it on Gafford. "The best thing I could do is shoot this dog and take the reel from his lifeless body."

   Gafford flinched. Yvette and Doris knew Steve and figured this to be a bluff. They played along by stepping back and giving Steve a clear shot. Ginger followed their lead.

   "He's right, Martin," Ginger said, "you always made me feel like I was in control of what I was doing, but you were just using me. I hate what I've done, and it'd be worth a murder rap to keep you from touching anyone else."

   "You kill me and you only hurt yourselves. The police will piece everything together and it'll destroy C.B. International Pictures, the careers of Yvette Pond and Doris Flowers, and put you behind bars, Mr. Morrow."

   "I don't expect you to understand this, Martin," Ginger huffed, "but some things are worth taking the hit. Do you have ANY idea what you've done to me? To who knows how many girls like me? To keep that from happening again, yes, I'll gladly go to the chair if it means you've been taken out of commission!"

   "You're actually discussing murder," Gafford began to sweat, "cold-blooded murder."

   "We figure it's a language you understand, Mr. Gafford." Steve held out the gun. Gafford held out the reel of tape.

   "I'll give you the tape. I'll walk out of here and leave it all behind me. Just don't kill me."

   Ginger snapped away the reel of tape and took a spot next to Steve.

   "Do you have a reel to reel?" Steve asked.

   "Yes. It's in the closet."

   "Get it, so we can make sure we have the right tape." It was. Ginger only had to play a few words before she nodded to Steve and began rewinding the tape. Steve took a breath as he kept his eyes trained on Gafford.

   "Turn around, Gafford. A snake like you deserves to get it in the back." Gafford couldn't believe it, but the assembly before him remained stone-faced. He began to plead, but Steve motioned with the gun and Gafford slowly turned to face the elevator. He began sobbing. Ginger calmly grabbed a metal ashtray from her table and clubbed him in the head. Everyone relaxed their posture as Gafford thudded to the floor. Steve put the gun back in his pocket as he crouched over the body to check Gafford's pulse. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

   "No," Ginger stood with her arms crossed as she looked down at Gafford, "that's one line I've never crossed."

   "He's out cold, for now." Steve thought quickly. "Ginger, get me a pair of socks, and two ropes or something I can tie him with." Ginger nodded and ran to her wardrobe. She tossed a pair of socks to Steve, then looked back at her clothes. A couple of robes had sashes which were quickly slipped out and turned over to Steve. Steve had slipped the socks over Gafford's hands before tying them together with one sash. The other sash was wrapped around his elbows so that he couldn't pull his arms apart. Steve looked over at the table and noticed a small rock. "What's that?"

   "A silver ingot. A birthday present from Gafford."

   "Odd, but it'll work. Hand it here." Steve stuffed the rock down into one of Gafford's shoes before turning him over and trying to wake him. Doris stepped over to Ginger and asked the significance of the ingot.

   "I like silver," Ginger explained, "he thought I might like it for my birthday. At the time, I thought it was sweet." Ginger looked down at the floor. It was becoming overwhelming how much she'd been through. Gafford presented himself as a friend, but Ginger knew it was only business. Maybe there was something in him that had some heart, deep down. The ingot seemed like something that he might have put some thought into. If that meant he genuinely liked Ginger to some extent, or if it was just a means of making her think he liked her in order to keep her happy, there was no way to tell. Ginger could figure it, though. Gafford was only kind to those who he could use to further his own goals. He was suave enough that it never seemed that way, though. In his own perverse way, he'd always been good to Ginger. 

   "What's the idea of stuffing it into his shoe, Steve?" Yvette asked.

   "It'll make it very difficult for him to make a run for it," Steve explained, "particularly with his arms bound like this." Steve pulled Gafford to his feet. Gafford was fuming as he came around. Steve pushed him toward the door to the main walkway. "Now, let's take a tour of your office."

   Gafford was marched down the walkway to his office. Inside was a swank room which included business files and some furniture. Off to one side was a bedroom complete with an electric icebox. Nothing looked out of place, but he'd already confessed to having recording equipment in here somewhere. Steve demanded to know where the recorder was located. Gafford kept quiet, but Ginger stepped to the far wall and felt around.

   "It's got to be behind this wall," Ginger reported, "anyone unfamiliar with the layout of these rooms wouldn't see it, but there's a space unaccounted for that has to be back here."

   "Alright, Gafford," Steve shook him, "how do we get in there?"

   "Mr. Morrow!" Ginger excitedly uncovered the control board she found behind a painting on the wall. The door slid open and the group filed in. The area was filled with shelves of boxes containing photographs, negatives, film reels, and magnetic tape recordings. Near the door was a recorder which was still running. The sound was being piped in from Ginger's room, and a switchboard had connections to speakers spread throughout the building. Steve pushed Gafford into a chair before turning off the reel to reel and collecting the tape.

   "I figured as much," Steve yanked the reel off the recorder and waved it at Gafford, "we pay you off for the first tape and you come back to us later to extort more for this tape, which recorded the entire conversation regarding the first one."

   "I needed some insurance," Gafford insisted, "I'm a business man."

   "You could have been," Ginger fumed, "you could have been a great business man if you'd played legit instead of dirty." Yvette marveled at the collection of blackmail materials which had been assembled. There seemed to be hundreds of boxes crammed into the room.

   "We'd need a truck to move all this stuff," Yvette reported, "what are we going to do?"

   "If any of this gets out," Ginger noted, "it'll destroy more lives than just those being blackmailed. We can't call the police, we can't tell the papers."

   "The only thing we can do," Steve thought it out, "is to destroy all this stuff and give everybody a chance to start fresh. We can burn it all. I see an incinerator mounted on the far wall back there, probably installed just to cover tracks if the police ever came around."

   "Or if it too closely targeted Martin himself." Ginger looked back at Gafford, who struggled with his ropes. "I figure he's smart enough not to keep any of this stuff at his own home. Is this everything, Martin?"

   "What about it, Marty?" Steve stood before Gafford. Gafford remained silent, a condition Steve reversed by placing a foot over Gafford's and pushing down ever so slightly so as to press Gafford's heel into the rock inside his shoe. Gafford grimaced and then begged Steve to stop. Steve did. Gafford had dropped his civil tone and was now growling.

   "This is all of it. I couldn't risk spreading it around. I should have, but I trusted myself more than any of my associates. Ask Ginger. I would have hired her if I knew I could trust anybody to keep tabs on this stuff for me." Ginger thought about it and nodded, as much to herself as to the others.

   "Yeah," she confirmed, "what I know about Martin, he would have come to me if he were going to spread this stuff out. He runs the operation so tightly that he never had to spread it out, or figured he'd have time to do so if he ever needed to. This must be everything. We can get rid of it all tonight, destroy everything. But what about Martin Gafford? We turn him over to the police and he spills everything he knows. Even without evidence, the papers will have a field day. We let him go and he starts all over. We can't hang onto him because then we're the kidnappers once we're out of danger." Ginger leaned forward and looked Gafford in the eye. "We really should kill you, Martin. That's the only way this is truly over." Ginger straightened her posture and crossed her arms. "But we can't do that. So the question is still on the table. What do we do?"

   The room looked pretty bare by morning. Steve raked through the ashes before placing another box in the incinerator. This would be the last one. In place of the boxes was now a pile of metal reels from which had been unspooled magnetic tapes and motion picture film. Doris used the private telephone to call her family and let them know she was okay. Then she called the Boss to tell him the story. Steve and Ginger had moved Gafford's henchmen into the main office and bound them more securely. Even Gafford had to be impressed with the efficiency of the operation, given how spur of the moment it was. The girls searched the room thoroughly to make sure nothing had slipped by them. They found no other blackmail materials, though several small boxes of illegal substances had been recovered. The more the picture of what Gafford had been doing via The Jungle Room fell into place, the more grimy the place felt. It was going to feel pretty good to get out of this building and breath the fresh air again. 

   Yvette sat across from Gafford, eyeing him as she puffed a cigarette. She wasn't wearing an expression of anger, though. It was more a look of pity, which Gafford hated even more. Yvette shook her head.

   "Why, Martin? Why do all this when you could have made it all and more by playing it straight? What did any of us do to you to make you think we deserved this?"

   "I don't take any personal thought for any of you," Gafford spoke for the first time in hours, "it's just a way of being in control. You think I care about any of this stuff getting burned up? I really don't. It's losing the power that I can't stand. I never cared anything about any of you." Ginger took a spot near Yvette. She similarly looked on Gafford with more pity than anger.

   "I feel so sorry for you, Martin," Ginger said, "and I know at least partly where you're coming from. I never cared about anyone, it was a way to make it feel less like I was hurting them. I used people, I was used by people, I promised intimacy and did everything I could to avoid it. But humanity has a way of sneaking through, even here. When I did see something good, I cherished it. Be it one of the girls I kept from seeing you, or that little rock in your shoe. That actually meant something to me. I know it didn't mean anything to you, though. I'm not looking to get it back. Who knows where you got it in the first place? Just some bobble you picked up in a  gutter, for all I know."

   "Actually," Gafford raised his eyebrows, surprised at himself, "I got that from a jeweler. I was going to get you a ring or necklace or something. But when I saw the ingot, something about it seemed right. I don't know why. It was a shapeless lump which needed further refining to even be of value, but when I saw that little rock I thought it was something you would want." 

   "I think what I liked about it was the promise it had. That little ingot could be turned into anything. Something pretty from something the average person might not see any value in."

   "Look, Ginger, it's true I never treated you very well. But I guess in a way, my own way, I did always think of you as my friend. I know it doesn't mean anything to hear this from me, but I am sorry. Whatever you felt about me personally, you were always loyal to me and that's something I value. Whatever happens, I guess I'm happy for you, that you found a friend who really is a friend. I know I can't change. But I think there's a part of me that likes the change I see in you. You've got a confidence now that's very different from the confidence you always had before. Before it was just an act, I think, but now you have some bearings, and I like what I see."

   "You can change, too, I know you can."

   "No, Ginger. I have a lot more to try to live with. And then there's my basic nature. I'm not going to change. I know me too well."

   "I never thought I could change. Talking to Yvette, I realized it's not my doing."

   "But a part of you wanted to change. A part of you, maybe not even a part you noticed, but it saw what was going on around you and wanted to break free. I've never wanted to break free. I had everything I wanted. Power, money, influence, girls, control. What dreams I had, I was living them." By the incinerator, Steve and Doris looked on. Doris looked up at Steve.

   "What are we going to do?"

   "Not sure," Steve shook his head, "thanks to us, the only thing the police could book him on now would be possession of illegal substances, and he'd still have anyone he's been blackmailing thinking that he's still got the goods on them."

   "We can't just let him go."

   "I know. We've pulled his fangs, but we'd still be letting a snake loose."

   "What can we do?"

   "That's the $64,000 question." Steve walked over to Gafford. He looked beaten. Walking away wouldn't stop him from rebuilding his empire, though it seemed to be the only option left. There was really nothing else that could be done. Calling in the police would only draw attention to the studio. Yvette was still in danger of having her life ruined just by rumor if Gafford were allowed to talk. He still had his night club in operation, his girls. It was a tough decision but one which didn't present a lot of options. He was in a position to destroy lives if he were arrested OR let go. Steve finally sighed and knelt down in front of Gafford.

   "What would you do if our positions were reversed, Gafford? Pretend for a second that you hold dear the lives of your friends and value innocence, and you have a monster in your clutches. You can't kill it, you can't let it go, or turn it over to the authorities. If you walk away from it, it'll just keep destroying. You can't live with that, but you have no other way to deal with it. What would you do?"

   "If I had a threat, Mr. Morrow, I'd do everything I could to remove it. I may not share your concerns in exactly the same way, but I understand the concept of dealing with something that could harm me. If I faced a threat, I would destroy it before it could destroy me, or whatever I hold dear."

   "You're prettymuch tell me flat-out that we should kill you."

   "Were I in your position, it's what I would do. I would have no choice with the stakes that you've described."

   "Yeah," Steve looked at the floor, "but I'm not a killer. I can't kill you, even if it would protect others. You see my problem here?"

   "Yes. But I know you can't trust me, either. Really, your only option is to kill me."

   "You're facing the idea with a lot more grace than you were before."

   "Mr. Morrow, I know what I can do. I know what I will do. If you let me go, you have to live with what I'll do. I wouldn't wish to be in your shoes." Steve stood and pulled Ginger aside.

   "What do you think? Can he possibly turn away from his instincts?"

   "I pray he can." Ginger sighed. "I'm changed, I can feel it deep inside. It's a warmth, a hope that was never there before. If Martin would take hold of the same thing... The difference is I wanted to change, without even really know it. I don't think Martin ever hated himself the way I did, whether I knew it or not. If you do untie him and walk away, other girls are going to be hurt. I don't think I can live with that. Call the police and then take Yvette and Doris home. I'll keep you out of it, but I'll tell them everything about Martin. They won't have his blackmail evidence, but they'll have the tools he used to collect it."

   "Ginger, I can't just let you face this alone."

   "It's okay, Steve. I have nowhere to go but up. Doris and Yvette can't be mixed up in this, though. I'll testify against Martin and make sure he's put away so he can't hurt anyone like this ever again. Call the police. If not, I'll call the police myself."

   "Okay, Ginger. We'll be praying for you."

   "Thanks." Ginger smiled. It'd been so long since she'd smiled sincerely, but it was coming naturally now.

   "Thank you, for everything." Steve and the girls waited around until the last minute, but Ginger convinced them to take off before the police reached the scene. For her testimony and co-operation, Ginger wasn't charged. Steve and Doris testified of the kidnapping and the rescue attempt. Yvette was a part of the rescue and she also testified. Miraculously, her past remained undisclosed. The court saw her only as someone who took great risk to rescue her friend. The matchbook was mentioned, but not Yvette's knowledge of the club itself. Ginger knew how much Yvette was risking to back her up in court, and she knew that day that she had a new friend for life, come what may. 

   Gafford tried to make his lawyer bring up Yvette's past, but it wasn't considered relevant to the trial. Ultimately, Gafford was only able to tell a couple of reporters that Yvette had a secret past, but he never had time to go into detail. Providently, the reporters didn't even bother to record the accusation, convinced Gafford was desperate and lying. 

    Ginger had to sort of build a new life from scratch. Her only dwelling was the Jungle Room, and it had closed it's doors after Gafford's arrest. Ginger was invited to stay with Yvette until she could get her own house. Ginger was quite taken with the relaxed pace of a small town like Creek Bend, and was looking into a small place near the river. For all she had done, everyone involved was more than delighted to give her a screen test. Ginger would soon be making a series of cartoons. What's more, she'd be using her real name. Evelyn Graysitt hadn't used her real name in so many years that she'd largely forgotten it! To further break from the notoriety of the trial, Evelyn became a honey blonde before the cameras began rolling. Anyone who came to the movies and saw her there would be totally unaware that she was the red-headed mousette who had taken down Martin Gafford.

   Before moving to her own house, Evelyn and Yvette engaged in long conversations. They discussed everything from Rahab of Jericho to what it was like working in movies. One question Evelyn saved for last.

   "I hate what I did, but I did it for so long I got used to it. I can walk away from it for good, can't I? The habits I picked up?"

   "Never look back. For me, it was a life so different from what I gained that it seemed almost like a bad dream. I changed into a whole different person. A New Creature. Remember, the work is done. You're just living according to what's in you now. You are the righteousness of God in His Son. Remember that always. Never complicate things by making them about yourself. Just trust Him. And you know I'm always here if you need me for anything. Anything at all." 

   Ginger hugged Yvette. It had been so long since she had hugged someone and meant it. Now it really felt complete. It was a whole new life. It was wonderful.