Nikita glanced across at Michael's sleeping form on the seat next to her - it seemed no time at all since she had found him unconscious on the seat of the Section plane... the only reason he slept at all now was because she'd slipped a sedative into his drink. He was on the verge of exhaustion and seemed to be existing on sheer will power alone. Med Lab had strapped up his chest, pumped him full of anti-biotics and provided them with an emergency first aid kit just in case.

Damn Birkoff thought Nikita - I bet it was him that leaked the Intel making the prospective biological weapon so much more tempting a commodity. Whilst Michael slept she read through the files downloaded onto her palm top. The group responsible for the development of Factor Shrook was composed of disenchanted failed medics who had stumbled upon hidden BSE research and discovered the potential of prions as biocidal agents. Much of the research carried out in the UK had mysteriously had its funding cancelled - many suspected the agricultural industry had put pressure on the British government to declare beef safe to eat and save millions in lost revenue as thousands of cattle were scheduled for culling. Bovine spongiform encephalopathy seemed to be caused by protein fragments able to disable the normal functioning of brain cells, resulting in their death and the subsequent death of the victim. The research had involved the accelerated production of these polypeptide chains in order to study means of inhibiting them - however, it didn't take much to figure out that this could lead to the development of a particularly nasty agent. Prions were easily incorporated into the food chain at any level, making them useful for a terrorist threat, far more insidious than the injecting oranges with mercury. There was no known cure for the condition called "Mad Cow disease" - the causative agent was an organic substance but not living, no antidote or antibiotic could be effective. Nikita skipped much of the scientific background material and pulled up the files on the group members themselves.

The group consisted of six women, apparently embittered at being passed up for sponsorship into medical research that seemed to be dominated by men. Nikita could sympathise with that sentiment. Anyway rather than deny their femininity they had made a play of it using it to their advantage at cajoling private funding and lab space to work on their own little projects. If anyone was to have seen the entirety of their laboratory inventory they may have suspected something odd, but as individuals working with small-scale apparatus they had seemed harmless enough. They gave their colleagues the impression of being well-educated Barbie dolls - pretty to look at but not to be taken seriously. Nikita smiled at the concept - a ploy she'd often been asked to adopt when carrying out missions for Section 1- it came as no surprise to her that they'd got away with developing biological weapons in the basement labs of a teaching hospital in the centre of London. However, they were now on the look out for buyers concentrating their efforts on the Middle East. It was up to Michael and her to ascertain whether or not the material was in the hands of the broker in the Lebanon yet. It would seem from Birkoff's Intel that a well -known go-between had resurfaced on the market place offering not only a new biological weapon, but also classified files on the location of military installations throughout the Middle East. No doubt the game plan was to seek the highest bidder, using the files as an added incentive. She flicked through the pictures of the "Barbie Biologists" as she re-named them in her head - Tryggavason, Henderson, Ibrahim, Al Banner, Mourad and Jaffer. They looked so harmless she mused..........

She was distracted from her thoughts as she felt Michael twitch in his sleep - the sedative was wearing off and the nightmares were returning. She knew that no matter how much sleep he needed the one thing he could do without was another nightmare, so she firmly shook his shoulder and whispered in his ear -

"Wake up Michael, you're OK, it's me Nikita......".

" NO!" he shouted and as his eyes snapped open he realised where he was and for a fleeting moment Nikita thought she saw him flush with embarrassment. He adjusted his position carefully wincing slightly as a sharp pain shot through his side.

"Shhhh.......dear it's OK - bad dream?" comforted Nikita , making the most of playing doting wife.

"I was just dreaming about my last trip to the Lebanon - did Operations really say our contact was Bensouda?"

"You know he did - anything you feel like telling me yet?" " Not here - be patient."

They arrived on their Middle East Airways flight at night tired and exhausted. Their section visas held out on the way in - their cover being a husband and wife partnership investigating exotic tourist locations. They got a taxi from the airport straight to the hotel - Michael negotiated the fare with the driver of the Intercity taxi in French, with a few words of Arabic thrown in for good measure. They were booked in at the four star Marriot Hotel on Adnan El Hakim Street. An international chain seemed a good place to start....

Once booked into their comfortable - but not exactly luxury-ridden room, Nikita explored every inch for bugs - both electronic and living. She was convinced that there would be cockroaches sharing the room, despite Michael's reassurances otherwise.

Before allowing him to start unpacking the gear to check it had got through customs undetected, Nikita insisted on stripping Michael to the waist to make sure his stitches were holding up and that the bruising was still receding. Once satisfied that he was on the mend Nikita finally allowed him off the bed, somewhat disappointed that she couldn't have found an excuse for a more "thorough" physical examination. However, it was important that they checked that the shielding designed by Walter had worked. It was untested in the field up until now, but it worked along the principal of deflecting a false image back at the X-ray camera, all the customs officers should have seen were a few sundry items like hair-dryers and toiletry bottles instead of guns, grenades and explosive charges. The electronic circuitry had been disabled in the comms units and charges before leaving Section to make it harder to detect, and Michael set to re-connecting wires to bring them up to spec immediately. Meanwhile Nikita ran a quick inventory on weaponry and person-to-person communication gear as well as night-vision goggles and various other gizmos specially packed by Walter.

After about 30 minutes of companionable working in silence Michael was distracted by Nikita swearing :

"Oh sh*t - where the bloody hell.............."

"Nikita - what is it - what have you lost?"

"I can't lose what section failed to pack for us Michael - there are no Kevlar vests - if anything gets dodgy we've no protection!" Nikita shouted at him whilst furiously throwing the contents of the cases across the beds and floor, just in case she may have missed a couple of bullet proof vests. The thought that Ops may have deliberately left them out passed through her mind and lingered for a while before Michael stopped her-

"Nikita - please! You will crease my jackets if you don't stop that now !" Michael said picking up a Gautier black jacket and hanging it up in the wardrobe.

"Crease your jackets???? Does that matter?" Nikita was astonished at this vain side to Michael she'd not previously considered. But around Section he always did look impeccably well groomed, she'd thought until now that it was Madeleine's "touch".

"As a matter of fact yes it does - we will look totally out of place in crumpled clothing - you may be used to it but .." Michael stalled as he caught a glimpse of barely suppressed outrage in Nikita's bright blue eyes.

"I couldn't give a rat's ar-" she was about to throw the jacket back onto the heap on the floor but Michael grabbed her hand and shouted at her -

" STOP IT NOW!!! Nikita please we are both too tired for this now, let's just tidy up what we can and get some sleep, hopefully we'll be safe in our beds without bullet-proof clothing overnight."

"That all depends" muttered Nikita under her breath.

After a restless night - Michael couldn't get comfortable and Nikita seemed to be tossing and turning all night - they were awoken at 8.00am by a call from reception to say a visitor was waiting for them in the lobby. Nikita was sure she saw Michael roll his eyes to heaven when he put the receiver down.

"Time to get up - I'll grab a quick shower and go down - you can lie in a bit and catch up later if you like". Michael offered the option to Nikita but he should have known better.

"Oh yeah - so I don't get to see what happens when you and Bensouda meet up again - not on your life Michael - I want a ring- side seat for his one!"

Bensouda was a short female, with a mop of curly hair and bright inquisitive eyes, she was walking up and down the reception area, full of pent-up energy impatient to meet with her old "friend". She heard the "ping" of the lift and whirled around to see Michael standing there, resplendent in a soft cashmere sweater and tight black Levi's, under which no seams appeared to be visible (so they were right she grinned to herself, thinking back to rumours amongst the gossips in Section 4). She also couldn't fail to notice the tall blonde beauty that seemed to be his personal bodyguard, strange as she'd always thought he could more than easily take care of himself.

Ignoring the "minder", she rushed to greet him - her hands reaching up to clasp his shoulders as she kissed him several times on each cheek and then again for good luck.

"Ah Michel - comment ca va?" this was all Nikita could follow as they exchanged pleasantries for what seemed like ages.

Eventually Michael turned to Nikita and taking her by the elbow introduced her to the vivacious woman

"Mounia please meet Nikita - my partner."

"Oh I thought she was a bodyguard, she's so well built" muttered Mounia in an aside in French, then turning to Nikita she smiled, but not in quite the same manner in which she had greeted Michael -

"Marhaba - welcome to the Middle East my dear, I'm sure you'll enjoy the sun. Michael come join me for coffee but not here let's go to the roastery down the road - much more authentic and more secure." She turned to look Nikita over from toes to nose, grimacing at the suspiciously high-heeled shoes and the skirt that barely covered the knees. " Try not to stand out too much - maybe a scarf over your hair would be an idea otherwise you'll attract far too much attention - why don't you just stay here and let me fill Michel in with the details

"Well Mounia if it's all the same to you I'm not letting Michael out of my sight - he's only recently out of Med Lab and I want to keep an eye on him", said Nikita. She then linked her arm through Michael's elbow and snuggling up to him in a way she knew would drive him mad. She wasn't sure she could trust him alone with this apparently harmless female and wasn't prepared to take any chances.

"I bet you do" muttered the petite Moroccan woman under her breath but she smiled sweetly - "But of course - "

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The roastery smelt of freshly ground Arabic coffee beans and spices - possibly cardamom

The proprietor cordially greeted them and despite asking for a table at the back they were ushered to a table on the pavement - he wanted to keep the tall blonde woman in sight to attract more curious customers.

"Qawra minfudluk" ordered Mounia "Pastries anyone - or are you on a diet Nikita?"

"I've heard Lebanese pastries are to die for " retorted Nikita archly. " I'm starving."

They were brought a tray on which rested a battered looking coffee pot and 3 small cups. The waiter poured a small amount of coffee into each cup - Nikita sniffed hers suspiciously -and sipped it carefully - it was sweet and scented and contained what seemed to be evaporated milk.

"How is your family Mounia?" asked Michael politely.

"They are as always scattered across the four corners of the globe - you'll be pleased to know that Lamia has finished her course in architecture and has got over her feelings for that operative so sadly lost on that mission that we won't talk about."

"Mounia" Michael warned " We agreed never to mention that business ever again."

"Forgive me, habibtee - but you know me, family means so much to me ........... and how are your family?"

"I have never had a family as well you know" he hissed - Nikita was surprised to see such a strong emotion displayed by the man in public.

"Tell us what we need to know please........" Michael pleaded in a slightly steadier voice, pausing as the waiter brought the pastries to the table. The waiter took ages arranging the items on the table and appeared to be having a good look at Nikita's legs, that was until she accidentally trod on his toes with one of her spiked heels. With a yelp he finished up quickly and sidled off.

With the waiter out of earshot Mounia put her cup down gently and stated quietly "Factor Shrook and the Intel have been picked up by a courier and transported out of the country ........... all I know is that her name is Stasiowska, ex-Eastern bloc agent".

"Mounia - more please - don't make me wring the information out of you...." . Nikita looked on in interest. Although she was feeling left out of a conversation that seemed to consist of an awful lot of unspoken phrases and deadly eye contact - she was intrigued by the relationship between Michael and the lively Moroccan woman. She had gathered that Michael had known her family well and that he was involved in a mission that had apparently gone badly wrong.

"Oh Michael - you know how we Bensouda's enjoy teasing our "friends" ... OK, Stasiowska has worked in and out of Poland, Italy and the Middle East. She is travelling as a researcher for a medical journal. She will transport certain "delicate" items for whoever pays the most. I met her once - when I worked for your rivals, she turned up at my apartment seeking refuge. She kicked my cat as I recall - not an animal-lover ..........."

"Cut out the anecdotes if you will - we do not have the time" Michael interrupted, slamming his cup to the table and tipping coffee over the half eaten pastry on Nikita's plate. The nutty, creamy, syrup-glazed confection sunk without trace. After briefly mourning its loss, Nikita turned her attention back to Michael and this enigmatic Bensouda woman, she evidently knew a lot about Michael's past and also used that knowledge to undermine him and unsettle him - Nikita would have to find out more, but not now regrettably.

"Michael - if Stasiowska has left - we need to follow her" stated Nikita.

"Yes Nikita we do - well Mounia, how long will it take before you give us that precious nugget of information?"

"Where is Stasiowska?"

"I'm not sure. All I know is that she flew in the night before last - arranged to meet up with a woman called Henderson in a rather chic night club in the north of the city. Henderson flew out the next day back to London. I'm not on Section's pay roll Michael I just watch people come and go - it's just that some will pay a lot to know of the comings and goings of certain individuals."

"So you don't know for certain that she's left Beirut." Stated Michael, rapidly becoming exasperated with Mounia - he'd forgotten the delight with which people out here loved to spin a story, why give direct factual information when you can weave an intricate tale to captivate an audience? "Which hotel was Stasiowska staying at?"

"At the Napoleon in Nehme Yafet Street, run by my old friend Joseph Yazbek- shall I ring him to find out if she has booked out yet?"

"Please do so - you may use my phone..." offered Michael, but Mounia refused and said she'd just use the public phone at the counter.

As she excused herself from the table and made her way to the counter, Michael and Nikita watched as she smiled at the proprietor before using the phone - all the could make out were occasional words in Arabic - it seemed that they were not to be privy to this conversation.

"Michael - do you trust this woman?"

"No," was the simple one-word reply that shook Nikita. She looked into his face and saw the walls drop down behind his eyes - he wasn't letting anything out - yet.

Mounia had finished her call before Nikita could further question Michael and was now approaching their table, her face was no longer adorned by a grin but by a worried looking frown.

"Is she still there?" asked Nikita - determined to play a part in the conversation.

"No - she got a taxi to the airport early this morning - however, it would appear that she had trouble last night - a mugging outside the hotel - her bag was snatched, Joseph said that she insisted they did not call the police. Apparently the doorman witnessed the attack and saw the men involved - he even got the number of their car. Most unusual -muggers here are uncommon and are usually on foot, people with cars have little need for grabbing handbags............".

"Unless it contained more than lipstick and a comb.........." Nikita finished the sentence for her.

There was no way of knowing whether Stasiowska still had the material or if it had fallen into the hands of yet another agency. Michael took a deep breath and tried to stifle a moan as he felt his ribs creak in complaint. This served the purpose of getting the attention of the two women, although he could have done without the looks of concern.

"Where was she flying to?"

" Rome."

" Nikita - I want you to pursue Stasiowska-"

"But Michael I don't know any Italian and you're bound to be fluent-"

"It can't be helped - we have to split up, there's no guarantee that she still has the material ".

"I'll tag along with you Nikita if you're going to be lonely - it's about time I caught up with Marisa and I can identify her."

"Gee thanks - Mounia, but I was more concerned about Michael being on his own as I said he should still be in bed -"

"Well then I'll keep him company instead" piped up Mounia with a particularly evil grin. Nikita looked ready to explode but never got the chance as Michael seemed just as reluctant to spend any more time in Bensouda's company.

" No Nikita," he sighed, "she's right, she will go with you, she knows the territory and I'll trace our 'muggers' - don't worry, I'll be fine."

The two women looked at each other with similar expressions of despair, brought together by the certain knowledge that he would probably not be fine at all but wasn't going to be distracted from the plan he was already drawing up in his mind.

"What is it?" he asked catching the exchanged glances that seemed momentarily bereft of hostility.

"Nothing". "Rien". They muttered almost in unison and turned to favour him with four sets of fluttering eyelashes.

"I'll trace the car and investigate that option whilst you two book yourselves on the next flight to Rome, you may need some warmer attire Nikita-".

"Michael - I don't like this, why don't we stick together?"

"There is no time, I'm sorry Nikita - our only communication will have to be by cell phone, coded message only."

"Well then, shall we go?" chirped Mounia.

Back at the hotel Michael used his lap top to log into the Internet and hack into the appropriate sites to run a search on the number plate of the car seen outside the Napoleon Hotel last night. It was a hire car, and apparently still out to a Jordanian by the name of Hamed Zuaiter. By checking through the records of visas issued Michael could trace this man down to his sponsor in the country - an older brother who worked for an insurance company in the newly renovated sector of the city. Michael would stay and investigate this lead after dark.

Meanwhile Nikita and Mounia had got themselves standby tickets on a flight to Rome leaving that morning. Nikita couldn't help but fret as she hugged Michael goodbye in the departure lounge at the airport, she carefully wrapped her arms around his waist drawing him as close as possible without hurting his ribs - they were travelling as husband and wife after all she thought to herself.

"Take care darling, remember to keep in touch, you know how much I miss you when we're apart." She made the most of the opportunity and attempted to give him a deep, passionate kiss, but was put off by Mounia tugging at her sleeve-

"Hey! Come on you two lovebirds - you've been married far too long for that sort of nonsense at airports, for goodness sake Nikita we're only going for a few days at the most!"

Nikita could have happily throttled her - but settled instead for a hearty clap around the shoulders of the diminutive female which sent her staggering towards the heap of hand luggage...

"Of course - Mounia, if I didn't know better I'd swear you were jealous."

Mounia ignored this and grabbed hold of Michael to kiss him on the cheeks before bidding him farewell.

"Au revoir, Michel. Watch out for yourself."

"Goodbye Mounia" Michael responded, firmly taking her hands off of him before turning one more time to Nikita, taking her face in his hands kissing her gently on the lips and murmuring.

"Nikita - take care, phone me when you arrive."

The flight to Rome was mercifully short; Nikita couldn't bring herself to question her travelling companion about Michael. She was sure she wouldn't get the whole truth and another set of lies and misinformation was not what she needed right then.

As they had only brought hand luggage they didn't have to face the usual problems of lost luggage at the Da Vinci airport. At passport control they split up - taking different queues, as Nikita was heading towards the taxi rank she noticed that Bensouda had gone missing - where the hell had she gone now, cursed Nikita. She walked back into the small lobby of the airport but there was no sign of the short curly haired woman, then she heard her name being shouted from outside.

"Nikita - here I have a taxi - quick before the other passengers get through, there's always a scramble for taxis here."

Nikita grabbed her bags and leapt into the taxi - it was then that she noticed the woman sat in the front. She was tall, slim and elegant, wearing a long black velvet jacket and a fur stole. The next thing that came to Nikita's attention was a small gun barrel jabbing into her side.

"Nikita - meet my dear friend - Marisa Stasiowska."

Michael waited patiently by the phone waiting for Nikita's call, he'd tried ringing her mobile but it was switched off. He checked that the plane had landed and came to the conclusion that Nikita and Mounia were making the most of Rome's shops - although he could hardly envisage them as the best of pals.

On the contrary Nikita and Mounia were on anything but friendly terms. The taxi had dropped them off at Stasiowska's apartment block in the fashionable district near to the marble pyramid. The apartment was spacious and airy, the shutters flung open to let in the warm scented air and the sounds of traffic. If it wasn't for the circumstances Nikita would have relished a chance to stay in Rome, but her mind was elsewhere. The other two hadn't spoken a word on the journey into the city and she was waiting for an explanation.

"What the hell are you up to?" she demanded.

"Please take a seat Nikita dear". Was Bensouda's response and as she was pointing a gun at Nikita there didn't seem to be many options. Once seated, Stasiowska took the gun and held it to Nikita's head whilst Bensouda tied her hands behind her back and her ankles to the legs of the chair.

"What's happening to Michael? What have you done with the material?" there were many more questions but these two bubbled out first.

Bensouda and Stasiowska glanced at each other and nodded. Then they gagged Nikita. Obviously they weren't in a hurry to explain anything. Nikita struggled against the bindings in vain - obviously one of these women had attended scout camp in the past. Her captors merely smiled at one another before Stasiowska said

"You must be famished Mounia - I have some olives, bread and cheese in the pantry - let's sit out on the balcony and you can tell me all about our new friend."

"That sounds wonderful Marisa - do you mind if I play the piano whilst you prepare the food?"

"Be my guest - I'd be delighted."

They shut the door behind them leaving Nikita bound and gagged, with the strains of Chopin drifting through the apartment mingling with the interminable sound of car horns from angry Roman drivers. She wondered if Michael was OK........

**********************************************************************

Several hours later and no wiser to Nikita's predicament in Rome, Michael found himself loitering in a coffee shop near the apartment block where Zuaiter's brother worked. He'd asked at several places and eventually found the place where then man stopped for his coffee and cigarette after work.

A nod from the man at the bar indicated to Michael that his prey had entered the shop, he waited until he was sat down with his coffee before approaching.

"As salaam alaykum."

"Wa alaykum as salaam".

"I think I know your brother - Hamad?"

"My brother?"

"He is here in Beirut - please take me to him."

"Why should I - you are a stranger to me?"

"If you don't I will kill your family while you are at work". Stated Michael calmly, quietly and without emotion.

The Jordanian looked at Michael carefully, the pale, black-clad stranger looked quite capable of carrying out his threat and besides he knew that Hamad could look after himself.

"I will call him and ask him to meet you here".

This seemed too easy and Michael was instantly suspicious.

"No, not here."

"Where then?"

"Your home."

"I shall have to contact him to make sure he will be in" stalled the man.

"Fine" said Michael and handed him his phone.

Half an hour later Michael was standing outside the door to a fifth floor apartment in one of the older shabbier blocks. He unholstered his gun and held it at his side as he gestured for Hamad's brother to enter first. He unlocked the door and walked into the darkened hallway.

"Hamad? Are you there?" called the brother.

Michael stepped into the darkness and grabbed the man roughly, putting a hand over his mouth to shut him up. Whilst doing so he didn't notice the shadow behind him, he heard a footstep and whirled around but it was too late as the heavy wooden stick rushed down impacting with his skull and sending him sprawling across the welcome rug. He lay there unconscious - a thin trickle of blood slowly making its way down his forehead.

As he gradually regained consciousness the first thing Michael was aware of was a splitting headache. He tried to move but a wave of nausea cautioned him to take it easy. He tried to open his eyes but his right eye seemed glued shut with what he realised was dried blood. Taking stock of his situation he seemed to be tied up with thick tape, which also covered his mouth, making breathing very difficult, especially as he appeared to be wrapped in an old smelly rug the dust from which filled his nostrils and threatened to choke him. It was then that he realised he was in motion and the swaying, pitching movements were those of a truck on a rough track. Each pothole in the road jarred his aching body. He lay there wondering where he was and hoping that Nikita would be able to find him.

Back in Rome, Nikita had been allowed out of her chair to visit the bathroom and have something to eat. The two "old friends" took it in turns to guard her at gunpoint.

She had given up asking questions and was just biding her time before teaching these two a lesson they wouldn't forget in a hurry.

The phone rang shrilly making her jump - but the others had been expecting it

"It's for you Mounia".

"You've got him ....good .......I told you he'd come.........yes go ahead with the delivery .....try not to damage the merchandise too much , the price will go down if it's broken beyond repair."

"Michael.........." whimpered Nikita, immediately aware of what had happened, he'd walked into a trap and was now on his way to some enemy agency . But where?

"Where is he?" she asked, hoping against hope for a clue as to where she'd find him.

"On the road to hell - where he belongs!" Came Bensouda's scathing response.

That was all it took for Nikita, she took advantage of Bensouda coming in close to sneer at her, by grabbing hold of her left arm and twisting it painfully around the smaller woman's back she then wrenched back her head with the other arm crushing against her windpipe.

"Drop the gun on the floor and kick it across to me " she shouted at Stasiowska.

The taller woman looked defiant -

"Do you think I care if you snap her neck?"

"I thought you might - but I'm quite happy to use her body as a shield if you decide to shoot at me."

"Hold on - do I get a say in this?" squealed Bensouda barely able to breathe let alone talk with Nikita's forearm clamped against her throat.

"Shut up, it was your carelessness that got you in this fix in the first place!"

"You were meant to be covering her with the damned gun_"

" Sorry to interrupt you 'ladies' but I'm in a hurry to get some information -" . With that Nikita squeezed just enough to cause Bensouda to black out and throwing the limp body at Stasiowska as a distraction she kicked the gun from her hand and had picked it up and was holding it at her head before she had the chance to react.

"Is she.....?"

"Nope - not yet anyway - I want some answers from her first. Meanwhile you'll do for starters. One - did Factor Shrook ever exist?"

" Oh yes" came the smug reply.

"And the developers - did you have any intention of paying them?"

"Of course not - they were naïve and deserved nothing. As soon as we had the details and the samples we had them eliminated. A unique weapon soon loses its value if the source is openly accessible to all."

"The Intel about military installations - where is that? "

"Safe - what an added bonus that was and apparently leaked direct from Section - I do wonder how that got out - careless if you ask me."

Nikita slapped the woman across the face whilst she worked out a way of extracting useful answers.

"Sloppy procedure Nikita -I'm sure your superiors wouldn't approve of your performance so far. Kill us and you don't find anything - the disc, the vial or indeed your precious Michael - all on offer to the highest bidder, we thought a package would realise the best price." That idle boast at least told Nikita that wherever the material was that was where she'd find Michael.

A choking sputtering sound from the floor alerted Nikita to Bensouda's return to consciousness. She secured Stasiowska to the chair first before prodding the half-conscious woman into a more aware state.

"Wakey wakey!"

"So you want answers? Forget it - I'd rather die than let Michael escape what's coming to him. "

"That's not the impression I got earlier - you seemed quite keen to stay in the land of the living - don't mess with me lady, I will get the answers I need with or without your co-operation."

"Nikita - Michael killed my future many years ago - do you think I really care any longer - as long as I know that revenge will be served I'll be happy to die."

The truck had stopped moving with a jolt that brought Michael back to consciousness - he'd been fading in and out for what seemed like hours, lack of air, heat and pain making it difficult to stay awake at all. He could make out mutterings from men outside the truck, then he heard the doors being wrenched open and felt himself roughly grabbed by the feet and shoulders and being carried a short distance. The next thing he knew the rug was unceremoniously jerked and he rolled across the dusty ground. Through one eye he could see it was dark and they appeared to be in the courtyard of a dilapidated set of white washed villas.

"Clean him up a bit will you - he'll scare the dogs!" jeered one of the men who apparently lived here.

The taller of his captors grabbed a metal bucket of stale dirty water and tipped it over Michael's head, removing some of the dried blood and dust. This had the effect of bringing him round instantly, his head was still throbbing, and the feeling of nausea remained, he had the unpleasant suspicion that he may have sustained a fracture as well as concussion.

He was dragged by the arms into a sitting position against a wall.

"How much did she say he was worth?"

"More intact than broken - but who's to say what she meant by that?"

They left him outside against the wall and walked off to an area nearer the house where they settled down on rugs to play cards, drink coffee and tell stories until it was too cold for them to stay outside any longer. They then disappeared into the building leaving Michael outside, he'd found himself shivering from the damp clothes and the chill night-time air which was cool against his skin - he felt so tired but had to stay awake, this would be his only chance of escape. He rubbed his hands and wrists against the rough stone wall until he felt the bindings begin to fray, although this also meant scraping the skin from his wrists, which made them bleed. He leant forward and pulled his hands apart with a twisting motion, which eventually broke the tape. Once this was done he pulled the tape from his mouth and took in several deep breaths of air, filling his lungs with dry dusty air and stifling the cough that threatened to give him away. That done he released his feet and gingerly tried to stand up slowly bracing himself against he wall for support. His head spun so he held it low until the feeling subsided. His legs were stiff from being bound for hours, but he had to make a move fast, the sky was beginning to lighten and he knew he had to be gone before dawn. There were two options - steal a vehicle or walk.

He decided to explore the small settlement first - there were about six small one storey buildings - a few trees under which a small group of goats were sleeping. Apart from the truck he'd been brought here in the only other vehicle was an old jeep, with worn out tyres, a cracked windscreen and the passenger door tied on with string. Chances are it wouldn't start first time and then he'd be found out - however he noticed the key was in the ignition which meant it was used - and it was at the far end from the other house giving him a slight advantage. He opted to take the jeep. He found a water container in the truck and a spare petrol can - both of these he put in the back of the jeep. The next thing to do was to incapacitate the truck to slow down his pursuers. He carefully popped open the hood of truck and pulled out the HT cables one by one. He found it hard going concentrating on what to do - every time he moved his head up the pain washed over him making him stop to grip the sides of the engine compartment. He felt awful - but he had to get away soon - no time to rest, even though his eyes could barely stay open.

There were no roads that he could discern he'd have to follow the tracks in the sand for as far as possible before turning off - he could be followed far too easily otherwise. Also once an engine was started in the silence they would know he was escaping.

He climbed into the jeep - not bothering with the door, which would make too much noise, and turned the key - a rattling noise emitted from the engine, which died away in a feeble sputter. Again he turned the key and jabbed the accelerator down, this time it started but the damage had been done - the doors of the far house were flung open and three men rushed out. He threw the jeep into gear and accelerated fast - an error as the wheels just dug themselves into the soft sand, he noticed with dismay that the three men were approaching rapidly and that one was armed with a rifle. Slowly and patiently he revved up again and mercifully the tyres found traction and pulled out of the ruts. He ducked his head down low as he saw the one of the men stop to take aim - the bullet missed him but caught the windscreen that shattered, pieces of glass showered out many falling back onto the dashboard and over his arms. Taking a quick glance back he could see the other two men clambering into the truck and despite pulling on the steering wheel to avoid the aim of the sniper, he felt the burning pain of a bullet slamming into his biceps. The jeep careered wildly as Michael struggled to regain control, blood was now gushing from his arm and splattering over shards of glass on the seat next to him. He had no option but to put his foot down and get the hell out of there as fast as he could - in second gear, his right arm hanging uselessly - unable to grip the gear stick. The two men who had tried to start the truck got out in disgust swearing and shouting at their failed colleague as they watched a cloud of dust marking the departure of their prisoner.

"What does that mean?" she asked Bensouda - but her request got nothing but a defiant glare.

"So how are you going to make us talk?" taunted Stasiowska, seeing Nikita thrown by Bensouda's outpouring of venom. She could sense that despite her brave words, Nikita was not as ruthless as she would have them believe. Torture would not be on her agenda

Nikita's sudden rush of aggression triggered by the way in which her and Michael had been duped so easily, was now subsiding. She had to think fast - she briefly thought of contacting Section 1 - after all this was well off the original mission profile - or was it? Maybe this was what they'd planned - but surely not to have Michael fall into the hands of their enemies or were they relying on him not cracking? She wished she knew what to do for the best. It occurred to her that Michael would instinctively know what to do in this position. If she just tried to think like he did - fat chance! There wasn't a hope in hell that she could adopt his cold calculating approach, he was such a control freak it scared her sometimes watching him perform the most mundane of procedures. She cast her mind back to the night in the hotel in Beirut - in the morning as she proceeded to trash the bathroom she couldn't fail to notice the military arrangement of toothbrush, paste, razor, shaving cream and after shave - aligned so neatly. She couldn't resist swapping them around to see if he'd put them back in the "right order" later on.

My god! Here she was with two dangerously psychotic women, with Michael taken prisoner and being dragged goodness knows where to be sold to the highest bidder and all she could focus on was his bathroom habits - get a grip she told herself. But it was a reaction she knew to being put in a situation she couldn't fight or talk her way out of. But there was something to be said for returning to Beirut - she had to find a lead somewhere.

She decided that the first thing to do was to tie up Bensouda and Stasiowska in separate rooms and gag them - she found some rather nice Dior silk scarves in a drawer and thought they'd be ideal for the job. After checking at the airport to find she'd missed the return flight and there wouldn't be another until late the following day she resigned herself to being unable to make progress without contacting section, but she needed her PDA for that and that was in Beirut.

She made her way to the kitchen grabbed the loaf of bread and sat out on the balcony. She looked absently at the pots of bright salmon pink geraniums and the trusses of bougainvillaea cascading down from the balcony above, it was a beautiful setting, romantic and warm, she thought of Michael and wished for many reasons that he was here with her now..... She was worried about Michael, he was still recovering from one set of injuries - what condition was in he now? She ripped a piece of bread from the loaf and chewed on it - but had difficulty swallowing it, her throat was tight and she realised she was on the verge of tears. Suddenly a tiny sparrow alighted on the balcony an opportunist after a few crumbs of bread, she smiled and scattered a few crumbs onto the ground and watched as the bird eagerly pecked at them, keeping a wary eye out for other sparrows or starlings.

"Take what you can little bird - I wish I'd learn to make the most of what I've got when it's in my grasp and not just regret it when it's lost...."

She sat on the balcony watching birds come and go - fighting over crumbs for what seemed like hours until the sun set - she went back into the apartment and found a blanket to wrap up in as she curled upon the sofa, a gun under the pillow - just in case. She didn't want to sleep but exhaustion overtook her and before she knew it she'd fallen asleep with his name on her lips..........

"Michael where are you?"

It was just growing light outside - the traffic sounds in Rome had died down as much as they ever did in the city. It was peaceful in the apartment - apart from two women lying slumped in chairs and another tossing and turning in her sleep, caught up in nightmares of seeking a treasure only to find the casket empty whenever she eventually found it ........

A persistent ringing awakened Nikita - she leapt up grabbing the gun from under the pillow - her shoulders were stiff from how she'd been lying - the phone dammit where was it? She rushed into the room where she'd left Stasiowska and picked up the phone, she pulled the gag from the woman's' mouth and motioned for her to talk to the caller. In one hand she held the phone and pressed the "receive " button, in her other hand she held the gun against the woman's temple. She stood behind her and leaned close so she could here what was being said.

A gruff Arabic sounding voice asked to speak to Bensouda.....

"Hello - I'm sorry she's not able to take the call at the moment" stalled Stasiowska, until nudged in the shoulder blades by the barrel of Nikita's' gun

"Can I pass on a message?"

The voice on the other end of the line became agitated and a stream of Arabic invective seemed to come across the wires...

"Maafi Arabi" enunciated Stasiowska slowly trying to get through to him that she didn't understand what he was saying.

"Gone - he gone. Tell her he gone. Has jeep - we shoot him." The man muttered - the last words offered as a kind of plea for clemency - but they sent a shiver down Nikita's back, she'd been momentarily elated that he'd managed to escape - but if he was shot - how badly? She had to know. She grabbed the phone from Stasiowska and put her hand over the mouthpiece.

"Ask them what condition he's in and where he's heading - or I'll make a mess of your décor!" she hissed quickly before placing the phone next to the other woman's mouth again.

"How bad is he shot?"

"We shoot good." Was the indignant reply.

"No - I mean did you kill him?"

"He gone - take jeep "

"Where is he going? Which way?"

"Into desert - we find him soon.........when truck mended..... insha'allah".

"Is he hurt bad?" she asked again prompted by Nikita's whispering of the questions to ask.

"Oh yes madam he hurt bad - no go far."

"Where is the nearest town?"

"No town - just desert...."

"How far from Beirut?"

"Not Beirut - Damascus - maybe 120 - 150 kilometres to west of here......."

Damascus thought Nikita - Syria! They must have driven throughout the day to the city of Damascus and out into the Syrian Desert - thank goodness she'd allowed Michael to force her to familiarise herself with the local geography. There really wasn't anything out there but open scrubby desert and the borders with Jordan to the south, Saudi Arabia to the East and .......Iraq.

Michael had no idea where he was heading - he had no idea where he was - except the deserts seemed unlike most of Lebanon - no real mountains, he'd headed east towards the sun to at least give him a bearing to refer to later. And anyway that's the direction the track headed in. He just needed to get enough distance as possible between himself and the men behind him before stopping to check out this arm. There was a dip ahead, which would serve as useful hiding place and the softer sand was replaced by grittier surface - less prone to showing up tracks. He drove into a clump of small shrubby trees and stopped, turned the engine off and collapsed onto the steering wheel, the loss of blood from his arm wound having eventually taken its toll on his rapidly declining condition.

A few hours later he woke to feel something sharp sticking into his forehead - a piece of windscreen glass had embedded itself into his skin and the pressure of his head on the dashboard had caused enough pain to rouse him. His head felt hot and his arm felt like hell, he lifted his uninjured arm to feel the back of his head - the heat seemed to be due to the overhead sun which was beating down on him relentlessly. He could feel the lump on the back of his head from the blow he'd received the previous day - was it yesterday or longer ago - he had no idea of time - his watch had gone along with his gun and phone. He was on his own with no idea of where he was and with no means of getting in contact with Nikita or indeed anyone from Section.

He looked down at his right arm, the bullet had passed through the muscle of his upper arm cleanly but had left two gaping holes that were still oozing blood - he'd have to stop the bleeding somehow. His entire right arm and hand were covered in sticky semi-dried blood and he couldn't afford to waste water in cleaning it up just yet. The muscle damage was bad enough that he couldn't move his arm without causing a sickening wave of pain to wash across his body. If he had someone to help he'd have got them to strap the arm to the side of his body to immobilise it - but there was no way he could accomplish that on his own. Whilst thinking through what to do Michael took off his shirt - luckily he'd always been quite adept at unbuttoning single-handedly. He noticed the bandages around his chest were getting grubby and frayed, probably not doing much good but at least they would keep the sun off so he resisted the urge to rip them off. He took the shirt in his teeth and held it tight as he tore it into strips, which he used to clumsily bind around his arm. It wasn't easy applying pressure with only one good hand but he managed to slow the bleeding to an acceptable trickle. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster- he was becoming dangerously dehydrated he realised - needing to replace the fluids lost due excessive blood loss and insufficient water intake, he couldn't remember when he'd last drunk any water. He got out of the jeep to fetch the water container from the back, luckily it was still intact. He slumped down against the side of the jeep trying to get in the shade and slowly took a few swigs from the bottle - wary that no matter how much he need to drink, he had to make the water last. The effort of moving had been too much though and as he placed the lid back on the bottle his hearing became muffled and darkness crept into the peripheries of his vision slowly but efficiently blotting out he bright sunlight as unconsciousness claimed him yet again...............

"On the first part of the journey I was looking at all the life There were plants and birds and rocks and things There was sand and hills and rings The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz And the sky with no clouds The heat was hot and the ground was dry But the air was full of sound"

He could feel the flies buzzing around the blood soaked remnants of his shirt, he could hear the scuttling of lizards amongst the rocks and he could hear his heart ...........

He opened his eyes slowly - the brightness of the light was unbearable and he clamped his eyes shut, but the light was too strong to be blocked by his eyelids alone, bright red shutters to an unknown world of strange sensations,

All of his senses seemed ultra keen - he could hear with unusual clarity and everywhere around him, he could smell the dust, taste it in the air,

The heat seemed to penetrate deep into his body, the sand was too hot to touch, but there was no need to move, he was fixed to the spot - he couldn't move now -even if he wanted to, the heat like a drug coursed through his veins, spreading about his body lulling every cell in his body into a torpid state of lethargy............

"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name It felt good to be out of the rain In the desert you can remember your name 'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain"

Delirium had set in and Michael accepted it willingly, he was totally alone, no watchers, no cameras, no secret microphones to transmit his every word and action to those that would dissect his every move, analyse it for signs of weakness, here he could let the tears of pain and anguish fall free - all he knew was heat that numbed the pain, he tried to move his arms to shade his eyes, for some reason he couldn't move his right arm at all.....slowly he lifted his left arm and tentatively checked to see if the right arm was still there - he thought maybe it wouldn't be - but it was ... of course the bandages and the blood, he could feel the stickiness on his fingertips of his left hand. He squeezed the bandages to work out what lay beneath them, still not totally aware of the state he was in, and immediately regretted it as a sharp pulse of pain competed with the heat and won ...... the redness faded from scarlet to crimson and then black ...................

Back in Rome - Nikita was getting really pissed off with the situation - what now - surely she should get in touch with Section now? She glanced across at Stasiowska and considered what to do with her - shoot her? No that wasn't her style - but Bensouda's local knowledge could come in useful - She grabbed the phone once more and told Stasiowska to instruct the men to hold their position until Bensouda got back to them. An idea was beginning to take shape in her mind.

Once this was done she hung up the 'phone and went to the other room to untie Bensouda and bring her through to the sumptuous lounge where the other woman sat looking more and more uncomfortable.

"The situation is this - Michael has escaped into the Syrian Desert in a stolen jeep and your henchmen are chasing their tails trying to find him. I've had your buddy here tell them to wait for your instructions. That about sums it up, doesn't it dear?" she prodded Stasiowska with the gun to get the reply-

"Yes - really Mounia I told you to pay a bit more for some men that actually would do the job efficiently - but oh no you insisted on getting a 'bargain' a 'good deal'. Goodness only knows how they've handled the Shrook material - I told them it had to stay cool, they probably left it in the truck over night......". The woman could hardly stop moaning - but Nikita was taking the opportunity to gain as much information as possible that may help her save Michael....

" Will you just shut up! The ice box will be fine and I'd rather you didn't give all the details of our business ventures to our ungrateful guest here!" Bensouda seemed livid, her plans were falling apart and there seemed to be nothing she could do to change things.

Nikita had made a decision and now seemed as good a time as any to get things rolling..

"I figure it's in both our interests to find Michael - so you're going to help me - we leave Ms S here - once in Lebanon I'll contact my people who will come to collect her -then we go on to check out what 's gone wrong in Damascus. "

"Why do you think I'll help you?"

" Because I don't see you as a woman that likes to be thwarted - you have some reason for wanting to see Michael suffer - true, but I think you want to know what's happened, him being lost in the desert doesn't exactly give you closure, now does it?"

"Well, I would prefer to know that he got what he deserved, but I could live with him dying in the desert. But then again, he's got out of worse predicaments in the past, so there's no guarantee he'll die........... No - Forget it, there's no way I'm co-operating."

"Oh we'll see about that later." Nikita half-smiled as if thinking of something mildly amusing.

After securing Stasiowska as tightly as possible to the chair without cutting off her circulation, Nikita gagged her once more, patted her on the head and said cryptically-

"Maddie's gonna love you to pieces sweetheart."

It wasn't easy but Nikita managed to persuade Bensouda to accompany her back to Beirut, despite her affirmation that she would willingly die, the uncertainty of Michael's fate made her more reluctant to argue with a gun in her ribs. Curiosity alone urged her to make sure that he'd perished in the desert.

At the Marriot Hotel Nikita managed to convince the concierge that she'd mislaid her room key and that her husband had to make an unexpected trip into the country. He was puzzled by the type of marriage the two had but it wasn't for him to question the guests, especially beautiful blonde guests that could melt him with a smile, so he provided Nikita with a replacement key.

The room seemed untouched since they'd left for breakfast two days ago. She resisted the urge to check the bathroom but tied Bensouda to the chair so she didn't have to watch her too carefully. Then she went straight to the attaché case by the bed. In it lay Michael's laptop - she immediately plugged it into the phone socket and keyed in the emergency log in code to Section. She typed in a message and then shut it down. She re-connected the phone line and waited.

Five minutes later the phone rang.

" Reception here - you have a call from a Mr Birkoff do you wish to accept it?"

"Yes please" Nikita stated trying not to sound too excited.

" Hello - Nikita we got your message, unfinished business in Rome is being dealt with and as for the architect - located and to be brought in for 'consultation', I'm sorry but we can't help out in your locality - can't spare the staff."

"That's good to hear, I'll be in touch if there's anything else I think you can help me with."

" Yeah sure - sorry about lack of back-up, I hope you manage to catch up with Michael soon, Head Office are quite concerned that he won't fulfil his quota. Take care Nikita - try to stay out of the sun."

" Thanks again - just reassure the 'boss' that as long as I'm around Michael will be back on form in no time."

Damn thought Nikita - they won't get involved out here I should have known. What the hell was Birkoff hinting at - did Ops and Maddie expect me to leave Michael behind? Ah well at least I now have some leverage with my reluctant "partner", Bensouda can lead me to the men who have the Factor Shrook and disc and hopefully lead to Michael....

" Well Mounia I think you'll be a bit more prepared to co-operate, it was very careless of you to mention your sister earlier, I think I know exactly what your weakness is ....".

"I would rather throw her to the dogs than let your people have her," spat Bensouda.

"Too late" grinned Nikita. " They'll be picking her up within the hour, and if you don't convince me you're trying your very best I'll make sure you regret ever having crossed me."

"Damn you Nikita - if anything happens to her - believe me I shall have my revenge. You heartless bitch, you and Michael suit one another so well!"

" Tell me about it later, for now I think we should be on our way to Damascus."

Before leaving Beirut Nikita packed everything from the room into the suitcases they'd brought with them. She carefully packed the weapons in Walter's special shielding - she had a feeling they'd be needed very soon. She got Bensouda to contact her men in Syria and despite the conversation being conducted in Arabic she could tell that the woman was going along with her instructions. She had her explain that Stasiowska was indisposed so her colleague- an Angelica Parco - would be joining her from Rome to deal with the errant prisoner. Nikita would have to practice an Italian accent - but felt sure she could convince them, especially if she wore the right outfit......

When booking out of the hotel she left a message with the concierge that just in case she missed her husband in Damascus they were to tell him that she'd gone on ahead of him with her friend Mounia. After all knowing Michael - he may yet get back to Beirut under his own steam...

"After two days in the desert sun My skin began to turn red After three days in the desert fun I was looking at a river bed And the story it told of a river that flowed Made me sad to think it was dead"

However, Michael wasn't going anywhere in a hurry. As the sun set the temperature dropped rapidly and as it did, he began to come round again shivering, clad only in his mission pants and a few tattered bandages about his chest, he felt the cold. He could open his eyes comfortably now the sun had sunk in the sky and looking around he found the water bottle - thank God he'd managed to put the top on before passing out. He carefully took a few sips - it was warm, stale and gritty - but tasted wonderful. As he tried to sit up he noticed that where the bandages hadn't covered his chest the skin was red and sore from the sun.

He slowly tried to get up but felt sick and dizzy - sun stroke possibly - he'd been in the open sun all day after all. Lighting a fire would be one way of warming up but foolhardy; the light would show up for miles in all directions. Michael figured the best thing to do would be to get moving - then he remembered he only had the use of his left arm, driving would be virtually impossible. Walking seemed an equally absurd notion, whereas as staying still had the advantage of allowing him to recuperate to some extent. Looking around he noticed for the first time that he'd brought the jeep down a dried up riverbed or wadi. There were rounded boulders and driftwood washed down in some previous flood. But now it was bone dry. At least it was at a lower level then the surrounding land affording him some shelter and the chance of going unnoticed.

He needed weapons of some kind to defend himself just in case and something to keep the cold out. He checked the jeep - in the back were a few empty coke bottles, some cigarettes and a Zip lighter. He broke the end off one of the bottles on a stone leaving wickedly sharp edges, the others he half filled with petrol from the spare container and stuffed rags into the tops - Molatov cocktails in case of emergency. He hadn't thought about food for a while, but realised that he was hungry and the jeep had nothing in the way of consumables in it. He did find a dusty blanket, full of animal hair and dust, but it would be better than dying of hypothermia.

The bullet holes in his arm had stopped bleeding but he suspected it wouldn't take much to reopen the wounds so he favoured his right arm as much as possible. He made a mental note to thank Dr Grahams for the extra dose of antibiotics, that was probably responsible for preventing massive infection from setting in. He tightened the bindings again -aware that the crust of dried blood was the only barrier to infection.

He then staggered to the door of the jeep - yanked it open with his left hand and awkwardly clambered inside, wrapping himself up in the blanket that stunk of goats and clutching the broken bottle in his hand. He would wait until just before dawn and then attempt to drive out of here...

***********************************************************************

As the Imam called the faithful to prayer in the early hours of the morning in Damascus, Nikita followed Bensouda out of the lobby of the small hotel. Leaving when they did they were unnoticed by the owner who had spread out his prayer mat in the office and was oblivious to their quiet exit. They walked through the narrow, twisted streets typical of one of the oldest inhabited cities on Earth to an area where several cars were left parked in a haphazard fashion so their owners could give the impression of making their way to the mosque on foot. As most of the houses had no windows looking out on the streets they had the opportunity to leave without being spotted. Nikita had wanted to hire a rather smart Land Rover but her companion convinced her that two female tourists would draw too much attention in such an ostentatious vehicle and it was far better to take a saloon car. Mounia had painstakingly explained to Nikita that although she spoke Arabic she would be quickly identified as non- Syrian by her accent and they were least conspicuous in the role outlined for Nikita by Section, with Mounia acting as translator. It was just growing light as they made their way out of the city heading on the road towards Tadmur in the north-east. *********************************************************************

Michael was also awake at dawn, his throat raw with thirst, but the water bottle was empty now. He surveyed the seats of the jeep - shards of glass from the windscreen splattered with dried blood adorned the front of the passenger compartment. The rug had slipped off in the night and from the itches he felt on his ankles probably just as well - it was infested with fleas and lice. He cautiously sat up and took a short walk around the hollow in which the jeep had come to a halt. His arm was stiff and hurt like hell but he could flex it slowly without re-opening the wounds, perhaps he'd be able to drive after all.

The desert air was cool and damp, and he could hear birds cheeping in the scrubby ghaf trees ahead. There were no other noises so he decided to take a chance and start the engine, it was awkward sitting in the passenger seat and turning the key with his left hand and the engine was failing to co-operate...Michael stopped when he realised the engine was flooded. He checked the spark plugs, cleaning the grime off the terminals as much as possible, the HT leads were all tightly in place and the distributor was OK after a slight adjustment. The only other thing that could have caused the problem would be the battery and he hoped that wasn't dead. He took a rest against the side of the jeep and after a short while tried again to start the engine - this time it worked....he shuffled into the drivers seat, uncomfortably aware of pieces of glass sticking into his tight black pants. As he started the engine he could feel the tyres spinning as he tried to drive out of the sand but eventually they gripped on the grittier stones and pebbles - at the time it seemed a good idea to stick to the dried river bed, it provided more traction and left less tracks than the dusty tracks across the desert, it was also carved into the surface of the surrounding land affording some cover.

***********************************************************************

Nikita got Bensouda to phone her contacts when they were under way - she was disappointed to discover that despite her instructions via Stasiowska, one of the men had gone off in pursuit of Michael. Apparently he was the owner of the stolen jeep, irate at the loss of his transport, he'd repaired the truck and headed off into the desert armed with a rifle and determined not to return without his jeep. Nikita resisted the urge to violently remove the smug grin from Bensouda's face. At least it would seem that the cool box was still with Michael's erstwhile captors, although the state of its contents was unknown and as for the disc containing the military Intel - Nikita could not ascertain its whereabouts - maybe Madeleine would have more luck with the "Polish countess"..... for some reason she had reminded Nikita of Cruella DeVille. She just hoped they would reach Michael before the Syrian did ....subconsciously she looked over her shoulder to the back seat to check that the bulging bag of first aid items was still with them.......

It was almost midday as Nikita and Bensouda took a turning off the main road onto a dusty track leading into apparent wilderness. After a mile or so on rough surfaces they eventually drove up to a cluster of small white washed buildings, chickens and goats were scratching around in a pile of food scraps, but otherwise the place appeared deserted. Nikita sensed a trick of some sort - she had no way of understanding what Bensouda had said on the phone after all - ruefully she thought to herself that Michael would have understood every word.........

There were no vehicles around apart from their own car, so Nikita decided to stay put until she'd figured out what was going on. They parked near to a wall so their backs were covered.

However, their arrival had not gone unnoticed by any means and inside the nearest building two men lurked beneath the window and peered out at the unlikely sight of two women - one an outstanding blonde - the other they recognised. They had received their instructions and were only too well aware what would result if they failed yet again to fulfil their side of the bargain.

Bensouda tried had not to give away her true intents to Nikita but the wait was getting to her

"We should get out of this car - my legs are cramped and I could really do with a stroll - come on Nikita - it's obvious there's no-one here at the moment - let's wait inside, out of the sun..."

"No - we stay here and we wait - what's that?" The dust cloud that appeared drew Nikita from her conversation - there seemed to be some activity from the road the other side of the settlement. Two vehicles approached - one a dented jeep with no windscreen and the other a dust covered truck.

Out of the jeep leapt a local guy - his demeanour of anger clearly describing how he felt about the state of his jeep - he fell into an argument with the truck driver - probably to do with compensation. Nikita looked for a glimpse of a third man but there seemed to be no sign of Michael. It was then that she heard the tip of the rifle barrel tapping on the side window -

"Nikita!" yelled Bensouda and as Nikita turned to face Bensouda she realised her error as the aerosol spray of Poison by Dior hit her in the eyes. She spluttered accidentally taking in a breath of the heavily scented perfume and whilst rubbing her eyes noticed the door being wrenched open and the man on the other end of the rifle roughly grabbing her arm and dragging her out of the car. Before she knew what was happening she was thrown into the back of the truck and heard the doors being locked behind her.

It was dark in the back of the truck and as she rubbed her streaming eyes, it took time to get accustomed to the poor light especially after the brilliant white sunshine outside. As she gradually took stock of her situation she became aware of a groaning sound in one corner. Making her way slowly across the floor of the truck she could make out the outline of a huddled figure - stripped to the waist. It was of an unconscious man....

" Michael! It's me Nikita". She rushed to his side certain of his identity even without being able to see clearly.

She carefully ran her hands over his still form, she could feel the dried scab on his forehead - a blow to the head and by the size of the swelling there could be a fractured skull or even a haematoma beneath the surface...... working her fingertips gently across the features of his face she could feel no more obvious injuries, just the stubble on his chin from a few days without a shave.......down his chest, she could feel the heat and tightness of the sunburnt flesh - he must have been out in the sun for hours to get burnt so bad she thought, tears pricking her already moist eyes........apart from the burns which seemed to be blistering nastily on his chest she could also feel the lumpy swellings of his freshly mended ribs, at least they appeared to be OK still. Next his arms - it was then that she made out the dark cloth wrapped around this upper right arm - it was stiff with dried blood, a lot of dried blood, as she tried to loosen the bindings to work out the nature of this injury she felt him stir ......

"Michael - wake up please - - come on".

Groggily Michael opened his eyes, he felt shivery but his chest seemed to be on fire - he took a deep breath and immediately regretted it as the skin cracked sending sharp ripples of pain across his thorax. Nikita felt his agony and tried to calm him -

"Gently - breathe slowly Michael - you've got bad burns across your skin. What happened? I thought you'd got away." She drew him up into her arms to try to calm down the shivering, but the shuddering grew worse rather than better - if only there was a way to get hold of that medical kit she swore under her breath.

"'Kita- why are you here - I sent you to Rome - what's going on?"

"I'll tell you later - can you move?"

With Nikita's aid Michael managed to sit up against the side of the truck - his head was reeling and the nausea was back, and he could barely make out what Nikita was saying - everything seemed muffled as if he was wrapped in several layers of thick blanket. He strained to make out what she was saying- but the words blurred together and all he could make out was ....

"Michael stay with me - I need you....... stay with me........"

"Michael ! stay awake ! " - she clasped his face in her hands trying to maintain eye contact - shaking his head gently every now and then to keep him from falling asleep she prayed that it was only a bad case of sunstroke and not anything to do with his head injury..

Michael could feel her soft hands on his skin and the contact made it real - she was there, he couldn't let her down - she said she needed him ..

" Water?"

Damn - he was probably severely dehydrated - Nikita sat up quickly and made her way to the back of the van and started hammering on the doors -

"Hey - Bensouda come here now " she screamed whilst continuing to pound on the doors with her fists and adding a few well placed kicks at the point where the lock held the doors in place ...she was only mildly surprised to see that the violence of her attack had the effect of causing the hinge to give way and one of the doors swung open at a crazy angle. Her outburst had drawn the attention of Bensouda as she had hoped and she stood before Nikita aiming a gun at her mid drift -

"What the hell do you want?"

" Give me some water and the medical kit from my car or Michael won't make it for whatever you've got in mind!"

"Not unless you contact section and tell them to release my sister."

" I can't do that .. they won't do it on my authority and you know it ..."

"Either you get to be a little more persuasive or you don't get water or medication..."

"OK - I'll try - but first give me some water..."

Bensouda gestured at one of the guards and he handed over his water container to Nikita. She didn't wait to hear what Bensouda was about to say - she turned back into the truck and crouched down on a cool box besides Michael and cradling his head in the crook of her elbow lifted the water bottle to his lips -

"Just sip to begin with..."

He gratefully let the warm water trickle down his throat and then lifted his good arm to raise the container so that he could take deep drafts of the life giving liquid - aware that it may be the last for some time. As he lowered it he caught sight of something incongruous about what Nikita was sitting on.

"Nikita - the cool box- check it..."

Puzzled at his sudden return to cold op mode Nikita quickly realised what had grasped his attention - her makeshift seat was a Pepsi Cola cool box - uncharacteristically fresh looking, unstained and relatively free of dust. Nikita pretended to look for the top to the water container which she had rolled out of sight - she looked around the edge of the box as if searching for a small object......

"Nikita - here now - you've a call to make I do believe" came Bensouda's shrill voice - trying to distract Nikita from any further exploration.

"Yeah sure - just let me check Michael first."

Bending over Michael she fussed over his bandages and whispered into his ear -

"Ever seen a coke cool box with a padlock on it before?"

Their eyes met briefly confirming their agreement on the contents of the box - they had to get hold of it somehow.

"Come on out Nikita or I'll give him a few more holes for you to repair!" Bensouda was pointing her gun at Michael's legs - she was quite prepared to carry out her threat and Nikita knew it - what on earth had Michael done to piss off this woman so badly? She was still intent on getting to the bottom of that mystery.

Bensouda handed Nikita her cell phone -

"No I'll use mine thanks"

She carefully dialled the number of an answering service set up to redirect calls to Section - no trace could be made of either their location or -unfortunately - hers .

" Hello - this is Arabian Adventures Vacation Bureau - how can I help you?"

" This is Nikita here - just to let you know I've met up with Michael and we're being strongly dissuaded from using the services of that particular architect I asked you to contact."

" Really - Madeleine said she seemed most suitable...", Birkoff stuttered nervously.

" I'm sorry but the price it will cost is unacceptable." Nikita stated adamantly.

"Hello Nikita - Madeleine here". Nikita was taken aback by the bubbly persona Madeleine adopted for the sake of any eavesdroppers. "Whatever the cost I can assure that I'm willing to pay - the services that this young lady is prepared to offer are quite unique. The company is prepared to make a few small sacrifices to secure her contract. How's Michael anyway? Can I speak to him?"

"He can't talk just now - he's spent far too much time in the sun - I did warn him you know, and he's not been taking his medicine. To be honest with you I think we should try to get back from this trip as soon as possible". Nikita wanted nothing more than to tell them to forget the mission and just come out and pick them up, but knowing she couldn't risk giving away their identities to anyone listening in on cell phone conversations she tried to let Section know exactly how she felt, that Michael was injured and she was worried about him.

"Don't be silly my dear - you and Michael must stay out there until you can bring back those souvenirs I asked you to fetch for my office."

" But -" protested Nikita.

"Must love you and leave you - give Michael my love. Catch you later". With that Madeleine put down her receiver.

Nikita had no option but to close the connection and glance up at Bensouda - whose face was like thunder -

"I told you they wouldn't do it..."

"No, it seems that Michael isn't as valuable to Section as he used to be - what a shame, that may affect the price. But then again tall blondes are worth a bit out here you know - I may be able to make up for the loss of my dear sister if I get a good price for you as well."

"Yalla..." She shouted at the men who were taking yet another coffee break under the ghaf trees..." Come on let's go!"

Nikita was grabbed roughly - her hands bound behind her back and her ankles tied together before being hoisted into the back of the truck - the door had been re-hung with a piece of thick rope. Two of the men got in the front of the truck and Bensouda got in the hire car to follow.

As the truck started up Nikita couldn't keep her balance at all and rolled across the floor of the van coming to an abrupt halt as she slammed into the side.

Michael had been left unbound - when they'd checked up on him he'd feigned unconsciousness - failing to respond to a sharp kick in his ribs although the pain was almost unbearable.

Now that the truck was under way he shuffled across to Nikita and lifted her carefully upright taking most of the weight on his good arm. The strain caused him to sweat profusely and he was soon out of breath - but it didn't slow his efforts to untie the ropes that were cutting into her wrists. As soon as she could feel the knots loosen Nikita took over - wrenching open the space big enough to wriggle her slim hands through. As she turned to smile at him she rubbed her wrists and than noticed the faint red marks on his own arms - indicating a similar position he'd been in not long ago. They couldn't talk for fear of alerting the driver and his companion - but the road was so noisy they risked a few whispers.

"Nikita - are you alright?" he was concerned for her.

"Yes I'm fine - what about you - your arm?"

"Shot - rifle bullet went through,"

She still wanted to check it - but yet again was stopped as Michael pushed her hand away -

"No Nikita not now - we have to get away first....."

" And how far do you reckon I'm gonna carry you when you collapse with blood poisoning?"

"If that happens you go on alone to complete the mission..."

"Don't be stupid Michael - for a start there as higher probability of success if we're both able to function efficiently - agreed?"

"Yes - but -"

"No Michael not this time - just give me a few minutes to check it out ".

With no further resistance from Michael - forced to digest the logic of her words, yet vainly seeking a way to resist wasting time on his injuries, he allowed Nikita to do her worst.

She slowly unwound the rags of blood encrusted shirt from the wound until it started to pull away scabs that were sealing the wounds themselves. The area around the entry and exit holes was an unpleasant yellowish pink shade indicating a low level infection at the very least. Bensouda had refused to hand over the medical kit, so there was nothing to redress the wounds with. But the water bottle was still on the floor of the truck. Nikita paused to consider which item of clothing would be best put to service as a bandage, she was wearing light blue baggy trousers with a loose fitting shirt over the top and a light cotton jacket. The jacket would be too coarse and keeping it would allow her to maintain some modesty, so she slipped out of the jacket and took her shirt off.

"Nikita - please - if they see you like that we'll get nowhere fast!" hissed Michael, distracted by the half naked woman before him busily tearing her shirt into strips.

"Please cover up first!"

She scowled at him but appreciated the effect her nudity may have on the driver if they suddenly stopped and decided to check on their prisoners.... With a sigh she pulled the jacket on - slightly bemused by the rather low neckline revealed even with all the buttons done up.

She then proceeded to soak some of the material with water and dab at the remnants of his black shirt until they fell away from his arm, the blood started to flow freely once more - possibly a good idea to clean out some of the infection trapped beneath the dried blood. Stitches would have been good or even some crude form of cauterisation - but in the absence of anything to use Nikita folded some of the strips into a thick pad which she held in place and secured tightly with strips of blouse. At least she could tighten the pressure bandage more effectively than Michael had managed single-handed. She pulled it tight until she heard a sharp intake of breath and then stopped - that should hold it for now - but the risk of infection was high and she was still worried.

Closer examination showed glass cuts over his hands and lower arms, some of which also seemed inflamed. He looked a mess - cut up and bruised, unshaven and sunburnt - but still irresistibly sexy, damn him, it was the eyes - the green pools that held her in a trance and seemed to hypnotise away all the negative points about Michael the man.

Between them they agreed not to make a move until the truck slowed down or came to a halt and Nikita was to grab the cool box and reluctantly she agreed that once she had it and was running she would not wait for Michael - but just run until she knew her pursuers had given up.

In the meantime they leaned against one another for comfort and support, Michael even daring to rest his eyes ...........

They could see through the gap where the door barely shut that it was almost dark outside and the temperature was falling again. Nikita did her best to lend Michael some warmth by snuggling up close - he was trying to suppress his shivering but it was a pathetic attempt and Nikita wondered how on earth he'd survive the night without getting hypothermia if they were to escape. She got up and peered out of the gap - there was nothing following them so perhaps Bensouda had gone on ahead.

The truck suddenly swerved to the left - throwing Nikita yet again against the sides - but without the bindings she could regain her balance quickly.

"This must be our destination.." she whispered urgently to Michael.

"I'm ready" he replied. They took hold of the strips of metal they'd pried from the inside of the truck and tucked them under their legs - Michael slumped against the side of the van and Nikita turned to face towards him, curled up to give the appearance of still being tied up.

The truck stopped on a slight slope and they could hear the driver grunting and spitting as he got out and started walking around to the doors at the back. The other man got out and walked off away from the truck to relieve himself.

Nikita tensed herself ready to strike and then she heard Bensouda's voice in the night calling over to the driver, also audible was the sound of a plane engine - probably a small private jet thought Nikita - this was not good - if nothing else it meant their enemy now had back-up.

The door was opened slowly and the driver looked in carefully

"Out!" he ordered.

"I can't move - and Michael's unconscious, he's fallen on my legs - you'll have to help me..."

He just looked puzzled and said "Shoo?"

After disappearing for a short while he came back with Bensouda - who ordered him to pull Nikita out and to wake Michael. As the man hunched down and tried to reach around Nikita's body she swung her arms over her head and around his neck - pressing the bar of metal into his throat sufficiently firmly to make him gasp and drop his rifle, at this point Michael moved into action grabbing the weapon and aiming it one handed at Bensouda.

As soon as she got the message and dropped her gun he clubbed the driver with the rifle butt, giving Nikita the chance to leap out and retrieve Bensouda's handgun. Nikita took her bag containing phone and car keys.

Shoving the gun into Bensouda's back Nikita pushed her towards the car.

" Michael - grab the cool box and I'll get the medical kit from the car."

"We don't have time, " warned Michael but it was too late she'd gone - he reached into the truck and grabbed the handle of the box pulling it out on to the ground. Nikita quickly rejoined him carrying a tote bag crammed with water bottles and first aid items.

The second stooge returned puzzled at the turnaround, but preferring to go unharmed he put his hands up in the air and allowed himself to be locked in the back of the truck with the driver.

With their backs to the truck they peered out from either end - a small plane was indeed preparing for take off on a small runway, the sounds of the engines had fortunately disguised the commotion at the truck.

"We need that plane Michael - are you fit enough to fly?"

"With only one arm - not easily, we'll have to take the pilot."

"He won't co-operate with you - for a start he speaks little English and there is only enough fuel to return to the private airfield he flew out of in Jordan" piped up Bensouda, apparently taking delight in their predicament.

"Michael - she's probably right, unless we can fly that plane on our own..."

"I will not willingly walk into any trap this vindictive spider may have woven for us Nikita, there has to be an alternative...."

Despite his sharp words Nikita could see that he was having trouble standing without swaying --they didn't have the luxury of discussing the best strategy and drawing up a careful profile here in the middle of the desert.

"Ok - what would be your suggestion?" she asked Bensouda.

"I can get you onto that plane - without my assistance the pilot will fly off and desert you. If you try to force him to go to any specific location he will not have clearance and we may be shot down. Trust me - your best chance is with going for the route of my choice ...into Jordan and then across Saudi Arabia by container truck to Port Rashid in Dubai."

"And then?"

"International flights from Dubai can take you anywhere in the world my friends. But you'll have to play along or I'll tell the pilot to go and leave us here "

"Nikita - no. We cannot trust her!" Michael had given up trying to stand and was sitting on the cool box, running his hand through his hair, which was matted and full of dust. He seemed to be desperately searching for an alternative course of action - his weakened condition dulling his normally razor sharp tactical mind.

Nikita sat down on the sand next to him - still keeping the gun pointed in Bensouda's direction, she had to persuade him that it was their best chance

"Michael - listen to me - OOOOOOOOOWWWWWwwww!!!!!!!!!!!! " She suddenly shot up from the ground rubbing the back of her thigh. "What the hell? ---Ouch I must have sat on something sharp". As she looked down to see what she'd sat she saw to her horror a creamy- yellow scorpion scuttling under the edge of the box that Michael was sat on - he too leapt up and shifted the box to see what it was. There was no doubt about it - a particularly venomous looking scorpion had stung Nikita. Looking up from the ground and into each other's eyes they instinctively knew what to do next. Michael grabbed hold of Nikita ripping her trousers off and bending her over his lap he carefully pulled out the poison sac from the bright red mark on the back of her thigh. Then he sucked hard at the entry point spitting out what he'd sucked he wiped his mouth and repeated his action hoping that he'd got most of the toxin before it spread into her bloodstream.

A chuckling sound from Bensouda at last filtered through the urgency of the moment and only then did the vulnerability of their situation dawn on them. In their panic Nikita had dropped the handgun which was now being pointed directly at them. Nikita stood up slowly wearing nothing but a light cotton jacket, a pair of panties and her pumps - Bensouda had her trousers over her shoulder -

"Your flight is now boarding if you would please make your way to the plane". Nikita swore she 'd wipe that grin off that woman's face sooner or later....

" I don't think so " were the last words Bensouda heard as Michael raised the rifle from his side in one sweeping movement and shot her in the leg - she crumpled to the ground in shock - giving Nikita time to pounce forward grabbing the gun -

"The car - quick Nikita -" Michael had rapidly taken command of the situation, and was dragging the cool box towards the abandoned vehicle..

"But Michael -"

"Do as I say Nikita - you drive."

She paused anxiously taking in the scene around her - the sounds of the plane, the rattling of the doors to the van and Bensouda's whimpering and cursing on the sand at their feet. Michael was opening the passenger door as Nikita swung into the driver's seat - she found the keys in her jacket pocket - one of the few items of clothing she still seemed to have remaining.....

As they drove off in a cloud of dust Michael searched in Bensouda's bag - finding the cell phone she'd been carrying..

"Merde..." he swore uncharacteristically "The battery is dead".

He tossed the useless phone onto the back seat, but was quickly distracted form his survey of the contents of the car as Nikita suddenly swerved to the wrong side of the road hitting sand and then bouncing back onto the tarmac surface. Michael instinctively grabbed the steering wheel to correct the direction of travel - glancing up to see Nikita sheened in sweat and breathing rapidly. This was not just an adrenaline rush from the close escape they'd had - damn though Michael - it was the scorpion toxin beginning to take affect - the neurotoxin in some scorpion stings could bring on paralysis and anaphylactic shock responses.

"Nikita - answer me - can you hear me?" he called out desperately...

"Yeeaah...." She slurred - her tongue feeling thick in her mouth - she kept blinking trying to clear her vision, which was becoming more and more blurred. She could sense Michael's concern and wanted to reassure him - but she was getting more and more frightened by the rapidity with which the symptoms were overwhelming her body.

"Nikita - hold on tight " she felt Michael's' arm wrapped around her waist pulling her into his body as he leaned over her and flicked the cut out switch for the engine....

"Brake now " he ordered and she slammed her foot down hard on the brake pedal - the heel on her shoe promptly snapping off. They skidded to a halt half on and half off the road - Nikita slumped forward abruptly. As she started to make sense of her surroundings amidst the confusion of muddled senses and rising nausea, she saw that Michael had cushioned her from the impact with the windscreen - he was out cold, an old cut on his forehead re-opened to let blood trickle down his face -

She tried to focus on what to do - she tried to call out his name but her throat was tight and despite trying she couldn't swallow. She knew this was a side effect of the scorpion toxin and that anxiety was another symptom - "mustn't panic" she thought - "mustn't panic". It was at that point that she added hallucinations to the symptoms of scorpion toxin - as out of the periphery of her vision appeared a vision in white - on horseback - like a scene out of Lawrence of Arabia there rode towards the car an Arab in white robes cantering out of the desert ................

On a horse with no name..............

The rider dismounted alongside the car and peered through the driver's window at the crumpled pair of section agents - a beautiful blonde wrapped in the arms of a half naked, stubble- chinned unconscious young man.... The woman seemed to be wearing nothing but a light jacket - what did these tourists think they were up to? - Luckily he was not with the police otherwise he'd have no choice but to arrest the pair of them for gross indecency. He would have smiled at the sight of her long, garment-less legs were it not for the obvious distress that she was in. She was frantically trying to wake up the man who was awkwardly jammed against the dashboard and the windscreen, he didn't look good, his head was bleeding and he looked very pale. The stranger opened the door and reached out his hand to Nikita's shoulder in a gesture of comfort - she turned to face him - her eyes brimming with tears and a look of barely contained panic across her features ...

Nikita desperately wanted to cry out for help - to get this stranger to assist her and Michael - but she could hardly talk and when she did all she managed were the slurred words...

"SSSSccorpion....puleaaas help........"

"Aqrab?" He queried, looking serious. "Aqrab???"

"Scorpion?" he tried again in a heavily accented deep voice, the 'p' sounding like a 'b' - his dark eyes looking straight into her blue eyes - the warm brown pools seeming ready to swallow her up. He was about thirty, with a trim beard and moustache, rather like a young version of Omar Sharif she thought idly. She shook her head trying to keep a hold on reality - immediately regretting it, as her vision became more blurred than ever with the movement...

"No - I mean yes - scorpion......- "

Before she knew what was happening he'd pulled her from both her seat and Michael's arms and was carrying her back to his horse - a beautiful Arab stallion, sleek and elegant - like his owner she thought for some strange reason...... strong and proud .....

Only as she realised she was being hoisted into the saddle and felt the warm body of the rider getting behind her did she think of Michael.

"Michael - can't leave him here - he's hurt........." at which point she faded out and fell back against the chest of her dark rescuer.....

Nikita woke up slowly - gradually becoming aware of her surroundings - taking it in bit by bit - she was lying on her side on a pile of soft cushions, apparently in a tent - by the look of the canvas walls around her. But where ? - the air was cool, evaporating the sweat from her brow - she was covered in soft wool blankets and there was an odd chilly sensation on the back of her thigh - she reached down with one hand slowly to check what it was -

"It's an ice pack - best thing for the sting itself - if you feel up to it I have some painkillers you could take......."

Nikita stopped dead - this had to be one helluva weird dream - she recalled being swept off her feet by a handsome man on horseback and then waking up in an updated version of the Arabian Nights - one with room service by the sounds of things......

Cautiously she rolled onto her back to see who it was speaking to her - the tent was lit with gas lamps - giving it a cosy glow that didn't hurt her eyes. On a low stool next to her bed of cushions sat her rescuer - he was indeed tall, dark and handsome.

She cleared her throat - smiled sardonically and said -

"Pinch me.... Are you real?" She blinked a few times and the fact that he stayed put coupled with the throbbing ache in her upper thigh convinced her that this was in fact very real.

He laughed softly and grinned "Insha'allah - If Allah wills it I am real - in fact I wondered the same about you when I found such a beautiful damsel in distress in the middle of the road."

It suddenly hit her that she didn't remember what had happened to Michael, she felt guilty about forgetting him .

"My friend - he was in the car - where is he?" she demanded more forcefully than she intended.

"I have sent out my men to pick him up. But how are you feeling? Can you tell me about the scorpion that stung you ...what colour was he?" He apparently wasn't as keen on discussing Michael's whereabouts as enquiring about her leg. He started to brush aside the cloth that covered her thigh and looked quite put out when she tugged it back in place while glaring at him.

"Yellow I think - but hang on there - I have a few questions of my own - what the hell were you doing riding in the middle of the night ?" Dark suspicions loomed into her thoughts...... "Where is she ? Bensouda's behind this isn't she!" Nikita ripped off the blankets determined to get herself into more of a defensive position - she sprung at the stunned young Arab and grabbed the decorative khanjar dagger from his belt prepared to use it if she had to. She scanned the area for any signs of other occupants or weapons. Her arms were spread out ready to take on all takers.

"Please sit back down - you must rest!" The young man entreated. "I do not know this Bensouda of whom you speak . We saw the plane land just after sunset and were curious - I rode out to investigate - horses are much stealthier than vehicles if one does not wish to be heard. Then I heard the gunshots and saw you drive off, to begin with I was heading for the site of the shooting to see what assistance I could offer - that was until I observed the way in which the car was being driven - I assumed the driver was the victim of the shooting.........."

"But - who are 'we' and where am I?"

"We are Bedouin, habibtee" he smiled gracefully before slightly bowing his head- wary of losing eye contact with what seemed to be a creature as potentially dangerous as the scorpion that had bitten her.

" You seem very well spoken for a nomad," observed Nikita dryly.

"I was educated in Oxford. "

" Now I know I'm dreaming" said Nikita collapsing back into the heap of cushions.

"Please - put down the khanjar - it was my father's, a family heirloom and I don't want any accidents happening.." the young man politely requested, although he could see that she wasn't in the mood for bargaining.

"Until I hear an explanation that I like, it stays where it is - I feel a damn sight more secure with a weapon in my hand."

"You know it is the tradition of the Arabic people to offer as a gift any of their belongings to which a guest expresses a liking for - and I really would rather offer you anything in this room at the moment, except that blade...". He started to glance around nervously, hoping there wasn't a rifle in sight.

"Nice speech - but no way, however, if you're a very good boy you can have it back later." She flashed him a smile - not particularly sincere - but stunning nonetheless.

"So I see- lack of clothing apparently you are oblivious to - but lack of armaments, another story ". He grinned at her - making Nikita quickly look down at herself - apart from her jacket, torn, lacking any buttons and stained with blood - Michael's? she wondered guiltily - she stood there in nothing but her underwear. She glanced up again quickly in case her host decided to take advantage of her momentary distraction - her face reddening rapidly.

"Umm - I don't suppose you have anything I could wear?" she muttered picking up one of the blankets and wrapping it around her waist in an attempt to hide her legs which seemed to be drawing a lot of attention.

" Please don't feel the need to cover up on my account - I 'm quite tolerant of Western fashions -" he tried to placate her.

"I don't care what you are prepared to tolerate - I'm feeling chilly...". A pathetic excuse and she knew it, but she was feeling compromised by the need to take control of a situation gone wildly askew and a growing attraction for the considerate, attentive and mysteriously attractive young man in front of her.

"May I introduce myself - my name is Majid and you are?"

"Nikita. Now about some clothing?" She thought that maybe if she was confronting him in more than her bra and panties she may stand a better chance of getting answers to her questions.

He opened a large wooden trunk and drew out a folded white garment - a dishdasha robe like the one he wore himself.

"Generally - it's not for women to wear men's clothing - but probably preferable to none. It is also not usual for female guests to threaten their hosts within moments of recovering from a potentially deadly scorpion sting - but you do not seem like an ordinary type of female."