Later that afternoon, McTavish returned to the hotel and knocked on the door to Michael's room. Michael ushered him in and motioned for him to sit.
M: Well...did you get any information?
McT: Yes. I managed to copy his files from his personal computer. And while watching the download - it looks like we need to investigate a doctor in Salonikia at the hospital there.
M: Good. You had no problems with being detected?
McT: I'm a little worn out - the girlfriend hasn't been laid for weeks - she came over and over again. Would have still been going at it if I hadn't jabbed her with a tranq to knock her out. The rest was easy.
M: Let me have the disc. I hope this intel is what we need because your uncle doesn't possess any transponders to attach to the office computer.
McT: Told you uncle is a little behind the times with technology.


Michael loaded the disc and the information spilled out. "Yes...this is what we need. The shipping manifests for the bio-chemicals. Humm...all the items are being shipped from various ports in Europe to Syria. In fact most have been shipped over the last month. What's this....and encrypted file attached to the last manifest."
Michael quickly typed in a series of decryption codes.
McT: (looking at the screen) Woooooo..I knew I saw intel on the hospital in Salonikia.
M: The lab must be located in the hospital. Good - we'll leave for Salonikia and infiltrate the hospital.
McT: How we going to do that?
M: We'll go in as technicians and search for the lab.

Michael and McTavish entered the Hellas Salonikia Hospital via a rear entrance, dressed as lab technicians. As they walked through the long corridors and turned a corner, Michael stopped in his tracks. At the end of the hall, Dr. Katerina Meracles stood talking with a nurse. McTavish looked at Michael, "What's up mate?"
M: Continue down the hall and ingress to the downstairs labs; I will join you in a few minutes.
McTavish looked puzzled but nodded affirmative. He continued down the corridor, passing Katerina and the nurse, then exiting down some stairways. In the meantime, Michael had turned and ducked into a storage room. He stood in the darkened room and spoke on his comm to McTavish. "Have you found the lab?" McTavish replied, "Not yet, there are half a dozen rooms that look like labs. How do I know which one we want?"
Michael did not reply. McTavish spoke again, "Mr. Samuelle, you there...I think I could use a little help here."

Michael had exited the storage room and was once again moving down the corridor. Katerina and the nurse had moved on. He quickly made his way down the same staircase taken by McTavish. Michael spotted him darting from a room. "I'm here - what have you found?"
McT: Nothing! I've been into every room - just normal hospital things.
M: You must look beyond what appears to be normal. Somewhere down here there is a room where people are making or storing viruses.
McT: Well then it's hidden.

Michael motioned for McTavish to follow him. They entered a room at the end of the hallway. It appeared to be a storage facility for hospital supplies. Michael took out a spectrum scanner used to detect viruses. He swept the scanner in the air. The device registered a higher level towards the rear of the room.


Michael made his way to a large shelf containing boxes of medical instruments and motioned for McTavish to help him move the shelf. The two men shifted the heavy shelving aside; Michael once again scanned the rear wall. The machine's red light flashed rapidly. Michael ran his hand along the wall, and located a switch. A heavy panel in the wall began to move, exposing another room. McTavish grinned and followed Michael into the lab. Michael signalled to put on the protective gear stored at the entrance. The men wandered through the lab with Michael pointing the scanner at various containers of viruses. The digital screen on the machine registered what kind of virus was present. Michael moved around the room until coming upon some crates; he opened one and inside found plastic wrapped packages. The scanner once again reported the virus contained within.

Michael turned to McTavish and motioned to leave. After returning the protective gear, they re-entered the storage room, Michael pushing the lever and the heavy panel closed. They quickly returned to the main floor of the hospital and Michael approached the reception area.

M: Excuse me, we are from Genex Pharmaceuticals and have an appointment with Dr. Nikos Agilo. Is he in his office?
The receptionist smiled at Michael, "Why, no - not today. He is off. Can I be of help to you?"
M: Thank you - no. But if you could direct us to his office, I can leave some paperwork with his secretary.
Receptionist: Well his office is room 313 but I'm not sure if his secretary is here today. Can I get another doctor to assist you. Let's see who's available right now - oh, yes, Dr. Katerina Meracles might be able to help you.
M: No, that won't be necessary. Don't bother her. We'll just drop off the papers at his office.
Michael smiled, "His office is down this way?"
The receptionist grinned and looked admiringly at Michael, "Yes - third door on the left."
M: Thank you so much for your help.

As they walked to Agilo's office, McTavish leaned into Michael, "Oh, you had that one eating outta your hand mate."
They slipped into Agilo's office. There was no secretary so Michael quickly entered the private office, followed by McTavish. He started the computer and typed codes to access any files pertaining to viruses, then looked up at McTavish. "This man has some extremely sophisticated security. He has gene-coded files to a secondary computer."
McT: Oh no....and just where might that one be?


Michael had started sorting through papers and the desk drawers when suddenly his eyes were drawn to a photograph of a yacht on the desk. "I think we might discover his secondary computer on this yacht." He held up the photograph.
McT: What makes you think so?
M: A hunch. This computer here once held sensitive files, then they were sent encrypted to Mykonos - to an innocent. But now he has taken steps to cover his tracks.
McT: You've lost me mate but how we going to find his yacht? You know how many of those suckers there are in Greece.
M: That's where you come in. I want you to return to reception - ask to see Dr. Katerina Meracles and.....
McT: Hey, wait - Meracles - she related to Vassilias Meracles - she his ex-wife?
M: Yes but forget that - I want you to talk to her and find out where Agilo's yacht is.
McT: Sure, no problem but....where does she...is she involved in this?
M: No she is an innocent - now go and talk with her. I'll meet you back in the car.
McT: Just one question - why don't you extract the information from her?
M: Well you claim to be the expert valentine operative - women melt just looking at you - right?
McT: Ahh....yes, that is true. Okay, see you in a few minutes.

Michael and McTavish sat at a marina cafe, sipping coffees. Agilo's yacht was anchored at the wharf just meters away from them.
McT: So how long we gonna wait for him to leave? Why not just go, slip him a nightstick on the head and grab the information from his computer?



M: We don't want to alert him to anything. Once we determine the final destination of the bio-chemicals, he can be dealt with but for now - he isn't expendable.

The sun danced on the azure sea and the wind rustled the riggings on masts when a Porsche drove up to the cafe. An auburn haired woman got out, stood looking towards the boats, then turned and started for the cafe.

McT: Wow! It's that journalist - that hot lady from the bar.
M: (frowning) We are pharmacetical salemen - keep the cover and forget your urges.
McT: Yes....but...fine! But she should at least be told I'm not gay.
M: Let me do the talking. For that matter - go take a walk on the wharf, see if Agilo is making any moves to leave.
McT: Yes....boss.

He got up and slipped away before Dana Delancourt saw him but as she approached the outside tables, she recognized Michael and immediately walked over to him.

D: Well....if it isn't you again. (she smiled) Busy selling drugs to the rich folks on their sailboats?

Michael stood up and extended his hand. "Not today...will you join me?"
D: Just for a few minutes. I'm following up a lead on a doctor.
M For your story I presume.
D: Of course - what else. Say maybe you can help. This doctor is elusive as he!! - his name is Nikos Agilo - suppose to own a boat at this marina. You ever run across him, you know, when you visit hospitals selling your.....ah....
M: Drugs.
D: Yes - you do sell drugs to hospitals, don't you?
M: Of course but I've never heard that name - what hospital?
D: Hellas....Salonikia Hellas - he's chief of medicine there.

Michael leaned forward and whispered. "Look, if you don't think it too presumptuous - just what story are you working on and how does it include him?"
Once again Dana Delancourt felt Michael's presence stir something inside her, "I wouldn't be professional if I discussed my story. So where's your....ah, friend - the young scot with the come-on lines?"
M: Selling....selling lines.
D: Of pharmaceuticals I presume.
M: (taking her hand) What else.
D: Look, I'm sure you and him are maybe into threesomes or something kinky but.....
M: He is not my lover - I am not gay.
D: Okay...well....ah....glad to hear that. I never really thought you were but you seemed intent on getting him out of that bar the other night.



M: He gets involved with men that are a bad influence on him. We work together - so I watch out for him.
D: So he is gay then?
M: Probably - he can't seem to decide. At this time, let's say he swings both ways.
D: Right. I figured he was - he was trying too hard. So, are you in Salonikia long?
M: A few days.

Dana Delancourt felt like Michael's eyes were penetrating her body; the sea breeze brought his scent to her nostrils.
Just then Michael heard McTavish on his internal comm advising that Agilo was walking down the wharf and heading towards his car. Michael rose, took Dana's hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry, but I must leave - work calls."
D: What!.....what...but...right now?
M: Again - it was a pleasure talking to you. Good bye.

Michael smiled and walked towards the wharf, passing Agilo as he got into his car. Dana's eyes followed Michael and missed noticing Agilo drive away. 'What is it about this mysterious pharmaceutical saleman.' The waiter approached her and inquired if she wanted anything. She smiled, "Yes...a latte and...." The waiter responded, ".....and something else?"
D: No thank you, just the latte for now.

Michael and McTavish slipped aboard Agilo's yacht. They made quick work of locating the computer and Michael busily typed in the decryption codes. McTavish stood guard at the cabin door. "So you tell the journalist I'm not gay?"
M: Sorry - the subject didn't come up.
McT: What! Then what did you talk about?
M: She's following up on a lead on Agilo - if she gets too close to intel - she may have to disappear.
McT: No way - you mean pop her! She's too gorgeous to kill mate.


M: Well, start hoping she isn't too good a reporter and finds out about these chemicals. Ahhh, good - here it is.
McT: What! Where's the stuff heading?
M: Syria - that matches up with the coded manifest from the shipping company. I'll make a copy - then we are out of here.

The two made their way on deck when Michael put out his hand to stop McTavish.

M: She's still waiting at the cafe. We will walk to the end of the wharf, grab a small boat and come out at the marina's east side.
McT: What...she won't know what we're doing. Why bother?
M: Would you rather swim...or would you prefer having to kill her.

McTavish stopped cold and stared at Michael. This was a side he had not seen before - this man was ruthless - a killer, and would stop at nothing to complete a mission.
M: Let's go - now.

 Michael and McTavish had returned to their hotel: they sat in Michael's room.



Michael got up and walked to the window, "I will contact Rhodes - we will travel to Syria and intercept the shipment. The mission will be on dark approach."
McT: What! Why cut communications with them? We've been careful - nobody knows how close we are. We have no-one chasing us!
M: That's where you are wrong. Every time we tamper with one of Meracles or Agilo's computer's, they know.
McT: Impossible! How would they know?
M: All the computers had advanced digital sensor systems. I was able to by-pass the firewalls and encryption to access but as soon as they go on-line again - the computers will report an incursion.
McT: (getting up and pacing) Look, if we go dark and get into trouble - how will my uncle help us? You sure it's necessary?
M: Yes. (walking to the communication computer) Now - I'm going to send a coded message directly to Dr. Leslie to tell him where we are going and why.
McT: So - he'll know we're going to Syria?



M: Yes, but he won't be able to contact us once I end my transmission today.
McT: I think I need a drink mate. You want one?
M: No. One whiskey - then contact the airline your uncle uses for missions. Book two seats to Syria.
McT: Oh my god - I think I should have stayed in Scotland - I have a bad feeling about this.
M: (looking up from the computer) Don't worry - you'll be fine. Just a side trip to the middle east.
McT: Yes - the middle east - great place for a holiday these days!

Katerina arrives on Ibiza

The weeks had passed and finally the Mercedes pulled up to the front of Helmet's villa; Smith accompanied Katerina Meracles into the den. Nikita walked in and attempted to give her a hug. "Sorry, I'm getting a tad big for hugs these days."
K: Look at you - those babies finally decided to show their presence. You look radiant!
N: Oh, that's what this look is! Come, we have your room prepared - next to mine. I'm sure you'll want to freshen up before we talk...how was your flight?
K: The flight was good, and Helmet's jet was most appreciated. Where is he...if I may ask?
N: Oh, working I guess...come I'll take you to your room.

Katerina followed Nikita up the stairs into a guest bedroom.
K: This is a beautiful place Helmet owns. So tell me...have you two worked things out between you?
N: Sort of...he has his bedroom - I have mine. We can talk about that later. That's my room to the right - after you've freshened up - come and we'll have tea on the patio in my room.
K: Very well.



Katerina wandered around the guest room, then looked out at the view. 'Why have I come here...I can't even help myself right now, let alone a young, pregnant woman who is struggling with intimacy issues.' She turned and walked to Nikita's bedroom, knocked lightly and entered the room. Nikita was on the patio arranging tea and a snack on a table. "Come out here - I find this patio very restful. Here sit - would you like tea?"
K: Thank you.
N: I want to thank you so much for coming to see me...like I said...we connected at our last meeting...you helped me see what direction I needed to take.
K: I'm glad it helped but I don't know what I can do further to......
N: I don't want answers...I just want to be able to talk to someone...who understands.
K: Look Josephine...I may not be capable right now of helping you...you see I had an upset in my life...I'm off balance at present.
N: Oh, I....I'm sorry....I presumed.....can I help? Oh, that's ridiculous, me asking you......
K: (smiling) Psychiatrists have their problems too, even more than their patients some times.
N: I don't want to presume anything...but if you want to talk...
K: Even though it is unprofessional of me...it might help. You see I was involved with this man...he was brought to the hospital in Salonika. The police had arrested him but his health was poor and he was transported to the hospital. I had visited him in jail and requested the hospitalization.
N: What was wrong with him?
K: He had suffered a severe concussion and amnesia. I treated him at the hospital but my supervisor wanted to get rid of him - he didn't like the authorities and police being around the hospital. The police were coming to collect him and hand him over to some higher authorities. He was suspected of terrorism.
N: Terrorism?
K: I don't know what it was about him...but I was attracted to him - something in his eyes. Anyway, I took him from the hospital to my home on Mykonos.
N: Didn't the police suspect anything?
K: For some reason - no. They just stopped pursuing him - I don't know why. His condition was improving...I was administering medication but I was....ah....also falling in love with him.

Katerina got up and walked to the edge of the patio overlooking the sea. "Oh my goodness Josephine, I shouldn't be telling you this - my personal problems - this is so unprofessional. I've never acted like this before...I must stop. You...you tell me how you are feeling...that's why I'm here."

Nikita rose from her chair and walked to Katerina, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Please continue - if you think it helps you. You have been so kind and understanding to me - I want to help you too."
K: It's most unprofessional of me....but....maybe if I just talk a little, then my mind will be better focused on helping you.
Nikita returned to her chair. "Please...go on."
K: We were only together a little over a week on Mykonos. I had to return to the hospital, then attend the conference in Athens. I was very nervous my supervisor would be suspicious of my being away longer but...for some reason, he wasn't interested.



N: So this man with the concussion stayed on Mykonos?
K: Yes. He was improving....and I suppose, getting bored by himself. He used my computer for....uh, things....he went sailing and swimming but....oh dear, I missed him. I missed his touch; I hadn't felt that way about a man since I first met my husband at the university. Then my husband left me - decided a younger woman was more to his liking. I guess that's what happens with me and men. (Katerina smiled at Nikita) Josephine - you have loved deeply....I can see that - so you must understand what it is like to have a man touch your soul.
N: (looking away) Yes - I do know that. It becomes an ache inside you so intense, you want to die. When you can't be together - the pain is unbearable.
K: I've felt like that for the past month. When we made love - I was in ecstasy. I never felt that way - even with my husband...oh, I'm sorry...this is embarrassing.
N: No - please go on.
K: Anyway....he left. He told me - it was nothing to do with me - he just had to return to his work.
N: And you've not heard from him?
K: He went to Rhodes - I think he knows someone there in the same line of work.
N: Maybe he will return to you....ah, while he's working.
K: No - I told him to never get in touch with me again.

Katerina started to cry, "I'm so sorry...I can't believe I'm behaving like this. May I use your bathroom?
N: Yes, it's through there.

Katerina returned to the bedroom and while she was walking by Nikita's bedside table, she noticed the picture. She slowly picked it up and stared in disbelief, "Oh, my god!"



Nikita rushed into the room, "What....what's wrong!"
K: This picture...who is this!
N: Ah....that's Jacques.
K: The resemblance is uncanny....they could be brothers, twins even.
N: What do you mean?
K: This photograph - Jacques....he looks like Michael, the man I've been telling you about.
N: MICHAEL!! You called him Michael! The man with you on Mykonos is called Michael!
K: Yes....he.....
N: NO - No this can't be! When did he leave you! He went to Rhodes - when!
K: What...what do you mean....you said this picture was a man called Jacques....
N: I LIED!......his name is Michael!
K: You lied about his name - why!
N: I don't know - Jacques was his covert name.
K: Covert - what do you mean? What is this about - what else are you not telling me Josephine!
N: My name isn't Josephine - it's Nikita.
Katerina collapsed on the bed. "Oh, my God - this is not true - No! It simply cannot be the same man!
N: Please tell me where he is on Rhodes! Helmet and I were sailing - we visited Rhodes....it is him - I know - he is alive!
K: You said your name was......
N: Nikita!
K: He - thinks - you - are - dead.
N: WHAT!
K: This man called Michael....the man I loved...the father of your children....he thinks you are dead. When he was ill - he talked of nothing else but a Nikita - the woman he never stopped loving. (Katerina stared crying, choking. She got up and raced into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.)

Nikita ran to the closed door, "Katerina....please...you must ell me where he is now! Please......!" She pounded on the door, crying, "Tell me....tell me...if he thinks I'm dead...why does he think that!"

Katerina opened the door, clutching a handful of tissues. She walked away from Nikita. "This simply cannot be happening...it's coincidence...it is not the same man!"

Nikita ran and retrieved the photo of Michael; she thrust it in Katerina's face, "You said yourself it was him. It is him - the story you told me - the concussion, the memory loss - it makes sense. But why would he think I am dead! Please tell me where he is on Rhodes!"
K: Josephine...or Nikita - this is not right. They are two different men.....


N: TELL ME WHERE HE IS!!!
K: I don't know. If I knew I would tell you. All he said was he was returning to his work....mercenary type of work.
N: Mercenary? Why would he do that? Look, if you don't tell me - I'm going to Rhodes and look for him!
K: You are in no condition to travel to Rhodes...your due date must be......?
N: Two months...but that doesn't matter now....I must go to Rhodes!

Nikita was becoming increasingly agitated and stared screaming, "TELL ME WHERE HE IS!!!"
Helmet and Smith came running into the bedroom.
H: What on earth is wrong! Nikita....calm down.....

Helmet grabbed hold of her and tried to pin her arms as she swung wildly at his face. Between Smith and Helmet, they managed to hold Nikita at bay. Nikita continued screaming.

H: Dr. Meracles...just what is happening here!
K: We've both had quite a shock. You should call her physician - this is not good for her or the babies.

Helmet directed Smith to call the Ibiza physician and within the next fifteen minutes, he arrived and gave Nikita a sedative to calm her. She lay, half conscious on the bed.
Helmet: This won't harm the babies....
Doctor: No, but you were correct to call me. She was very hysterical and incoherent. She needs rest.

Katerina stood over Nikita and watched her sleep. "She needs to be watched...she will no doubt try to go to Rhodes to look for him."
H: (taking her aside) Please tell me what this is about.
K: You won't believe the story - but all I can say is - there was a man named Michael living at my home on Mykonos. That picture of Nikita's looks to be the same man. He left my home and went to Rhodes - to work.

H: This is impossible! And she believes this is....Michael.
K: That was his name - I believe it is the same man.
H: Not possible! Michael Samuelle is dead - he was killed in Afganistan - a terrorist bombing.
K: Mr. Volker - I believe he is the same man.
H: Look, come into my study and give me the details of why he was with you on Mykonos. If he is on Rhodes - I will contact a colleague there and try to trace him. But this is just too extraordinary!

Katerina sat with Helmet in his study.
H: This is an unbelievable story Dr. Mercles...Michael being with you and....
K: He does believe she is dead. His memories were still distorted but he slowly came to accept she had been killed by a suicide bomber in Afganistan.
H: And that is what Nikita had been told - that he had been killed the same way. But she never believed he was dead. She was the only one - we all thought....well - the information received - only pointed to him being killed.
K: He knew she was pregnant - that made it even harder on him - thinking both his partner and child had been killed.

H: Look Dr. Meracles - I cannot tell you details or the line of work Michael was in but...suffice it to say - he went on a mission after he found out about Nikita's pregnancy. It was to be his last mission so they could be together - live a ......normal life.
K: Normal....yes, whatever a normal life is.
H: Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?
K: No - after what has happened - no...not at all.
H: You loved him - didn't you?
K: Yes I do.....ah...did - he was like no man I ever knew. But Michael was an enigma - always something mysterious, withdrawn. I thought it was the trauma of the concussion and memory loss. Have you ever met him?
H: Yes - many years ago - I remember a cold, driven man but there must be a side to him I never saw - especially if two women love him so deeply.
K: (getting up) Mr. Volker, I must return to Mykonos. This has been.....ah, a shock to me too. I trust everything will be alright with Nikita. I'm sorry but I can't help her.
H: (rising) Yes, of course. This has been a shock for you - thank you for trying to help her. I'll let you know how the pregnancy progresses and when the birth happens.
K: Yes - please do.

The next morning Helmet finally contacted Dr. Leslie on Rhodes. Nikita had been sedated again and slept in her room with one of Helmet's female operatives watching over her.



H: Ian....I finally got you! Business must be good. Look, this may be nothing but I wonder if you could do a check around Rhodes for a fellow. I've sent you a picture of him - it should be coming through now. He is known by the name of Michael Samuelle.
Leslie: What...are you joking or trying to recruit?
H: I don't know what you mean.
L: He's working for me...on a mission as we speak.
H: Oh my god - do you have the picture yet - is this the man?



L: I have your picture - yes, that's him. Used to be with Section One. He's been with my nephew on a mission here in Greece - they're on dark approach now and they've left the country.
H: I can't believe this! He was reported killed in Afganistan!
L: Why are you looking for him?
H: He is the father of Nikita's children.
L: Oh....my....sh!t! He doesn't know about her. He never mentions her - as a matter of fact - he doesn't talk about himself at all. Said once he had a son but didn't know his whereabouts.
H: Yes, I believe he has a son - Section has the child hidden. Apparently, he believes Nikita is dead - killed by a terrorist bombing.
L: How do you know all this?
H: It's a very complicated, unbelievable story....but...look - when will he return from the dark approach mission?
L: Not sure exactly. The intel has taken them to the middle east. We had communication from them before they went dark, about Syria....he is probably travelling there now. It's his call. An operative at his level - well I leave him to make the decisions.
H: Let me know when you hear from him please.
L: You want me to tell him about Nikita....don't think he would believe me anyway.
H: I think you should. Look I don't know what your mission parameters are - but the man deserves to be informed of Nikita and the upcoming birth.
L: Yes, I agree. Oh....well....this is a messy situation - unbelievable but messy.
H: Keep in touch, Ian.
L: I will. Oh....good luck mate.
H: Thanks.

As the days passed, the facts of what had transpired with Katerina and the realization Michael was alive had sunk in. The doctor had stopped the medication for sedation when Nikita admitted to Helmet, she was in no shape to go off looking for Michael.
Helmet had told her of his conversation with Dr. Leslie and the fact Michael was on a dark approach mission in the middle east. She had pressed him for more details and he had replied with only what he knew.



As she lay in bed at night, she began to wonder if she would ever see Michael again. The expression on Helmet's face when pressed for mission details, revealed only that the mission was extremely dangerous.

A few weeks later, Helmet's villa was buzzing with his operatives packing up arms and heading into the village. Walter was away in Madrid, investigating new tracking devices and Helmet had been called to London to meet with MI6. Helmet's operatives had received information about a possible separatist attack on the village and had departed, leaving only the cook and house staff behind. This staff lived in the village and once the operatives had departed, decided to return to their homes to guard against pillage.
Nikita was alone in the house.

Nikita had encouraged the household staff to go into the village to protect their homes from vandals due to the separatist attack. She had told them she would be fine alone and motioned to the gun on her bedside table.
She lay on the large bed after finishing a cup of herbal tea. Her eyelids became heavy; and as the village was many kilometers away, all she could hear was the steady drumming of the rain on the tiled roof. She stirred as the sound of the rain washing off the roof into large puddles on the patio, lulling her into a deep sleep.

Nikita's dream drifted into her subconscious; she felt herself floating in air; gliding gently like a feather in a light breeze. The sounds of symphonic music wafted through the air; large puffy, white clouds streamed by her.
Suddenly her body was no longer drifting through the clouds but was plummeting to earth. She fought to gain control, stretched out as a skydiver would to suspend ones body in the thermals. She stared below as the ground raced upwards. Large, jutting mountains surrounded her descent; the snowy earth continued to race towards her. As Nikita neared the ground, her descent slowed and she fell gently into soft, powdery, white snow. Nikita struggled to her feet as snow machines roared from the trees.
Men were soon grabbing her and throwing her body onto a sled. She found herself tied to a wooden chair in a barn like building. The only light came from a large glass window stretching to the building's rafters.
Nikita struggled to free herself as a group of white-clad military stormed into the building. One of the men, who appeared to be an officer walked to her, striking her face violently; he pulled back and was winding up to punch her abdomen, when she cried out, "NO! PLEASE - I'M PREGNANT - PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABIES!!!!"
The men pulled off their balaclavas that up to now hid their faces - they began laughing - one shouted, "We'll all make you pregnant blondie!" Another blared, "Think you can take us all sweetheart! Everyone of us is going to have a go - by the time we're finished - you will be more than pregnant!"
The men began moving towards her, jostling for who was going to rape her first. The officer yelled - "Back off - she's mine first! " He motioned to the man next to him, "Rip her clothes off - I want to see her tits as I ram my dick in!"
The man took one step towards Nikita and turned quickly to the sound of glass breaking, and gunfire that ripped through his body and the men around him.


Nikita looked up to see Michael crashing through the large window; his gun quickly eliminating the men before her. He stepped over the dead bodies and walked to her side, untying her hands. She looked up into his face; blood and tears rolling down her cheeks.


Nikita awoke - her body bathed in sweat. She struggled to sit up but due to her size, could only pull herself sideways, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She sat, breathing deeply. 'She had dreamt this dream before - Michael coming to save her - be with her - but it was always only a dream.'
She drank water from a bottle on the bedside table and then struggled to return to laying prone on the bed.

The following excerpt is written by Michel's Coutesan (MC) and this author (Lynus) is most grateful for her expertise in birthing matters and her creative talents in writing the following ongoing, exciting passage. Thanks MC.


Nikita was alone. It felt strange in a way to be by herself. It had been months since she had truly been all by herself. She wished the circumstances surounding the staff's sudden departure had been due to happy reasons, and not the separatist attack on their village.

Alone in her bed, she ran her hands over her now gargantuan belly. The twins still moved inside her, but not with as much vigor as weeks prior. They were running out of room to move and grow.

Making herself as comfortable as she could be one her left side, she reread a book on pregnancy and the birth process of twins. Once again she mentally prepared herself for their impending birth. The thought of Michael always coincided. If only he was with her. As of late, her hope had faded and she was as close to giving up and accepting her fate. She would bear his children without him. In the back of her mind, she hoped that the physical pain of childbirth would be so profound, that it would distract her from the mental anguish of knowing he was still missing. The anguish that came with the knowledge that he thought her dead and that his mind had been distorted made her feel powerless. He had accepted her death and had given up on their dream.



Tears began to blur her vision, as the overpowering realization again sank into her. How would she ever find him? Perhaps too much time had passed and he had moved on without her. This was her reality. Reaching for the bedside lamp, she turned the switch. The dark room now suited her disposition and she spent the next hour crying herself to sleep.

Unfortunately, her dreams did not give her any sort of relief from her conscious grasp of reality. It seemed that her subconscious had also faced facts and had skewed her dreams to fit her truth. They revealed images of her children growing up with Helmet as their father. He was a good father. He loved them as his own. They certainly seemed to have everything. It was so unlike her own upbringing.

As the dream progressed, Helmet seemed to spend most of his time with the children. Nikita could never quite see their faces. Her dream kept their images veiled from her. In fact, Nikita never could seem to get close to her twins. They were always out of reach. It was as if they could not see her or did not acknowledge her presence. She was a ghost.

Helmet was asking them a question. Nikita focusted on his words.
"You two haven't been to see your mother all day," he chided them.
"Father, do we have to?" She could hear the little boy's voice plead.

"They don't want me!" her mind cried out.

"Yes. You need to spend some time with her." Helmet replied.
"She doesn't even know we are there. Why do we have to talk to her?" The little girl with long chestnut colored hair questioned.
"I think she does. She is your mother. She loves you both." Helmet answered. "Now, come on."

Nikita watched as the children followed their adopted father up the stairs to a darkened room. Nikita gasped when she saw the sight of herself in a bed. Her hair, was matted and cut very short, almost to her scalp. Her skin, sallow and sunken, stretched upon her emaciated frame.

Helmet looked at a laptop computer on her nightstand.

"She has had a good day. They were able to get her to eat some breakfast this morning and she took her medication. That is a good sign." He told the children with hope in his voice.

"Why can't she just do what she needs to get better? Doesn't she love us? Why doesn't she want to be with us?" Nikita's little daughter questioned.

"Too many things happened to her. The doctors think her mind as tampered with years before she had you two. She had a very dangerous job. They used experimental drugs on her, to alter her emotions. Oh, I am sorry. I am using too big words. I guess the only thing I can tell you is that she loved you and your father too much. With all that had happened before you were born, and with your father's disappearance, she just couldn't go on.

"It's not fair," the boy announced.

"No. Life is far from fair." Helmet agreed and reached for their hands. "Now, go and tell her hello and that you love her. Tell her what you have done today. I am sure she wants to hear all about it."

Both children nodded and cautiously approached the ghastly figure in the bed.

Nikita gasped and woke from the nightmare.

"No!" she yelled out. Her skin, soaked with sweat from the terrible vision, now felt chilled in the night air. She felt so damp.


Looking out the window at the moonlit sea, she tried to calm herself. She thought about the nightmare and how easy it would be to just withdraw from it all. Perhaps it was her destiny? She could now see how it had begun for her mother. It would be so easy to self medicate after the babies were born. Her mind raced. What would be her drug of choice? Things would not hurt nearly as much if she could just take something to dull the pain and the memories. Helmut loved her. He would talke care of her and the children. It would be so easy to give in and just sleep for the rest of her life. Maybe the dread was confirming something she knew all along. Her fate was to be a horrendous mother. She was destined to make the same mistakes her mother had. What a fool she had been to think that having a baby with Michael was the right thing to do! She should have known better that to dream that things would work out and they would live happily ever after.


A breeze from the window served to cool and dry her sweat soaked skin. It was only then that Nikita came to notice the sensation that there was a part of her that was still very wet. Pulling the covers away, she felt down between her legs as she was no longer able to see that area. The mattress and sheets were soaking wet. Dread began to work its way into her as she carefully scooted to the side of the bed. Slowly she stood and walked to the bedroom door and reached for the light switch along side of the door frame. In an instant, the room was filled with light.

Making her way back to the bed, she examined the bedding. The fitted sheet was indeed soaked in a clear fluid, tinged with blood. As Nikita leaned forward to examine it more closely, she could feel more fluid escape from her vagina and run down her leg. In the seconds following, a dull aching pain spread from her back to her lower abdomen. Nikita stood upright and placed her hands across her huge belly to find it rock hard from the first contraction.

The pain was good. It was something real.

The cramping sensation gave her the urge to sit on the toilet. Mother Nature was taking over her body and she spent the next half hour emptying it to make room for the children to descend. Once she was certain she was finished, she took a quick shower and changed into another nightgown.

Her contractions were coming upon her amazingly fast. She did her best to breathe through them as she changed her bedding. After the sheets had been changed, she decided it was time to call someone. She was truly alone and things seemed to be progressing a little too quickly for her comfort.



Her first choice of numbers was the small hospital in town. She knew Spanish well enough to understand the recorded message stating that the circuits were busy. The attack on the small town....why hadn't she though of it? A hospital of that size had more than it could handle. Nikita envisioned relatives from all over calling the hospital with hopes that their loved one was there alive and safe.

Her attempt at reaching the emergency medical services was also unsuccessful.

This was not good.

Her next choice was to call Helmet. He was too far away to be of immediate assistance but perhaps he would have a plan. Nikita pressed the speed dial option on the phone. His number rang....and rang....and rang. Why wasn't his voice mail picking up?

"Sh!t!" Nikita muttered under her breath. This was not the time for technology to fail her.

Her call to Walter ended in the same results.

Nikita paced the house, doing her best to deal with her ever increasing contractions. How fitting it was that fighting and dealing with terrorism was now about to make her become a mother alone and without help. For a person who's faith had left her years ago, Nikita now called upon a higher power somewhere to help her.



The pain was doing what she had hoped it would. No longer was she able to think of anything but the current excruciating contraction, or if she was between them, the apprehension of the next one.

A few hours passed. She used the phone when she was able to speak. The results were the same. After a particularly agonizing contraction, she contemplated calling her father. He could have a team to her in less than an hour.

No. She did not need him. He had done his best to kill Michael. In a way, he had. She resolved to have her children on her own, or die trying.

No longer able to walk, she prepared the bed the best she could for the births. Pulling towels and other supplies from the closets, she placed everything around her and then crawled onto the bed. Remaining on her hands and knees, she rode out as many contractions as possible in this position. It seemed to alleviate the intense pressure on her back and she was able to rest on her forearms for the few minutes that separated the intense labour pains.

Nikita looked up at the bedside clock from time to time. The sun would be up soon. Sweat soaked and shaking, she felt weak from maintaining her position. After a particularly severe contraction, she decided it was time to roll onto her back. Moving from one position to the other proved to be horrific. The pressure on her public bone was almost too much and she felt as if it would break in half if her legs got any closer together. Once upon her back, the pain on her tailbone returned with a vengeance. She cried out in anguish and she was no longer able to breathe through the pain.

Her body gave her no rest between the increasing pace of the contractions. Nikita prayed this was the transition phase she had read about and that soon it would be over. One on top of the other, the contractions assaulted her as she frantically tried to get a handle on the pain.

Her wish had been that the pain be so great that she would forget that Michael was not with her. As the gruesome pain threatened to consume her, something happened. Her mind, which as of late had not been kind, took a different course.



Nikita closed her eyes and imagined Michael in the room with her. He was behind her, supporting her back and head as she laboured. He was kissing her sweaty brow as her body took control.

Michael's calm words of love and encouragement eased her through. Nikita kept her eyes closed.



Her illusion of having him with her was real enough to sustain her. Deep inside she began to reason. Perhaps he was with her in a spiritual sense. Michael was with her. The sense of peace gave her strength and new found determination. She now rode out the transitional assault with confidence. No matter how horrible the pain was, she would endure it for him and for their babies.

The next contraction felt different. It felt urgent. She groaned at the sensation and the all consuming need to push. Doing her best to wait them out, not sure whether she was dilated far enough, she made it through three contractions without bearing down. The fourth contraction, however, was unbearable. With all of her might, she pushed against the aching need within her. Her mind tried to register the fact she was all alone. There was no one to assist her. It did not matter. Her instinctual need to push had taken over and all she wanted was relief. The contractions now came with a scant ten seconds between them. She could feel herself burning, stretching and tearing from the pressure of the first baby's head crowning. Suddenly, the burning sensation ceased, as her body's own natural anesthesia took over, numbing the area.

Again, she bore down with the next contraction as her body raised from the mattress in an effort to expulse the baby. Drenched in sweat from her labour, she pushed with all her might. In an instant, there was immediate relief. Reaching down, she felt for the baby. Its wet, warm form rested between her legs. With shaking hands, she lifted the baby to her and placed it against her chest. The baby remained motionless and panic rushed through her. She immediately reached for a towel and began to rub the baby vigorously as she suctioned its mouth and nose with a bulb syringe from the medical kit.

A cry of protest came from his mouth and Nikita sobbed in relief. Her son had been born and was crying. She kissed him on his blood stained head as her body ridded itself of his placenta and began to constrict as the next baby made its way down the birth canal.

Nikita quickly tied off his umbilical cord and then cut it. She then wrapped him tightly in the towel and placed him next to her on the bed. The overwhelming urge to push once again was upon her. It did not take nearly as long for the second baby to make its way down to her. Once again, she could feel the sensation of being stretched and then torn until the nerve was suppressed and she was numb. This time, she could reach down and feel her daughter crowning. She looked down at her son one last time before she closed her eyes and bore down with all her might.

With three good pushes, she was out. Nikita quickly plucked her daughter from the blood soaked mattress and held her close. Immediately she suctioned her nose and mouth as she vigorously rubbed her little daughter, waking her from her long sleep.

Nikita was rewarded with a robust cry from her tiny daughter. She sobbed as she cut the umbilical cord. Minutes later, the birthing process was complete.

Nikita did her best to arrange the multitude of pillows around her head and upper body. She had read enough books to know that she needed to keep the babies warm and close to her until help arrived. She knew that the bed was a total disaster and she was far too weak to do anything about it. She placed a towel between her legs and then threw the blankets over herself. Carefully, she brought the babies to her, using the pillows to help her hold them in place.

After unfastening her gown, she first brought her son to her breast, and her daughter to the other. The infants immediately sought their mother's nipple and settled themselves by suckling her.



She had done it. Nikita had once more found the strength to pull herself through. Once certain that the babies were safe and content, she rested her head upon the pillow and immediately lost consciousness due to physical and mental exhaustion.


Thank you to MC for the wonderfully written passage of Nikita giving birth to her twins.

The red sky of dawn spread through Nikita's room as she lay unconscious on the blood soaked mattress, a light duvee pulled over herself and the babies. The twins dozed peacefully until Nikita stirred, then both babies began crying.
Nikita woke with a start. She fought to focus on her surroundings; the infant's screams bringing her back into the present. She shifted to accommodate each child to suckle her breasts. A smile crept onto her face as she looked at the tiny infants. "I hope I have enough milk for both of you; how does a woman's body know to produce enough milk....."
The beside telephone ran. Nikita jumped and attempted to reach for the phone but only succeeded in knocking the receiver off the cradle. She shouted, "Hello! Who is there....please...I need help ......!"
The voice on the other end of the line hollered back, "Nikita....is that you...why do you sound so far away...is everything alright?"
Nikita managed to wriggle to the side of the bed and pick up the receiver. "Hello...who is this? I...I need some help....the babies came....."
"Nikita, oh my God! Are you alright? It's Katerina...where is Helmet...don't you have anyone with you?"



"No...I'm here alone...there was an attack in the village...please...could you try to get me some help."
"Where is Helmet?"
"He's in London at MI6...please can you try to get in touch with him. I don't know if everything is...I think I might be bleeding still...I don't want to move...the babies are alright, they're very hungry. (she attempted to laugh)
"Nikita, I will phone MI6 to find Helmet...is there no staff in the house?"
"No, they left because of the attack on the village. And Walter is in Madrid...."
"Please stay calm, don't try to move....you...ah...you delivered the babies by yourself?"
"Yes, I've been reading pregnancy books and birthing techniques...ha, good thing I did."
"You are an amazing woman...to have done that by yourself. Look, hang up now, I'm going to contact MI6 through an operator to find Helmet. You brave woman...you are so brave to have...okay, I will call now and then phone you back."
"Thank you Katerina."
The phone went dead and Nikita replaced the receiver.

As Nikita struggled to replace the receiver without disturbing the babies suckling at her breasts, a tiny knock sounded at the door. Nikita looked at the door, not sure if she had heard the sound. The knock was louder the second time. "Senorita Nikita...are you in there....I have returned from the village. Everything is fine in the village...the staff will be returning soon. May I come in?"
"Yes...please, Margaretta is that you?"

A small Spanish girl around 17 years entered the room. When she saw Nikita with the two babies, she screamed, "Ai..Ai! The babies are here..you are alone with your babies! What happened...you are alone and the babies came!"
Nikita smiled. "They had their own arrival schedule. I could use some help though. The bed is soaked, can you bring the bassinets here and place the babies in each one?"
The young girl gingerly approached Nikita and the bed, her eyes wide in wonder. She carefully took each child, cradling them and placing each child in a bassinet. Being removed from their mother, each baby began to cry.
Ms. Nikita...they do not want to be in the cradles...they want you!"



"Yes...but I need a little help myself. Margaretta...please pull all the soiled blankets from the bed. I'm going to try and make it to the bathroom."

Nikita inched her way off the bed. She could feel a wetness coming from between her legs and held the soiled towel tightly to the source of the wetness. She carefully made her way to the bathroom. The young girl quickly stripped the bed and stood looking at the soiled mattress. She hollered over the crying babies to Nikita, "Senorita...the mattress has blood..what should I do?"

In the bathroom, Nikita grasped hold of the sink. She felt weak and dizzy. "No...I must not pass out. Just a quick cleaning...." She sank to the floor as the room spun before her. She could hear Margaretta calling her name as she fought to regain consciousness. She threw the blood soaked towel into the bathtub and grabbed another from a rack over her head. Nikita looked between her legs; she was bleeding.
".......must stop the bleeding...I can't be hemorrhaging...why...is this happening....."

Nikita lay on the bathroom floor; from the other room she could hear her babies crying.
"Margaretta! Please come in here...I need help!"
The young girl opened the bathroom door and gasped at the sight of Nikita on the floor.
"Are you hurt! What is happening!"
"Margaretta...I must get back to the bed...please hold the towel...I'm bleeding...we must stop the bleeding!"

The young girl helped pull Nikita to her feet and they staggered back to the bed. The girl had turned the mattress over and placed clean sheets and blankets on the bed. Nikita lay still, holding the towel between her legs and motioned for Margaretta to place pillows under her in an attempt to elevate her legs.
"I am scared Miss....I don't know what to do to help you!"



"You are doing fine. I think the bleeding has slowed. Please bring the babies back...they must want milk."

The girl brought each child back to Nikita and gently placed them to suckle. The young girl stood wide eyed. "What else should I do....I....."
"You have done great. But maybe you could get me a drink of water."
Once the babies had been returned to Nikita's breasts, they immediately ceased crying and suckled contentedly.
The young girl handed a bottle of water to Nikita and as she drank thirstily, the girl smiled, "What wonderful babies...so perfect....a boy and a girl...so perfect....they look like the mommy...the hair...so golden...they are very hungry though."
"Yes they are. The boy has darker hair, don't you think...like his daddy."
"Oh yes...hair like Mr. Volker...yes...his hair is darker."
Nikita smiled.
The young girl grinned, "And the boy is more hungry...he does not stop...the girl stops and looks at her mommy. See..look the boy wants more from your breast."

Nikita looked at the two babies. "Yes, the boy is like his daddy...always wanting more." Nikita shifted slightly in the bed. "Margaretta...I am very tired. I will try to sleep...but please stay with me. I am sure more help will arrive soon. You have done well. You are very brave...."
"I am not brave...you are so brave to have your babies by yourself."

Nikita did not hear Margaretta; she was already asleep as her babies began to doze contentedly at her breasts.

Michael on mission in Syria

Michael and McTavish arrived at the Damascas International Airport and after clearing customs, took a taxi to the Aleppo Hotel.
The taxi raced through the streets and when the cab pulled up to a dilapidated building, McTavish winced............

"Blimey....what a dump...you sure this is the correct hotel mate?"
The driver glared at McTavish, "This is the Aleppo Hotel, yes....the fare will be 100 Syrian pounds.



Michael paid the driver as McTavish pulled their luggage from the trunk. The two men walked to the desk where a small man with an oversized moustache greet them.
Michael signed the register with a pseudonym and paid cash for a two night stay. Waving off an elderly porter, they arrived at their room. Michael opened the door and motioned for McTavish to enter. The luggage was dropped on one of two small beds as Michael walked to the window. He peered into the street below, then pulled the aging curtains across the window. McTavish stood shaking his head.
"I repeat - what a bloody dump - and only one room. No offence mate, but I kinda prefer my own space. Look at these tiny beds - I mean....now Michael....ah, I mean Mr. Samuelle - I really must have my own room - how can I entertain a lady if you're here....I....."

Michael quickly removed a cd player from one of the bags. He opened the player and pulled out a scanning device and swept the room. He held his index finger to his mouth, motioning to McTavish to not speak. Once the sweep was complete he replaced the scanner in the cd player.

"You won't have time for entertaining anybody. We'll only be here for two nights, then we'll move. I want to find an apartment where we can have more privacy."
"Privacy...oh, cause we're on a dark mission - that the reason?"
"Look Stewart - you've got to start taking this seriously. We are in a country that does not take to kindly to westerners. We will be watched - from the time we arrived at the airport to right now. Our cover as UN inspectors will give us some leeway but we must watch every move we make."
"Why didn't we stick with the pharmaceutical saleman front?"
"We need to access areas at the port of Tartus - drug salemen would have no reason to be inspecting shipments from Europe."

McTavish flopped onto a bed and propped himself up with his arms under his head.
"Right - makes sense. But could you please tell me why we must be on dark approach. What if something important comes up and my uncle needs to contact us?"
"We don't want any contact with your uncle's operation - there will be ears listening. We must scan this room every time we return."



Michael extracted a computer and set it up on a small table. He plugged in a portable satellite device to connect to the internet.
McTavish got up from the bed and helped set up the other communications laptop.
"Look...I know I'm a rookie operative Mr. Samuelle but...I'm starting to get a little paranoid. We'll be okay- right ..I mean...I don't know if my uncle told you...but I don't have much field experience."
"I realize that. You'll be fine. Oh, and you can call me Michael."
"Ah.....oh....yeh, sure, fine...Michael."

Michael had directed McTavish to take the laptops back to the airport and store them in a security locker. As McTavish drove off in a taxi, the two men in the old Citroen followed at a discreet distance.
Michael left the hotel a half hour later and headed to the old town.

A taxi dropped him at the western end, next to the citadel. He walked through the open archway into the Souk al Hamidiyeh, one of many open bazaars.

Michael waited next to a stand of herbs; the market bustled around him. Soon a tall man with slicked black hair walked up to him and slipped Michael a note. A 100 pound Syrian bill was placed discreetly in the man's hand as he disappeared into the crowd.
The information on the paper note disclosed the address of an apartment in the Christian quarter.
Michael continued walking through the interconnected bazaars until he came to a Roman arch that opened onto a large square. Located at the far end of the square, was the Jabri Internet cafe.



Michael made his way inside the cafe, located a vacant computer terminal, and ordered an expresso coffee. He sat typing and sipping the coffee. Suddenly, a hand tapped him on the shoulder from behind. Michael wheeled around quickly; disturbed that he had not noticed anyone approaching.
Dana Delacourt stood smiling, "Woooo - sorry, didn't mean to startle you! So what on earth brings a drug saleman to this country?"
Michael rose from his chair and motioned for Dana to be seated opposite him. He waved to the waiter, "Would you like some coffee, or maybe something else?"
"Coffee would be great."
The waiter whisked off and returned with a small coffee.
"So Michael - with no last name - you haven't answered why you are in Syria. Surely, not for a vacation - I can see you flogging your drugs though."
Michael smiled, "It is interesting how we keep bumping into each other. Your story brings you to Syria?"
Dana sighed and sipped her coffee. "You have no idea what's been happening to me. I got fired from Newsweek. They said I was chasing a bogus story and wasting time and money on a figment of my imagination!"
"I'm sorry to hear that...you must be very upset...losing your job and...."
"Well it will be Newsweek's loss when I break this story. I have a new employer now - The Guardian in London. Hopefully the Brits have more guts to see this story to its end."



"You are very tenacious...I suppose that's what makes a good reporter."
"I guess...being tenacious got me into trouble at university and with boyfriends." She laughed, "Oh my...here I go telling my personal secrets. So, how long are you in Damascas? Is your associate with you, maybe the three of us can have dinner. It's great to be able to communicate in English, I'm beginning to overwork my French and German."
"Yes, my associate is here but I'm not sure about dinner...our stay is short, we may be leaving soon."

Dana leaned over the table and whispered in Michael's ear, "Why all the mystery Michael....are you really a spy..." She giggled. "Maybe we can trade secrets - you tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

Michael took Dana's hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "No secrets - just busy."
At the touch of Michael's lips on her hand, Dana felt her pulse quicken and her stomach tighten.
"Then why not have dinner with me then?"
Michael released her hand, picked up his expresso and sipped slowly. Finally, he spoke, "Very well - give me your hotel address. How about dinner tonight at 8pm. I'll meet you there."
"Now that's better - not that hard was it? So what are you checking out on the internet?"
"Just checking information on the local politics."
"What you want to know - I've been doing the same. Turns out the Ba'ath Party started here in Syria - same party as Saddam Hussein in Iraq. It's strong here in Syria - been so since the second world war. They don't like westerners much so better make you business deals quickly. They don't like me snooping around I can tell you that!"
"What was your story again - I mean the leads you are following?"
"The trail of bio-chemical weapons from Europe to the middle east - and who is purchasing them."
"Oh, that sounds like a dangerous story to be following. If you don't mind my asking, what do you have so far?"
"Well...I shouldn't be telling....but what the heck....this doctor in Greece has been shipping biological weapons, possibly viruses, from Yugoslavia to Syria. He's been living in Greece most his life but he really is Syrian. My guess is he's selling to the highest bidder in Iraq, Afganistan and here in Syria."



"There's not much of a market in Iraq since the war - the country is in political turmoil."
"I know, but I think there are still pockets of Hussein's people who could be customers. I think the main market is right here in Syria, and maybe Yemen."
"You sound like you have definite knowledge of buyers in these countries."
"I wish I did, then I could publish the full story. So far all I have are suspicions. But I'm getting closer."
"Hummmm....what are your sources?"
"Now, now Michael, I know you're not a journalist but I can't let out my trade secrets."
"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to pry - it's just very interesting. You are a very courageous woman traveling by yourself, following up leads on a potentially dangerous story like you are relating."
Dana smiled and looked into Michael's eyes, "I know, sometimes I'm scared to death. But I love it too. I've always wanted to be an international journalist. I'm living my dream."
"That is good - to live one's dreams."
"So what about you - what are your dreams Michael?"

"You are very direct - questions that go right to the point."
"Yes, that's the journalist in me. Sorry...it's just...well, here goes - Michael you are a very attractive man - I meet a lot of ships that pass in the night - one has to grab the ships before they drift away. Oh, what I mean is - I'd like to get to know you better....."
Michael smiled, "My life is complicated. And I have had many ships to distract me. I have a job to do now - I must stay the course."

Dana looked puzzled and took Michael's hand, "I'm not sure I know what you are saying Michael. Do you have someone special - has something happened to you? It's none of my business but....sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger."



Michael sat in silence and looked into Dana Delancourt's eyes. What was it about this woman - her directness, her genuine desire to reach out to him?
He looked off into the square; no further words were spoken - only the bustle of the cafe. Then slowly, quietly - Michael spoke.
"I apologize but I cannot talk about what....I can't speak of this now."
"I am the one to apologize - I'm too pushy - always wanting to get at things. I'm sorry - look can you please forget all this - let's have dinner tonight, and just talk of happy, light things. Drink too much wine and laugh - okay?"
Michael sat, not replying. Dana realized she had gone too far in her enthusiasm of getting to know more about this beautiful man. Michael rose from his seat. "Yes, dinner tonight but I must go now. What was your hotel?"
"The Omayad Hotel, room 218. See you tonight - 8 o'clock."
Michael nodded and walked into the square. Dana watched him as he disappeared into the crowd and thought to herself, 'You almost blew it Dana - pushing him too hard for details about himself. I always do that - push too hard with desirable men - must take it slower. But after dinner, if he doesn't come back to my room - I think I'll die. Oh my god, he's beautiful!'
Dana sat, straining to see Michael in the square and thought of his hands tracing the outlines of her body.

After Michael had returned to the hotel, he sat waiting for McTavish to return.



He got up and walked to the window, over looking the street. Cars struggled to move through the crowed street and vendors pushed their wares on passerbys. Michael thought to himself, 'The months have past - this would be the time Nikita would have given birth - soon she would have given birth - in the next few weeks. But no - he would never see his child - or his beautiful Nikita.'
He shut his eyes, fighting back tears, 'the woman reporter had wanted him to talk about his personal life. He should talk, tell a stranger, maybe the haunting face of Nikita would stop.'

Two days after giving birth, Nikita sat upright in bed with the babies. The unforeseen bleeding she had experienced had stopped and the room had been cleaned. Sunlight spilled in through the patio windows. Helmet had returned quickly from London once Katerina had tracked him down. Walter had been on his way back from Madrid upon hearing of the attack on the village.



Helmet sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at Nikita, "My darling you are indeed the most incredible woman I have ever known. To have delivered your own children. One child maybe - but two! The doctor says the bleeding was tearing as a result of the early arrival combined with the.....ah...shall we say...method of delivery."
Nikita smiled, "Well the method of delivery was the best I could do."
"How are you feeling now...still weak? The doctor is amazed you are so well."

A loud knock was heard at the door. Walter swung the door open, "Sugar! I can't believe this....I just heard...you gave...you delivered the babies by yourself! Let me see them!"
Nikita grinned and pointed to the twin bassinets containing the sleeping infants. Walter peered into each one and grinned back. "Nikita....I.....I should have been here to look after you...you needed me and I was....." Tears welled up on Walter's face.



"Walter - come here and give me a hug!"
Walter walked to the bed and bent over, hugging Nikita. He attempted to hide the tears that streaked down his face. "Sugar...I...I don't know what to say....you....!"
Nikita kissed the salty tears on Walter's cheeks. "How would you like to be their godfather Walter?"
Walter stared into Nikita's deep blue eyes, "Yes, oh yes...I would be honoured...but...you - Nikita - a mother The babies are so beautiful! I want to be their godfather and watch them grow and always be near you and....what can I do to help you now...there must be something...I can't believe I missed this event and you being all by yourself.....!"
Nikita smiled and stroked the tears from Walter's cheeks. "You can do two things for me Walter - first - email my father he is now a grandfather. Oh, he will hate that! And - most important - find Michael in the middle east. That dark approach mission must be nearing completion."



Helmet and Walter looked at each other. Helmet picked up Nikita's hands and kissed them. "I contacted Dr. Leslie again this morning - he has no idea where they are or what is happening. He is worried about his nephew....I guess the lad is young and inexperienced. But he can only wait until Michael finishes the mission and reports in.
Nikita looked up at Helmet. "Michael will look after the nephew. He's used to dealing with young operatives. After all - he had me to deal with - he trained me - tell Dr. Leslie everything will be fine. I just wish the mission was complete. Michael will be so pleased to have a boy and girl. I can hardly wait to see his face when he sees the babies. Helmet, I need to use your video camera - to record the first time Michael sees his babies!"
Helmet and Walter exchanged glances, attempting to hide their apprehension from Nikita. "Yes certainly, I will make sure the camera is ready for you Nikita."

 Nikita got up from the bed and made her way to the bassinets. She stood looking at her children and smiled, "You two hungry again...how about one at a time." She laughed and picked up the baby girl and sat on a lounge chair, opening her gown, she pulled the baby to her breast.



Walter looked away somewhat embarrassed. His expression did not go un-noticed by Nikita. "Walter, don't be embarrassed. After all that's what women have these for - not just for men to fondle and desire!"
"Ah....yeh, sure Sugar. Hey, you think of any names for the kids?" Walter looked off to Nikita's side, trying to avoid looking at the breastfeeding.
Helmet laughed, "Walter - women are the superior sex - they are fearless - especially this wonderful woman. But what about that Nikita - you should be thinking of names."
"I'll wait until Michael sees them - he can help decide. (she laughs) I think he would be mad if I gave his children the names of summer and winter or feather and wind."
"Ahhhh...yes he would be, but I still think you should name them Nikita," chided Walter. "You could always change the names if he didn't like them."
"I'll wait for his arrival," responded Nikita.

Helmet motioned to Walter, "We'll leave you to the feeding. Don't want to embarrass Walter anymore, right...and we need to discuss the tracking devices you procured in Madrid." He walked to the door following Walter who turned and smiled at Nikita.
"Sugar - I am so happy for you - you and the babies are perfect....just perfect."
"We will be when Michael arrives, but thanks Walter."

The two men exited the room with Helmet closing the door. As they walked down the hallway, Helmet turned to Walter. "She must not be told anything about the type of mission Michael is on."
"So Leslie gave you more details about the whole mission?"
"Yes, but he knows nothing of what is transpiring with them in Syria. He is very worried about his nephew. He told me if he had known Michael was taking the nephew on a dark approach mission and with the severity and little likelihood of success, he never would have had his nephew assigned to Michael."
"What are they tracking in Syria?"
"Bio-chemical weapons. But Leslie feels their cover is weak and detection is high."



"Nikita is smart Helmet, she will soon realize something isn't right. The longer she doesn't hear from Michael, the more suspicious she will become."
"Let's hope the task of recovering from the births and motherhood will keep her fully occupied."
Walter looked at Helmet, "Hummmm, I don't think you really know Nikita Helmet - that lady is not going to sit around here, babies or not, and wait for news of Michael."
The two men entered the main communication centre in Helmet's villa. "You can't possily mean she would desert her children to go looking for Michael."
"Like I said Helmet - you don't know Nikita. She'll find a way to be a mother to her children and hunt for Michael."

Helmet sat before a computer, shaking his head. "I only hope Michael will some day realize what this woman is going through for him. To feel a love as strong as hers - the man is blessed."

Michael's thoughts were jarred abruptly by the hotel door being opened and closed with a bang. He wheeled around to see McTavish breathing heavily and collapsing on a bed. Michael motioned to McTavish to keep quiet as he grabbed the scanner and swept the room for listening devices. Finding none he spoke.



"What's the problem," stated Michael.
"I was followed - I noticed two blokes at the airport being a little too interested in me. I mean - like they were ducking and diving behind everything, thinking I didn't see them."
"What did you do with the computers?"
"Well, I finally got them stored in a security locker but I...."
"Did the men see you put them there?"
"No - I don't think so. I managed to lose them when I ducked into the ladies' washroom. (he laughs) I don't think they figured I would be in the women's bathroom."
"Stewart - this is important. Did they see you store the computers in the locker?"
"No, no I'm sure they didn't. Anyway, as I was leaving the airport, they popped up - out of nowhere. Right in my face they were - told me they were with the Mukhabarat - the Syrian secret police."
"Stewart - It is important they do not confiscate the computers."
"They don't know about them. They just asked for my passport and asked why I was in Damascus. I told them the cover about being with the UN inspectors and showed them the papers we devised. They seemed happy with that."

Michael walked to a corner chair and sat. "We will leave the hotel tonight. I have found a discreet apartment. We will leave separately - here's the address. Take a taxi there but don't go to the apartment - wait in the outside cafe until I arrive."
"Is all that necessary - I really think those blokes were just dumb policemen."



"Stewart - in this country - we will constantly be watched and suspected. Our fake identities as UN inspectors will only work temporarily. After we re-locate at the apartment, we will make plans for investigating the docks at Tartus. I've arranged for a car to drive there. The sooner we move to trace the shipments from Yugoslavia the better."
"What happens after that...I mean if we find something?"
"We destroy the shipment and leave."
"You mean blow it up...where will we get the explosives?"
"Leave that to me. Now, get your things and go to the cafe outside the apartment - here's the address. Have the taxi take you on a tourist drive to lose anyone following you."
"Ahhhh...Mr. Samuelle, ah, Michael - this is kinda heavy .....I mean. I hope I don't screw up - I feel a little out of my depth here....."
"You'll be fine. No go."

McTavish grabbed his clothes and pushed them into his suitcase. As he reached for the door, he looked back at Michael, "Ahhhh...see you in a bit...." He exited and closed the door.
Michael watched from the window as McTavish entered a taxi and drove away; he also watched as the old Citroen sped off behind the taxi. As Michael tucked his clothes in a duffel bag, he thought to himself, 'I could have McTavish return to Greece and proceed with this mission alone. The young operative was afraid and rightly so. The people they were dealing with would not hesitate to kill them on the slightest pretense.'
Michael felt responsible for the safety of Stewart McTavish. He recalled Ian Leslie telling him about McTavish being his only family. - the fact he was like a son. On the other hand Leslie had wanted McTavish to learn as much about field tactics as possible.
As Michael approached the door, his case in hand, he suddenly recalled the dinner engagement he had promised Dana Delancourt.



He pulled out his cellphone and called her hotel. She answered her room phone, "Hello?"
"Dana - this is Michael - you know the one with no last name."
"Oh, Michael - yes - and just when are you going to tell me that name?"
"Some day maybe. Look, things have got a little hectic and I find I can't make dinner with you this evening. I'm terribly sorry - this is very rude to cancel on such short notice but it can't be helped."

The disappointment could be heard in her voice, "Oh...well...maybe tomorrow night?"
"Yes, I'll call you tomorrow - maybe we can make plans then."
"Yes....so Michael - what hotel are you staying at? I could come there and we....."
"I'm moving - this hotel is....ahhhh...ah, a little understated. Look, I'll call you tomorrow - you must excuse me now. Goodbye."

Dana stood in her hotel room listening to a dial tone. "Why is this man so damn mysterious. She suddenly remembered a business car that McTavish had given her in Greece. Rummaging through her briefcase, she located the card. The pharmaceutical company they worked for was Remielle Pharmaceuticale in Paris. She walked to her laptop and typed in the name. Why hadn't she thought of this before. She would find out if Michael, with no last name, was a drug saleman.
Dana spent the next half hour attempting to find the company - it did not exist.
"Hummmm, so Mr. Michael - just what are you and who are you - other than one of the most beautiful men I have ever met?"

Michael finally arrived at the Najem apartments. As the taxi drove away, he walked over to McTavish who sat drinking a beer at the outside cafe. Michael motioned for him to follow.
Calling the small set of rooms an apartment was a stretch - two small bedrooms, a tiny bathroom and living area was the total of room 101 Najem.
McTavish looked around and smiled, "Well, I have my own room at least. So I see you went and picked up the computers. Told you they didn't see me. Dumb local police - don't know who they were dealing with."
Michael glared at McTavish. "Stay here, read the profile. I'll get some food to bring back, then, you get some sleep. We're going to be busy in the next few days.
McTavish shrugged. "Sure."
Michael handed McTavish the profile on a PDA and left the apartment.

 A few days later, Michael and McTavish drove out of Damascus to the port of Tartus. The sun beat down on the car as McTavish wound down the window.
"Whewwwww, it's hot already. Don't they believe in air conditioning?"


"Do you have any questions about the profile?", questioned Michael.
"No - we go in as UN inspectors and act official."

The car approached the docks of Tartus. Pulling up to a security guard, Michael handed him papers. The guard pointed off into the distance and lifted the barracade. Michael parked the car and the two men made their way inside a large warehouse. Two officials flanked by military with semi-automatic weapons stood in front of Michael and McTavish. Michael presented documents to the officials.
"We are here to inspect recent shipments from Rijeka, Yugoslavia. I trust we will have your co-operation."
One of the officials barked, "We have had no notification of inspections!"
"The UN does not have to notify anyone. This is a spot, un-announced inspection. If everthing is in order - you should have no concern!", stated Michael.
The one official looked at the other, speaking in Syrian. They shook their heads and spoke, "The UN has no reason to suspect Syria of anything! What are you looking for!"



Michael glared back at the official. "If Syria is not hiding anything - Syria has no need to be concerned. Now, we will proceed!"
Michael motioned to McTavish as they stepped around the officials. The military raised their weapons, pointing directly at Michael and McTavish. Michael walked up to one of the soldiers and gently lifted the muzzle of the gun, pointing it into the air. "There is no need for armaments."
The soldiers looked to the officials, who waved them off. "Shoulder your guns but go with them!"
Michael and McTavish walked towards rows of containers followed by four soldiers.



McTavish handed Michael the shipping manifests and leaned in, "There is one hell of a lot of containers. Do we get them to open them or what?"
"You take the containers on the far side of the warehouse - look for the pertinent numbers. If you find one - get the soldier to open it. Contact me with what you find."
McTavish broke off, followed by two soldiers; Michael started walking down a long row of muti-coloured containers.

In the meantime, the two officials returned to their office and immediately began telephoning - calling the government authorities and the Mukhabarat secret police. 
The days turned into weeks on the island of Ibiza. Nikita stood staring out at the Mediterranean sea from the patio of her room. She gazed into the azure blue distance - east, ever eastward towards Syria.
"Michael - where are you? Please come back. You must know I am here - waiting with your children." Her thoughts were interrupted by the nanny, Maria. "Senora - 'cuse me, but the babies are ready for their bath. I can do the bathing but you said you wanted to bath them."
Nikita whirled around and entered the bedroom. "That's fine Maria, I can do it. Oh, please call me senorita. I am not married to Mr. Volker, I have told you that before."
"Yes.....ah, senorita Nikita. You have told me, yes. Thank you. I will go and prepare the special formula the doctor gave you."
"Yes, please do. My milk with the formula will help the babies."

The nanny left the room as Nikita reached into the bassinet and picked up the baby boy, placing him in a small basin of lukewarm water. Nikita looked over at the little girl, "Your brother needs his bath first, he made a mess but the next bath - you will be first."
The baby girl looked up at her mother and gurgled. As Nikita placed the boy into the water, he began kicking his tiny feet wildly, slashing water onto Nikita.



"Hummmm, mister.....just like your daddy....taking charge in the bath! Did you know little one that you and your sister were conceived in the bath. (She laughed) Oh yes, daddy maybe didn't know it at the time...well for that much, neither did mommy...but yes - you are both children of the water."

Nikita's thoughts drifted back to the time they had conceived their children. She had prepared a special meal but he was late. 

 Michael's comm unit sounded - it was McTavish. "Sh!t! I found a container with the numbers 27888 - one from Yugoslavia. Should I get the guard to open it?"
"Yes, then let me know if the contents have crates shipped by Meracles Shipping. I have a container here with the same number."



Michael turned to one of the soldiers, "Open this container, please."
One soldier turned and looked at the other - he shrugged and muttered in Syrian. The first soldier shouldered his gun and lifted the heavy metal bar on the door of the container. Michael pushed by him and entered the container; shining a light onto the wooden crates. In the far corner sat two plastic covered wooden boxes with the name of Meracles Shipping/Athens, stamped on the side. Michael took out a small metal prybar and opened the crate. The inside will filled with plastic chips and straw - protecting plastic vials of liquid. The vials were labeled 'Calcium/Lime Remover'.
Michael replaced the cover on the crate and motioned for the soldier to close the container. He called McTavish on his comm. "Have you located anything?"

McTavish's comm crackled, "Yes, it says, Calcium and Lime Remover. I put the crate lid back on and had them close the container. Should we look for more?"
Michael walked away from the soldiers, "No - don't let on we have found anything. We will leave now. Meet me at the front of the warehouse - now go."

Once they had reached the warehouse entrance, two officials stood blocking their departure.



Michael looked at the officials, "Well, everything is in order - it appears this was a false alarm. You know how everthing these days is under suspicion. Governments are jumpy and suspect everyone of hiding weapons. But there is nothing here so we will report that to the UN."
The taller official glared at Michael, "The west has accused our country of hiding Iraq's weapons. The UN looked in Iraq and found nothing - then the British and Americans invaded Iraq. Syria has nothing to hide from the west - go and tell the UN! We have no weapons of mass destruction in Syria! I have informed the authorities and Mukhabarat police. Go!"

Michael smiled at the official. "Thank you for your co-operation. I understand your frustration with world affairs and your country being unjustly accused. My report to the UN will show your absolute support of our inspection and the fact we have found nothing. Thank you again."

Michael and McTavish returned to their car, the officials and soliders watching them leave. As their car raced away from the dock, McTavish let out a sigh.
"Whewwwwwwwww....that was some act Mr. Samuelle. You think they believe the con?"
"It will be dark in a few hours - enough time to get the explosives ready."
"What if they decide to move the containers before we blow them up?"
"I don't think those officials actually know what is in there but the fact he contacted some government authority means there will be an attempt to move the crates or full containers to another location. Let's just hope that doesn't happen before we destroy them."



Their car entered the port of Tartus and made it's way to a run-down cafe at the edge of town. Michael and McTavish drove to the rear of the cafe and sat waiting. Soon a young man on a scooter arrived, handed Michael a package and drove off with an envelope of money.
McTavish looked astonished, "Geeze - you have contacts everywhere. What's that - plastique explosive?"
"Yes - enough to destroy the whole warehouse. Now keep a lookout - I need to prepare the explosive."

Nikita's thoughts drifted back to the time they had conceived their children. She had prepared a special meal but he was late.

Suddenly the door opened, she wheeled around to see Michael. He looked tired. She ran to him and put out her arms but he withdrew. "What's wrong," she said.
M: I think I've found where Adam is.
N: What?
M: That's what I've been doing - trying to track him down. He's been placed in a foster home.
Michael walked over to the leather sofa and sat down with an overwhelming weariness. Nikita poured him a glass of wine and took it to him. He sipped it slowly.
N: What will you do?
M: I don't know. All I know is I want to see him.



N: But what will that do, Michael?
M: I never realized how much I wanted children, and then to have one taken away from you.....he will probably be the only child I will ever have.
N: You can have other children.
He looked up at her, "I don't think so Nikita - there's too much heartbreak."
She put her hands on both sides of his head and drew him towards her breasts. She stroked his hair. They sat in silence; the jazz music drifting through the loft.
N: Come - I've prepared your favourite dinner - and later, we can soak in the tub. I remember you like those bubbly soaks in that big tub of yours."


Nikita smiled as she continued to bath the baby boy. "Your daddy and I never did eat that dinner." She lifted the child from the water and placed him on a towel, patting him dry. She powdered and diapered him, then placed him back in his bassinet. Nikita then replaced the water in the bath and reached for the baby girl. As she lowered the child in the water, the baby clung to Nikita's fingers. "Yes, you are safe...I am here." Nikita bent over and gently kissed the baby on her stomach. The child began kicking and splashing.
Nikita's thoughts returned to her time with Michael in the bath.



They had made passionate love in Michael's large tub. She recalled almost losing consciousness from continuing orgasms. They could not get enough of each other - their bodies demanding more with each culminuation of the act.


She sat up and looked at his face. He is staring at her. She knows that he is aroused beyond reason. Suddenly he is on top of her, buried deep beneath her legs. His lips claim hers in a bruising kiss. She will never tire of feeling him fill her, the size of him stretching her wonderously. He begins to move, the water around them caressing their skin. Michael draws back, then slams back into her body. Nikita feels her passion beginning to build once more. Again and again, he slams into her, bruising, possessing, commanding her body completely.
Nikita holds onto his slickened shoulders, feeling him fill her again and again. The orgasm takes her by surprise, equally the intensity of Michael's lovemaking. She feels him shudder, pushing into her one last time. They wrap their arms around each other, Michael moving so that Nikita can lay her head on his chest, submerged in the warm water.
(The above passage is courtesy - GG - Guttergirl)


As Nikita dried the baby girl, she felt her body shaking with the memory of Michael. He had worn no protection when they made love that time. Although Michael always wore a condom to practice safe sex, she had removed it after joining him in the tub, whispering in his ear of how she wanted to feel him without cover. He had believed that Section had performed their sterilization program on her and therefore there was no chance of her getting pregnant. But she had deceived Section and avoided the procedure. She had also not told Michael. But when she told him of her pregnancy - he had been delighted.

Nikita watched the twins doze peacefull in their bassinets. Michael and her passionate lovemaking in the water had made two beautiful babies

As darkness fell on the town of Tartus, Michael and McTavish made their way back to the docks. They sat in their car and watched as vehicles drove into the enclosed dock area.
"How are we going to get back in Mr. Samuelle? We just going to crash through the main gate?"
"No - you will use the wire cutters and enter from the south side. I'll enter from the north. Once inside - go to the container and plant your charge - then get out. I'll meet you back here at the car."
"Ahhhhh...yeh, sure. Okay - hey....this is going to work - right!"
"Stewart - you will be fine. Now wait till I give you the signal."

Michael peered through his binoculars. "They have brought in more military - you will have to be careful not to be detected. Okay - go."

McTavish jumped from the car, shouldered his backpack containing the explosives and ran crouching, along the south perimeter of the dock encampment. Michael grabbed his pack and raced off to the north side of the docks. After reaching the desired location, Michael cut the wire chain-link fencing and made his way into the warehouse. It was dark inside so he put on his night-vision goggles and crept towards the container number 27888. He stuck the plastique explosive on the container and inserted the detonator.

"McTavish....Stewart - have you placed your explosive?"
There was no reply.
"Stewart...where are you?"
"I'm here...just pinned down. There's bloody guards all over the place - I can't get to the container!"
"I will create a distraction - then go and place the explosive and get out!"
"Yeh, sure...what you going to do?"

Michael did not answer - he was stealthfully creeping between the containers. Upon spotting a group of military, he pulled out a smoke bomb, pulled the ring and rolled the bomb towards the military. The soldiers started coughing and running. At the same time Michael headed back towards the entrance on the north side.

"McTavish - did you set the explosive?"
"Yes - it should go off in five minutes.....Oh sh!t!"
"What."
"There's a big gorilla-looking guy pointing a machine gun at me!"
"Shoot him!"
"His gun's bigger than mine, mate....yeh...sure thing mate - you got me - not so rough! Right take me to your officer - maybe we should hurry though!"

Michael stood at the north entrance listening to McTavish on his comm. He raced back into the warehouse, darting between the containers. KG-lots of Michael running here.
He estimated the time remaining before the explosives detonated was about four minutes. He ran to the side of the warehouse where McTavish was being led by six military to an office. The soldiers dragged McTavish into the office and threw him on the floor. Michael crept up to the top of a beam and scanned the warehouse for addition soldiers. The smoke from the distraction bomb still drifted throught this end of the building.
Suddenly a lone soldier gripping a machine gun walked by.

Michael shot him with his pistol fronted with a silencer. He leapt down from the bean and grabbed the machine gun. As he looked up again, he noticed a rope hanging from a metal beam over the top of the office containing McTavish and the military.
Michael made his way onto the roof of the office. He peered through a crack in the ceiling, then reached over and grabbed hold of the rope.


He took a leap and swung from the rope, crashing through a glass window of the office. He sprayed machine gun fire into the military. They dropped like flys as McTavish scrambled to the far end of the office.

"Chrisake! Michael! I thought I was a goner!"
"Move now! This building is going up in one minute!"

The two raced towards the front entrance of the warehouse, Michael shooting three more military who attempted to block their way. They were a few meters outside, when the building blew. The force of the explosion knocked them to the ground. Michael looked back, then grabbed McTavish by the jacket, "Keep moving....get to the car....!"

Michael gunned the car into reverse, ripping the steering wheel into a 360 degree turn. The car spewed gravel and sped off towards Damascas.

 The next day, Michael and McTavish hid out in their apartment. McTavish paced back and forth like a caged animal.
"I got to tell you....I thought I was dead! What a rush! You saved me man! You had moves like...you are amazing mate! God, I could kill for a drink! You think we can slip out for a drink? The food's all gone - we need to get more food. Maybe, get some booze - I didn't sleep - I'm sooooooo pumped! What do we do now?"
"Try to calm down Stewart. I will go out for more food. No drink - just bottled water - you need to keep a clear head."
"That was so incredible! Better than sex! Well - almost! Ohhh, would I ever like to get laid now! It's true - violence makes you horney! God - I wish I could get laid! You think maybe we could get a couple of....oh, forget it - I know - we're in hiding."



Michael looked at McTavish, "We must maintain a low profile. The authorities might connect the UN inspectors with the explosion. I'm going to create an internet scenario - saying it was the Mujahideen from Afganistan who bombed the warehouse."
"Huh! Why them?"
"The Al-Qaeda Mujahideen - start a rumor they did the bombing as a jihad."
"Huh...what...you lost me."
"The terrorist network of Bin Laden trying to destroy the Ba'athist party here in Syria."
"Wow...the politics are too much for me. You sure know what you are doing mate! You think that info spread on the internet will take the heat off us?"
"I hope it will. Because our mission is not complete. The last intel showed more of those crates from Yugoslavia shipped by Meracles are located somewhere in Syria."
"What...this mission isn't over! You mean....we gotta stay here longer!"
"Yes."
"Can't we even let my uncle know what we did? He'll be chuffed."
"No - we must remain on dark approach. I don't want to allow any traces back to your uncle."
"But...who could be tracing things back to him? He might be trying to get in touch with us......!"
"He has no need to reach us. We are self-sufficient. (Michael paused) I'm sure he will be very proud of you - you performed well."
"Yeh, I got caught!"
"That couldn't be helped - you performed the operation to your best ability. Now, I'm going to slip out for food. Stay here and try to rest."

Each day that passed with no word about Michael, made Nikita feel more distraught. Her daily routine was consumed with attending to the babies but her thoughts were always of Michael. One day as she sat by the pool; the babies carefully tucked away from the glaring sun in a corner of the patio, she recalled a time when Michael had been by her side.
They had only been together physically twice before - their relationship had been a tug-of-war: want and need - distrust and desire. Nikita had discovered her best defence against Michael's distant stoicism had been to draw him in - tease and tempt. The results varied. She knew he desired her physically but she wanted more.

Michael and Nikita were returning from a mission where they had posed as diamond smugglers and lovers. They had succeeded in apprehending Lauren Martine who was a dealer in stolen diamonds used to finance terrorist activities.
The mission had gone well and they had apprehended their prey. The operatives on team two were returning Martine to Section.



Michael drove the Mercedes through the rain slicked streets when Nikita turned to him. "We're not going back to Section - we should be going in the opposite direction - arent' we doing to debrief tonight?"
Michael looked over at her, "No we can do it in the morning."
Michael swung the Mercedes into the driveway of Nikita's apartment. He turned off the engine, got out of the car, and walked around to her side of the car. However, Nikita had already exited. "Oh sorry Michael, didn't kow we were still in mission mode. You don't have to walk me to my apartment."
"It will be fine - I will."
They walked in silence to her door; she inserted the key and stepped inside. He started to follow her. She turned and looked at him. "You were wanting something?"
The hunger in his eyes more than revealed what he wanted. Nikita smiled, turned and walked away from him and threw her belongings onto a leather couch. She knew what he wanted; in fact she wanted it too. The week they had pretended to be lovers had been very difficult - her body had ached for him but they were only play acting - putting on a front. They were on a mission.
Michael closed the door behind him and stood saying nothing. She removed her coat and bent down pulling off her boots. She wore tight black jeans and a white tank top; she stretched leisurely, exposing her mid-rift. Michael stood, his eyes devouring the display.
"Aren't you going to take your jacket off?", she teased.



Michael removed his leather jacket and walked slowly to Nikita. He took her by the shoulders, "......Nikita - do not tease.....not tonight."
Nikita leaned in and planted a light kiss on his nose. He stared deeply into her blue eyes, "Do you want me to stay?"
Nikita reponded by slipping her hands under his black sweater and dragging her fingernails lightly over his chest. Her hands inched down towards his belt and she began unbuckling it. She continued by unzipping his pants, all the while staring into his grey/green eyes.
"No - I want you to go Michael....I don't want you to stay," she teased.
He grabbed her by the wrists and wrapped her arms around her back, pulling her towards him, pressing himself into her so she could feel his need. She smiled, "Yes, I can see....ah, feel that you might want to stay Michael."
"Stop teasing me Nikita."
He placed his hands on her bottom and she jumped up onto him, placing her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. They kissed hungrily. Michael maneuvered his way up the stairs into her bedroom. Nikita marveled at how he managed this particular move considering their body positions.
When he reached the edge of the bed, he flung her onto the bed. She looked up in surprise. Although they had made love on two other occasions, Nikita never quite knew what Michael's mood was: she still didn't know this man.
As he stood over her, removing his clothes, she devoured his body. She did want more from this man, not just sex - she wanted more - much more.

Nikita never quite knew what Michael's mood was: she still didn't know this man. As he stood over her, removing his clothes, she devoured his body. She did want more from him, not just sex - she wanted more - much more.

He stood before her, his erection pushing boldly against the black silk of his underbriefs. Nikita gazed lustily at his body, then quickly started to remove the remainder of her own clothing. Michael reached down, "No - let me."


Slowly and gently he slipped her tank top over her head, then undid the black lace bra. He reached down, cupped each breast and caressed it gently. She grasped his head as he sucked and tugged on each nipple. He lifted his head and pulled off her jeans with one quick motion, then slid his thumbs up the edges of her thong brief and pulled it away. She could feel her body begin to quake as she extended her hips upward, "Michael....Michael!", she choked.
He felt her wetness and fingered her pleasure spot.


His lips placed butterfly kisses along her neck, her jaw, her cheeks, ears, eyes and then into her mouth. He thrust his tongue deeply inside. She returned his passionate kiss, clinging to his head. Nikita dug her fingernails into his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips. She reached down in an attempt to pull away his briefs as she could feel his pulsing erection through the silk fabric pressing against her body.
Michael suddenly pulled away and quickly removed the offending briefs. He kneeled, straddling her body as she grasped his throbbing penis; she stroked it gently. He edged up closer, until his manhood reached her mouth. She licked the length of his shaft: Michael shuddered, closed his eyes and fought for control. His actions were not lost on Nikita, as she continued to stroke, lick and kiss. He abruptly swung his body off her and sat on his haunches beside her. She looked startled, "What's wrong!"
"Nothing," he replied. "Nothing - do you have any condoms?"
"Yes, in the drawer," she motioned to the night table.
Michael leaned over to the bedside table and retrieved a box of condoms.
Nikita looked at Michael, puzzled, as he opened the box of condoms. 'Why had he stopped....had she done something wrong? She knew her teasing made him mad but it was obvious by looking at him that he wanted her. But what was the matter - why had he stopped.....it was something more than just getting a condom.'
Nikita sat up and took the condom from Michael. She ripped open the package with her teeth and looked at him smiling, "Please, let me."
Michael said nothing. She took his throbbing shaft in her hand and with a glint in her eye, placed a gentle kiss on the head of his penis. Michael clinched his eyes, his whole body tensing. Nikita placed the condom on the head of his shaft and gently rolled it down the full length, at the same time marveling at the size and width, 'Oh my God,' she thought to herself, 'can I take all of him?'

Michael pushed Nikita onto her back and spread her legs. He fingered her pleasure spot, then thrust his tongue into her opening. At the same time he grasped each breast and fingered her nipples. Within seconds, Nikita cried out, "Oh my God Michael....!, as she felt her orgasm overwhelm her body. She shook uncontrollably. But Michael didn't stop his ministrations until a second orgasm overtook her body. She screamed out, "Michael! I want you...!, she gasped. "I want you in me now!"

As her body was still shaking, Michael plunged into her. Nikita gripped his head and continued to thrust her hips upwards, taking him deeper. Michael fought for control. He continued to thrust deeply into her; sweat glistening on both their bodies.
Nikita grabbed fistfuls of Michael's hair and pulled his head up to look into his eyes. She was panting. He looked into the pools of her blue eyes but still he couldn't stop. He thrust, over and over - and then a wave of climax washed over him. Michael's breathing was labored as he recovered. He raised himself on his forearms and looked down at Nikita. She was smiling up at him. He whispered softly, "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"
"No - I'm fine," she replied. "But....ah, maybe I'll confirm that tomorrow."
"I'm so sorry Nikita....I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry - I'm certainly not!"


He remained hard inside her. She felt her muscle contractions gripping him. She reached up and kissed him. "Again," she whispered.
"Really," he responded.
"Well, we have been on a week long mission of foreplay."

Michael looked at McTavish.
".......that couldn't be helped - you performed the mission to the best of your ability. Now I'm going to get food. Stay here and try to rest."

Michael returned with food and stores for a number of days. When he entered the apartment, he found McTavish pacing back and forth.
"Wooooooooo...I thought maybe you weren't coming back!", expounded McTavish.
Michael looked at the young operative and motioned him to sit at the table. "Here, the food in the white containers is hot and I bought you some German beer."
McTavish took the food from Michael and began dishing it out. "Look mate, I'm sorry to be such a whimp, but....ah....this is new to me. You figure we will be okay, hiding out here?"

Michael sat at the table eating slowly. "Yes...we are fine." He sipped his wine. "We will stay in the apartment for a few days. I have alot of work to do trying to track further shipments. The manifests showed the containers we destroyed were the ones destined for Iraq and Iran. I will attempt to trace the transportation mode on the one destined for Afganistan. Hopefully, it hasn't left Syria."
McTavish sat drinking from the can of beer. "Say, something that's been bothering me. Why didn't we just close down the plant in Belgrade where the viruses are being manufactured?"
Michael looked up from his food. "Very good point. And if we had more teams - we would have done precisely that."
"So if my uncle had more knowledgeable employees - we could have hit the plant in Belgrade and the shipments here in Syria?"



"Yes. Usually a mission with these dynamics would involve many teams dispersed to all points consecutively."
"Must be like slumming for you just working with one other operative -and one who doesn't know what he's doing."
"We will get the job done eventually. It will just take longer."
"Maybe if we contacted my uncle, he might have some more help now?"
"No - we must remain on dark approach."
Michael emptied the remains of his meal in a trash container and took his glass of wine. "I'm going to lie down for awhile. You should try to get some sleep also."
"Ahhhh....don't know if I can....ah, Mr. Samuelle - thanks."
Michael closed the door to his room and laid on the bed in the darkness. He closed his eyes. His memories of another new operative - Nikita - came flooding into his consciousness.

They had returned from a mission where they posed as diamond smugglers. They had convinced Lauren Martine they were lovers and the mission had gone as planned.
Michael was driving Nikita back to her apartment.
"We're not going back to Section - aren't we going to debrief tonight?", Nikita asked.
Michael swung the Mercedes into the driveway of Nikita's apartment, got out and went to open her door. "No we can debrief in the morning."



She smiled at him over her glasses. "Oh sorry Michael, didn't know we were still in mission mode. You don't have to open my door or walk me to my apartment."
They walked in silence and she inserted the key and began to step inside. She stopped his entrance, "You were wanting something, Michael?"

~
"You were wanting something, Michael?"
~

Playing Nikita's lover on a mission was torture for him. He ached to make love to her but had remained distant as dictated by the profile. He closed her apartment door and watched as she threw her coat on the sofa and proceed to take off her boots. She then did something that made his stomach tighten - she stretched, exposing the soft, silky skin of her abdomen. He fought to not grab her and tear the black, tight jeans from her body. She danced around him teasingly, "Aren't you going to take your jacket off?"
"Nikita - do not tease - not tonight."

She leaned in to him and planted a kiss on his nose. He stared deeply into her blue eyes, his hunger aching in his groin. "Do you want me to stay?"
He knew she enjoyed teasing him, taunting him. And when she slipped her hands under his sweater and began unbuckling his belt - it was almost his undoing.
"No - I want you to go Michael.....I don't want you to stay," she teased.
If she only realized how this sensuous teasing drove him to the edge. He grabbed her and made his way up to her bedroom. He threw her violently onto the bed - she looked up in surprise. Michael began removing his clothes - knowing she was watching every move he made. He could tease too. He realized his manhood was pushing for release from his undergarments. He had thought to let her remove his pulsing, demanding erection but knew he would be totally lost if she touched him.
Instead, he pulled the remainder of her clothes from her exquisite body and sucked on her ivory breasts. He felt her wetness as she thrust her body towards him, crying out his name.
He longed to plunge deeply into her but his mind wanted something else - to pleasure this woman - to take her over the edge - to bring her ecstasy.

This was more than just sex - Nikita was beginning to possess his soul. He felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders and her legs wrapping around his waist. He had discarded his undergarment as she grasped his throbbing erection. She had taken him so tenderly in her mouth; her touch was driving him to lose control. She was pushing him beyond control, something that was his life - and who he was. He felt himself beginning to erupt and quickly pulled away from her.
"What's wrong!" she questioned.
"Nothing - do you have any condoms," he grasped for words and any excuse to not allow her to see her affect on him.
He retrieved a box of condoms, all the while attempting to get his mind and body under control. 'If she only knew what she was doing to him.' His instinctual desire to plunge deep into her and thrust over and over again, consumed him. But he must not.
Then she had taken the condom from him teasingly and planted a delicate kiss on the end of his shaft. His whole body quaked. He pushed her back onto the bed and began thrusting his tongue into her. Her cries echoed in his ears - he could not wait any longer.

He plunged into her wet opening. As soon as he felt the warm wetness surrounding him, his body exploded. He pounded, over and over as a second wave swept through his body. As the wave began to subside, he continued to thrust into her. Deep in his mind, he thought, 'I must stop - I might injure her. Why could he not stop? He should stop - he would hurt her. Did he want to harm her? Did he want to wrack revenge on her for making him lose his control?'
And then - another wave climaxed through his body. She possessed him - possessed him completely. His breathing was laboured as he raised himself on his forearms.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry Nikita...I'm sorry for my....."
"I'm fine - don't be sorry - I'm not."
He remained hard inside her and felt her contractions gripping him.
"Again," she whispered breathlessly. "We have been on a week long mission of foreplay."

The next morning, the sun poured into the small Damascus apartment. Michael rose, showered and ate some croissants. He sipped coffee as he sat at the computer, seeking the intel regarding further shipments into Afganistan. McTavish staggered from his bedroom. "Hey mate, what are we doing today?"
"I think I've located a possible location of further crates from Meracles Shipping. They are destined for Afganistan. After you eat something, I want you to spend the rest of the day on the computer trying to track down possible transportation modes. I've left you the codes and ciphers to attempt the tracking."
McTavish stood scratching his head, "Geeze mate, you mean I gotta spend the whole day cooped up in here! I'm going crazy not getting out. Maybe I could just......"


"Stewart - we must maintain a low profile after the warehouse bombing. I'm going out to meet a contact regarding more explosives."
"I can do that! Ahh, please...I'm not used to staying cooped up like this! You may not know it, but I kinda party alot and have lots of the ladies after me - if you know what I mean."

Michael got up from the computer and stared at McTavish. "Grow up Stewart. This is not a game we are playing. There are people out there who won't hesitate to kill you just for looking at them the wrong way. Now - get cleaned up, eat and start working on the computer!"
Michael grabbed his jacket and started for the door. He turned and looked back at McTavish who stood looking shocked. Michael slammed the door behind him.

Once outside, Michael donned his sunglasses and slipped into a taxi.
He had the driver circle the square and then park next to the mosque. He sat and surveyed the streets. The old Citroen drove by and parked on the opposite side of the square. The driver turned to Michael, "Monsieur, you want to go anywhere or just sit all day?"
"Just stay here - I'll tell you when to drive."
Across the square the Citroen began pulling away, disappearing into the traffic. Michael directed the driver, "Go now but turn left ahead - then go to the Al Tilal restaurant."
The taxi pulled up to the restaurant and Michael paid the driver.

He walked into the outdoor restaurant and spotted the contact who had supplied him with the plastique explosives. Michael started walking up to the man when suddenly a woman appeared from the opposite direction and sat down at the table. The man looked startled and began to wave Michael off. Michael quickly sat down at another table, surveying the scene. He could not see the woman's face but there was something familiar - she wore a large hat, sunglasses and a blue scarf was draped around her neck. "Merde! It was the reporter - Dana Delancourt - what was she doing talking to the contact man?"
Michael got up and walked over to the table, "Well, Ms. Delancourt - we meet yet again. I see you are making contact with the locals."

Dana spun around and looked up at Michael, "Ohhhh, it's.....you....I was....!"
The contact man rose quickly and raced away, gripping a fistful of American dollars.

"Oh sorry, looks like your informant has skipped - hope you got the information you were looking for," quipped Michael.
"Sit down Michael. Why didn't you phone me? And I know you don't work for a pharmaceutical company. Turns out you were telling me a little fib - right! You are some kind of mercenary or spy!"
"Did your informant tell you that?"
"He was just about to tell me something about you but you scared him off. But for your information, I researched your background myself."
"You seem very pleased with yourself."
"Michael, I'm an investigative reporter - a very good one if I do say so myself. Look, I don't want to blow your cover or publish anything about what you are doing here in Syria.....I just....well....I just wanted to know you better."
"You have a strange way of finding out - talking to shady characters and paying them money."
"In my line of work - money talks. Sorry...but when I didn't hear from you I started to.....well worry."
"I'm here - no need to worry."
"Well sit down please - let's have a coffee."
Michael sat and motioned to the waiter to bring two coffees. "It's very considerate of you to worry about me - but I am fine."

Michael sat and motioned to the waiter to bring two coffees. "It's very considerate of you to worry about me but I am fine."

Dana could feel her pulse racing and not just from the sudden departure of the contact man and ensuing scene that followed. This man named Michael had a devastating affect on her.
"So, you not going to tell me what you're doing here in Syria?" she questioned.
"No, sorry."
"Well....then you should at least have dinner with me tonight - you stood me up once."
"I apologize for that."
"And so you should - so ....dinner at my hotel tonight?"

Michael looked at this beautiful woman who was so insistent. "Yes, I suppose I can make it this evening."
Dana quickly pulled a piece of paper from her bag and wrote the hotel address. "How about six pm. Will that work into your busy schedule?"
"I should be able to fit it in."


Michael removed his sunglasses, reached across the table, and gently removed hers.
Dana felt her stomach tighten as her mind went in a direction she attempted to subdue.
"Ahhh...good, great. That...you can fit it in......"

Michael got up from the table, handing Dana her glasses. "Here better put these back on - in case you need to meet some more shady characters."
"Oh yes....thanks...so, see you at my hotel and....Michael, are you going to stand me up again?"
"No I won't do that - I never leave a lady waiting twice. See you this evening."
He strode away, Dana watching his distinct walk as he disappeared from the restaurant.
Dana breathed deeply. "Oh my god, what is it about this man!"

After leaving Dana at the restaurant, Michael walked out into the square. He stood in the shade of a historic monument and punched numbers onto his cell phone. He paced up and down, then walked to a park where he sat on a bench and waited.

Soon a young man approached on a scooter - the same young man who had delivered the explosives a few days before. The young man gave Michael an address, then roared off.
Michael walked to Jablah Street and hailed a taxi. The ageing cab drove through the streets for fifteen minutes before dropping Michael at an old stone building. He walked up to the third floor and tapped lightly on room 319. A small, spectacled man opened the door a crack and peered out at Michael. He handed him the paper from the scooter youth and the man opened the door. The small man was in his late sixties, his room was dusty and filled with books - he motioned for Michael to be seated.
Michael walked to the window and peered into the street, then sat on an overstuffed sofa. The old man offered tea; Michael declined and sat waiting.
Just then there was pounding on the door. When the old man opened the door, the contact man from the restaurant entered. He walked up to Michael, pulled his pistol - pointing it into Michael's face.
Michael looked up and gently grasped the gun, moving it aside. "My friend - I should be the one pointing a gun - why were you selling information to a journalist?"
The contact man withdrew the gun and paced the room.
"I had no knowledge the journalist wanted information on you. When I saw you at the restaurant.....I thought....!"


"You are playing both sides, my friend," glared Michal. "A very dangerous game to play. The Hizbollah will not be pleased you play both sides."
The old man rose from his chair. "Please do not tell anyone of this - my son was approached by this woman for information - he had no idea it was about you."
"This will not go unrecorded. I want the same order as placed before. I need it by the end of the week. I will call you regarding the pick-up point."
Michael rose and started for the door. "If the woman journalist tries to contact you again - tell her nothing!"
The old man followed Michael to the door, "Please tell no-one of this. The woman knows nothing....!"
The contact man glared at Michael, "The journalist already knows you - you deal with her - she is beautiful so making her believe any story should be easy."
Michael said nothing - he opened the door and left.

When he reached the street, he hailed a taxi and drove to the Jabri Internet cafe. Once inside, he sat at a terminal and typed an encrypted email to Dr. Ian Leslie on Rhodes.

~~Scotland: Continuing dark approach - more sales of pharmaceuticals required. Tracking potential customers. Innocent Scotland doing well - doing his parentage proud.

Michael hit the send key and closed the connection immediately. Dr. Leslie would not be able to reply due to the encryption. Michael sat sipping his expresso. 'Okay, time to give some thought to the woman journalist. She was indeed beautiful....and clever....too clever. The dinner tonight would provide an opportunity to discover just how much she did know about him.'

Michael left the internet cafe and walked slowly through the streets of Damascus. He recalled some of the valentine missions he had done. After meeting Nikita, he had hated being sent on missions where he deceived women by seducing them. But now Nikita was gone - gone forever. Perhaps seducing this woman would prove a distraction he needed - a night of passion would serve to push his memories of life without Nikita - far into oblivion.
When Michael arrived back at the apartment, he found McTavish working on the computer but not gathering intel on transportion modes, he was playing computer games. McTavish quickly clicked the game off as Michael closed the apartment door.
"Soooooooooo....mate - how did things go?"
"Fine. You locate the information I wanted?"
"Ahhhhhhhhh...well...no. Look Mr. Samuelle - to tell you the truth - I think I'm going to lose it staying here....."
"We will be leaving in a few days....to destroy the last shipment from Meracles. But if you haven't found out anything on the computer, it could be even longer before you leave this apartment."
"Yeh, sure. I gotcha. Okay. So, do you think we could at least rent a video to watch tonight?"
Michael opened a plastic bag and tossed five videos at McTavish. "Here - you can watch these later - lots of violence and sex."
"Wow! You read my mind. You going to watch them with me?"

"No - I will be going out tonight and will probably be staying out all night. I have a small operation I must perform."
"Gathering intel?"
"Yes - a variable has arisen. I need to attend to it."
"You need any help?"
"No this is a one man mission. I should return first thing in the morning. Make sure you don't leave the apartment Stewart. Now, let's see what you've found out about transportation modes."
Michael sat before the computer and booted up the drive. He scanned the shipping manifests from Meracles Shipping and looked back at the screen. The computer game McTavish had been playing appeared on the screen. "Hummm - I see you were trying an alternative method of approaching the problem Stewart."
"Sorry mate."
"Come - pull up a chair. Let's see what we can find."
McTavish smiled and moved a chair next to Michael. "Thanks mate. I have a low attention span - maybe you can help me with that."

Michael left McTavish working on the computer as he showered and changed clothing.
He slipped into the darkened street and spotted the old Citroen parked next to a kiosk. The men inside the car sat smoking and sipping coffee.

Michael stood in the shadows, then boldly walked into the street, waving down a taxi. The men in the Citroen jumped into action and wheeled their vehicle around, following the taxi.
Michael directed the cab driver to go to the main square and stop at the mosque. As the taxi pulled into the square, Michael quickly paid the driver and darted behind the historic columns. He waited and watched as the Citroen pulled up; the men spotted the taxi driving away, and raced through the square in pursuit.
Michael smiled to himself, 'these police or agents were not very adept at their job.' He had anticipated undertaking more than one diversionary tactic.
He started walking slowly from the square towards Dana's hotel. The night air was pungent with the smell of diesel and spices - another call for prayers at the mosque rang out. Within a half hour, he reached the hotel Ducale.


Michael walked through the lobby and into the bar; Dana sat sipping a cocktail and reading a copy of the Guardian newspaper. She looked up, sensing Michael's presence and appreciating the opportunity to watch him walk towards her.
"Michael - late as usual - I thought I was going to be stood up again."
Michael reached for her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. "Sorry, it took me longer to find your hotel."
Dana could feel the blood rising in her face, somewhat taken off guard by the affectionate gesture. "So, would you like a drink - I made reservations in the diningroom - for....ah,...twenty minutes ago."
"Well, if we are late, perhaps we should go and eat. Would you like them to bring your drink to the diningroom?"
"No, I think I need a clear head." She laughed. "Wine with dinner should be enough."
The maitre d' escorted them to a table and a waiter presented a wine menu to Michael.
"Do you prefer white or red wine?" questioned Michael.
"I'm easy....ah, sorry, that didn't come out right. I would like red if that's okay with you."
Michael pointed to a Bordeaux red and the waiter whisked away, leaving the dinner menus placed before them.

Michael looked at Dana, "This hotel seems very pleasant, are you comfortable here?"
"It's a step down from the suite I had at the Meridian, but it's okay. What about you - do you have a good hotel?"
"Actually, my associate McTavish and I have a small apartment. The company finds it's cheaper than hotels."

The waiter arrived and poured a mouthful of wine into Michael's glass. Michael offered the glass to Dana. "Waiters always think men know more about wines, here you make the decision."
Dana blinked and breathed deeply, 'God, this man was too much.' She took the glass and sipped the wine. "Yes, your selection is perfect Michael."
The waiter poured out both glasses and addressed them, "Would you care to order or take further time to consider?"
Michael looked to Dana but said nothing.
"Ahhhh, we need a little time, thank you," she blurted out.
They sat in silence sipping their wine then suddenly Dana broke the silence. "So are you going to tell me your full name tonight or are you remaining Michael the mystery man?"
"My name is Michael Samuelle."

"Wow, that wasn't so hard was it. Now why not tell me what you really do and why you are in Syria."
"I am sure you have researched that - correct."
"I know you are not a pharmaceutical salesman - neither you or McTavish. So....you work for the government - right?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Michael - I'm an investigative journalist. There's no way you are selling aspirin to the Syrians!"

"They do have many headaches here."
"Very funny. Okay, so you won't tell me.....how about letting me know where you are from......"
"Why do you want to know this?"
"Because....well, I like to know a little background about men that I might be....."
"Making love to," replied Michael.

His sudden response took her off guard. "Hummm, well, we got that out of the way - so we know why we are both here!"
The waiter returned, "Can I take your order now?"
"The lady will be ordering for both of us."

Again, Dana was thrown off guard. 'Damn him!' She grabbed the menu and scanned it.
"We'll have two chicken farouje and a side of tabbouleh - hold the bulgar, and a small mazza."
The waiter smiled as he wrote the order, "Very good choice." He whisked away.
Michael reached across the table and took her hand. "It sounds wonderful, you have become an expert with middle eastern food."
"I know my way around a tabbouleh."
"What is a mazza?" questioned Michael.
"They are little bowls of veggies bathed in golden oil. Very fattening....the oil that is."
Michael stroked her hand and stared into her brown eyes. "Anything bathed in golden oil would be a welcome treat."
Dana felt her pulse racing and groin tightening. "Sh!t, this man had the moves!' "So....I guess you to be from the western US - California perhaps."
Michael released her hand and laughed. "And what makes you think that?"
"No...not the US - maybe Britain, but you were not born there - France perhaps or maybe Belgium."
"Incorrect."
"Michael, don't be so evasive! What's the big deal with telling me where you are from?"
"You tell me where you are from first."
"I told you when we first met - I'm Canadian. I was born in Vancouver. You even know where that is?"
"Yes, it's very beautiful there. I have not visited Vancouver but have seen travel documentaries."
"Oh yes, like you watch travel documentaries! Have you even been to Canada?"

"Yes, once - a friend and I visited the Rockies - an experience not to be forgotten."
"Who was she?" quizzed Dana.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The woman you visited the Rockies with."
"Why do you think I was with a woman?"
Michael's mind raced back to the time he and Nikita had spent two weeks downtime in the mountains.
"Michael - a man with your obvious....ah, well - attributes - wouldn't be spending two weeks in the mountains alone."
"My attributes?"
"You like playing games with women, don't you. Okay, I can play games too."
"Oh, I think I should be afraid now. You are one of the most tenacious women I have met."
"Which government do you work for Michael - the CIA, MI6, Interpol or are you freelance?"

At that moment, the waiter arrived with their food. He took great care placing the many dishes around the table, then stood smiling. "Enjoy your meal." He quietly walked away.

Michael began eating his food. "So these mazza vegetables - show me how you eat them."
Dana looked at Michael with exasperation. "You stick the damn things in the oil, swish it around and stick it in your mouth Michael!"
"Aummmm, this is excellent. Good choice," he smiled.
"You enjoy this head game, don't you!"
"Why don't you tell me about the story you are investigating? I'm sure that will be far more interesting than me telling you what I do."
"Okay, I will - but only if you tell me. Ever hear the expression - I'll show you mine if you show me yours!"
"What would you like me to show you?" smiled Michael.

Dana started laughing. "You are too much! But I'll only tell you a little about my investigation if you let out a little information about yourself - deal?"
"Well, let's see how much you tell me."
Dana shook her head. "Fine! So like I told you before - I was fired by Newsweek. They thought I was chasing illusions but I picked up a job with The Guardian in London. They're prepared to back me and believe I actually have a story."
"What's the story?"
"Bio-chemical weapons being shipped from Europe, possibly Yugoslavia and being shipped into Iraq, Iran and Afganistan."
"Very interesting - why Yugoslavia?"
"I have facts about a chemical plant in Belgrade where their scientists are making viruses as weapons of mass destruction."


"This sounds dangerous. Why would Yugoslavian scientists want to do this?" questioned Michael.
"The Yugoslavs are anti-American because of being bombed during the Balkan war."
"And you have discovered this by yourself - you must have other people working on the same story with you."
"No - just little old me. I came across the initial story idea from another journalist, we were going to work on it together but he was.....ah, killed."
"I'm sorry - what happened?"
"He was in tower one on September 11 in New York."
"I'm very sorry. You must have been very good friends."
"Well, we were a little more than just friends - we were lovers."
Michael took her hand. "I am so sorry for your loss. I know what it is like to lose someone you care deeply for."
"Have you lost a special person Michael?"

Michael looked away, across the busy restaurant. 'He should not speak of her tonight - he was on a mission. But the ache for her....the need to talk about the ache was......'
"Yes, a woman I care for - I lost her."
Dana sat upright. 'He was actually talking about himself....or was he? Was this more game playing....'
"What happened to her?"
"She was killed in a bombing - by a suicide bomber."
"Oh my God Michael! Where?"
"In Afganistan."
"What was she doing there? Were you working together there...when did this happen?"



Michael sat back in his chair. "I apologize, but I can't talk anymore about her. I should not have said....please no more questions about her."
Dana stared at Michael. She could see the pain in his face. The woman he lost was more than just a temporary lover like her friend who died on September 11. This man called Michael had lost a soul-mate - it was written on his whole body.
Dana longed to comfort him - to feel him - but he remained such a mystery.
"Okay Michael, no more questions about her then."

Michael looked up at Dana. "So what is your next move for your story?"
"Try and track down where the shipments are in Syria and where they are going."
"How will you do that?"
"Ahhhhh...that's a trade secret. You want to help me? I'm sure you have a few tricks in your bag."
"You are determined to have me working in some undercover job."
"Michael - I know you are working as an agent - I just don't know for whom. It doesn't really matter anyway. I just figured if we are both following the same story - we could perhaps work together.



"I don't think that is possible - I'm not a secret spy like you think."
She smiled. "Fine - maintain your cover like a good spy should. So.....how did you like the meal?"
"It was excellent. May I order more wine for us?"
"I don't think I need anymore wine....unless you need more."
"I have had enough. Would you like coffee?"
"No coffee - no more wine - the meal is over....so now what?"

Michael's green/grey eyes penetrated hers. "What is your desire?"
"I think you know - unless you have other plans - like maybe selling more aspirin to the Syrians?"
"I don't think so - aspirin will not solve their problems....not tonight."

Dana slipped her shoe off and edged her foot underneath the length of the table. She could feel Michael's ankle as she slid her foot, slowly up his pant leg.



He reached under the table, grasped her foot and began massaging it. Dana inhaled deeply.
As the waiter walked behind their table, Michael motioned for the bill, while releasing her foot.
"Michael, I should pay for the dinner; I did ask you afterall."



"My treat...you can pay for dessert."
"But we haven't ordered any.....ah....oh, yes....dessert. Yes, your treat - dessert......."

After the payment for the meal was attended to, Michael and Dana left the restaurant and headed for the elevator. They stood in silence as the lift churned up, floor after floor. Dana looked over at Michael as he gazed at her. She felt her pulse racing.

 

At Helmet's villa on Ibiza, the days were turning into weeks and still Nikita had no word from Michael. She paced up and down in her room, the baby girl in her arms - crying.
"Please little one, why are you crying so much - what's wrong - have I done something wrong - am I not looking after you correctly?"



Nikita walked to the bassinette and looked in at the baby boy. When he saw his mother, he started crying. Nikita stood looking down at him, rocking the crying infant in her arms. "Oh my God, I don't even know how to look after them properly! Why are they crying all the time!"
Just then the nanny, Maria, entered the room. She had new formula in two bottles.
"Senorita, the formula is ready. Would you like me to feed them?"
The two infants screamed loudly, "Maria, they won't stop crying - I'm going to call the doctor and see if everything is okay. Maybe cause they were premature, something is wrong."
"I think they like your milk better than the formula the doctor gave you."
"Yes, but I am giving them my milk with the formula. The doctor said they needed extra nourishment."
"I am no doctor, senorita, but I think the mother's milk is all a baby wants."
"Please take the boy and try feeding him, I'll attempt to feed the girl."
"Yes senorita. Have you not thought of names for the babies yet?"
"No. I....no - I'm waiting for their father to arrive."

There was a knock at the door; Walter peered into the room. "Hey Sugar, can I come in?"
"Sure....maybe you can stop them crying."
Walter walked to Nikita and smiled at the tiny infant. "Hey, can you tell which one is the boy or girl?"
Nikita looked at Walter in disbelief. "What....are you kidding....!"
"No....oh, no - I mean without seeing them with no clothes on."
"Walter - are you trying to be funny?"
"Ah, no - sorry. Look - I contacted your father - he is delighted and wants to come and visit - I mean, you know see the babies."



"No Walter - I can't deal with him - not right now."
"Okay, sure - he said it's your call." Walter stroked the baby's stomach. "This one the girl? Sure has a good pair of lungs."
The baby girl continued to scream. The nanny had taken the boy out onto the patio and was feeding him the formula.
"Walter.....she cries all night now. I don't know what's wrong. The poor little thing - she can't keep down any milk. I'm scared Walter - what am I doing wrong? What do I know about being a mother!"
"Sugar....ah, Nikita - you are a wonderful mother. You are just tired - you must be sleep deprived."
Nikita sat down with the baby and opened her shirt, attempting to have the infant take her breast. Walter looked the other way.
"Walter, I told you - don't be embarrassed by my breastfeeding! She won't take the milk from me anyway. Why...what's wrong!"
The infant cried and began shaking. Nikita got up and began rocking her child back and forth and whispered into her tiny ear. "My little one...please...I love you so much...I want to help you....lovely little one....."
The baby girl soon stopped crying; only the odd whimper could be heard. Nikita sat again in the chair and rocked the baby.
"Walter."
"Yes, Sugar...what can I do?"
"Please find Michael for me. I just know if he was here now - the babies would be fine. They would be content. I can't do this on my own. Creating life.....we created these babies...he needs to be here. What if something happens to me - they would be all alone...."
"Nikita, we are here for you - Helmet and me....I know we can't replace Michael but - well you're just feeling your own mortality due to giving birth."
"Since when did you become an expert on mortality and creating life?"
"Well, I'm not an expert but I know one thing - with the life you've lead in Section - all the times you nearly died, were tortured....well, it's natural you would start thinking about your own mortality."
"You mean like - we're all going to die some day."
"Yup - something like that. But you have your whole life before you - and two kids to raise."

"I can't do it without Michael. I must find him."
"Sugar, if we could find him - he would be here. He's probably tracking down some low-life terrorist as we speak."
"I've been doing that every day - wondering what he is doing. What time is it in Syria now? It's night - like here - right? What do you think he is doing right now?"
"Don't torture yourself Nikita. Like I said, he's probably interrogating someone for information. He won't be on this dark approach mission forever - it will end."
"Do you think he's alone? I mean - he's with the young operative but...."
"You are torturing yourself - stop! Now, why don't we take some more pictures of the babies for him. The videos were great, but let me get the digital and take some stills."
"Not now Walter, they're too upset."
"Well, that's more like reality. Okay, then why not think up some names."
"Not until Michael comes."
"Why not give them temporty names then - and when he gets here - you two can change the names. You can't keep calling them girl and boy baby."
Nikita smiled. "I have been thinking about names - just temporary ones. What do you think of Marko for the boy and Terry for the girl."
"After the two operatives in Section."
"Yes, I will never get over the guilt of bringing Marko into Section and as for Terry - her only crime was getting pregnant in Section."
"They sound like great names, Sugar. So - Marko and Terry."
"Only temporary - until Michael gets here."
"Sugar, why don't you try to get some sleep? The nanny can look after the babies - you look exhausted."


"She has been helping but at night the....Terry, cries and wakes up the boy. They won't stop crying for her. So I...."

The baby girl started crying again. Nikita rose from her chair and started to once again pace the room - rocking the crying infant in her arms. Walter stood, helpless....."Ah Sugar, I'll go see if Helmet has heard anything from Dr. Leslie."
The nanny returned with the baby boy and placed him in the bassinette. Once he heard his sister crying, he began crying also.
Nikita looked over at the baby boy - tears streaming down her face - the children continued their crying.

Continuing with MichelsCourtesan's passage......

Leaving him in the middle of the room and barely able to stand, Dana slipped into the bathroom and started the bath water. The tub was much like the hotel room. It wasn't large or fancy. Dana smiled as she eased into the tepid water. With MIchael joining her, it would be a tight fit. Hopefully, that was a good thing. She leaned back against the convex and closed her eyes. She had left Michael in the room and was certain he would be joining her once he regained his composure. If the cry he made as he came was any indication, she had been quite successful in pleasing him. The old adage of giving being better than receiving was true. Warmth rushed throughout her body as she could not help but anticipate his reciprocation.

Michael had managed to step backwards and was now sitting on the corner of the bed. Leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, he ran his fingers through his hair and then shook his head. It would be so easy to just lie back on the bed and fall asleep. Dana had left him feeling literally drained both sexually and emotionally. The tension of working with Stewart and his constant longing for someone he could never see again was suddenly washed away. In the back of his mind, he knew that her magic was only a temporary fix. Right now, it was enough.

The sound of the water filling the bathtub stopped. Michael sighed.
Sitting up, Michael finished removing his shirt and then stood. He walked to the mirror and studied his reflection. The man in front of him looked tired. There was weariness in his eyes. Michael knew that the look was permanent. It was time he accepted that Nikita was gone and that he would never again feel whole inside. Leaning into the mirror, he stared deeply into his eyes while his mind conjured up a statement from his past.
'Get over it.'
He knew he would never be able. Instread, he would go on existing and going through the motions. In the other room waited a perfectly delectable woman who deserved to be gratified. A familiar twinge in his groin told him that his physical capabilities had returned. With one last look at his reflection, he half smiled and shook his head.

Michael then turned and walked to the bathroom.

"Now there is a sight every woman would love to see gracing her dooorway." Dana purred.

  ......continuing MichelsCourtesan's passage....

The sound of stifled laughter filled the tiny room as the two tried to fit within the small tub. Finally, a position that was comfortable was agreed upon. Michael sat in the middle of the tub with Dana upon his lap facing him. Her legs straddled his waist and wrapped around his body.
The laughter quieted as both became aware of the sensations below. The feel of her skin on his, made him tingle with arousal.
Her ease with her own body immediately made him feel like they had been lovers for years. Very few women in his life had this openness and Michael was forced to push the thought of Nikita from his mind.


It was a futile attempt. Immediately, his mind conjured up an image of Nikita in the very position in which the beautiful stranger was now engaged.
Dana could feel the change in him as his mind ventured far from her and the situation.
"Do you want to talk about her?" She whispered in his ear, forcing him back to the present.
"No. It has just been a long day."
"You can tell me. Is there something about what we are doing that makes you think of her?"
"Dana. You think too much."
"This has nothing to do with thinking, Michael. This is a feeling thing. I could feel the change in you. Tell me about her."
"She's dead."
Dana tried to hide her shock at his blunt reply.
"Yes, you told me. How long ago?"


"Less than a year. In some ways it seems she has been gone forever yet in others, it is as if I can feel her. She and I.....," he paused and let out a small sigh as Dana pulled him close to her and held him tight. He continued, "We shared a connection. I'll never have it with another. I swear I can still feel her."
"Her spirit?"
"No. I can feel her. There was so much confusionn at the time. I was injured. I am guessing that with all of the turmoil, I haven't been able to grieve her passing." Michael paused and sighed, "She was my life."
"Oh, Michael. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I did to trigger this, but if you want to go, I will understand. If you'd like, you can just stay and let me hold you. We don't have to continue."
"I'll be fine. It is just that you're very comfortable with your body. You treat me as if you've know me for years. It made me think of her."
"I see. Well, my darling, the way I treat you has more to do with the fact that I know men, very well. On that note, I'd just like to say that I want to know what you feel like buried deep inside me. Something tells me that you will not disappoint me if given the chance. But, if you're not 'up' to it, I'll understand."
"Is that a challenge?" He asked with a weary smile.
"If it spurs you on to action and away from grief, yes," she replied.
Reaching for his hair, she tilted his hed back and exposed his neck. Starting at the section beneath his left ear, she bit and licked her way to the other side. The salty tang of his skin combined with the days stubble provided sensations that transmitted signals to all areas of her body.
She hoped that her proficiency would be enough to pull him from his misery.



The sadness that permeated his eyes never quite went away. From what she could tell of his soul, Michael would never be free to love another. Pushing the thought of a life without one's true love, she increased her assault on his neck and was rewarded with the feel of his penis hardening against her derriere. Michael Samuelle's life was going to be one of great sadness with an occasional interjection of gratuitous sex. A cold chill ran through her body when she came to the realization that one day, nothing would be worth keeping him in this life and he would decide to leave it.
'Not while I'm around!', she announced within her own thoughts and then crushed her mouth against his. Dana knew she was battling a ghost. If she could keep him with her in the present, they would make astonishingly wonderful love.

Breaking from their kiss, she pulled his head to her breasts and arched her back to offer them to his hungry mouth. Michael moaned as he greedily sucked and bit her sensitive flesh. Looking down at the beautiful man, Dana sighed and tightened her grip on his dampened curls.
Both were on their way to forgetting.
The pleasure he was giving her resonated throughout her body. She ached to feel what was pressing against her backside, deep within. The bathtub did not offer much room for maneuvering. Lifting off him slightly, she positioned her hips and prepared to sheathe his incredible penis. As she lowered herself and felt the tip at her entrance, two strong hands pressed upon her hips, holding her still.
Whimpering in frustration and struggling against his grip, Dana fought him for control. Michael's mouth left her sensitive nipple and ventured back to her neck. His grip was firm and the bite he gave her had enough pain with it to get her attention.
"Slow down, Dana Delancourt. Let me love you." Michael whispered in her ear.
She did not like being told what to do. Not when there was a huge and surely satisfying @#%$ pressed against her flesh.
"I want you in me....NOW!" She growled.
"Shhhh...just kiss me," he instructed.

Her mouth found his as she tried to punish him with her angry and frustrated kisses. As their lips and tongues caressed and battled, Dana's hips still struggled while she fought to impale herself upon him.
Michael noted now stubborn she was, even at a time like this when bliss was not far away. His kisses softened as did her resolve and finally he was able to slide one hand across her hip and between her legs. She cried out when he finally touched her where she ached for some sort of stimulation. Frantically, she ground against his talented fingers. Although that portion of her body remained below the water line, Michael could feel the distinct difference between her silky wetness and the water.


"Stand please," he commanded her.

The loss of contact with his fingers made her sob. Dana complied thinking maybe he had tired of the tub and wanted to move their lovemaking to the bed. With now unsteady legs, she stood in the tub. Michael returned his hands to her hips. She expected him to want to stand and began to step backwards to allow him room to stand.

"No." Michael instructed. "Don't move."

She looked down at him and sobbed as he adjusted his position so that his mouth was at the perfect height to taste her. Running his hand down her thigh, he looked up at her as he brought his mouth to her aching flesh. He then pushed and lifted her thigh until she understood his silent instructions. With her right foot now on the edge of the tub, her exposed flesh was now totally accessible to his gifted mouth. Dana grasped onto a handle for balance and prepared to be overwhelmed.
Michael pulled her to him and began to kiss and lick her. Catching her own reflection in the mirror, Dana watched as he loved her. It would have seemed unreal if it weren't for the exquisite pleasure emanating from her clitoris and traveling throughout her nervous system. He did not let up even as her legs trembled.

An hour after Michael had left the apartment, McTavish spend the next hour showering and spiking his hair with mousse. He stood looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. 'That would have to do,' he thought. 'No more hair colour or special shampoo left....so.'



He stood by the front door of the apartment and peered into the street. The old Citroen with two men remained parked behind a kiosk. McTavish did not notice the car but quickly hailed a taxi. The Citroen wheeled around and began following the cab as it picked its way through the streets. McTavish leaned forward to the driver.
"Hey mate, you speak English?"
"Yes...where you want to go?"
"A club with lots of beautiful women."
"You want women for sex?"
"Ahhhh. Well, later maybe - but take me to a club with great dance music, booze and beautiful women."
"I know of such a place - The Lattakia. Many tourist women from Europe go there - you will find one who wants sex."
"Great! Drive on."

The Citroen followed behind the taxi and when the cab pulled up to the nightclub, one of the men spoke into a radio.

McTavish entered the club - the loud sound of western techno music pounded throughout the room. He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, and stood surveying the patrons as they danced in the smoke filled room. His gaze was drawn to a young red-haired woman wearing skin tight jeans and a bright top that ended at her mid-rift. She looked to be around eighteen years old. McTavish clutched his beer and made his way over to the woman. She looked up as he approached and smiled.
"May I join you," grinned McTavish.
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," she replied with a pronounced Irish accent.

At that moment, the two men from the Citroen entered the club and walked to the bar. The taller man motioned to a dark, Mediterranean looking woman in her late twenties who sat by herself at a corner table. She rose and made her way through the throng of dancing couples. The man whispered into her ear and pointed to McTavish at the end of the bar.
McTavish had ordered the redhead another gin and tonic and a second beer for himself.
"So, what brings you to Syria?" he questioned.
"It's a cheap holiday. A few of my mates from Dublin and I came a week ago. The beaches are lousy and the food is too greasy. What about you - you from England?"
"Scotland originally."
"You don't sound like a jordy!" she laughed.
"No, not anymore. I dumped the highland accent for a lowland one. I went to school in England. How much longer you here in Damascas?"
"Only two more days...to tell ya the truth...we're all glad ta be leavin'"

Just then the Mediterranean looking woman made her way over to McTavish. She tapped him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me...is your name McVeigh?"
McTavish wheeled around, "Ahhh....no it's McTavish...why do you ask?"
"I have a message for you. I should talk to you alone. Will you come to the back of the club?"
"Ahhhhhhhhhh...I don't think so. Who are you? If you have something to tell me - tell me now."
"It is confidential...regarding some information you are trying to find."
"What information?"
"You are looking for railway schedules?"
McTavish looked around the room quickly. "What was this? Who was this woman?"
"Sorry...I don't know what you are talking about - you must have the wrong guy."
McTavish turned back to the redhead. "Sorry....."
The darkhaired woman persisted. "You must come with me - the information you and your partner are looking for is available for a price."
The redhead started laughing, "Wooooooo...this sounds like a James Bond movie, mate! Better go with her and get the...what is it called....intel!"
McTavish looked around the crowded club, then at the woman. "Alright. I'll meet you outside in a few minutes - now go."
The woman nodded and left the club followed by the two men from the Citroen.
McTavish looked at the redhead as she sat grinning. "I really don't know what all that was about but maybe I should find out. I'll be back in a few minutes, then maybe you and I can talk some more and have another drink."
"Sounds perfect to me...hurry back."

McTavish got up from his barstool and darted through the busy dancefloor. Once outside, he looked up and down the street for the dark haired woman. Suddenly she appeared from behind a news stand.
"I'm here - quickly, come with me!"
"I'm not going anywhere with you. Give me the information you think I'm looking for!"


Just then, the two men from the Citroen jumped from their car and grabbed McTavish, pulling him into a darkened sidestreet. The larger man punched McTavish in the stomach and threw him against a wall. "Why are you in Syria! Why are you looking for railway information!"
McTavish choked, "I don't know what you are talking about!"
"The computer at your apartment is connected to our surveillance system. Do you think we are stupid in this country! Imbecile westerners! You overtake Iraq and next you think you will occupy this country!"
The other man struck McTavish in the face over and over. "Tell us pig...western pig! Why are you in Syria!"
McTavish choked and fell to the ground. The woman kicked him in the groin.
"Pig! You think a woman wants you!" She spat on him repeatedly.
The two men lifted and pinned him to the wall. "You will tell us why you are here in Syria...you will talk or we will kill you now!"

At that moment, the group of Irish tourists from the club turned the corner and entered the darkened sidestreet. The redhead woman spotted McTavish pressed to the wall. "Hey! What the hell you doing to him!"
The group started yelling as the men dropped McTavish to the ground, giving him one final kick in the groin before disappearing into the night.
The group raced over to McTavish with the redhead bending over him. "Oh my God! What have they done to you! You been mugged or something! Can you talk! They nearly killed you! Come on let's get him to a hospital... he's really hurt!"
McTavish sputtered, "No...no. I don't need a hospital. I'm okay - really. Just let me sit here for a minute - I'll be okay."
"Not bloody likely mate! They beat the shit outta you!"
"No really, I'm okay. It looks worse than it is. Just help me to a taxi."
The young people lifted McTavish and helped him to his feet. When they reached the main street, he looked at the redhead. "Just get me a taxi. I'll be okay - I can look after myself."
She wiped the blood from his face with her handkerchief. "You look bloody awful! You sure you are alright?"
"Yes. Just get me into a taxi."
One of the woman in the group hailed a taxi and they all loaded McTavish into the backseat. The redhead leaned into him. "Let me come with you - you'll need help getting into your room."
"Okay, maybe....yes...okay. Just you come then." sputtered McTavish.
The redhead got into the taxi and slammed the door. The driver looked around, "Where you want to go?"
McTavish stammered out the address and the taxi sped away, leaving the rest of the group standing in the street.
As the cab raced through the streets of Damascus, the redhead continued to wipe the blood from McTavish's face and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "What did you say your name was, love."
"McTavish - Stewart McTavish - what's your name?"
"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Volker."
"Doesn't sound too Irish, that name," choked McTavish.
"My mother is Irish - my dad...well....I never knew him...maybe German with a name like Volker. My mom liked the sound of the German name...so...well....that's my name."


The taxi pulled up to the apartment. Elizabeth helped McTavish out of the cab, paid the driver and they made their way upstairs. 

'Michael Samuelle knows how to please a woman,' was the only thought she could muster. The mirror's image of him pleasing her in such a manner was one for her mental scrapbook. This memory would always and forever be accompanied with an intense shudder. The pleasure was too much to take standing and her legs began to tremble. Leaning against the tub wall in an effort to support herself, she gave herself over to the exquisite warmth and heat.

Michael moaned as he stroked her with his tongue. The latest deluge of her arousal only spurred him further. Dana Delancourt would be his. As her hips began to rock to minute gyrations and her breaths became steady and shallow, Michael increased his ministrations to finish her. In his mind, he estimated how many passes it would now take. As good as it was, he couldn't help but break down his efforts to an almost perfunctory undertaking.

'Five,' his mind calculated.

She cried out on the fifth intense pass. Michael did not pull away to let her ride out her release. Instead, he increased his pressure and forced even more stimulation upon her how hypersensitive clitoris. Dana began to sob as her orgasm stayed at an extended peak. The intense pleasure was too much and she shook violently as she tried to pull away from his insatiable mouth.

He did not allow it and growled as his hands held her captive and his tongue altered its target and plunged inside her. Her cries were now whimpers as she leaned against the wall in surrender to him. Never had she experienced someone like him.

Michael pushed his guilt from his mind. He had opened himself to her. The discussion about Nikita was real and had truly helped him for a moment. He tried to force the contempt he was feeling for himself for what he was doing to this woman. The sexual skill he was using would have been enough to snare her. He now questioned his true motives for his emotional display. He had to be sure she was his. Dana had been an unwilling source before this night. By the morning, she would be desperately in love with him and begging to help him. Burying the guilt for what he was doing to her, he finally disengaged and let her recover.

She closed her eyes and rested. She did not know or care where he was or what he was doing. The only words her mind could summon were, "too much."

The welcome warmth of a towel covered Dana's shoulders. Opening her eyes, she found him standing out of the tub with his hand extending to her.
"Can you walk?" He questioned.
"Michael," spoken like a prayer, was her reply.
"Take my hand."

He helped her from the cooling water and onto a soft and inviting bed. She lay on the bed and watched him dry her body with the towel. His damp hair, now in ringlets, jiggled as he rubbed and patted her body dry. Smiling, she studied his body. The towel draped around his hips hid one of his finest features.
Dana closed her eyes and tried to smile as she did her best to ignore her emotions. Michael Samuelle could become an addiction for the sex alone. Doing her best to suppress her heart, her mind warned her not to fall for this sensitive and grief stricken man.
The warmth and weight of his body upon hers forced her from her internal debate and she opened her eyes. An amused and breathtaking smile greeted her return to reality.
"Tired?" He asked.
"No," she purred, "Just exceedingly satisfied to the point of stupor."

Leaning down, he kissed her. She moaned at the taste of her arousal and release upon his lips. Opening her mouth to his searching tongue, her hands quickly unfastened the towel from his waist. She wanted the feel of all of his skin against hers.
Pulling from the kiss, she looked into his eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"The bathtub action was incredible," she announed with a smoldering smile as she did her best to once again portray the sexual adventurer she had convinced herself she could be...with no strings attached.

"I was only returning the favor," Michael reminded her.
"It was....ummmm," she sighed and stretched, "mind-blowing, unbelievable, more than I could take...ugh...I am at a loss for the correct description. I am never at a loss for words.
"Never say never," Michael reminded her as he kissed her once more.
"You are an exceptional oral lover," Dana stated. It was an honestly given compliment.
"I am an exceptional lover."
"In every way?"
"Yes."
"I'll need further proof," she said in a mock serious tone.

Michael lifted himself from the bed and walked over to his pile of clothes. He reached in a pocket and retrieved a condom. Ripping the foil open with his teeth, he began to sheath himself.
Dana smiled, "Hey, I could have done that for you."

"Are you ready for me?" he questioned.
"Just say the word, Michael. I'll will be ready for you, anytime, anywhere."


His reply was a deep and thorough kiss. The sensation of his erection, hard and warm against her belly was a physical reminder that indeed, there was more, so much more to be experience with Michael Samuelle.
Reaching for his cock, she once again became almost frantic at the realization that he was hers and would soon be deep inside her. The length and size of it would most certainly hit areas inside of her previously undiscovered. As she arched her back and adjusted her hips, Michael lifted his hips as well and allowed her to guide him.
Once again, he was positioned at the entry to her warm and wet depth. This kiss intensified in anticipation of what was about to ensue. Michael moaned and thrust his tongue into her mouth as he simultaneously pushed himself inside her below.
Thrusting her hips, she took as much of him inside as was comfortably possible. He pulled from her only to bury himself a little deeper on the next push. Forcing her eyes open, she watched his beautiful face as his lower body maneuvered perfectly and in unison with hers.
She would want this man in her bed for the rest of her life. Closing her eyes, she tried to push the crazy thoughts from her mind.
'Just enjoy the ride.' she tried to tell herself. Who was she kidding?
Various emotions played across his face as he pumped into her. The poor soul below had no idea she was in bed with a professional. Michael forced the thought from his mind and concentrated on how good she felt wrapped around him. Her warm and tight depths caressed his need.
"So beautiful," he whispered to her.
"Michael," she replied.

He altered his strokes and watched for her reaction. The moan from her told him he had found a spot most appreciative. Focusing in on the location, he now concentrated his efforts. Every push made her feel better than the one before. Dana moaned again. Never had she been so close to climax so quickly. Michael sensed her approaching climax and changed his strokes to short and fast.
Dana growled in disapproval as she grabbed his a$$ with both hands and slammed against him. Michael obliged her, burying himself deep as he bit her neck, marking her with his teeth. Focusing on her reactions, he contained his need for release and waited for her to come for him.
The heat had returned and the waves began to take her. Dana opened her eyes one last time before she climaxed. In the past, her favorite words to exclaim were, "Oh God!"
He changed all that for her.
"Michael!" She cried out as the orgasm flooded her.
Once certain she was coming for him, Michael pushed one more time and cried out in his release.

 NEXT