The Diaries of Ayesha

Camp Doha, Kuwait. I'd make a joke about wretched hives of scum and villainy, but it wouldn't really apply in this case.

I was largely ignored as I made my way to the main gate and announced I was there to see Sgt. RJ Preston.

"Your name sir?" the sentry asked.

"Michael Forbin. I'm a free lance writer and Sgt. Preston was expecting me. I'm doing a story on ETAC operations," I said showing my ever trusty and useful press card.

The sentry took the card and picked up the phone and made a call. He listened and then nodded sharply before hanging up and turning his attention back to me.

"He's out in the field, but some one is coming to pick you up and escort you to Uncle Frosty's Oasis. You'll be met there."

Uncle Frosty's Oasis. Okay, fine. Whatever.

I didn't have to wait too long before a Hummer pulled up and a tall lanky soldier jumped out and walked into the guard shack.

"Mr. Forbin, I'm Pete Logan. RJ is out on an exercise right now, so I thought you'd be more comfortable in air conditioning rather than waiting here for him," he said by way of introduction.

I took the offered hand and shook it.

"I appreciate that. But Uncle Frosty's?" I asked as we walked out.

"You'll see," he grinned.

Uncle Frosty's turned out to be a hamburger stand with a good menu and a lot of military people grabbing a quick snack. Pete ordered lunch for us and then indicated a table in the far corner away from the rest of the people.

"Grab a seat, I'll join you in a minute," he directed.

I settled in and watched the room, thinking about the circumstances that had brought me to the Mideast.

Discovering that the remains at the hospital in Germany were not Mistress Minx's or Lydia's had only opened up a whole new can of worms and as the man said, "When you open a can of worms, the only way to catch them is to get a bigger can."

That quest for the bigger can had split me from the Bank on a long-term basis and hadn't enhanced my relationship with Ay'esha at all, The Mother of Many having expressed her displeasure at the continuing quest.

"In light of the test results at the hospital and the information provided by Minkin's mother, I understand you want to handle this personally. But you do have to consider your position here. You have obligations to Ay'esha," she advised.

"I have obligations to my wife as well." I replied.

Susan Bellamy sighed.

"When I accepted the task of the Mother of Many, I knew there would be problems and knowing you, I expected you'd be part of them. You swore your service to Ay'esha and you have largely lived up to your obligations but you seem to have forgotten that you yourself agreed that the needs of the many out weight the needs of the few, or the one."

When my Mistress is involved, my logic fails me," I admitted.

"It does. I read your report and Dr. Ruth's and I know that you are using non-Ay'esha resources to carry out the mission. I can't say that I am pleased to have any kind of involvement with any official agency in this matter, but if you are sure that your military contact can assist in this case, I will not stop you from trying. But if there is any risk of overt exposure of Ay'esha, I will cut you off without a moment of hesitation. Do you understand that?"

"I do."

"Then as Jean-Luc is fond of saying, make it so."

Making it so wasn't quit as easy as she made it sound as it required detailed conversations with Mei Ling Levy as well as using Ay'esha resources to contact Vicky Feldshiemer in Tel Aviv as ask for her assistance.

Asking anything of a member of Kali in my position is risky, but after talking with Mei Ling I felt confident that her interest in locating Lydia would take priority over having my throat slit.

I wasn't disappointed. Once I briefed her on the potential plan and gave her the bits of intel that I had gathered, she agreed to cooperate.

"Unofficially of course. My position here is sensitive and while you changed the names to protect the innocent, there were a few pointed questions in my direction after the change in government here," she cautioned.

"I understand. I also know if Isis hears about it, you're a dead woman," I warned.

There was a snort of disgust from her end.

"Isis is too busy to waste time on me. Ay'esha may be too liberal about men but Isis just doesn't have the strength that Lydia did to keep people in line. Evil light, so to speak."

"Just one calorie?" I couldn't help myself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Let me know what you need when you arrive and I'll see what I can do. By the way, I think you're stupid as hell for doing this."

"If you mean trying to find my Mistress, you're wrong. If you mean finding Lydia in the process, I can't disagree. But you have to take the yin with the yang." I corrected.

"And she's still going to remove your ying yang if she can."

At least there was one constant in the Universe.

I was brought back to real time by Pete putting the tray on the table.

"So you're going to do a story on ETAC's huh?" he said taking a bite from his burger.

"I'm going to try and write one anyway. The problem with being a free lancer is you write it and hope someone buys it," I corrected.

"So what made you decide to use RJ as an example?" he pressed.

"A friend of a friend suggested him," I said cautiously. "Can't say more than that."

"Got it," Pete said and we turned the topic of conversation of Kuwait in general. After lunch we spent a little time at the pool table and were finally joined by a stocky, grinning man with a deep tan and a receding hairline.

"Michael, I'm RJ. Nice to meet you," he said gripping my hand firmly. "Pete taking good care of you?"

"Excellent actually. I've been in transit for more than a few hours, so a good meal and a couple games of pool helped a lot."

"Good. Pete, I'll take over from here if you want to head back to quarters or something," RJ suggested.

"OK RJ. Michael, I'll see you around I guess," Pete said putting his cue back.

"Thanks for the lunch Pete. I'll see you later."

RJ suggested we go for a drive, and I agreed and followed him out to another Hummer, it's motor running. Another man was sitting behind the wheel that nodded to me as I got in.

"Let's go," RJ said.

"Got it," the driver said and pulled away from the curb.

We drove along in silence until we were off base at which point RJ introduced me to the driver.

"Michael, this is Moriarty, my EOD man. He was involved in the little incident at Christmas."

"Nice to meet you. Mei Ling is still talking about you," I said.

"I'll bet. Have her panties dried out yet?" he said over his shoulder.

"I haven't personally checked. And if the two of you meet again, I'd avoid the subject. Unless of course you enjoy being thrown across a room by a woman," I cautioned.

He snickered and fell silent again.

"Forgive him, he thinks he's funny" RJ said. "What do you have for me?"

"Maqar-el-Tharthar."

"Is that a person or a place," RJ prompted.

"Place, about a hundred and fifty miles north of Baghdad. Seems that the Right Reverend had some connections with the Christian Militia in Lebanon who had connections with the Mukhabarat. This at least according to a source in the Lebanese banking industry."

"Iraqi Intelligence Service."

"Specifically Directorate 25," I added. "They cooperate with smugglers and gun runners through both Syria and Jordan, so it looks like Lebanon to Jordan to Iraq with the ladies and whatever else was at that camp before you guys flattened it."

"One step ahead of the sheriff," RJ grumbled.

"Intel is like fish. Only good when it's fresh. And I have to admit what I have isn't very, but it's the best I've got."

"What do you think Moriarty?" RJ asked.

"I think it's crap, but you're the boss."

"Always with the negative waves Moriarty. You want to go or not?"

"You go, I go. The only question is how we get there. We can't exactly fly in, as we'd be nailed and it's a hell of a long walk in."

"There is that. And of course we need someone to go in ahead of us to make sure of the target location," RJ said looking at me.

I looked steadily back at him.

"I can get in, no problem. It's amazing what a letter from a Saudi prince can get you, but getting out with the girls is going to be a damned sight harder," I replied. "After all a bribe only goes so far, and as to trusting them to hold up their end of the bargain, well Mama didn't raise no stupid children. Just dumb ones."

"You said it, I didn't."

"So you're going to go in and what...?" Moriarty prompted.

"Try and be diplomatic and get the girls out."

"Diplomacy is the art of saying "Nice doggie" until you can find a big rock," RJ quoted.

"And you're the rock," I explained.

"Only in his head," Moriarty mumbled.

"Quiet in the peanut gallery," RJ responded. "So the plan is to spring them through negotiation and bring them out. Or try to."

"Exactly. And I want you and your merry band of pranksters to add a little insurance to the deal. I expect the safe conduct will hold till just about the border on the way out and then there will be an incident."

"But you'd rather it be our incident than their incident."

"I was thinking of being kidnapped by bandits actually."

RJ grinned.

"A man after my own heart. Only one question: Have you ever ridden a camel?"

"If it's anything like riding a cow, I'll be fine."

"A cow?"

"Don't ask."

Having laid out the basics of the plan to RJ, the next step was to pay a call on an old friend of Wendolyn's in Saudi Arabia.

Abdullah Bin Mossad Bin Abdulaziz was on the cricket grounds in Sulay teaching a class of young Saudi's the proper stance in the crease when I arrived. His assistant made me wait at a discreet distance until the prince had finished his lesson and then escorted me to meet him, reminding me of course of the protocols involving a prince.

"Don't look him in the eye, speak only when spoken to, bow to him," I was advised as we walked to meet him. "His Highness is a reasonable man, but it is better to take precautions."

"You are a friend of Wendolyn Dawes," he said taking my hand to the surprise of his aide.

"I have the honor to be her son in law your Highness," I said bowing.

"You must be a lucky man indeed. I understand her daughter is very beautiful and very strong willed," he said indicating I should face him.

"Is there a place we can talk privately your Highness? What I have to say concerns her and her family," I asked.

He looked around as the children left the field and then led me to the end of the pitch and handed me a ball.

"I think this is private enough for a discussion between men," he said. "I need some practice. After all I don't wish to be a teacher that teaches only and can't do."

I haven't ever pitched on a cricket field before, but one does what a Prince wants, so I figured I'd do my best.

He stepped into the popping crease and took the ready position as I pitched overhand at the center of the wicket.

He made a clean hit that flew into the far part of the grounds.

"I don't think you have much of a career in cricket," he called.

I picked up another ball and nodded.

"I'm not very good at knocking down the milk bottles at the county fair either Your Highness," I called back.

Another pitch and another hit.

"Tell me what my old friend would ask of me? I owe her much," he asked.

"Her daughter and a friend disappeared in Lebanon earlier this year. There is reason to believe that they are now in Iraq at a place called Maqar-el-Tharthar. Wendolyn would like your help in assuring safe passage for me to go and bring them out," I replied.

He lowered his bat and walked towards me.

"You are asking for my help in this matter. Why come to me?" he said with a puzzled expression.

"Wendolyn knows that the Iraqis both respect you and fear your family. There is no question of paying any ransom demanded. The money is of no consequence. But there is the matter of trust," I explained.

"Trust?"

"Your Highness, given the actions of the Iraqi government in the past and the probability that Iraqi intelligence is involved, I think a certain mistrust is warranted," I clarified.

"Or in other terms, you think they'll take the money and keep your wife and her friend, "he said.

"Bluntly yes. There is also another factor here. Any attempt I make to contact the Iraqis is against the law since there is an embargo. So I have to make payment arrangements, enter a hostile country, and try and get two people and myself out of the country and without coming to the official attention of the United States Government."

"So you would like the assistance of my government in this matter," he concluded.

"No sir. I would like your personal and family assistance in this matter. Your letter of introduction should be enough to make the Iraqis think twice about a double cross," I said thinking "I hope anyway."

He signaled for his aide, who had been waiting near the car to approach.

"I noticed you said the official attention of the United States government. I take it you have some unofficial assistance from them," he said.

I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Now what would make you think that?" I deflected.

The prince grinned.

"Wendolyn probably never told you that she and her partner John taught me to play poker while I was in England. I learned very quickly how to read my opponents. Very useful in this business," he commented as his aide stepped up.

He gave spoke a few sharp sentences in Arabic to the aide who bowed and then turned his attention back to me.

"What is your plan?"

I looked up at the sky casually before speaking.

"How many camels do you have your Highness?"

After laying out the general plan for the prince and getting his assurances of cooperation, I was driven to the airport with a locked brief case with diplomatic seals on it and a card identifying me as a diplomatic courier for the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. In my jacket pocket I carried a hand written letter from his Highness, sealed with his family crest.

The Prince himself escorted me to his own personal airplane and made sure I was comfortable.

Looking around at the number of empty seats in the 747 I couldn't help but assure him I was.

"It's a little strange to be the only one on the plane," I said.

"Well you can't say you won't get the best first class service you ever had," he said a wry grin.

"Hot and cold running stewardi too I'll wager," I teased.

"The only think lacking is drink service. The best they can offer you is orange juice or coffee, but I suspect that you have other vices in your life," he explained.

"That I do. And usually involving large numbers of dancing girls."

He shook his head.

"Everybody thinks that all princes have harems and multiple wives," he said looking around furtively. "In my case it's true, but don't spread it around," he continued with a confidential air.

"They'll never hear it from me."

"You can tell your mother in law that every thing will done to assure the return of her daughter. She is my family as are you now, and family obligations are never forgotten," he said as the engines warmed up.

"Your Highness, I appreciate your assistance as a husband, and as family," I replied formally. "If I can ever do a service for you, please ask."

He shook his head in negation.

"What you ask is a small thing. We will succeed as family, Insha'Allah."

"In my country we might say, God willing and the creeks don't rise, but I prefer yours. Insha'Allah."

If Allah permits.

Flying as the only passenger aboard a 747 is a very weird experience. You get used to the noise of the other people and the cattle car effect of the aircraft, even in first class, but when it's just you and the flight attendants, it's like flying in an empty concert hall.

About halfway to London I found myself unable to sit still so I started jogging around the cabin and didn't stop until I'd covered 30 laps then collapsed into my seat panting from the lower oxygen content in the cabin.

"Are you all right?" one of the flight attendants asked.

"Sure, I run like that all the time. Just not at thirty thousand feet in the air," I said trying to sound casual despite the pain in my chest

"Cabin pressure is at about eight thousand feet, so it's like jogging on Al Sawdah," she said.

"Where ever that is."

"Al Sawdah is the highest point in my country, a little over 3100 meters high or a little over ten thousand feet." she explained graciously.

"Sorry. I'm not as informed about your country as I should be. I was just visiting for a short time."

She withdrew gracefully, leaving me to my thoughts and worries.

I wasn't really sure that Plan A would work at all. All I could do was trust that Plan B would if needed.

When I arrived in London I was waived through Customs as soon as I showed my card as a courier and was met on the other side of the barrier by a driver who identified himself as being from the Saudi Embassy.

"We were told to expect you and drive you any where you would like to go sir," I was told.

"Dawes, Jones, Mosley and Grubbs please," I said handing him my travel bag but keeping the briefcase with me.

"Very good sir."

I wasn't looking forward to this meeting at all. In fact I was still picking the figurative shrapnel out of my ass after telling Wallace what had happened, or at least the official version of what happened. I could only hope that being able to report success with the Prince would deflect his wrath at least slightly.

When I arrived I was surprised to find that Wallace had actually gone home for the day. Usually he was in his office until late evening so I felt I had lucked out by not having to face him.

Frankly the jet lag was getting to me. London to Kuwait, to Saudi Arabia and then back to London made me feel like Henry Kissenger.

I walked back out to the car and informed the driver that I'd missed my appointment. He nodded and informed me that I was expected at the Embassy to deliver the briefcase.

I'd almost forgotten about it with thinking about Wallace.

The Saudi Embassy in London is called Crewe House and located on Charles Street near Park Lane, just the other side of Green Park. It's not that far from the Royal Palace either which gives you the idea of the class of neighbors in the area.

When we arrived I was escorted into the building and introduced to the head of the security department of the Embassy, a Mr. Azir.

"I understand you have a bag for us," he said indicating the case.

"Yes, sorry. My day started before dawn and I'm feeling it. I certainly appreciated the Prince arranging for my return on his own airplane," I stammered handing him the case.

"May I see your identity card please?" he asked.

I fumbled the Saudi ID out of my pocket and gave it to him. He looked at it and at me searchingly, and then placed the case on the desk and opened it.

"Excellent. It's all here," he said closing it again and returning the card to me.

I really wanted to know what was in the case, but I got the impression it would be bad form to ask.

"The Prince has sent word that you are to be his guest as long as you are in London. " he informed me. "He has a small apartment that you are entitled to use during your stay."

"I appreciate that, but it's really not necessary. I have a place to stay already," I deferred.

Mr. Azir looked at me over the top of his glasses.

"Mr. Forbin, I suggest you accept his generous offer. To do otherwise may be considered an insult," he warned.

The way he said it, I knew that my choice was limited to none at all.

"In that case, I accept."

"I thought you would. I'll have the car brought around to take you there," he said reaching for the phone.

"Do I at least get to call my associates and tell them I'm back in London?"

"You can do as you wish sir. My orders were to see to your comfort and make sure that if needed you would be available."

"Needed? For what?"

"The Prince feels that you may be of service to him in some diplomatic capacity."

This was really starting to sound ungood.

"Excuse me for asking this, but I must. Is the Prince interested in me for my diplomatic abilities or my potential espionage abilities?"

Mr. Azir smiled coldly.

"I would hardly presume to know, but to the trained diplomat, there is no difference."

While I waited for the car to be brought around, I called Saphra and Mistress Miriam at the Institute and briefed them on the results of the day.

"Sounds encouraging," Mistress Miriam said after I finished. " So Wendolyn was right and the Prince was willing to help."

"Yes he was," I said looking at Mr. Azir." He even arranged diplomatic credentials for me and had me flown back on his private plane."

There was a hesitation on the other end before Miriam spoke again.

"Why does that sound a little too good to be true?"

"That's what I thought too. Into your life it will creep," I said quoting Credence Clearwater Revival. "Paranoia strikes deep, into your life it will creep."

"Where will you be staying tonight?"

"I've been invited to stay at the Prince's place here in town. I'll give you a call when I get there. Bye," I said as the driver entered the room.

I hung up the phone and nodded towards the driver.

"Lay on Macduff and damned be him that cries "Hold, enough." I said picking up my travel bag

I got an odd look from both Mr. Azir and the driver, but the driver led the way out anyway.

The residence was located in a quiet side street near the BBC studios in a rather nondescript brick building that seemed familiar to me somehow. The driver opened the door of the apartment for me, and then handed me the key.

You should find everything you need sir. The bedroom is upstairs,' he said indicating the spiral staircase," and the kitchen is fully stocked. When you are ready to leave in the morning, please call the Embassy and I will return to pick you up."

"Thank you. I'll certainly do that," I said escorting him to the door.

"Good night sir."

"Good night."

I locked the door behind him, sat down on the couch, closed my eyes, and relaxed for the first time all day.

"Is there anything you would like sir?" a soft female voice said.

I bolted upright and turned towards the sound and saw two young ladies, one dark haired and the other with light brown hair kneeling in the doorway that led into the kitchen. They were wearing veils and not much else.

"Who are you?" I finally asked after regaining my composure.

"We were told to attend you this evening," the dark haired one said. "I am Ayishah and this is Fellah. "

I turned the names over in my head.

Ayishah was pronounced Ay'esha and Fellah was pronounced Fella. I resisted the urge to ask if there was a third girl named Ursula out of respect for both the ladies and the cultural reference.

"Attend me how?"

The green eyes above the veil sparkled in amusement.

"In any fashion that might please you sir."

Oh Goddess, two dancing girls of my very own. Down boy.

"Ladies, I appreciate your kind offer, but I've been traveling most of the day and I'm a more than a bit tired. All I'm interested in is a hot bath and something to eat."

I saw Fella raise her eyebrow at the last word and had to remind myself to be polite and proper.

"I understand sir. I will draw a bath for you and if you tell us what you would like to eat, Fellah will prepare it," Ayishah said rising from the floor.

"Some sandwiches would be fine. Beef, chicken, even peanut butter would be fine. Coffee, decaf if you have it."

Fellah rose from her position bowed in my direction and fled into the kitchen returning a moment later to whisper something into Ayishah's ear.

"We have no decaf coffee sir. We can send for it if it pleases you, or perhaps you would like some mint tea instead. It's very soothing for sleep," Ayishah suggested.

"Fine with me", I said suppressing a yawn. "Where is the bathroom?"

"Upstairs sir. I'll start your bath," she said and headed up the stairs.

I couldn't help but watch as she spiraled her way up the stairs, her long legs flashing through the harem pants she wore.

"Oh Mistress, why can't you be here at this moment?" I thought. Damn.

I reached for the phone and called the Institute and gave Mistress Miriam the address I was at.

"Is everything all right?' she asked.

"Just tired. Can you and Saphra meet me at the Bank around ten?"

"We'll be there. Should I ask Wendolyn to be there too?"

"Please. I may need her to hose Wallace down."

She snorted.

"You worry too much," she scolded.

I was about to reply when Ayishah called that my bath was ready.

"Who was that?" Mistress Miriam asked.

"Well it seems that the place comes with a couple of servant girls," I said honestly.

"And how servile are they?" was the tart reply.

"One ran me a bath and the other is fixing me some tea and a snack."

"That's not exactly an answer Michael."

"Let's just say they have their orders and I'm refusing the offer."

There was a short pause.

"Michael, I love you dearly, but there are times when you are an idiot. If you are interested in these two ladies, don't hesitate on my account or the Mistress'. "

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't always think with my gonads madam,' I said feeling insulted.

"I know. Do what you feel is best, but don't miss out on some fun on my account."

I smiled and shook my head at her easy attitude.

"Have I told you I love you yet today?"

"No."

"Love you. I'd better get my bath and get some sleep. Instead of the Bank, meet me here in the morning for breakfast OK?"

"Love you too Michael. We'll be there about eight. Sleep well."

She hung up and I climbed the stairs thinking of how lucky I was to be involved with a woman who loves me as much as my wife and Mistress.

When I got upstairs, I found the bedroom and bathroom illuminated with a dozen candles as Ayishah waited for me with a bath sponge next to an old fashioned claw foot bathtub big enough for three people full of steaming water.

"If you will undress and get in I will scrub your back for you," she said.

I thought about undressing in the other room, but decided the hell with it and stripped then slid into the steaming tub of pine scented water.

"Thank you, "I said closing my eyes." I need this."

"When a man travels, he needs time to restore himself. I was told you have traveled a great distance today," she said, and then I felt the touch of the sponge across my belly.

"Just a little," I said sighing.

"When you have finished bathing and eaten your meal Fellah and I will give you a massage."

"You know a guy could get spoiled by this attention," I said. "Usually I'm the one doing the massage."

She giggled quietly and then stifled it.

"It's OK to laugh." I assured her." There are other people who find it amusing as well."

"I did not mean to insult you," she said hastily.

"I wasn't insulted," I said opening my eyes and looking at her." You were trained in your beliefs and I was trained in mine. You would fight for yours and I do fight for mine."

She turned her attention to my legs and scrubbed gently at the scar tissue from the break years earlier.

"Is that how you were injured?" she asked.

I smiled at her in the dim light of the candles.

"No, I was just clumsy one day. Got hit by a car," I said thinking of the exact circumstances of the incident.

"You should be careful sir," she rebuked politely.

"Oh I learned from that mistake, trust me."

I closed my eyes once again and slid further into the water relaxing and thinking of my beloved Mistress.

"Your meal is ready sir," Ayishah said startling me.

"Did I fall asleep?" I asked sitting up.

"For only a few moments sir," she said reaching for a towel as I slowly stood up in the tub.

I stood in the tub as she drained it and toweled me dry, then offered me a silk robe to wear.

"I don't think so. I'd hate to spill something on it and ruin it," I said apologetically.

She placed it back on the hook and opened a cabinet and pulled out a brown terrycloth robe instead and placed it over my body then led me back into the bedroom where Fellah waited kneeling with a tray of sandwiches and a steaming teapot.

I will say that she had followed my request for food to the letter, a full array of sandwiches as well as pickles, cheeses, and relishes on a silver tray. There was even, to my surprise, a serving of potato crisps and even some Pringles.

"Thank you Fellah. This is very well presented. I'm flattered that you went to so much trouble for me," I said indicating she should put the tray down.

In the candlelight of the room it was hard to tell, but I think she blushed at the compliment.

I ate lightly and sipped the fragrant mint tea sweetened with honey as the two women massaged my feet making it difficult to stay awake to finish eating.

I finally stopped them and instructed Fella to take the tray back to the kitchen.

She removed the tray and left the room as I turned towards the bed, which Ayishah had turned down while I was eating.

"I don't think I'll need the massage tonight," I said yawning. "I think I can get to sleep now."

"As you wish sir. Would you like us to sleep with you?"

I was a bit startled by her boldness.

"I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you. Uh, I will be having some guests for breakfast around eight. Please wake me around seven thirty," I instructed.

"Very well sir. Good night."

With that she left after blowing out all of the candles except two leaving me in near darkness cursing myself for being a gentleman.

I was awakened the next morning by gentle kisses on my eyelids.

I opened my eyes and found myself looking into Mistress Miriam's eyes.

"Good morning my pet. Did you sleep well?" she asked.

I sat up shook my head to clear it.

"Yeah. Where are the girls?"

She nodded towards the door.

"They're making breakfast for all of us. And you're right, they are very servile. But I suspect there is some fire in Fellah," she commented.

"How can you tell? It's like watching Penn and Teller," I said reaching for the robe.

"A girl can tell. Get your robe on and let's go. I'm hungry."

When I got downstairs I found that Wendolyn was relaxing with her knitting in the large leather chair in one corner.

"Good morning Michael," she greeted. "I hope that the two ladies treated you well."

"Yes Ma'am. Almost too well in some ways. But I resisted temptation."

She tucked her knitting into her carry bag and looked at me.

"It's well you did. Some Arabs have the belief of 'All that I have is yours'. The Prince does not." she explained.

Saved again by exhaustion.

We had just finished breakfast when there was a knock on the door and Fellah opened it to admit Mr. Azir and the driver from the previous night.

"The Prince called this morning and suggested that you might need transportation, so I had the car brought around for your use, " Mr. Azir announced.

Before I could say anything, Wendolyn rose from her chair and spoke in Arabic a few short sentences.

He bowed to her deeply, spoke to the driver and then they both left.

"What did you say to him?" I asked.

"I told him that I would take care of your needs for now and that when his services were needed, he would be called," she said.

"Is that all you said to him?" Saphra asked.

"Of course. I hardly needed to say anything else did I?" she said serenely.

"I guess not."

"Then why don't you get dressed Michael, and then we can go speak to Wallace," Wendolyn suggested.

"Right. I'll get dressed," I said looking at Miriam who just shrugged.

It was raining lightly that morning, but the storm outside was trivial compared to the storm inside Wallace Dawes office when I told him the official story of what had happened to his daughter.

"Kidnapped and held for ransom! And you're just now telling me weeks later?" he raged. "Of all the bloody stupid things I've ever heard Michael, this is the topper!"

He reached for the phone on his desk and was stopped by Wendolyn placing her hand on the receiver.

"Wallace, just listen to him before you do anything rash," she said firmly. "Michael told me what happened weeks ago, but was afraid to discuss it with you for obvious reasons."

Wallace diverted his wrath to his wife.

"And you kept lying to me and helping this, this ..." he sputtered.

"Son in law Wallace. Just remember that," Wendolyn said with steely calm.

Wallace glared at her and then wilted.

"All right Michael. What is your plan?"

I looked at Wendolyn who nodded at me.

"We know she is being held in Iraq. This presents a problem as the United States and Great Britain does not have diplomatic relations with Iraq. I have arranged to gain entry through the offices of a friend in," I said glancing sidelong at Wendolyn who shook her head no," another place. The ransom is not in money, but in what is called dual-purpose equipment. The Iraqi government has actually paid for it, but it was never shipped. What the kidnappers want is for the equipment to be released. On delivery, Minkin will be released and transported to Kuwait."

Wallace leaned over his desk.

"And what is this dual purpose equipment they want?" he asked.

"They want a shipment of aluminum tubing. Now it could be used for plumbing, but it could also be used in building a gaseous diffusion facility," I admitted.

He almost came over the desk at me.

" As in nuclear weapons?" he protested." I love my daughter, but if it's her life or thousands of others, her life is trivial."

"Wallace, I am aware of the choices here, probably better than you are. I've lost a woman I loved once, and I'm not going to lose another one without a fight," I snarled." I have people working with me that would put the SAS to shame, so let me deal with it in my own way."

"How can you trust the kidnappers? You've seen what they've done in the past."

"I don't trust them. Or rather I trust them to do certain things. And that is how we're going to beat them. If I didn't think I could do it, I sure as shit wouldn't be going into Iraq myself."

He sat back in his chair again and glowered at me and then at his wife.

"Yes you would, because you're a damned fool Michael," he growled.

"Wallace, if it's made public that she was kidnapped and a great hue and cry is made, don't you think that the odds are good that she'll be killed? No, this is the best solution."

"And what happens if they decide to keep or kill the both of you?"

I looked at him with a smile.

"Then sir, I have to count on Plan B," I said and with a bow walked out of the office with Wendolyn trailing behind me.

As soon as the door closed behind me I slumped into a chair in the outer office and closed my eyes.

"Michael, what is Plan B?" I heard Wendolyn said.

I opened my eyes and looked up at her.

"I don't know, but I hope to have it figured out before I get to Iraq."

She wasn't impressed.

In reality Plan B was pretty vague for the best of all reasons: Security.

The various options I had discussed with RJ and the Prince were just thoughts I'd tossed out for consideration. I had no real idea if they would use them or not. And if something did go wrong, I couldn't tell the Iraqi's what I didn't know. In fact I could tell them the complete truth without knowing it.

And the best way to lie is to tell the truth, but in a way that it's not believed.

Mistress Miriam, Saphra and I left Wendolyn at the Bank to deal with Wallace and started to drive back to the Prince's apartment. We had only driven a short way when Mistress Miriam noticed that we had a car following us.

"He's made every turn we've made," Miriam said.

Saphra looked in the rear view mirror and then signaled for a turn. As if attached by a leash the small blue Mini Cooper turned with us.

"Do you suppose it's us or the car he's interested in?" she asked.

"If we were driving the Embassy car, I'd say the car, but I doubt he's interested in yours," I said.

" Do you want to try and lose him, or do we want to find out who he is?" Saphra said making another turn this time onto Farringdon Road.

"I'd like to lose him but I don't want you to take any chances," I cautioned.

"I never take chances," she said. "I'll drive to Kings Cross. You can jump onto the Tube and take the Victoria line to Oxford Circus and walk the rest of the way from there. That way you can lose him on the subway."

"Sounds like you've done this before," Mistress Miriam said curiously.

"Some of the girls from the Institute and I came down to London one weekend and one of them suggested playing Follow The Leader on the subway. I learned more about the Tube that weekend than I ever wanted to, but it stuck."

I wasn't surprised to hear about the game. It's a standard training class for anybody involved in any kind of sensitive activities. Shaking a tail can even be fun if the person tailing you really deserves it.

There is an agent from the INS who can testify to that having been diverted onto the wrong ferry in the City and watching Wallace and I sail away in the opposite direction.

Saphra navigated the lunchtime London traffic easily and swung into the passenger drop off lane in front of the station.

"You two bail out, I'll take our friend for a ride and meet you later," she said.

We didn't waste any time arguing and headed into the station, reaching the door as our little friend pulled up and despite the no parking signs, parked.

"I think that settles that question," I told Mistress Miriam as we hurried through the door. "It's not the car he's interested in."

Before I could do anything she pulled me into a corner and we watched as the driver came in. He was short and stocky, with dark skin and a beard. As he looked around we faded back into the alcove near the door and waited for him to disappear in the crowd.

It was a long wait as he didn't go much farther. He just did a steady patrol of the room, keeping an eye on the exits and ticket counters. After a few minutes of this, he took a cell phone from his pocket and made a call. From his gestures, I could tell he was royally pissed off which made me feel a little better about the whole exercise.

If I'm not having a good day, I don't want anybody else to either.

"You think he's calling for help?" Miriam asked.

"Time will tell. If he leaves, he's probably giving up. If not, he's probably calling for backup," I replied.

He hung up his phone and put it away and started his patrol again.

"I think we've got more trouble," I said as we watched him pace away.

"If you've got trouble, perhaps you should ask for assistance," a male voice said from behind us.

We both slowly turned to see a London police officer standing behind us.

"What's all this about then?" he asked.

"The gentleman there," Miriam said pointing," has been following us. ".

He looked at the man and then turned his attention back to us.

"Why do you think that?"

"Sir," I interjected," he's been following us since we left Dawes Bank headquarters. When our driver turned, he turned. She dropped us off here and he came in after us. I'd call that a reasonable cause to be suspicious of his motives."

He cleared his throat and stroked his chin thoughtfully, glancing from us to our follower.

"Let me see your passports and identification please," he said and started walking towards the man.

Oh damn. I'd left my passport in my travel bag.

Miriam showed her passport to the officer who then turned to me.

I reached into my coat for my wallet and found the diplomatic ID card tucked behind it.

"Will this do?" I said presenting it to him.

He examined it closely and then returned it to me.

"Are you working right now?" he asked.

"I'm between assignments, but on call," I said. "You can call Mr. Azir at the embassy to confirm that."

"I'll just do that. Come with me please," he instructed.

We followed him past the man who turned away quickly and then started walking towards the door.

"He's leaving, " I said as we reached the door of the security office.

"Then you won't mind waiting here while we call the embassy and confirm your identification. If everything is in order, we'll arrange for you to be driven home," the officer maintained.

Twenty minutes later we were back at the Prince's apartment where Saphra was waiting. Mr. Azir met us there and wasn't really happy about being called by the police.

"I would have expected you would have lost him without interference from the local authorities," he rebuked.

"I was in the process of doing so when the local authorities injected themselves into the situation, thank you," I replied smartly.

"Noted. I'd suggest that until you leave for Iraq, you not travel any more than necessary, or at least not travel without escort."

"I don't need a babysitter. And I don't seem to recall telling you I was going to Iraq," I retorted as Fellah delivered a tray with mint tea and honey cakes to us.

"The Prince informed me of your plans. He was most impressed by your audacity."

"I'm glad. I also suspect the Prince has his own agenda beyond mine," I said taking a cup and indicating she should offer the tray to Miriam and Saphra who were sitting on the couch.

"I'm sure I don't know myself. I do know he has high regard for you which is surprising for the short time he's known you," he said sipping his tea.

"I have that effect on people at times," I said cynically.

I was distracted by Miriam stifling a giggle.

"Quiet in the peanut gallery, " I said glancing towards her.

Mr. Azir set his cup down on the table and rose from his chair.

"I'll leave you to the rest of your day. If you need to go anywhere else, please make sure you take Ayishah with you. She is more than just a pretty face when necessary," he said and left.

"Ayishah!" I called.

She entered the room and bowed.

"Yes sir," she said respectfully.

I looked at Miriam and Saphra and decided to take the bull by the horns so to speak.

"You can drop the servant act. Mr. Azir just blew your cover," I replied. "You want to tell us about it?"

She smiled and I could see a change come over her. She shifted from a subservient female in demeanor to a professional woman as a chameleon changes color.

"I enjoyed last night, but yes I am part of the security force. Most members of the royal family wouldn't think of having a woman bodyguard, but the Prince learned many years ago of the steel that can lie hidden in silk," she said reaching for her own cup of tea.

"No doubt from my mother in law,' I said with a slight smile.

"As you say. I was given a short briefing on your meeting with the Prince, but I'd like to hear the whole story from you if you don't mind," she said.

"It's pretty long," I said, and launched into a recital of events up to this point.

"So you intend to go into Iraq, pay the ransom and leave with your wife and her friend."

"That's more or less the idea. I just suspect that the people in Iraq may not have the same idea, so I asked the Prince for a letter of safe conduct. I hope that will be enough to make them think twice about a double cross," I agreed.

"When do you meet with your contact?"

I shook my head.

"You don't have a need to know that," I dismissed." And before you start, Miriam and Saphra don't know either. "

In truth, even I didn't know. All I had was a phone number to call when all the arrangements had been made.

Ayishah frowned and then changed the subject. I was sure she wasn't going to give up though.

It was shortly before dark that Wendolyn arrived and informed me that she had arranged for the release of the tubing through a contact in the British government.

"I hope you didn't have to promise too much to get it done," I said thanking her.

She smiled smugly.

"Not this time. The real trick will be to keep customs from interfering, despite an order from the Ministry of Defense. I've arranged to have an identical shipment of tubing transferred from Switzerland just to avoid that sort of interference. The question is where do you want it shipped?"

I looked around the living room and then motioned for her to lean closer to me to keep the girls from hearing me even though they were sitting on the couch reading.

"Tel Aviv. Have it shipped to Atlas International Packaging to the attention of Vicky Feldshiemer. She'll know how to handle it from there."

"Who's she?" Wendolyn asked softly.

"Let's just say she knows where all of the bodies are buried, and dug the holes herself a few times."

Wendolyn got the message and winked.

With the plumbing issue settled, the next step was to call the number I'd been given, but calling from the Prince's seemed to be unadvisable. You never know who's listening.

"Wendolyn, would you care to go out for dinner with us?" I said stepping back a pace.

"Not tonight Michael, thank you. Wallace is still in a frightful mood about things and I think that a little special care is needed. What were you thinking of for food?"

I turned to the girls.

"Votes for dinner?" I asked.

"Italian!' they both chorused.

I scowled.

"And if I want something else?" I retorted.

"You stay here and we'll go out without you," Miriam countered.

I turned back to Wendolyn.

"I think we're having Italian,' I conceded.

Wendolyn maintained her composure at my defeat, which is to say she didn't laugh out loud, and suggested we try Pavilion, a short distance away on Poland Street.

Wendolyn was right about the food at Pavilion: wonderful in a single word. Our party included Ayishah as she had insisted in providing a security escort despite my protests to the contrary.

It was during the dessert that I had my chance to make the call to my Iraqi contact without interference as the ladies all decided to use the washroom at the same time. A quick tip to the headwaiter had given me access to a phone in a private dining room.

267-7091.

Bruup, bruup. The sound of the ring tone. Twice more and then an answer.

"7091," a husky voice answered. In the background I could what sounded like music, but not music really.

"Yes, this is Mr. Forbin. I'm calling to arrange a shipment of pipe," I said as I had been instructed days earlier.

"Go to the box office at the Royal Albert Hall. You'll find a ticket waiting in your name" he said and hung up before I could object.

Damn. How was I going to deal with three women as well as myself on one ticket?

The ladies came back from the restroom in a group as they had left, so I was out of time for any creative answers.

"I just called my contact and was told to go to the Royal Albert Hall and pick up a ticket," I said." Go back to the apartment and wait for me there."

The only choral group I ever heard that was as well trained, was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir although I doubt they ever sang "The hell we will!"

'Have you considered taking that act on the road?" I asked.

"You are not leaving us behind. We'll buy tickets for the cheap seats, but you are not going alone," Mistress Miriam objected.

"Buying tickets is not necessary. The Embassy has a box reserved," Ayishah interjected.

"Excuse me, but don't you think it would look a little odd for me to go to one set of seats and you three to go to another," I queried.

"Think about it Janet," Mistress Miriam scoffed. "We'll go in first and then you follow by about five minutes. Leave this to us."

"Well, excuse me," I said in my best Steve Martin tones.

"Michael," she warned.

"You know, you're beginning to sound like Minkin more and more every day."

"Thank you. I had a good teacher."

"Have, my dear not had. Use the proper tense not past tense." I corrected.

"Since when are you an expert on English grammar?" Saphra mocked. "I've seen the way you write."

Ayishah put a quick halt to any more commentary on my lack of skills by pointing out the time and suggesting we call for a cab and finish the discussion enroute.

I took the precaution of getting out of the cab a few blocks past the Royal Albert Hall in order to make sure that there would be enough separation distance between the three of them and the one of me, and found myself walking back towards the brightly lit hall into the start of a rain storm.

Of course I didn't have an umbrella, so I was a bit damp when I presented myself at the box office window to claim my ticket and dripped on the counter to the annoyance of the attendant.

I explained that there was a ticket reserved in my name and he gave me a dubious look and then turned to a set of small cubbyholes with tickets in them. He searched for a moment and then turned back to face me with a more respectful air.

"Of course Mr. Forbin. You have a seat in the boxes on the first floor. Take the stairs up and show your ticket to the usher. He'll escort you," he instructed.

Go up to get to the first floor. OK, fine. When in Rome, or London, do, as...well you know.

He was right of course. The stairs were clearly marked first floor and I finally remembered that in England the ground floor was not the first floor, but the second floor to us anyway, was.

The usher escorted me to a seat in the front row of the box and withdrew discreetly leaving me seated with a group of people who were somewhat better dressed than I and certainly dryer by far.

"Had a bit of a run in with our weather did you," a well-dressed older woman commented looking at my water spotted pants.

"I will admit to being unprepared ma'am," I said with a grimace as the water dripped from my pants cuff into my socks.

"Americans usually are," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"I was invited at the last minute," I replied. "Normally I'd have an umbrella."

I looked away from her and scanned the other boxes on my level, finally spotting the girls about a third of the way around the ellipse of the room to my right.

It then occurred to me to ask how she knew I was an American.

Before she could answer the lights dimmed and the conductor stepped to the podium and the concert started.

According to the provided program the first piece that was being performed by the London Symphony was the Storm Cloud Cantata and the choral group I saw arrayed across the stage was the Covent Garden Choir.

The piece sounded familiar to me but for some reason I couldn't think of where or when I'd heard it before. Probably a movie of some kind.

After a few minutes of tense anticipation waiting for my mysterious contact, I settled back into my seat with only an occasional glance in the direction of the box the girls were in, noting that Saphra was using a set of opera glasses to look back in my direction.

It was during a short break between numbers that I became aware of something stiff poking me in the back at about waist level. I felt back and pulled a stiff piece of cardboard from out of the seat back where it had been inserted and looked at it.

Printed in large block letters was "You will be contacted at intermission."

Another delay.

At least the music was good.

When the lights came up indicating intermission I was unsure as to stay in my seat or leave. The woman who had commented on my lack of planning turned her attention back to me at that point.

"Would you care to join me for a hot cup of tea?" she asked gathering her purse and umbrella from the empty seat next to her.

I thought about it and declined the offer politely.

"I'm supposed to meet someone here this evening, and I'd hate to miss them. Thank you though."

She nodded and left blending into the flow of people leaving the box leaving me watching and waiting.

Not for long however as a thin Arab man dressed in a tuxedo walked into the box and addressed me directly.

"Mr. Forbin, I understand you have some pipe for us?" he said directly.

"If you have something for me, I do yes," I countered glancing away from him and towards the box where I hoped the girls were watching.

"When the material arrives in our hands, we'll return your materials to you," he said. "When can we expect delivery?"

"The materials are enroute right now, but they won't be delivered until I have my wife and her friend in my hands and safe passage out of your country," I said.

He shook his head.

"That is not possible. Your entry into my country would arouse suspicion from your government," he objected.

"Only if they know about it. If you doubt my ability to arrange that, then why do you accept that I can get your piping shipped to you? Think about it," I countered.

He scowled and looked out towards the stage for a moment as the choral group started to return and then back at me.

"Where is the material being shipped to?"

"A warehouse in Tel Aviv. From there, once I have what I want, it will be smuggled through Jordan and into your country in exactly the same way your government smuggles in other items you're not supposed to have," I explained.

He shrugged.

"As you wish. I expect you will contact us when you arrive in one manner or another."

"Of course. I'm sure if I present myself at any police station, I'll be warmly greeted. I want a number in your country to call." I replied sarcastically handing him a silver plated pen and the card that he had left in the seat back.

He took them, scribbled a number and then left the box as people started filing back in from the intermission leaving me with little more than a phone number and a continued sense of uncertainty. I tucked the pen and card away carefully and waved towards the box where the girls were sitting. I saw Miriam pointing towards the stage and looked down in time to see my visitor take a place in the percussion section of the orchestra.

Very interesting. A traitorous timpanist.

I listened to the rest of the concert, my attention fixed on the thin man as he handled the kettle drums deftly, the low booming rumble matching the snarl of thunder that filtered in from outside as the rain increased it's tempo almost in counterpoint to the music.

As the concert ended and the lights came up Mistress Miriam joined me in the box.

"Ayishah is keeping an eye on the stage door with Saphra. We're going to try and tail your contact home," she said.

"Not really necessary, but it should be interesting anyway," I said rising from my seat.

"I agree with you, but Ayishah has her own way of doing things. She insisted on doing it, and I couldn't exactly tell her not to," Mistress Miriam agreed.

The rain had let up slightly, but it was still enough to making loitering outside a totally unpleasant task and I had to remind Ayishah that he might well be driving home, in which case we weren't going to be able to follow him.

"We can get a license plate number and trace him through that," she corrected.

"I've got his fingerprints if it comes to that," I countered.

In the rain misted lights I could see the look of surprise on her face clearly.

"How did you do that?" she said in astonishment.

I patted my vest pocket.

"He used my pen to write with. It's silver plated. If I can keep from being soaked, you should be able to get a set of prints from it."

"Give it to me," she demanded opening her handbag. "I'll keep it in here. That should keep it dry."

"Only if you call off the idea of tailing him."

She folded her arms across her chest and tried staring me down which I could see amused Mistress Miriam and annoyed Saphra.

I just ignored her and turned my attention to Mistress Miriam.

"Obviously, she doesn't know me very well," I commented coolly. "Why don't we go out front and hail a cab? I'm getting too wet standing here and I know you two are as well."

"Michael, I think you should humor Ayishah," Saphra said suddenly. "After all this sort of thing is her profession and not yours. With all due respect."

There wasn't a real answer to that, at least not one that wouldn't violate my instructions on the subject of Ay'esha and Saphra.

"As you wish, " I said and gave the pen to Ayishah who zipped it up in the center section of her handbag for safekeeping.

"Thank you," she said with a nod to Saphra. " If you wish to return to the apartment, please go. I will return when I have finished."

"Fine, we'll meet you there later," I agreed.

"You're not going to let her do this alone are you?" Saphra asked.

"Actually yes I am. She's a professional and doesn't need amateurs tagging along."

Ayishah placed her hand on Saphra's arm to reassure her.

"I'm perfectly safe and this is a very routine job for me," she said. "It shouldn't take very long and then I'll be back."

When the man came out he was carrying an umbrella and started walking away from the direction of the car park leaving us to follow at a discreet distance. I have to say I admired his confidence, as he didn't even look around to see if he was being followed. That told me either he was sure he wasn't, or didn't care if he was.

I let Ayishah take point and we watched her follow the man until they passed out of sight and then walked back to the street to hail a cab.

We piled into the cab and I directed the driver to head in the direction we had last seen them walking.

"We're not going back to the apartment?" Saphra said in surprise.

"Hell no. She may be a professional, but I'm still a gentleman," I replied." Driver, I want you to look for a tall man with an umbrella with a young woman a short distance behind him. Stay a discreet distance behind her."

"Some sort of government business? " he asked with a hint of amusement

I looked at his cab license posted in the car and then at him.

"Something like that Parker," I said calling him by name." The man may be an Iraqi spy. The girl is one of ours and I want to make sure she's got some backup."

He grinned in response.

"Go on with you. You're pulling my leg," he denied.

"I may not look like James Bond, but the story is true. Just watch for them."

He turned his attention back to his driving and then pulled up suddenly.

"You weren't kidding," he said. "They're just ahead of us."

"OK, pull ahead of them by about a block and stop. We'll do a front tail," I directed.

"I'd better pull a little further ahead than that. A block up is the Iraqi Embassy and if he's really an Iraqi spy, we'd be on his door step," Parker warned.

"How do you know that?" Miriam asked.

"I'm a London cab driver mum. We get paid to know these things," he said pulling past Ayishah and the tall man and slowing to a halt past the gated entrance to the Embassy.

We watched through the rear window as the two of them approached and then the tall man walked into the building just before the Embassy and Ayishah stopped walking. She hesitated and then entered the building herself.

"Back us up Parker. I think we may have a situation on our hands."

He put the taxi in reverse and backed up, halting in front of the building where we could see Ayishah talking to an uniformed security guard just inside the entrance. From the gestures on his part, it looked like a problem was brewing if not boiling over.

Parker honked the horn and then got out and called out "Taxi Miss!"

The guard turned towards the noise and Ayishah walked away and out the door getting into the open door of the cab as Parker opened it for her.

She closed the door as Parker got back in and pulled away from the curb quickly.

"Parker, well done!" I said clapping him on the shoulder.

"All in a nights work," he said. "Where to now sir?"

"Back to our apartment I think. I need to slip out of these wet clothes and into a dry cuppa," I concluded.

Ayishah gave him the address and we sped off into the night.

We postponed the post mortem on the nights activities until the next morning at breakfast where Ayishah informed us that the musician was a resident of the building we had picked her up from, and that it was occupied by staff members of the Iraqi Embassy next door.

"That would make it more probable that my contact is an active member of Iraqi intelligence rather than a sleeper agent or a go between," I said nibbling on my toast.

Ayishah looked at me with a critical eye.

"You suddenly seem to know a lot about my business," she said suspiciously.

I gazed back at her calmly.

" My job requires a fair amount of information analysis and on occasion some low grade investigations. I also have a lot of spy novels in my library."

Mistress Miriam had a coughing fit at that explanation and choked on her fruit juice.

While she was recovering Saphra asked what the next step was.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Don't be silly," she scoffed. "You're going to Iraq soon. I heard Mr. Azir say that the other day when the police returned with you and Miriam."

"Big mouth," I rebuked. "And I'm not going there directly. I have a stop to make first. And you don't need to know where. When I get back, Goddess willing, I'll have my wife with me."

"I still don't think you should go alone," Mistress Miriam sputtered.

"You're right, I'm not," was all I said and returned my attention to my breakfast.

This did not sit well with the three of them at all and my breakfast was not finished in peace as they all kept nagging me for details. I knew if the circumstances had been different, Mistress Miriam would have resorted to other methods of persuasion.

I can't even say that a phone call from Wendolyn provided any relief although it did confirm that the tubing was enroute to Tel Aviv and that she had been in contact with Vicky about it's handling.

"Thank you. Now if you could just pry the girls off my leg," I said still annoyed by the attitudes I'd been subjected to that morning so far.

"Problems Michael?"

"The girls are unhappy with my plan to go into Iraq. They don't seem to have any faith in my ability."

"I'm sure they do. Just not blind faith Michael. It wouldn't hurt to let them know what your plan is," she suggested.

"I'm thinking of opsec. The fewer people who know, the less probable a leak. Hell, I'm not sure I can trust the person getting the tubing, although she has a vested interest in things working out on a couple of levels."

"Tell Miriam. Trust her to keep the rest to herself," Wendolyn told me, no not told me, ordered me. "She has as large a stake in this as you do."

I almost reacted automatically with "Yes Mistress" but caught myself.

"As you say. Can you arrange transport discreetly for me to the location of the piping?" I said neutrally. "I could use my other resources but they're not happy about this affair anyway."

"Already done. You may not like the airline, but it's discreet enough. It's BH Airways. They're a small charter airline, mostly cargo. I've got you booked for departure from London City at noon tomorrow. I'll leave you to your other arrangements, but please tell Miriam what you're planning."

"Thanks again. I really wouldn't have been able to do any of this without your help."

"You would have Michael. Don't underestimate your self," she rebuked gently and hung up.

I hung up the phone and looked at Mistress Miriam.

"Mistress, I think we need to take a little walk," I said mildly. "Wendolyn suggested it."

"Where to?" she asked.

I thought about it for a minute and then suggested Hyde Park.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea from a security standpoint," Ayishah objected.

I smiled at her.

"I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own," I quoted and walked out the door, Miriam following behind me.

I waited until we were a few blocks away from the apartment before I explained to Miriam the basic concept of Plan B, giving her more information than I had already given Wendolyn.

"And you think it will work?" she said as we crossed Oxford Circus.

"I don't honestly know. If the message doesn't get passed to the Prince and RJ or if the Iraqis don't do what I expect, it may all come crashing down in a heap. I may well wind up doing Indiana Jones and making it up as I go along. That's assuming they just don't shoot the four of us on sight. I'm hoping the fact they made contact is positive. They have nothing to gain by killing us, but when you're dealing with a dictator, who knows."

She stopped me and then kissed me quickly.

"What was that for?"

"For bravery."

I laughed.

"I'm scared shitless Mistress, but the show must go on. When I leave, you'll have to keep Saphra occupied."

"I know that Susan doesn't want her to learn about Ayesha, but I still think that she's a good candidate to join and I got the same impression from Dr. Ruth about her."

"I think so too," I agreed. "Or at least arrange for some kind of reward for her for all her work and support."

"I know what she wants right now." Miriam said as we stopped for the traffic light that had just turned red.

"Oh?" I asked.

"She'd like some time with me privately."

"Ah so. Do I detect a little desire in that request?"

"Don't be so smug Michael. She's interested and so am I, but she's a bit shy about it."

I smiled.

"That reminds me of a girl my wife was interested in. My wife was interested and a little discreet questioning indicated the lady was willing, but my wife just couldn't work up the nerve to ask."

"So what happened?"

"I got the two of them together at a science fiction convention, in the same room at the same time. I explained to the two of that they both had the hots for each other and then announced I was leaving for about three hours."

The light changed and we continued our walk, arriving at Marble Arch and across the way was the famous Speakers Corner.

Speakers Corner in Hyde Park is a verbal free fire zone when anybody who has a point of view is free to express it and the audience is equally free to harass the speaker. You can literally stand on a soapbox and make a speech, something you can't even do practically in the States without the cops arriving to cite you for disturbing the peace.

"So what happened?"

"I came back to two very happy young ladies, both looking as if the canary had eaten the pussy."

"Don't you mean the cat who ate the canary?" she corrected.

"I don't know about you, but going down on a canary sounds like a tremendous waste of time. As well as having to deal with the feathers."

"Michael." she groaned.

"All I'm saying is be gentle with her. It may be her first time."

"Second actually. I kind of snuck out of bed the other night and crawled in with her. She was just too nervous to enjoy it the first time."

"I stand corrected. And envious."

We crossed the street and listened to some of the speakers telling us what was wrong with the world and as we listened I decided to borrow a soapbox and make a little speech of my own. After one of the more rational speakers finished his argument about the global conspiracy and the European Community trying to take over England I asked if I could borrow his space for a moment to speak on the same subject.

He looked at me and at Miriam who wore the look of a woman considering if a straitjacket is needed for a friend.

Wouldn't matter anyway. I have learned how to deal with them. Although there are days it's not worth chewing through the straps.

He stepped down and indicated I could take over his space and stood watching as I called to the crowd.

"My friends, the gentleman is right. There is a conspiracy trying to take over the world, but it has nothing to do with the EU or the UN or any organization you ever heard of."

"Who then? Martians?" one man heckled as other in the crowd laughed.

I looked him right in the eye and shook my head.

"No, closer to home. In fact, maybe in your very bed. Your wife may be a member of this group, determined to take over the world to protect us from our own destruction. Or she may be a member of the other group determined to take over the world to destroy it, as we know it. I know all about," I said.

"Get off," someone called. "Women taking over the world. Poppycock!"

"Not taking over. Have taken over the world. Look around and think about it. How much of your money is controlled by women? How much of your life is run by women? Women in shops, offices, hospitals, businesses. The last time I checked the Queen was a woman," I countered.

"And your girlfriend there. Is she one of them?"

Miriam looked at me and then at the crowd and realized what I was doing and motioned me off the box and stepped up herself.

"Yes I am," she said proudly." My sisters and I will do everything we can to protect the world, and all without you knowing about it. My friend lost his wife in that service, but he still helps us carry on. Never have so few done so much for so many."

"You could have skipped the Churchill quote," I muttered.

"I'm on a roll," she retorted turning her attention back to the crowd." We're no longer part of the System. We're above the System. Over it. Beyond it. We're "them." We're" they."

"Don't say it. Please don't say it," I thought.

"We're Women in Black!" she announced.

She said it.

With that she stepped off the soapbox, reached inside my shirt and grabbed my neck chain with the medallion from the Mother of Many and led me away to the laughter and jeers of the crowd.

As soon as we were a few hundred yards away she released the chain and started laughing.

"That was almost too much fun," she chortled.

"Women in black? That was just awful," I said with a grimace.

"The situation cried out for it. I learned from the best," she said as we came to the Serpentine.

"And who was that?"

"You of course, Doctor Forbin." She said with heavy emphasis on the Doctor.

I groaned.

"Do I really sound that bad at times?"

She just smiled and said nothing. Oh well, I'm my own worst critic anyway.

Mr. Azir was waiting for us when we finally returned to the apartment after spending time feeding the swans on the lake and just talking about things unrelated to our problems.

"I understand that you are leaving soon for Iraq," he said without preliminaries as we walked in.

"And good afternoon to you too," I replied." How has your day been so far?"

He heaved a sigh.

"Mr. Forbin, my instructions from the Prince were that you were to remain available. I don't think you traveling to Iraq would qualify."

"The Prince is fully aware of my intentions if not my timetable," I explained.

" I understand you have the blessings of the Prince in your endeavors, but I do have to be assured that you will be most discreet in your dealings with the Iraqi government. "

"If you mean by that, don't start a war, it wasn't on my list of things to do. I have a letter from the Prince that I will use only if necessary to dissuade the people I'm dealing with from trying a double cross. And I'm not interested in participating in any of your little intelligence games. If and when I return you can debrief me, despite my earlier statement to Ayishah to the contrary. I am after all a reasonable man," I summarized.

"A reasonable man would not think of going into a country where he is not welcome or wanted when others could do the job as well," he suggested.

"I am the only one who can identify beyond any doubt my wife and her friend, therefore I am going myself. End of discussion."

"As you wish. When will you be leaving?" he asked with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.

"Soon enough."

He looked at Ayishah and spoke to her for a few moments in Arabic and then bowed towards Miriam and Saphra.

"May Allah watch over you," he said and left.

I had the impression from the way that Mr. Azir spoke to Ayishah and from the way she was looking at me, Allah was not the only one that would be watching over me.

I decided to cut to the chase.

"I take it I'm under house arrest?" I asked Ayishah directly.

"I'm afraid so. At least until I receive instructions to the contrary, you are not to leave."

"And how are you planning on stopping me?" I asked.

"By screaming rape if I have to as loud as I can. I don't think you want to have to explain that to anybody," she said smugly.

Both Mistress Miriam and Saphra looked at her in disdain.

"You realize that's blackmail," Mistress Miriam said in a dangerous tone.

"I do."

"Big wow," I said and walked out of the room and into the kitchen where I found Fellah making tea and headed for the back door.

I didn't even get the knob in my hand before I felt an arm like a boa constrictor around my neck and was spun around and pushed back towards the main room.

"Fellah has the same instructions Michael. Please don't try and leave," Ayishah warned.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing Scrabble with Mistress Miriam and Saphra under the watchful eyes of the two servant women.

"They can't just keep you here," Saphra said quietly.

"They can. You guys might get to leave if you ask nicely, but I'm not going anywhere. At least not right now I'm not," I said placing the word ZOO down for a triple word score.

"Why don't you call their bluff?" Mistress Miriam asked, placing the word OBVIOUS down.

"Because if they aren't bluffing, I'll never get out of the country in time to make the rendezvous I need to make. I have to be at London City at noon tomorrow to make my flight," I said as Saphra placed the word ITCH down with the B to make BITCH.

"And it can't wait?" Saphra said as she wrote down the score.

"Time and tide wait for no man. And certainly not for me."

Saphra actually won the first game and I took the second and third ones.

"You're pretty good," she said as I put the game board away.

"He's in the Guinness for Scrabble playing," Miriam advised her.

"I was, but not any longer. Was part of a team that set the marathon record in 1973. One hundred hours of play without a break. I had the second highest score, and never had a word challenged," I explained modestly.

Dinner that night was less than festive considering the situation, but I made the best of it, telling certain unclassified stories about Mistress Minx and I to Saphra.

Like the time I did the joke about the zipper and the Scotsman's kilt one time too many with sheepish results.

It was approaching ten o'clock when Ayishah suggested that it was time for bed and that the girls should leave.

"I'm not leaving," Mistress Miriam said.

"Neither am I," Saphra agreed.

"I realize that you might try and help him escape during the night. I'd advise against it. I do have a black belt in karate," Ayishah warned.

Mistress Miriam got up from her chair and walked over and stood face to face with Ayishah.

"I've tried to be polite up to now and I really don't want to burn any bridges here, but I have a yellow belt in Hong Fing. If we want to stay, we stay. And if he wants to leave, he leaves." she said.

"Hong Fing?" Saphra asked.

"Yeah," Mistress Miriam said turning away from Ayishah slightly and then when Ayishah's attention was diverted, sucker punching her to the floor. "Gutter karate."

Fellah didn't waste any time leaving the kitchen and closing range on Mistress Miriam. Before she could get there Saphra sticking her foot out and tripping her caused her to go headfirst into the bookcases.

Saphra pulled the bookcase over pinning her down as Ayishah got to her feet.

"How do you get into Congress?" Miriam asked as she chopped at Ayishah.

I know my cues. I sprinted for the door as Saphra picked up a lamp and swung it towards Ayishah.

I didn't hang around to see the results, I got the door open and sprinted towards the tube station.

After all, how do you get into Congress?

You run for it.

I spent the night in "divers places", as Sherlock Holmes would have described them, although I doubt that he had ever visited a gay men's club on red hankie night. I spent a few hours there mostly avoiding being a bottom and then hit the streets again just before sunrise.

I discovered that there wasn't any Tube service at that hour so I had to flag down a cab and that's when it occurred to me that I didn't have my passport or the letter from the Prince. They were both in my jacket. The jacket that was probably still hanging on the back of the door I had fled through a few hours earlier.

Well no way to go back for it now.

Hopefully I'd be able to get through customs when I got to Israel without it with Vicky's help.

The letter was another matter entirely.

I had the cab driver take me to City airport and drop me off while I figured out the next move. All I could think of was calling Wendolyn, as I wasn't sure the girls would be back at the Academy or in jail for assault. It was still way too early to be calling anybody, so all I could do was sit and fidget while I waited.

The shops and cafe in the terminal finally opened so I was able to get some tea and a bite to eat to help kill more time.

I finally called Wendolyn's private number at seven thirty, unable to wait any longer.

The phone rang once and was picked up.

"I take it this is important," she said with a growl.

"I'm on the lam," I said quickly.

"From who?"

"Mr. Azir had me placed under house arrest. He said it was per the Prince's orders, but I'm not buying that. Miriam and Saphra busted me out, but I left my passport and the letter from the Prince behind."

"Where are Miriam and Saphra now?"

"No idea. I hauled ass and haven't looked back since."

"I'll see what I can do from my end to smooth the ruffled feathers, but you do seem to insist on burning your bridges behind you," she sighed and hung up.

She was right. I had burned a lot of bridges this time.

"Friends all tried to warn me but I held my head up high
All the times they warned me but I only passed them by
They all tried to tell me but I guess I didn't care
I turned my back and left them standing there.

All the burning bridges that have fallen after me
All the lonely feelings and the burning memories
Everyone I left behind each time I closed the door
Burning bridges lost forever more
Burning bridges lost forever more."

Chapter 29 Sections 1 to 10

Prologue to Eve of Destruction
Everybody Wants To Rule The World
The Bomb Run
We'll Meet Again
It Came Upon A Midnight Clear
Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life
It's Slinky
There's got to be a morning after
Burning Bridges
American Pie