Nikita was pulled back from her thoughts by someone calling her name from the top of the beach - she looked up and saw Majid waving to her anxiously

"Nikita - there's been a message from Michael!"

She ran back across the soft sand as swiftly as possible - needing to know what was going on.

"A woman called Corallie left a message - she said that Michael wants you to stay here until he returns and that he will arrange for you to have some downtime. That sounds like wonderful news to me!" Majid's expectant grin dissolved under the glare from Nikita.

"What is he doing? I should be going back with him, he's in no fit state to travel and he makes the decision on my behalf to leave me behind - how dare he." She was livid - angry at Michael's assumption that he knew best and was obliged to look after her, when she was a damn sight more capable of looking after the pair of them right now. She was also frustrated at being abandoned in a foreign country with nothing useful to do.

Mind you - she glanced back at Majid who was pretending to check his mail as if it did not really matter if she stayed or not.

"I don't suppose you could put me up for a while?" she asked coyly.

"I would be delighted Nikita," he blurted out, a relieved smile spreading across his handsome face.

"I'm going to have to talk to Corallie if that's OK?"

"No problem - please use the phone in my office while I sort out rooms for you."

Nikita was determined not to be left out of the loop entirely - Michael obviously had his reasons for leaving her behind, that's why he had left without seeing her, he would have known she would not have allowed him to depart alone. However, whatever his motives were he must have thought matters were urgent enough to require immediate action and it was seemingly important that she remain here in the Emirates, in relative safety. She came to the reluctant conclusion that if Michael got into trouble she would be better able to help from outside of Section.

Meanwhile she would need to do something to keep herself out of mischief, not to mention her host's bed, she thought wickedly. She thought back to her offer to assist Corallie and her colleagues, so what if Madeline had instructed her to avoid sub-station politics, they could not be as bad as the nest of vipers that was Section 1.

Could they?

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

A courier met Michael in the hotel lounge and handed him a briefcase containing a passport, plane tickets, cash and a cell phone. He was also provided with a carrier bag containing a change of clothes and a bag of toiletries.

Michael gratefully acknowledged the change of clothing and then made his way to the restrooms. Shortly after he emerged clean-shaven, but sunburnt, wearing a pair of chinos, white T-shirt and cream coloured linen jacket, not his preferred choice of attire, but a lot less conspicuous in a hot country than his usual black outfit.

He got in a taxi outside the hotel - a cream coloured Dubai Taxi Corporation vehicle - one of the few places in the world where the government taxis were leather upholstered Mercedes.

As they made their way along the beach road towards the airport, Michael checked his airline ticket - business class on Emirates as far as Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, where he would be picked up by Section transport. He made one brief stop on the way.

As he waited for his flight to be called for boarding Michael bought a postcard showing the fireworks on the creek and on the back wrote the message: -

"If you do not hear from me after 2 days collect my suit from the Al Nasr cleaners in Al Fahidi Street. Take care, I will be thinking of you. M."

He had committed to memory Majid's PO Box number that he had seen on the pile of unopened mail earlier that day and addressed the card to Nikita care of PO Box 7184, Dubai. Carefully checking that he was not being watched, Michael discretely slipped the postcard into the mailbox and walked to his gate.

Ten hours later, Michael stepped from the van entrance into the claustrophobic vaults of Section 1. He was exhausted from his journey and had not been expecting a reception committee - although he should have known better. Madeline stood there, glaring at him with inscrutable dark eyes as if she wished to turn him to stone - like a modern day Medusa. Flanking her on either side were two Medlab technicians, big men, holding their hands behind their backs, no doubt clasping sedatives in case he refused to go with them meekly.

"Hello Michael - Operations and I are surprised to see you back so soon."

"I bet you are." He replied softly but defiantly - holding her gaze.

"You will go to Medlab to have your injuries attended to and then we will debrief."

"No," Michael lifted his chin and shook his head gently.

"I'm sorry Michael - but that wasn't a suggestion it was an order."

"The answer is still no - I need to talk to you and Operations now, I have questions that need answers and I have no intention of waiting."

Madeline nodded to the technician to her left and he moved forward apparently intent on restraining Michael -

"You are making a mistake Madeline," Michael warned, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it.

"No Michael - it is you who is making the mistake, you should not have returned."

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

Michael felt as if he was drowning in a pool of ink - the darkness engulfing him and holding him down - filling his eyes and his mind, darkness so dense and impenetrable that no light shone, there was no way of telling which way was up - he felt his body lurching as he tried to regain his sense of balance, the floor seeming to suddenly open up and swallow him, sucking him down with a sickening sense of acceleration and then when he felt that he must achieve terminal velocity, he felt the hard ground beneath him as if it had leapt up to meet his body - with a gasp he opened his eyes and was dazzled by the brilliance of the white lights and the walls that reached up above his head - the white room.

As awareness crept back into his mind a fragment at a time he realised what had happened. The technician to Madeline's right had managed to grab his arm and inject him with the sedative as he had been distracted by the man to her left - only extreme fatigue had allowed him to be caught off guard so easily. He looked around slowly - the room was bare of all fittings - no bed, no chair, nothing. He was not restrained physically in any way, but as he tried to sit up a wave of nausea coursed through his body and he found himself retching painfully. So they had decided on a physiological approach to control - how very "Madeline".

Michael was certain that either Operations or more probably Madeline would come soon, so there was no option but to wait. He had no way of measuring time - he tried to count in his head but could not concentrate beyond one hundred, the figures just seemed to blur into meaningless characters.

He felt a chill draft and looking down saw that he was stripped down to a pair of white shorts - his side had been re-treated by the looks of the fresh bandages, as had his arm. The room temperature seemed to be getting lower, the floor was cold now against his back and the draft was bringing up goosebumps on his sunburnt chest. Michael tried to suppress the shivers that threatened to send his whole body into convulsions. He was seriously in danger of failing when he heard the door creak open and the sound of high heels slowly, but purposefully striking the tiles as they progressed towards him heralded the entrance of Madeline.

"Well Michael - are you ready to admit to your error of judgement yet?"

Through chattering teeth Michael managed to say-

"The error is all yours."

Madeline crouched down beside him - her knees bending elegantly and without effort. She looked into his face, almost with pity, but definitely with curiosity.

"Explain."

"If I f-f-fail to make c-c-contact within a certain t-time frame..." he stuttered " a sequence of events - will be set in p-progress...."

Madeline's lips curved upwards slightly in her peculiarly dangerous half-smile.

"Are you threatening me Michael?"

Michael could no longer speak clearly, so he clenched his teeth together tightly and just met her eyes. Madeline stood up and with her hands loosely clasped behind her back she started to circle him, like a predatory creature closing in on its prey.

"I have taken the opportunity to review your mission to the Middle East - it would seem that it was sabotaged by a rogue operative, we had no idea how deranged the poor woman was. Apparently she spun you a tale that led you to believe that Operations was behind the scheme to exchange you for a Red Cell agent. Naturally this is nonsense - there is absolutely no proof of her allegations."

Madeline emphasised the word proof very deliberately, letting Michael know that they would deny everything yet were guilty as challenged.

"Her sister Lamia?"

"We never had her."

"I will find her..."

"She has however become aware of the fact that you were responsible for her sister's death and has sworn revenge - it would probably not be advisable to seek her out- that is if you were ever to have the chance."

At this point Madeline stopped walking and stood at Michael's feet, so he had to tilt his head up to see her face.

"Tell me Michael - why shouldn't I have you cancelled?"

"No - you tell me why my continued existence threatens you - why?"

"Wrong answer."

With that Madeline turned on her heel and left the room and as she did so the temperature fell by another five degrees.

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

Meanwhile Nikita had got more involved in the Dubai sub station than she had intended. She had arranged with Corallie to come into their base to do some background research on Bensouda. It had been cleared with Hellway for her to use a spare computer terminal to carry out her search for relevant Intel and while there she had done some probing of her own.

She had contacted Birkoff and arranged to speak to him on a secure channel when Madeline and Operations were busy elsewhere. She was alarmed to find out that he wasn't aware that Michael had returned to Section 1 - no one had seen him. However, the White Room had been prepared for a new victim. Walter had told him that all the cameras and listening devices had been removed as had all fittings, as far as Birkoff knew the room was empty - but if Michael was in trouble - there was always the possibility that he was being held there.

Birkoff conducted discrete searches - Nikita advised him to check the Medlab reports of treatments and cross-reference them to injured ops returning from missions. Birkoff did this and was intrigued to find an anomaly here - two days ago an operative by the name of Johnson had been treated for bullet wounds to his side and arm as well as contusions and minor lacerations to arms, face and chest. However, Johnson had apparently been fit enough to go out the following day on a reconnaissance mission - video feed from the outing had shown a fit, healthy and uninjured operative. Birkoff frowned - he was caught like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming car - he could not ignore all the evidence that pointed to Michael being held for questioning with no record of his being in Section. At the same time he was terrified of confronting either Operations or Madeline. He had to speak to Walter, they had to do something before Michael disappeared without trace.

He arranged to meet with Walter in the old man's favourite haunt - his pal's bike shop. The Hell's Angels and Harley owners could spot an outsider a mile off and Walter felt secure in the back office, sat in the old leather chair, a Budweiser in one hand and the scent of engine oil in his nostrils.

"Hey Seymour - d'you wanna beer or aren't you old enough yet?" teased Walter as the manager of the showroom ushered Birkoff into the back room.

"I am old enough, but I'll stick to Pepsi Max if that's OK with you."

"So that's your secret for hyperactivity? I always wondered how you managed to move around so damned fast. What's up kid? Is it Nikita?" Walter's tone became deadly serious at the thought that his sugar was in peril.

" No - she's safe - for now. But something weird is going down. Nikita has contacted me on a secure channel - she says Michael is back here - but there's no record-"

"You don't think they've cancelled him?" Walter almost dropped his beer bottle as the shock hit him.

"Not yet - but someone came in two days ago and received treatment for wounds identical to those Nikita says that Michael had - but, the name of the patient is given as Johnson-"

"Johnson came back in one piece- I know - I checked in his hardware..."

"Which means Michael is back and is being held somewhere-"

"The white room? It would fit with them having removed all surveillance equipment -"

"Not all - there is one camera with direct feed to Operations only - he has access password protected, with traps set to flag him should anyone attempt to hack in -"

"So you tried?"

"Yes - but I gave up, if Operations finds out that we know-" Birkoff looked embarrassed at having to admit to failure when it came to breaking in on any computer system, but Walter could understand the kid's reluctance to hack into Operations private domain.

"At the moment we don't know anything for certain..."

"What do I tell Nikita?"

"That's a tricky one - if you tell her what we suspect, she's gonna head straight back and end up with Michael..."

"So?"

"For now - tell her nothing. Michael left her behind for her own safety- he won't thank us for bringing her back."

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

In the White Room Michael had managed to curl up into a foetal position to conserve as much body heat as he could. He began to figure out what Madeline was up to - if she intended for him to disappear, she would have had more physical means used to extract whatever it was she wanted from him. But the use of physiological torture - hypothermia and drugs used to cause utter disorientation left no marks. Therefore she was not intending to have him cancelled. She was taking care that there were no signs of punishment, which could mean any number of things - accidental death was not ruled out. It did however, indicate that whatever it was they believed Michael held over them - they were not sure of - that would buy time and maybe his life. Meanwhile he wondered how much time had passed - had Nikita received his post card yet - she should have...

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

Meanwhile back in Dubai - Nikita sat on the balcony of her room overlooking the sea and toyed with her breakfast of bread and fruits. She gazed mesmerised by the platter of watermelon, grapes and oranges - all perfectly peeled, sliced and arranged in a design of concentric circles - the pattern reminded her of the labyrinth that was Section - in all ways, architecturally, politically and ideologically. She wondered where Michael was in that maze - she hadn't heard back from Birkoff in a week now - he always avoided her disguised requests for a comm channel - sending back "unavailable" messages. As far as she was concerned that was as good as admitting that Michael was in trouble. Birkoff and Walter were not good liars and rather than try to deceive her, they always avoided the subject if there was something they knew which they did not want her to find out.

As she picked up a piece of pink watermelon and picked at the shiny black seeds, she heard a knocking at her door - she smiled as she recognised the tapping as Majid's. He was trying so hard to keep his distance, despite wanting to spend as much time as he could with her.

"Majid? Come in."

He entered the room and took in the view of her sprawled out in a wicker chair - her long legs snugly clad in a pair of blue jeans, over which she wore a baggy T-shirt as a concession to local traditions of women dressing modestly. The colour of the water melon flesh matched her lips and he was yet again reminded of the restraint which he had exercised in the past week. He desperately wanted her to desire him and abandon herself to his embrace, but he knew she could not feel free to do so while Michael was in some jeopardy. Hence his eagerness to do whatever it took to help her locate and liberate her "friend".

"Nikita - I have a post card for you from Michael I think." He handed over the card picture side up - the colours of the fireworks prettily reflected in the waters of the creek - Nikita turned it over and read the short note neatly penned on the back -

"Two days? - but it's been 9 days since he left - Majid , how long have you had this ?"

"It was sent to my company PO Box number, it is only checked twice a week, I'm sorry -was it urgent?"

"I think so - I just hope it's not too late, I need to get to Al Fahidi Street - going that way?"

"Of course - I am happy to be your driver - and anything else you may require..." he mumbled the last part of his reply in a flirtatious manner, half hoping to get a response.

"What I need now is a driver - but if there's anything else you can do for me - don't worry I'll let you know!" She grinned up at him as she grabbed her bag and stuffed Michael's postcard inside, as she squeezed past him out of the door she gave him a playful smack on the butt, which she knew would cheer him up and it cost nothing....

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

The laundry on Al Fahidi Street was tucked in a row of at least ten other similar shops - all over Dubai, stores and services seemed to be clumped together, computers in one street, clothes in another and so on. The Al Nasr Laundry was small and quiet - the back room was filled with steam as men pressed clothes with grim determination. Majid rang the bell and exchanged ritual pleasantries with the manager, eventually gesturing to Nikita.

"Um - I've come to collect a suit - left by a friend of mine."

"Ah yes - Mr Michael said he may not be coming back yet for clothes and that a beautiful lady may come in his place".

" Yes - Mr Michael - did he leave anything with the suit?"

"No - and not western suit - he left dishdasha for cleaning -." With a confused look on his face the man brought from under the counter a white garment wrapped in a clear plastic bag - he unsealed the bag and pulled out the garment, pointing to some blurred blue markings on the hem.

"Very sorry madam, could not clean away ink...try hard but ink no come out", he frowned at the stains hoping they would dissolve under his scrutiny, but they didn't.

Closer inspection revealed the marks to be writing - barely discernible, but definitely a written note of some kind. Nikita quickly folded the dishdasha up again, smiled broadly at the apologetic looking laundry proprietor and said-

"No worries - it was an old one anyway - what do we owe you?"

"Nothing - I cannot charge for poor work - please take it madam and next time we do special deal." He was desperate not to lose business to his many competitors outside the door.

Majid escorted her back to his car -

"That's one of mine - my initials are monogrammed on the pocket."

"I'm sure you've got others. Now let me read what it says..."

She could make out the letters -

CA-- O-ERS-GH-

TE-- GE-RGE HE NEE-- TO -EE ME

DO-T LE--VE -ERE DANGE-

Nikita scribbled out the letters onto the post card:

CA-- O-ERS-GH-

TE-- GE-RGE HE NEE-- TO -EE ME

DO-T LE--VE -ERE DANGE-

"Could those faint lines be 'L's?" asked Majid.

She filled in the lines as 'L's and the message then read: -

CALL O-ERS-GH-

TELL GE-RGE HE NEE-- TO -EE ME

DO-T LE--VE -ERE DANGE-

As soon as she worked out the first two words, Nikita, put the card in her bag and crumpled up the dishdasha.

"Well?"

"Be a sweetie and drop me off at the Hyatt will you?" Nikita flashed him one of her disarming smiles.

"Coffee with the girls again?"

"Yep- I told Corallie I'd meet up and go shopping this week and we're half way there."

Thirty minutes later Nikita was sat at Corallie's computer terminal threatening to expose Birkoff's secret fantasy to Walter if he didn't agree to open a channel to her. Eventually he gave in and was taken aback by her request

I need to contact George. How do I do it?

WHAT???

How? I need a number or an address of some sort.

You mean like an email address?

He has one?

Sure and he uses ICQ under the nickname Gaspode!

Birkoff - stop playing- this is urgent!

Michael?

Yes.

Try leaving a message in Stockholm- he spends a lot of time there - rumour has it he's got some Swedish minx tucked away in the pinewoods.

And their number?

Dubai will have that.

Nikita got the number from Corallie's databank and left the message:

"George - you need to see Michael".

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

Michael shuddered as he heard the door to his cell creak open and a draft of warmer air drifted in - Madeline appeared looking like the Ice Queen herself in a sable coat, wrapped around her cosily, apart from the eyes that glinted from below the hood of the coat she looked almost cuddly. Michael shook his head to dislodge the image of cuddly Madeline and immediately regretted it as a wave of vertigo threatened to send him into even more despair.

"Well Michael - the drugs seem to be working better than I thought - you are resistant to most of the psychotropic agents we employ, this is something new. It affects the fluid in the semi circular canals of the inner ear, decreasing its viscosity so that the slightest movement of the head triggers sensations of extreme vertigo. It renders the victim unable to balance and therefore walk, it also affects the visual cortex as a secondary effect, as the brain receives anomalous data from your auditory nerve it seeks compensation from your eyes which subsequently lose the ability to focus. By varying the dose, we are preventing your system from acclimating to the condition."

"Very--- impressive ---- Madeline." Michael stuttered his response one word at a time, not even trying to look at her.

"You know what we need to know Michael - tell me and this can all be over. You are becoming quite blue. As hypothermia sets in you will begin to hallucinate and then you will tell me what I need to know whether you are willing or not ."

"Go --to----hell."

"So be it." Madeline smiled and left, dramatically slamming the door behind her.

From his eyrie Operations smiled to himself with gratification - the new drug was working most satisfactorily; he would have to commend Stasiowska for her first class research. The combination of sensory disorientation and hypothermia would allow them access to Michael's mind that extreme physical torture would never have achieved. The walls that his Class 5 operative built up would simply dissolve away, leaving him open and vulnerable to Madeline's inquiries.

Michael was now having trouble focussing - his eyes were trying to make up for signals from his ears that indicated that he was tumbling out of control - yet the walls stayed still - it was his eyes that were rolling - shutting them did not help much - he dreaded falling asleep.

Then the hallucinations started.

He imagined that Nikita was with him, kneeling down and taking his hands, curling up behind him to share her warmth, he could feel her breath on his face and her fingers caressing his tangled hair. He could almost catch the scent of her in his nostrils - he slowly rolled over, but as she did she seemed to get up to leave. The image of Nikita crouched down in front of him - he could see her distinctly - dressed in a pink flannel nightie, with satin hearts appliquéd to the front. On her feet - large fuzzy pink slippers, that seemed to have long ears and whiskers - the whiskers twitched and the slippers started talking to him - they were saying, "Do you want us? Take us. We are here for you. Just slip inside- we're so warm and snug - come..." at his point he backed off suddenly and the disturbance to his inner ears made him double up as he began to retch repeatedly.

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

Operations was hunched over his monitor watching Michael suffer, wondering to himself out of idle curiosity what demons were plaguing the man, from his reactions they must have been quite horrific. He could see Michael writhing on the floor of the White Room his face distorted by a silent scream. The watcher's concentration was broken as Birkoff paged him.

"Sir - incoming call for you on secure channel."

"Where from?"

"Oversight."

"Damn..." muttered Operations under his breath.

"Sir?"

"Put it through, Birkoff."

Birkoff did as requested and then returned to his keyboard to send a short message to Nikita-

Gaspode called

He smiled to himself and waited anxiously for a reaction from above.

"George? This is a surprise - I wasn't expecting to hear from you before our next scheduled conference."

"There is no reason you should have been - is there?"

"Of course not."

"I'll be calling in sometime in the next two days - I need to see Michael."

Operations nearly choked, his eyes bulged and he felt his throat constrict.

"That won't be possible - he's-"

"Not on a mission- I took the liberty of checking with Systems, Michael is not logged out currently. Is there a problem?"

"It's just that we gave Michael some down time after the mission to the Middle East. I would hate to drag him back-" Operations twisted his mouth into a pale imitation of a concerned smile.

"Do it - I want to see him - is that clear?" George made it quite obvious that he was issuing an order and not making a request.

"May I ask why you need to see one of my operatives so urgently?"

"You can ask-"

"Ah - but you're not going to tell me."

"You know how things are - so that's fixed then."

"Yes sir." Operations swallowed hard and did not break his position until George bade him farewell and the channel was shut off.

"BIRKOFF !!!!!! GET ME MADELINE - NOW!"

"Yes sir."

Birkoff was as petrified of Oversight as the rest of the members of Section - but this time he couldn't wait for the man to arrive and do something to wipe the smirk off Operations' face. If what they suspected was true and Michael was being held under duress at the command of that man he would deserve everything Oversight could throw at him. Birkoff also hoped the threat would force his hand and make him release Michael. He called Madeline and sat back in his swivel chair so he could watch her enter Operations' office - he wanted to catch their faces - but he was in for a disappointment. The moment that Madeline walked through the door, the shutters went down on the windows, screening the occupants from the chance gaze of operatives below.

"Madeline - George has been in touch - he wants to see Michael - how the hell did he know?" Operations was livid - his face virtually mauve in nasty contrast to his shock of white-blonde hair, closely cropped and almost bristling with the rest of the man's body.

"We don't know that he is suspicious-" Madeline tried to pacify him.

"Oh come off it Madeline - that man only sticks his nose in when he smells a rat - and he has sources I can only guess at - you are certain that no-one knows of Michael's incarceration?"

"Only you and I" - she said in a conciliatory tone.

"Madeline...?"

"Don't be absurd - I have as much at stake as you have."

"He's coming any time in the next two days - how long will it take to get Michael on his feet again?"

"The drug takes eight hours to be broken down and then for his system to restabilise - well..."

"Times Madeline - how long?" He clenched his fist determined not to be beaten by this setback.

"We don't actually know - our previous trials were conducted on abeyance ops who were disposed of following the testing period."

"Oh my God - you mean there may be side effects that we aren't aware of?"

" Stasiowska's original experiments were on rats - there appeared to be no permanent side effects, but then again-"

"What?"

"Well it is difficult to assess damage to higher brain functions in rodents -"

"This gets worse - if Michael turns out to be a vegetable I think George may just notice that!" By this time Operations' voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"It was you who insisted on the need to deal with Michael now - you couldn't wait, I tried to warn you-"

"Drop it Madeline - not now! You will get Michael out of that room and in one piece in the next ten hours, we can argue that it has taken that long for him to return."

"That may not be possible-"

"Make it possible. You will do whatever it takes to pull him together again. Then we'll find out what went wrong."

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

Nikita got the message from Birkoff and was pleased - so George was going to call in and kick Operations butt into touch - couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

Meanwhile she owed it to Majid to lighten up a bit - he'd been on at her to relax and maybe join him for dinner or go out into the desert for a barbecue. Corallie recommended the desert trip - the stars at night were quite beautiful in the desert and she also thought a break would do Nikita good. After all there was nothing else she could do at the moment and it would take her mind off doing anything rash like dashing back to Section and threatening to gouge out Madeline's eyes with her stilettos.

Naturally Majid was delighted that she had agreed and arranged a trip for that very evening. An hour before sunset they set off in the Land Cruiser Prado towards Hatta and as they neared the immense red dunes that looked like a Martian landscape, Majid turned off the road along a poorly defined track that wove its way between the dunes. The colour of the sand became deeper and richer as the sun's rays hit the dunes at a lower angle, she had so far only seen the pale almost white sands of the Syrian desert and was not ready for the beauty of these ever changing mountains of sand.

After a while they started to head uphill following firmer sand tracks until they reached a point between two summits - looking out towards the Hajar Mountains to the east, dark purple heights of jagged volcanic rocks lit up by the setting sun. Majid stopped the 4 WD and got out - as Nikita turned to her door he was there opening it and offering her his hand to help her out.

"It's beautiful Majid - no wonder you've been dying to bring me here..."

Majid was laying out rugs onto the sand and when his task was finished he beckoned Nikita to join him. She sat next to him cross-legged looking into the west as the sun set spilling golden red light over the desert before sinking into the sea that was now out of sight. As the sun went down it was replaced in the sky by the moon - its crescent on its side with the horns pointing upwards like a silver bowl, it was soon joined by stars that glittered in the growing darkness. Nikita shivered slightly as the desert grew colder without the warm touch of the sun - Majid drew her closer tentatively, she did not resist, so he folded her into his arms and stroked her soft golden hair that reminded him of the recently departed sunshine. She snuggled into his warmth and felt content and at peace encircled by his strong arms - she could feel his soft beard tickling her forehead and tilting her head up smiled her acquiescence as their lips met.

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

Back at Section 1 the night was also quiet, but there was no wonder, beauty or bliss to be found in its shadows. Instead there was stealth and deceit. In the darkness two figures dressed in black entered the White Room sedated its trembling occupant and then transferred the cold body onto a gurney. A blanket was draped over the figure to cover him completely - there was no movement now - the shivers had subsided as the tranquilliser took effect. The gurney was then wheeled from the room apparently unobserved. However, there was one witness to this scene - Birkoff - wandering from his quarters back to systems to pick up a bag of wine gums had heard footsteps and curiosity got the better of his normal caution. What he saw chilled him to the marrow. Even from across the corridor he could feel the coldness of the air that escaped as the door was opened - it must have been like a refrigerator in there. Then he saw the covered figure being wheeled out of the room and into the darkness of the corridor that led away from him. He blinked rapidly, a lump in his throat forming - my God they'd killed Michael and neither he nor Walter had done anything to stop them ... He slid down the wall - clutching his bag of candy, his glasses steaming up as bitter tears sprung to his eyes.. Michael scared the crap out of him at times but he was like a big brother - and he'd not lifted a finger to prevent Operations and Madeline callously freezing him to death...he must have been in there for ten days maybe...what did they tell Nikita now?

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

Nikita welcomed the warmth and strength that enveloped her - taking away the demands on her to be the strong one for the time being - she let herself relax and be gently guided back onto the rugs, the sand was soft under her back and moulded to her shape. Majid leaned over her and brushed a tendril of blonde hair from her eyes, his lips brushed against her eyelids and she felt her concerns drift away. After all George would see to it that Michael was OK - if he was in any real danger Birkoff or Walter would have told her, they hadn't seen him so he was probably lying low dealing with things in his own way and thankfully keeping clear of Operations and Madeline...

She was brought back to the present as she could feel Majid's hand easing its way under her loose cotton blouse the fingers tracing patterns on her back and around to her belly and then up towards her breasts. She could feel herself becoming aroused in a very primal way - chemistry taking over from higher reasoning and her responses evolving from raw unbridled lust as her body prepared to take what it needed in the form of physical pleasure. ... Despite the warmth of the sand she felt tingly as Majid undid the fastenings on her blouse and slid the sleeves off her arms. Having exposed her for his delectation he distracted her from the chill night air by worshipping her body with his fingers, his lips and the tip of his tongue...he pampered her with such exquisite attentions that she arched her back in rapture.

Biting on her lower lip she moved his hands aside briefly so that she could unbutton the plaid shirt that he wore and tease her fingers through the dark soft curls of hair on his chest. As she ran her hands down his chest towards his belt, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close to him so their bodies met and she felt herself melting into his flesh as her smooth soft skin was pressed against his warm, muscular chest. As a wild animalistic craving threatened to engulf him he pushed the elasticated waist band of her baggy cotton pants over her hips and reached down to cup one perfect smooth buttock in his hand lifting her groin upwards so she could feel his hardness through the thin fabric pressing tightly against the buttons of his fly. She could feel herself gushing with moisture - the eroticism of the setting and the rich musky scent of the man intoxicating her like a drug. She wanted him now - filling her and taking her - pushing her over the edge into ecstasy and the consequences be damned. He slipped his hand past the elastic and into her panties and dipped his fingers into a warm, liquid reservoir of desire, languorously tracing a path along the delicate, petal-like folds of engorged flesh. Slowly he drew his hand out and made a show of licking his fingertips to taste her - smacking his lips with the impression of one whom has tasted a particularly luscious fruit, ripe and ready to be relished. In one move he pulled the pants and panties from her legs and tossed them into the sand.

Nikita grinned and pushed him onto his back and tackled the rest of his clothing. She fumbled with his belt buckle before taking charge and ripping it out of the belt loops, then unbuttoned the fly slowly, gradually releasing the impressive organ that lurked below - no underwear she noticed - hence the buttons rather than zip. No words were needed as he got the message from her nod and shook off the jeans as quickly as he could, kicking his sandals off first - then wrapped his bare legs around hers - to experience as much direct skin contact as possible. The illicitness of their open-air passions under the crescent moon added a taste of forbidden fruit to the occasion - a fruit whose taste was exotic, sensuous and sinfully delicious. They kissed deeply and remorselessly - their tongues caressing their lips before plunging yet again to meet in sweet encounter... their hands stroking, feeling, caressing and coaxing every square inch of their bodies into heightened states of arousal. Nikita began to thrust her hips towards his urging him to take her - to enter her soft, moist flesh now dripping with eagerness - the sexual act demanding consummation. Like teenagers they relished every sensation as their legs entwined and their lips became bruised in hard desperate kisses that were hungry as if starved of affection for decades. After what seemed like endless tantalisation of her body she eventually felt him slide into her and with a series of confident strokes he built up to a mutual orgasm which left them out of breath and glistening with sweat.

They lay in each other's arms under the watchful sentinel of the night sky, the stars almost winking at each other in silent admiration for the scene that had unfolded beneath them... both of them breathing deeply - Nikita's chest and neck flushed from her pleasure, they rolled apart a little - but their eyes met, smiling as Nikita asked -

" So what happened to the barbecue? I'm starving."

"I thought we'd start with dessert..."

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

"Michael - you really must try to eat something." Madeline implored of the thin man propped up against the pillows of a bed in Medlab.

"You were in a dreadful condition when you were found - you must have been in the snow for days before you were found and you still remember nothing?"

Michael refused to meet the deceptively warm looking eyes of Madeline - he did not want to move his head for one matter - the dizzy spells were less debilitating, but still struck with no warning when he moved his head quickly. The second reason for not responding was that he could remember - he recalled being curled up, shivering and alone surrounded by whiteness. Madeline could be telling the truth - it could have been a snowfall, but he also knew that she had been there and that he had not been dressed in a ski suit, but in nothing but a pair of shorts... He did not remember how he had got back to Section, but he was sure that he'd been met by Madeline and a couple of technicians from Medlab ...but he also had memories of Nikita being there in a pink flannel nightie. Until he knew where the truth began, the hallucinations ended and where the lies confused one with the other he was not going to say anything.

He was saved from the present onslaught of Madeline's probes by a technician who came up to the woman and quietly said -

"Madeline - Operations needs to see you."

Madeline sighed, realising that they were fast running out of time, there could only be one reason why he would call her away from her work on Michael...

"George - how delightful to see you again, " she smiled pleasantly and put her hand out in a gesture of greeting - one that the older man refused to acknowledge.

"Madeline, George has asked to see Michael - I thought it best if you filled him in with the details." This was her show and Operations was ensuring that he had no part in it that was on record, just in case they failed. A glint in Madeline's eyes indicated that she knew what he was up to and would hold it against him.

" I'm afraid to report that Michael is in a very poor state. As soon as we heard that you wanted to see him we tried to recall him from leave, however, our attempts to contact him at the ski resort in Austria were fruitless and we were concerned for his safety. There had been a number of avalanches in the area and our enquiries did in fact reveal to us that Michael had been recovered from a deep snow fall three days ago, he was suffering extreme hypothermia and some amnesia brought on by the accident. Our medical staff have examined him for head injuries - but have no evidence of significant trauma, although the lack of food and sub- zero temperatures may have contributed to his condition. He may have suffered from hallucinations and as a result is very disorientated and confused - so far he has said nothing to us."

Operations sat back hoping against hope that this fabrication would fool the exceptionally astute man that sat opposite him. Unfortunately the drugs had taken longer to wear off than Madeline had anticipated and Michael was refusing to co-operate.

"I want to see him - now."

" I'm not sure that will be possible-"

"Take me to him."

George was determined to see Michael - he could see through the lies of Madeline and knew that there was little if any truth in what she had said, but the game wasn't about telling the truths from the falsehoods - it was about proving what was real. To get his proof he needed to see Michael.

"Very well - but he is still in Medlab."

"I assume you are making sure he gets the very best of medical attention aren't you Madeline? "

George's pointed remark caught Madeline out briefly, she gasped slightly thinking "he knows" before rapidly slipping into a patent smile and saying-

"But of course - you know how much we value Michael."

"I think I'm beginning to work that out."

As they made their way into Medlab George made sure he got to the doctor first -

"I want to see Michael now."

"Yes -we all do" interrupted Operations suddenly afraid that George would get to see Michael alone.

"Not this time - I do not require the presence of either of you. You can wait back in systems."

Operations scowled at Madeline - actually beginning to feel fear creep into his bones - she met his eyes briefly before turning away and heading back towards Birkoff's station in silence.

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

"Hello Michael - you know who I am don't you?"

"Yes - you are Oversight."

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you - I think you know what happened but cannot accept it."

"What did they say had happened?"

"They showed me a report of the mission to recover factor Shrook - it wasn't your style and the signature had been scanned - I recognise your work Michael and that was close but not close enough."

"Why?"

"That's what I want to know too - whatever happened on your last mission was not in the profile - it caught them out somehow. So I want you to go back and retrace your path until you find the answer."

"When?"

"How fit do you think you are? Madeline described how you had been involved in an accident while in Austria. You look pretty rough; no doubt you've been subjected to some form of memory modification at the hands of the ever-resourceful Madeline. I will have you relieved of duties here - you will work directly for me on this one Michael - no doubt this will put you in danger but probably no more so than here."

"One condition."

"Name it."

"If anything happens to me - Nikita must be protected."

George smiled - "A weakness like that will be the death of you Michael - but you know that don't you?"

Michael looked George in the face for the first time in the course of their interview. With a sad smile and a slight tremble in his voice he nodded gently-

"Yes - I know."

"As you wish Michael - I will place Nikita under my personal protection until this matter is resolved one way or another. They obviously think you found something out and went to great lengths to hide it in a web of counter plots and devices. You must not contact Section until this is over - you may use certain resources that I have made available to you in the past. You will report to me and me alone - understood?"

"Yes"

"And Michael - the only reason I trust you with this, is that you have as much impetus as I do to find out the truth... I shall have you transported to our medical facilities immediately to better ensure your recovery - we will take the precaution of analysing your blood for drugs. You will return to the Middle East tomorrow evening - naturally Section must know nothing of this arrangement."

"What about Operations?"

"Let me deal with Operations". George allowed Michael a brief glimpse of a grin expressing pure malice before he made a call to Oversight.

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

Birkoff had seen the expressions on Operations' and Madeline's faces as they returned from the direction of Medlab - he tried not to look as it suddenly dawned on them that Nikita must have got through to George and that he'd arrived in time to find that they had killed Michael - Jesus was there going to be a stink over this - they'd probably be cancelled or demoted or something. Birkoff couldn't think straight - he had to get in touch with Nikita - no matter what Walter had said - he had to tell her... she was probably in danger too after all..

"Birkoff!" snapped Operations.

"Yes sir?"

"I want a location on Nikita - isn't she at the Dubai sub station? I want her brought back in - got it?"

"Sure thing - now?"

"Well if she hasn't got a tan now - it's just too bad " he drawled in a dangerous sarcastic tone - "Yes NOW dammit ! " and with that he slammed his fist onto the desk - sending Oreo's flying across the keyboards of Birkoff and the other computer operators.. Then he stormed off not prepared to wait for George to return from Medlab - if the outcome was bad it wasn't going to make a blind bit of difference where he waited.

Madeline raised one eyebrow and turned to Birkoff -

"I'll be in my office if I'm needed."

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

Shortly afterwards a body bag was collected from Medlab and carried out through Section to a van waiting ominously at van egress point. No one dared question the men that came and went - their authority was of a higher order and he was on his way to see Operations.

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

Birkoff lost no time in sending a message to Nikita -

Michael is dead - George is pissed - Ops wants you back - go!

As soon as he had send the message Birkoff looked up guiltily as footsteps approached his position - it was George - he was smiling grimly -

"Where are Operations and Madeline?"

"They... um... they're in their offices sir... shall I call them for you?"

"Yes - tell them to meet me in the conference room - and have some coffee sent in for me."

"Yes sir."

Operations could see from his eyrie exactly what was going on - George was trying to take charge - bossing about his staff, damn that man - what was he playing at?

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

George was sitting at the long briefing table a cup of coffee at his elbow as Operations and Madeline entered - looking rather like school bullies whose crimes had finally been found out - but who were still prepared to deny all charges.

"Well haven't you been busy? I don't know what you did to him Madeline - but don't worry the autopsy will reveal whatever it was-"

Madeline visibly blanched at his casual reference to a post-mortem examination -

"Oh my God -" her mouth fell open in sheer horror, mixed with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she never meant to hurt him that badly - what had gone wrong? - side effects - must have been the drugs - her mind flicked through what had happened -what could have gone wrong ..

"You went too far this time ... didn't you - you heartless bitch!" George had stood up in the meantime and was hovering over Madeline as her knees threatened to give way beneath her... she sunk into a chair -

"I didn't .." she began to speak but as cut off by George -

"Damn you - he wasn't some kind of superior guinea pig for you to practice your evil technology on- you were warned!" George took hold of the arms of her chair and delivered his attack only a few inches from her face, she could smell the coffee on his breath.

As Madeline recoiled back into the chair, George turned on Operations -

"Look George - I knew nothing about this-" he held his hands up in a sign of supplication -

"Don't you dare lie to me, the time has come Paul - time you were reeled in and put out of other people's misery for good." George could have shouted - but instead he spoke the threats softly and with the utmost of contempt.

"I don't understand George - what happened?" Operations tried to remain convincing but he could not control the sweat that shone on his forehead and made the palms of his hands clammy. His mouth was dry as he swallowed hard.

"What happened? You tell me! You have 24 hours to submit a report that will support any evidence revealed by the autopsy. If I am not satisfied that you had nothing to do with his death - don't go making plans for the vacation... "

As soon as they had ushered George out of Section, Operations turned on Madeline -

"What the hell is going on? What have you done? Michael can't be dead!" He was losing whatever control he had been keeping over his temper, which now erupted in Madeline's face-

"We have to go to Medlab - he may have been bluffing. " She insisted, trying to maintain her own decorum.

"Agreed."

Birkoff watched their silent progression to Medlab from his monitor - no one had had the chance to tell them about the body bag - he was glad not to be in Medlab just now. Out of curiosity he tried to access the recording of George's interview with the Medlab staff- but found to his dismay that there was nothing but static from the moment Operations keyed in his security code at the door to the facility.

He flicked back to the current situation and was puzzled to see the same static, the video feed from the entire wing had been cut off for the last 6 hours and he'd only just noticed, damn he was getting lax!

Operations had taken the precaution of making sure that no-one in Section apart from a few medical staff were aware of Michael's presence, just in case extreme measures were called for. Now he began to wish that he had allowed more people to witness the fact that Michael had been alive and relatively healthy until George had visited him - he wouldn't put it past that man to cancel Michael himself and frame Section 1 for his death...

He keyed in his code at the outer door and entered with Madeline at his side -

"Where's Michael?" he hissed at the trembling doctor that had apparently been waiting for the inevitable wrath of Madeline and Operations.

"He's gone." Whispered the medic.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN GONE?"

"After your visitor came out - he told us to expect two of his men and that we were not to interfere with whatever they had to do..."

"And?" demanded Operations becoming impatient.

"They arrived, went in to see the patient and left ten minutes later with a sealed body bag." The doctor was wringing his hands as he recounted this piece of information - surprised that the man before him hadn't already heard about it...

"Did you see what was in the bag?" asked Madeline becoming suspicious.

"Um - they didn't let anyone near them - HE told us not to interfere, what were we meant to do?"

"It didn't occur to you to call me?"

Madeline stepped forward in time to rescue the doctor from a caustic assault from Operations.

" So you don't know if the body was dead or not?"

"No - I guess not - but why take a living patient out in a bag?"

"That is not your problem any more." Madeline fixed Operations with a glare and he realised what she was getting at - Michael was now in the hands of Oversight and it was time they started to worry about their own mortality.

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

Nikita stretched out languorously in the king sized bed - the black silk sheets really were too much - so slippery and yet they felt good underneath her skin and Majid had certainly appreciated the contrast of her honey toned skin against the dark exotic bed covers. There had been something very hedonistic about sleeping with him, sexually satisfying and totally without hang ups - no regretful looks of angst from him afterwards - just a broad grin. She felt so at ease with him - she rubbed her toes across the sheets feeling sand still there - it would take weeks before she managed to wash it all out...

She rolled over onto her front and folded her arms under the pillow, drowsy and ready to doze a while longer to replenish her energy. She hadn't got much sleep last night she thought with a wicked smile and a chuckle as she relived a few precious moments in her mind.

The door to the en suite bathroom opened up and Majid appeared in a wreath of steam, wrapped in a white towelling bathrobe, his hair dripping water from tight dark curls.

"Dare I ask what you have in mind for breakfast?"

"Ummmmm - whatever we had for supper would be just fine with me..." drawled Nikita - her eyes half open to catch a glimpse of his well muscled body from behind as he dropped the bathrobe and went over to the balcony.

"Such an appetite - no wonder you're such a fit young woman." He called from over his shoulder.

Nikita gathered one of the sheets around herself, modestly covering her breasts in case of servants out in the courtyard.

"Ah - but you are such an accommodating host - so willing to please..."

She playfully slapped his butt and before she knew it had been wrestled to the floor - well truth be told she could have flipped him over and broken his arm, but that was never a move to impress lovers with...

He sat astride her, the sheet having conspired against her - pinning her down and immobilising her legs -

"OK so I guess it's your turn to be the slave - about time!" he smiled and raised his eyebrows mischievously.

No sooner was he about to exact his revenge for her cruel misuse of his noble body the night before - than there was a knock at the door. Nikita burst into a fit of giggles at his severely pissed off looking expression and watched with amusement as he pulled the bathrobe back on - desperately trying to conceal his state of arousal.

"What is it?" he called without opening the door.

"Urgent message for Madam."

"What?" he opened the door a crack to see the maid standing there her head down holding a small package labelled Nikita - URGENT . He grabbed the letter, slammed the door without thinking and returned to see Nikita getting up off the floor her face no longer smiling but wary.

"It's for you. I'll go and get dressed - I'll see you later-" He was certain she was being recalled and that her holiday was over.

"No - please don't go just yet, hang on a bit." She pleaded, grateful for his willingness to give her space but having a feeling that she was going to need his presence.

She opened the package - it contained a palm top computer and a letter from Corallie: -

Birkoff called - said Operations wants you to return to Section. He also said you had to check your mail urgently, enclosed is post box - take care, Corallie x

She flipped up the lid on the palm top, switched it on and connected it to the phone point in Majid's bedroom. She crouched down on the floor - becoming apprehensive, what had happened - why hadn't she heard from Michael yet? She knew it was foolish to keep a hotmail account, but at least she could check it from anywhere - the connection was slow but eventually her email came in - just one, from Birkoff...

She read it twice - the second time through eyes blurred over with unshed tears, then she bent over as if in agony and screamed out -

"NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Majid called out to her but she couldn't hear him - sounds were muffled, and she felt herself entering a dark tunnel as she collapsed, the walls of the room crowded in on her - crushing the air from her lungs.

"'Kita - talk to me - are you alright? Can you hear me 'Kita" - Majid cradled Nikita's head in his lap, wiping her face with a damp flannel.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she grabbed his wrist with a grip that could crush bone -and through gritted teeth she said -

"Never call me that - ever - got it?"

Majid nodded - worried about her - her eyes were red rimmed but no tears came, she was deathly pale, but a look of determination was set into her features as if carved there.

She sat up slowly relaxing her hold on his arm, the palm top was on the floor by her feet, she picked it up and checked the message again to be sure of the words - she'd been too late, George hadn't made it in time... Part of her wanted to know the details - how had he died? When? What had they done to him? At this point she tried to stop imagining but she failed and the tears slipped out, first one, a hot, wet, salty trail down her cheek, and following that one after another, as guilt and recriminations burst into her skull. She should have stayed with him when they brought him back here injured, she should have gone after him... she should have done something, anything - but not what she had done, not lounge around as if on vacation, indulging in nefarious pleasures while Michael had been dying - had it been slow or a bullet to the heart? Why? Why? She began rocking to and fro - grief tearing a hole in her reason and leaving a gaping chasm of despair...

"Nikita - what is it? What has happened?"

"He's dead..." she mouthed the words - too hoarse to say them out loud, her lip trembling despite her resolve -

"Michael?" He asked, mentally kicking himself, because he knew the answer and did not really want to inflict more pain on her.

She just nodded...tears dripping from her cheeks to the tiled floor in tiny splashes...

She stared at the floor looking through it seeking an answer - a reason to go on - if only she knew what had happened... Birkoff, he knew - she had to ask - so what if Operations wanted her back in - she'd look forward to seeing him one more time. A grim smile cracked across her reddened face as she decided on a course of action - she wiped her face on the sheet and to Majid's mild disdain blew her nose on it.

"I need to make a call - can you give me a few minutes on my own?" she asked in a husky voice.

"Will you be OK?"

"I'll be fine."

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

Michael was far from dead, but most people he knew now assumed him either dead or missing. He lay on his back in a sterile room, stripped to the waist, with numerous sensors taped to his chest and forehead. Monitors attached to these gave read outs of pulse, temperature, blood pressure, as well as any rapid eye movements which would indicate disturbances in vision - symptoms he experienced more often than he admitted. He had made good progress in his recovery from Madeline's ministrations, but the after effects of the drugs used still plagued him - however, he did not admit these to the medics that probed him at hourly intervals.

He wanted to get out of Oversight's headquarters and back to Dubai - he had to find Nikita and make sure she was safe, and while there pursue George's profile and seek the reasons behind Operations' scheme. He would have to search out Lamia for a start - she was the only one who could tell him what Mounia's agenda had actually been. Operations and Madeline would have him believe she was totally unhinged and that her actions had nothing whatsoever to do with orders from Section - that would fit if only there had been something tangible in the mission they had been sent to carry out. As far as Michael and Nikita were concerned there had never been any dangerous chemical weapon, no leaked Intel - only an alleged plot by Section to trade Michael for a Red Cell agent. He needed to go back to trace the route taken by the men that had attacked them in the van outside the airport - he had to find out who they were and where they had come from.

Michael needed to be fit and healthy- at least as far as the medics were concerned; he had wasted too much time already. George's intervention at least suggested that Nikita had received his message and therefore had followed his orders to stay in the Emirates, he hoped that Majid was taking good care of her...

Another wave of vertigo ploughed through him, he felt as if the mattress had been suddenly whipped from under his body and he was tumbling out of control into a bottomless pit - on reflection maybe he was - in reality he could see no positive outcome to the task he was about to undertake. Madeline and Operations would have even more motive to eliminate him once they discovered George's deception and realised that Michael was being sent to unearth the metaphorical bones they hid in their cupboards - rather like a trained bloodhound...

As for Nikita - he couldn't keep her from his thoughts - he wanted her to be happy and safe, but perversely the image of her in another's arms sent ripples of jealousy through his entire being. He needed her in the same way any cold-blooded creature needed the sun - to give meaning to his existence, to allow his heart to quicken and for life to touch his soul.

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

Birkoff - what happened?

No-one knows

Don't lie

It was Madeline - some new drug I think

What was it?

I don't know - they kept him in a refrigerated room..

WHAT????

Gotta go .. it's not safe to talk

"Damn you Birkoff - if I find out you knew what was happening and you didn't tell me..." Nikita swore and cursed the young man to everlasting damnation if she found out he'd been concealing the truth from her. Meanwhile she figured she had nothing to lose in contacting Section directly - they knew she was in Dubai, the sub station had informed them of her presence and activities tying up loose ends to do with the Bensouda debacle. She concentrated her thoughts and tried hard to quell the anger that was beginning to burn a hole through her self-restraint.

She got through to Birkoff first: -

"Put me through to Operations," she requested curtly and hissed as an after thought - "I will deal with you later - in person!" she knew the implied threat would scare the boy witless, but she had more than a suspicion that he knew more than he was letting on.

"Nikita - you received your orders I take it - why aren't you back?" Operations snapped at her.

"I'm on my way - but I really need to talk to Michael - there are some unexplained variables from the last mission, only he can clarify them."

She heard him gulp as he responded -

"That is not possible right now. He is otherwise occupied." His voice gave a semblance of normality but Nikita could hear a tone of - annoyance and maybe even irritation as if the matter was an inconvenience, if he'd have sounded guilty or remorseful, she may have been able to keep her temper in check, but his attitude sickened her...

"Really - 'cos rumour out here is that you've had him cancelled!!!!!!! Care to deny that???" she held the receiver in front of her and screamed the words down the phone at him - momentarily wishing she was there to see his face and then realising that if she had have been there, Operations would be on his way to Medlab by now.

"Nikita - I do not care to listen to rumours and idle gossip. I can assure you that I have had no part in Michael's current fate - as to his locality, I have no idea where he is. BUT if you don't bring yourself back here within twenty-four hours, I shall send a team looking for you."

It dawned on Nikita that as she had unsettled Operations he had let slip that he did not know where Michael was. It had not been a deception, he was genuinely pissed off at not knowing where Michael was - this was apparently compounded by not being able to control Nikita's whereabouts either. So why did Birkoff think Michael was dead...?

"Why don't you know where Michael is? He returned to Section over a week ago..."

"I don't have to answer your facile questions Nikita - but I am ordering you to return to Section. Don't make me come looking for you."

Nikita hung up the connection- it was time to move on - but where? She had a gut feeling that Michael would be returning to Dubai - he had said he would and if he was still alive she wanted to be here for him. Birkoff had said something about drugs and refrigerators - what the hell had happened? What had they done to Michael that made Birkoff convinced he was dead?

Nikita realised that she was sat in heap on the floor of Majid's "master" bedroom wearing nothing but a crumpled black sheet - perhaps the first step would be to get dressed.

She looked at her face in the bathroom mirror as she brushed out her hair - her eyes were reddened from crying and her cheeks streaked with trails of tears. But she was no longer grief - stricken, there was no time for sorrow - if Michael was dead, those responsible would pay and if he weren't - he would need her in a fully functional status...

From the corner of the bedroom she heard a chirpy voice -

"You have email"

She dropped the hair brush and ran to check - it was a stark message:-

DXB 2350 EK005

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

Michael had convinced George that he was ready to go back into the field and was now sitting in the toilet of the Boeing 777 that was taking him back to the Middle East. He felt dreadful - the vertigo was bad enough on terra firma - but here it was nearly unbearable - his staggering gait down the aisle drew a few unsympathetic looks from passengers thinking him the worse for wear after a few too many courtesy drinks. On the contrary, he was very sober, he pulled down a paper cup from the dispenser and filled it with drinking water and took two Stemetil tablets that helped counteract the nausea brought on by the disorientation. The warning light went on above the door, requesting all passengers to return to their seats and put their seat belts on- wonderful- more turbulence... just what he needed.

He opened the door and made his way back to his seat carefully - pulling himself along by grabbing the headrests on each seat on either side of the aisle until he reached his place. The flight attendant came by smiling -

"Is this your first flight? Can I do something for you?" She had won a coin toss with her colleague Nadia as to who would have the pleasure of assisting the gorgeous young man that was so obviously suffering from terrible travel sickness.

"No to both - thank you." Unfortunately as soon as she heard his voice there would be no getting rid of her in a hurry.

"Perhaps a drink of water? "

"No."

She still persisted -

"Here let me wrap this blanket around you - you're shivering."

He was trembling slightly in fact as a result of his efforts to remain in control - but he could not tolerate any more ministrations from the overbearing woman - he took hold of her wrists in a firm grip and said-

"Just leave me alone - please." The way he pronounced the letter 'p' in 'please' almost made her salivate with desire and the feel of his hands around her wrists would fuel her fantasises for the foreseeable future. As for the sad look in those incredible green eyes - she envied the woman who got the chance to make him smile. Her reveries were interrupted cruelly as the chief steward tapped her on the shoulder-

"Angel - I don't think there's anything the passenger wants from you at the moment, can you do drinks duty in the rear? "

She had no choice but to give up - as she turned to return to the galley area she caught a look from her friend who was beckoning her to tell all.

"Well Angel - how far did you get?"

"He's French and he said he'd love to have dinner with me later." She lied to cover up her complete failure. Then she grabbed the drinks trolley and shoved it in the opposite direction towards the economy seats.

"Liar" mouthed Nadia.

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

He didn't look out of the window as the plane came in to land, but sat with his eyes clamped shut and his teeth gritted against the rising bile from his stomach, praying he wasn't going to throw up.

Fortunately Michael was only carrying a small hold all and a briefcase, so he didn't have to wait in the baggage hall, but went straight to the X-ray machines. The police detected nothing, although they gave him an odd look as he propped himself up on the luggage trolley, which seemed superfluous for the minimal number of bags.

As he slowly pushed the trolley with the two bags out of the air-conditioned coolness of the arrivals lounge and out into the hot, humid air of Dubai he was assaulted by a blonde whirlwind. He found himself encompassed in a mass of soft blonde hair and hot wet tears, Nikita wrapped her arms around him in a crushing hug -

"Oh Michael - thank God you're OK - I thought you were dead!"

She loosened her grip to hold him at arm's length to check him over - she was shocked at what she saw, he was swaying, his eyes blinking rapidly and as he began to collapse she pulled him forward into her arms again-

"What happened Michael? What did they do?"

Nikita took Michael's hold all in one hand and slid the other arm around his waist to support him, he gratefully leaned into her, muttering -

"Thank you"

Now she was really worried, no "I'm fine" bravado, but a willingness to take her support and gratitude for it - something was not right, and the sooner she got him away from the crowds the better. She also knew that it would not do to take him to Majid's home - a hotel would have to do. She helped him into a taxi, pushing waiting tourists aside.

"Please let me through my friend is ill - thank you."

In the back of the taxi he rested his head on her shoulder, his eyes shut but not asleep...

"What is it Michael- what's the matter?"

"Drugs - explain later, " he whispered softly, his breath caressing the skin of her neck.

She instructed the driver to take them to the Al Bustani Hotel - it was nearest to the airport and she wanted the journey to be as short as possible.

Her intuition that Michael would not be up to a long car journey was confirmed as he groaned whenever they swung around corners and took on a distinctly greenish hue as the car wove a crazy high speed path across five lanes of traffic to get to the turn off for the hotel.

At the hotel Nikita propped him up in a chair in the lounge while she booked them a room. She explained that her husband was exhausted after a particularly long journey - for the sake of appearances it was best to feign married status in the larger more Arabic style establishments. Eventually she got the keys and went back to collect Michael - but there was no sign of him - oh no, not again! She started to panic and swept the lobby with searching looks desperately looking for some glimpse of him -

"Excuse me Madam - your husband went to the restroom - he wasn't looking well." One of the exotically dressed doormen had noticed her distress and had come over to point in the direction that he had seen the young man stagger a few minutes earlier. He thought to himself that if Westerners wanted to get that drunk they should stay in one of the other hotels.

Nikita thanked him quickly and despite his protests strode towards the men's room with a determination that would brook no argument. Fortunately Michael was the only man in there - he was bent double over the sink, retching, his hands gripping onto the sides of the wash basin. He turned his head looking up apologetically, then gave an anguished looking half smile as he saw Nikita's concerned face.

She walked to his side, grabbed a few flannels from the basket and held them under a running cold tap for a while.

"Here let me- " she wiped his face - the curls hanging forward into his eyes were clammy with perspiration. She used the task as an excuse to look more carefully at him, he was shivering slightly and as she brushed a fingertip against his throat she could feel his pulse racing. She dropped the flannels into the large basket on the floor and taking his arm she asked -

"Do you think you can make it to the room?"

He nodded grimly.

Having made it as far as the room Michael sat heavily on the edge of the bed - he fumbled in his jacket pockets until he brought out a small vial of pills -

"Some water please."

"What are they?"

"Just something for the nausea..."

She fetched a glass of water and sat next to him as he took two small white pills from the container.

She reached out for his free hand and squeezed it gently-

"Michael - what's going on? - Birkoff said you were dead-"

"Section thinks I am dead ...for now." He stated as if knowing it would not take long for them to work out that he was indeed still alive if not exactly kicking.

"Please tell me what's wrong - what did they do to you?"

He put down the empty glass and took her hand in his, stroking her fingers one at a time-

"I-I do not remember everything, they told me I'd been found in an avalanche but that's not true, I know I was cold, very cold, but it wasn't snow - I think it was in Section. The drugs made me dizzy to begin with, then I couldn't move, I don't know what they were using, something new maybe."

"Why did you go back without me?"

"I wanted you to be safe. I could see you were --happy--with Majid, I didn't think you'd mind...." he couldn't look at her as he said this, his words coming out disjointed, heavily accented, his voice almost breaking as he admitted out loud that he didn't think she'd care if he was there or not.

Nikita felt awkward as she recalled the last week and a half, she had been happy in Majid's company. He was undemanding and fun to be with, especially when she thought Michael was going to be OK, but as soon as she had got the message from Birkoff that Michael was dead her world had collapsed in on her. It had taken the shock of believing she had lost him forever that caused her to realise how much she needed him.

"Oh Michael - you mean more to me than I'm prepared to admit most of the time. Once I told you that I was very fond of you, it goes deeper than that. When I thought you were dead my body couldn't cope, I passed out", her eyes began to fill with tears as she remembered how she had felt.

Michael put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him -

"I'm sorry - I did not know that you thought I was dead-"

"Shh - don't apologise for something you had nothing to do with - for a change!" she chuckled quietly into his shoulder as he drew her closer to him, feeling her warmth and vibrancy seeping into his sun- starved body.

"You look exhausted - I think you should sleep-"

"'Kita -will you sleep with me?" he asked tentatively, sensing that she'd been sharing another's bed recently.

"Yes - if that's what you want-"

"Please..."

She helped him undress, taking care not to cause him any discomfort. She made him rest his hands on her shoulders as she got him to stand up so she could take his pants off. She undid the belt, noticing how its buckle was on the last hole; he'd become quite thin she thought to herself. Then the zip which she eased down with a small smile on her lips, almost tempted to give him a kiss there as she knelt in front of him, but realising he was beginning to sway, thought better of it -later maybe. She eased her hands under the fabric and over his hips loosening the pants so the dropped to the floor in a heap around his ankles. He stepped out of each leg as she patted the back of his calves and then slumped back onto the soft mattress.

Nikita tugged at the comforter until it came out from under him and then covered him up - she was concerned at the shivering - it was by no means cold in the room.

"Michael - are you cold?" she asked absently stroking his back through the bedclothes.

"I'm fine."

"The truth!"

"I feel a chill all the way through my body, it reaches into my bones, I feel as if I shall never be warm again..."

"Let me try to do something about that-"

Nikita smiled as she shed her light cotton dress in one fluid movement and than after a moment's hesitation divested herself of her panties. She crawled under the bedclothes behind Michael - he was still shaking a little - and snuggled up close, holding her body against his to share her warmth-

"You don't have to Nikita - "

"Shut up - I want to, any way you need warming up, come here."

He turned slowly and felt her wrap her arms around his waist, her breasts pressing into his chest, he looked into her face -

"Kita - I wish -"

"Don't say anything - " she kissed him softly on the lips, sealing the moment and making it clear that words had no place between them that night.

Michael could feel the ice that encircled his heart begin to melt. He welcomed the return of the sun into his life and embraced it as if tomorrow the darkness would come to snatch it away from him again as it always did.

As they lay in each other's arms wordlessly touching one another's bodies, lazily stroking and kissing, they embarked on a night of healing. Nikita enfolded Michael in her arms, his head resting against her breasts, so that he could hear her heart beating, she stroked his hair taking the time to play with the silky curls, combing them between her fingers. It was a night of comfort and tenderness, not passion, despite the electric current that seemed to flow between them, a completed circuit wherever their skin touched, it took backstage to the need to feel whole again. Nikita realised now that what she had done with Majid had served as a release for tensions, an appetite for fulfilment that had less to do with love than with lust - the sex had been great, but that was all it had been - an enjoyable diversion. Majid could tell that her feelings for Michael went deep - he had told her that she would move heaven and earth to save this man and she knew in her heart that it was true.

She felt him moving closer to her, his arms trying to pull her even nearer, as if he was scared she would slip away if not held tight. She ran her right hand over his shoulder and his uninjured arm - she had checked his right arm earlier and was pleased to see that the bullet wounds from a fortnight ago were mending fast. He responded to her touch by stroking in return - his hands caressing her back and working their way down to her buttocks. In return she cuddled up closer still, feeling the warmth of his breath on her chest, then the heat intensified as he took the nipple of one breast into his mouth gently teasing it with his tongue, she could feel it hardening under his touch. She wanted so much to make love with him, she ached for physical unity with him, but part of her was worried about his physical condition...

"Michael - should we be doing this - are you well enough?"

"Nikita - please let's not waste the opportunity - who knows for certain what the morning will bring..." His eyes beseeched her and that was all the reassurance she required ...

The dawn was heralded by the call to prayer from the nearby mosque and as the sun rose, they lay entwined, curled in each other's protective auras - complete and whole. As individuals they were both fierce and consummately skilful operatives for Section 1, but as a couple they were invincible. Apart, they were each other's weaknesses, but together they drew on a source of strength that was older than the hills. Theirs was the love of soul mates - pulled together by forces far more powerful than those which would endeavour to separate them. The feelings they had for one another were removed from words and beyond earthly constraints - their commitment to each other transcended romantic notions of love and happiness and was rooted in a spiritual plane that would endure for eternity.

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

Nikita awoke as a loud crashing sound reverberated through the suite from the bathroom - Michael was no longer at her side but the sheets were still warm meaning he hadn't been gone long -

"Michael?" she called out as she rushed to find out what had happened -

Michael was stood there - magnificently nude, staring down at the glass that was in broken shards across the floor.

"I was taking some more pills - I misjudged the distance to the shelf - I'm sorry - didn't want to wake you -"

"It's OK - come back to bed -" she guided him around the wet puddle and got him back onto the edge of the bed. She couldn't help noticing how he staggered slightly - not his usual purposeful gait.

"Michael - you can't go on like this- these side effects are not going away, we need to find out what was used on you and then get some type of treatment -"

"Nikita - there are other things to be done, until I work out what was going on behind our last mission I am working for George - ultimate deniability - this time I am dead even as far as Section is concerned - there is no going back for me until this is done. And anyway Nikita -the only person who knows what was used on me is Madeline and we cannot ask her -"

"Couldn't Birkoff find out - or maybe Walter - they'd do it for me?"

"Maybe - but you must not let them know I am alive -"

"But Michael-"

"No - think of the danger it will place them in - they are safer thinking me dead."

"OK - but let me try. Section is expecting me to be on my way back - I'll need to get in touch anyway to stop them sending out the bloodhounds. Operations wants me back - what shall I do?"

"Say you have received countermanding orders from Oversight - he will not dispute them, I can give you an authorisation code that he will not be able to deny."

"What about George - won't he wonder why I'm using Oversight codes?"

"No - it was a condition of my working for him - that you would be looked after.."

"Michael - please don't tell me you sold your soul to Oversight for the price of my safety!"

"It was that or nothing - I couldn't work against Operations without knowing you'd be alright if anything was to happen to me -"

"From now on Michael - we stay together and look out for each other - no more deals with devils-"

"Not yet - for now these devils have too much power - let's take some of that away from them."

"Deal! I'll contact Birkoff."

The conversation with Operations was brief and to the point - Nikita told him she would not be returning yet and could say nothing about her current orders, as they were direct from Oversight. Naturally Operations was furious, she could sensing him fuming - but the code provided by Michael removed his authority over Nikita until further notice. She also managed a quick word with Birkoff -

"If you don't want every finger on your joystick hand breaking - find out what they used on Michael - send me a file."

She hadn't given him time to respond before asking to speak with Operations but in her mind's eye she could imagine his Adam's apple bobbing in his neck as he swallowed hard.

"Nikita - we should make a start soon, they will trace your whereabouts..."

"Not yet - first we get some breakfast. Let me run you a nice hot bath - I have a feeling that you wouldn't be safe in a shower." Nikita smiled at Michael - as she pulled the comforter around him noticing that once again he was shivering.

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

Meanwhile at Section 1 George's 24 hour ultimatum was almost up - Madeline and Operations sat at the briefing table readying themselves for his visit.

"I don't like it Madeline - why did George authorise Nikita to work for him in the Middle East? He's digging, we can't afford for him to uncover anything-"

"It occurs to me that where Nikita is - Michael can't be far away, that's if we are right in our assumptions about George's scheme..." Madeline observed.

"So - we need to send someone in to find them first - any suggestions?"

"As a matter of fact - yes-" but before she could enlighten him Birkoff appeared at he entrance with George behind him.

"Well - do you have my report ready?" George asked with a smile that would have looked at home on the face of a shark.

"No - we do not - you see it is rather difficult to prepare a report on the death of an operative who we do not believe to be dead."

"Explain."

"Less than an hour before your visit, there are video records of Madeline visiting Michael to enquire of his health - Medlab also have her logged in and the time of her departure coincides with the time you arrived at Section 1. Michael was wired up to a number of monitors, keeping records of heart rate, blood pressure and so on. If he had gone into a critical state during your visit the alarms would have gone off and my medical team would have rushed in to check on his condition and administer whatever emergency aid as was required. However, the alarms did not go off, the video surveillance conveniently went off line during your stay and my staff received instructions from you to allow your men to remove the 'body'. You see I have no evidence that Michael is dead and if he were the conclusion I would be forced to come to would be that he had died at your hands. I would like to see the body - or have you 'lost' it?" Operations wore a smug grin throughout his exposition, which was removed without trace by George's next words.

"Paul - tell me where you found your spine - it was conspicuous by its absence when I was last here...I believe the two of you genuinely believed that Michael could have died - that's what bothers me. Why didn't you think of these questions then?"

"Are you confirming our suspicions George - what have you done with my operative?"

"Let me remind you that I am not the one under scrutiny here."

"We are also intrigued as to your decision to use Nikita without any formal request- we know you don't need to - but the courtesy would have been nice..." added Madeline from the sidelines.

"Like you say I don't have to ask - and you do not have to be told. When the time is right you will be told what you need to know, and no more. In the meantime, I'll settle for a report explaining the drugs we found in Michael's system - my analysts haven't come across anything like them before. Madeline I believe that is your area of expertise." He turned to bestow Madeline with a look that could have withered her orchids.

"It's here - the drugs were experimental - for use in conditions of extreme hypothermia." She handed over a disc and even managed a semi- smile for the benefit of George.

"I'm sure it will make for fascinating bed-time reading, thank you."

George got up and left the table - he also left Operations and Madeline with the distinct impression that not only was Michael alive, but that he was with Nikita and that they were working against them.

"Tell me who Madeline? Who are we sending after them?"

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

Nikita manage to coax Michael into eating some bread and fruit for breakfast, it concerned that he couldn't seem to remember when he had last eaten anything...no wonder he was so thin.

"I've already made enquiries about the flights that landed at both Sharjah and Ras Al Kaimah that night..."

"Kita - what happened to Mounia's body?"

"Michael?"

"She used to be a friend - a dear friend.... her family welcomed me into their home ...do they know of her death... Madeline said that her sister knew - how? "

"Why is it important Michael?"

"I have a feeling that it will become important... there's something at the back of my mind...just wish I could remember clearly..." Michael rubbed his forehead as if the action would dislodge the hidden memories that taunted him with their elusiveness.

Nikita took his hand and gently brushed her lips over the knuckles...

"It'll come back to you - I'm sure, for now though we need to make a start and we agreed that the flight data would be the best place to begin. Yes?"

"Yes. Show me what you have so far." He made the effort to pull his mind back to the present to deal with facts and figures that were tangible and not evanescent like ghosts lurking at the periphery of his vision.

Nikita opened the palm top given to her by Corallie, which had all of her files transferred from her temporary directory on the sub station mainframe. Nikita watched anxiously as Michael scrolled through the lists of flight information - destinations, routes, points of departure, passenger lists, cargo inventories, not to mention safety reports on the actual aircraft. He looked as though he was digesting every shred of data and analysing it systematically until he arrived at a conclusion - if anyone could find a clue in this mass of data it would be Michael.

"Got it - the flight chartered by Mounia was from a private company in Syria, all above board, in fact the plane returned with the pilot the same night, no questions asked. However, the flight from Azerbaijan to Ras Al Kaimah - re-routed to Sharjah, delayed its return flight for twenty-four hours and then when it eventually took off - it listed its destination as Morocco. It had originally been designated as a return flight. Nothing was unloaded or loaded onto the plane, customs were not involved. There were also landing cards completed and handed in at the airport for six passengers - none of which returned to the plane before it took off the following day."

"Six? - But we only saw four in the truck and the driver -"

" No - the driver was a local guy they hired at the airport- that leaves two unaccounted for. Also the change in destination has relevance - they did not get what they came for - so they did not return empty handed. Why Morocco?"

"Michael - Rabat?" Nikita gulped hard remembering her ordeal in Morocco at the hands of the Red Cell inquisitor.

"Red Cell abandoned the warehouse Nikita - it was sanitised after we got out. But you are right, it is suspicious. But first I think we should trace these men - we have their names and the boarding cards register the sponsor for their visas as the Panorama Hotel in Dubai-"

"That figures!" smiled Nikita.

"You know the place?"

"Majid warned me to avoid it - unless I wanted to get hired by the hour."

"I see - well we should pay the establishment a visit - don't you think?"

"Yes - together!"

"Fine - you have weapons still?"

"In my bag" Nikita got up from the floor to pick up her bag and as she turned was horrified to see Michael clasping his head - "Michael are you OK?" As he looked up she saw a pained expression that seemed to rip through his otherwise perfect features like lightning ripping open the sky to reveal a hidden anguish.

"I'm.... I will be fine." He managed to say despite the sharp pain that had suddenly pierced his head momentarily blinding him with its intensity.

"Michael -?"

Nikita dropped the bag and knelt down next to Michael on the floor where they had been studying the details on her small palm top computer, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and drew his head to her chest, stroking his hair trying desperately to comfort him -

"What is it? Tell me - "

"It's a headache - it will go - "

"Yeah -- well we're not going anywhere until you're feeling better. I've got a few more enquiries to make, you lie down and rest."

"We don't have the time" he tried to protest.

"Thirty minutes - or I go on my own."

"No - but no more than thirty minutes OK?"

"Agreed."

Nikita pulled him to his feet and without any hesitation took him to the edge of the bed and pushed him down, covering him up carefully. He caught her hand as it tucked the covers around his shoulders - looking into her eyes soulfully he whispered -

"Thank you..."

She leaned down briefly to plant a kiss on his forehead, resisting the temptation to climb in alongside him to hold him close; she had work to do.

Nikita plugged a cable into the back of the palm top and proceeded to contact Birkoff, she needed answers and soon - she had to find out what had been done to Michael. He was trying to hide the effects from her, but in his sleep he had lost his control over the tremors that shook his body and from what she had just witnessed he was beginning to get more than slight side effects.

What do you know?

He was kept in the interrogation facility for ten days - the temperature was decreased by two degrees each day.

When did you know about this?

We suspected he was in there

We?

Walter and I - when we checked Med lab for records of injuries like those you described Michael having.

And you did nothing?

Nikita - there was nothing we could do!

What drugs were used?

Only Madeline knows - but Stasiowska has been researching something new -

Who?

Stasiowska-

Damn - so what's the cure?

There isn't one - all the trials died - why do you need a cure?

Nikita ??

Nikita closed the connection deliberately - let him think Michael was still dead, damn them for not doing anything, for not telling her ... So Bensouda had been telling the truth about that - Stasiowska did work for Section. But what about Michael? Whatever they had used on him it was killing him slowly before her very eyes and she was powerless, there was nothing she could do to help him.

She yanked the cable from the telephone point and made her way across the room to look at Michael, his eyes were shut and he had drifted off into an uneasy sleep. She lay beside him taking care not to disturb him and then reached an arm protectively around his waist as she sobbed quietly into his soft hair, hoping the sounds would be muffled. She'd be damned if those bastards were going to take him from her - she would find a way to save him whatever it took.

Michael stirred next to her, gradually waking up he turned slowly and saw that she was crying.

"'Kita -what is it - what has happened?"

"Nothing - I'm just worried about you"

He enfolded her in his arms and proceeded to kiss away the tears from her face, gently tasting the salty drops as they ran from her cheek.

"Please - don't worry about me - I have had more of your love than I could possibly deserve - don't feel sorry for me. I'm feeling much better now - it must be time to go - shall we?"

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

They made their way by taxi to the Panorama Hotel - across the creek from the airport and in a more residential area of the city. The hotel was shabby looking and painted a ghastly pink colour, Nikita was concerned that the sight of the building alone may trigger Michael's nausea. The place had a reputation as a multi-national brothel amongst shore leave sailors and marines. Her presence would only be construed in one way.

Michael enquired after the two men they were seeking at the reception - memories were refreshed by the appearance of a roll of bank notes and a few hundred dirhams later had Michael in possession of not only the room numbers but also the spare keys.

"Adjoining rooms - eighteenth floor."

They made their way across the lobby to the elevators, Nikita feeling rather like an animal at auction being eyed up for value and as they waited she took Michael's arm making it clear she was spoken for.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Make out you've paid for me - it'll put off the more suspicious clients." She mumbled into his ear, nibbling his ear lobe.

Michael smiled - happy to oblige. He pulled Nikita towards him and slid a knee between her legs, causing the skirt of her short summer dress to ride up, he stroked the exposed flesh of her thigh all the way up and into her panties. Then he tugged her closer to him by the elastic and plunged his tongue into her mouth that was agape with surprise. The lift arrived and he backed her into it - nuzzling against her neck -

"Was that what you had in mind?"

"So I guess you are feeling better?" she smirked, adjusting her underwear that had got seriously rearranged.

"Now that you mention it - yes, now shall we get this over and done with?" He lifted his eyebrows in query.

"The sooner the better."

They stood either side of the door to room 1801, their guns ready, Michael nodded to Nikita who slipped her gun arm behind her back as she knocked loudly on the door -

A moment later the door opened a creak, Nikita grinned broadly -

"You ordered room service?" she made sure the innuendo wasn't lost on the man who frowned at her, by licking her lips as lasciviously as she could.

"Um - no - wrong room." But his eyes travelled down from her mouth to her cleavage and beyond -

Nikita looked up at the room number -

"1801? Right room - perhaps it's on the house."

She winked as he slipped the chain from its catch and as he opened the door slightly further to appreciate the view, he found himself shoved inside with Nikita's gun at his head and his arm twisted behind his back. Michael had slammed the door open and was scanning the room for the other man. The room was empty - so he went to the interconnecting door, kicked it open and threw himself to one side as a shot barely missed him. Nikita couldn't help without letting go of the man she had, so she settled for pushing him down to the ground out of the reach of stray bullets.

"He's dead! Drop your weapons! Nikita and Michael come in here slowly with your hands up!"

A woman's voice from the adjoining room shocked Nikita, especially as the female knew who they were - it sounded strangely familiar to Nikita. She glanced across at Michael - who was crouched behind the sofa - he shook his head at her to indicate that they were not going to surrender. He motioned to the door and Nikita understood - there were two of them to only one of their enemy- he wanted her to make a break for the door while he covered for them.

She nodded in acquiescence - he counted down with his fingers his hand outstretched - pointing to the door as he made his move. Nikita tucked her head down and ran, making for the door with her captive held firmly by the arm - virtually throwing him out of the room into the hallway. Behind her Michael rolled across the room taking shots in the direction from which the first had come. He didn't manage to hit the target, but at least it gave him and Nikita time to get away. He flung himself through the door and hurtled towards the elevator, which Nikita was holding open - her eyes scanning the corridor for reactions to the gunfire from room 1801. If they were lucky none of the residents would want to get involved. Her captive struggled briefly until she aimed her gun at his crotch and took the safety off. Michael spun around the corner and into the elevator -