In the morning Michael broke camp, packed up the Land Rover and headed into the foothills.

He passed through two small villages and smiled at a group of children playing on the roadside. A trip into the mountains of Afghanistan was like a journey back in time. Although the Taliban had been pushed from the country, the lifestyle had changed little. After an hour of driving northwest towards the high mountains and the village of Daulat Yar, Michael pulled the truck to the side of the road. He pulled out a loaf of bread and block of cheese. Cutting chunks of white cheese and ripping pieces of bread, he popped them into his mouth and washed the food down with bottled water.
A topographical map lay on the seat beside him. He leaned over and scanned the distance he had covered and estimated how far he had to travel.
Michael had purchased the stinger missiles in order to eliminate the virus containers from a distance. He had placed a small tracker on one of the canisters and now reached into his leather bag for a tracking device. The digital display glowed and pulsed, showing a distant source.

As he turned the tracker off and tucked it into the bag, he spotted another picture of Nikita, lying on the side of the bag.

The picture flipped over and - Nikita's face stared up at him. He pulled out the photograph and placed it on the dashboard of the truck, tucking the corners into a crevice on the dash.
'Soon 'Kita....soon this mission will end....then I will join you.'
Michael glanced at his revolver on the passenger seat; he picked it up and checked the clip.
'One bullet...that is all, then we will be together.'

A day and night later, Michael reached Daulat Yar.

He crouched in the darkness and pointed the tracking device in the direction of a site south of the village. He estimated if he was able to hit the target with the first missile, the virus shipment could be destroyed totally and thus avoid contamination of the village. To insure this, he would shoot the first missile and follow it up immediately with a second.

He drove the Land Rover with the lights out towards the suspected site and crept over the rocks.

Peering through his night vision goggles, he spotted guards walking the perimeter. They stopped and talked to each other, bored with their task. Michael darted back to his vehicle and began unloading two of the stinger missiles. Tucking an automatic weapon with ammunition into a backpack, along with night vision goggles, he trudged back to his vantage point amongst the bolders. He armed both missiles, then shouldered the first one, aiming it directly at the palettes of virus canisters. Suddenly the wind picked up and blew a tarp off one end of the palettes. A guard walked lazily to the tarp and pulled it back over the canisters.
Michael reached for the night vision goggles to check the movements. He mused, 'Thank you...for confirming my target.'

Michael set the co-ordinates on the missile for the direction and distance, then fired. A loud explosion erupted with the guard's bodies flying into the air. Michael immediately grabbed the other missile, quickly checking the direction and distance and fired.

A second explosion crashed into the remains of the first. Flames and smoke billowed into the air. Michael stood watching the carnage in the distance through his goggles.

Suddenly trucks appeared on the horizon above the target site and began racing in Michael's direction. He grabbed the missile launchers and raced back to the Land Rover.
He gunned the vehicle, careful not to turn on the headlights. The truck tore over the dirt road into the ink black night.
Michael fought to find the road in the darkness, the truck swerving dangerously off the road and crashing against rocks and debris. He glanced in the rear view mirror: he could see distant headlights heading his way. As he rounded a tight bend in the road, his eye caught sight of a deep draw veering off to the right. He cranked the wheel hard, the truck almost tipping as he began heading overland off the road. The four wheel drive bounced and crashed over the rough terrain; the contents inside the vehicle flying about the cab.
Michael quickly switched on the headlights, then turned them off. Ahead was a rock wall: he slammed on the brakes, looking in all directions.
He jumped from the truck and crept over the rocky ground. His eye caught a glimpse of a small opening to the left of the rock wall. He raced back to the truck, threw it in reverse and headed straight for the wall.
At the last minute he veered into the tiny opening to the left of the wall; a crack only large enough for the Land Rover to scrape through. He could hear the rock grinding along the sides of the vehicle. The opening in the wall enlarged to a canyon. The four wheel drive bounced over the rock for another hundred meters, then Michael stopped.
He sat in silence; only the sound of his heart beating and the cooling engine could be heard.

Michael slipped from the truck and stood in the cool night air. He listened for any sound: only the wind whistling over the rocks and surrounding vegetation echoed in the night. He crouched on his haunches and held his head in his hands.
The mission was complete; he had destroyed the last of the virus shipments; the man responsible for the manufacture of them was dead along with suspected terrorist factions who had hoped to use the deadly viruses throughout the world.

Michael reached into the truck and searched for some bottled water. He drank thirstily, then held the plastic bottle to the sky, toasting his accomplishment. He smiled, 'To you Nikita....I am done....we will be one again.

The next morning, Michael crawled from his sleeping bag and staggered to the truck. He grabbed some bread and chewed on the remains of the loaf. Swallowing more water, he opened the tailgate of the vehicle and began setting up the satellite communicator, together with the laptop. Soon he had the computer operating from a DOD satellite and typed an encrypted message to Dr. Leslie.

Locked Mission Complete. Mandatory Refusal Complete. Operative will go Dark - no need for Retrieval.

Michael stood looking at the screen, then off into the horizon. He logged off the computer and shut it down. He stripped the communicator, satellite dish and computer and tossed them into a large equipment bag. He heaved the bag over into the rocks, the contents crashing. The sound of metal and plastic breaking as the bag rolled over a ravine, broke the still morning air.
Michael reached for his revolver and pulled the picture of Nikita off the dashboard. Walking up to a grove of trees, he sat beneath the largest one, it's limbs reaching to the dusty ground. He held his gun in one hand and the picture of Nikita in the other; he smiled as he pointed the gun into his mouth and placed the photograph on the ground.
A sudden gust of wind grabbed the picture and it floated into the air; at the same time a gull appeared in the wind, it's wings held aloft by the thermals. The photograph drifted to earth like a feather as the gull continued to float above on the cool thermal updraft.
Michael slowly placed the revolver on the ground beside him and reached over for the photograph.
'Why could he not pull the trigger; although he had never thought of ending his life by his own hand before - this was different - he had no reason to live.'
He rose slowly and trudged back to the truck. Michael started the engine and maneuvered back through the rock wall. Once back on the dirt road, he glanced around for movement - there was none.

Michael drove the truck the rest of the day deep into the mountains until there were no more roads. He parked the vehicle and scooped up his large backpack. Stuffing in his sleeping bag, food and extra clothes, he walked away from the truck, then stopped. He tossed the pack on the ground and returned to the vehicle. He grabbed the revolver and photograph of Nikita that lay on the front seat.
Returning to his pack, he stuffed the photo into his jacket and aimed the gun at the spare gasoline tanks on the rear of the four wheel drive. The tanks were nearly empty but would contain enough fuel to detonate the vehicle.
Michael pulled the trigger and fired four shots into the Land Rover. The truck exploded, sending a fireball and smoke into the air. He turned and began walking;
After two hours, he reached a cluster of make-shift tents. A few Afghan nomads ran up to him; the children reaching out and touching him. The leader of the nomadic tribe emerged from his tent and stood watching Michael. The children danced around him and he smiled, touching them on their heads.

The leader walked up to Michael and extended his hand. Michael spoke in their language of Balochi. The leader motioned for Michael to follow him into his tent.

Early the following morning, Nikita stood by the Range Rover, stuffing her supplies into the rear compartment. She glanced at her watch; it was 8am and Davenport had not arrived. Nikita shook her head, 'This guy has been away from Section too long; Operations would have cancelled him by now for being late.'
Just then a Toyota pick-up whisked up to the Range Rover and Davenport jumped out.
"Sorry for being late Nik...I had trouble finding extra batteries for the satellite communicator."

"You are forgiven then....cause that communicator is the only reason I really need you."
"Hey! Now that's no way to talk...besides - I'm the man going to protect you in Afghanistan!"
"Yes, sure you are. Now let's get going - store your supplies - I've left room in the back for the satellite."
"We should pick up extra gasoline too - maybe buy some from the military - you seem to have contacts there."
"Alright - let's go."

After purchasing extra gas containers with petrol from the Canadian military base outside Kandahar, Nikita and Davenport headed west into the highlands. Nikita drove the truck as Davenport looked over some maps.
"Look Nik, I think we should head south - check out the villages more southwest."
"Why do you say that?"
"Just have a feeling about it...don't know why... I think if Samuelle was tracking weapons, he would be looking in the southwest of the country."
Davenport pondered to himself, 'And cause the guy headed northwest and you're worth $1million to me.'
"What do you base that assumption on?" queried Nikita.
"Oh, nothing in particular...ah, just when I was advising the Americans on the Taliban locations, they were more in the southwest."
"We're not looking for the Taliban or what's left of them. We'll continue heading northwest."
"And just what makes you think Samuelle is head up north?"
"Intuition...a gut feeling..." She smiled at him. "Just plain old female intuition."
"Your trip, love....if your female hormones have you on radar to head north...drive on."
Davenport laughed loudly. "When you want me to do some driving and give you a rest, give me a shout."

That afternoon, the Range Rover pulled into the small village of Qalat. Nikita wandered up to the proprietor of a market stand and showed him a picture of Michael. She returned to the vehicle and slid behind the wheel. Davenport had been sleeping and woke with the door slamming.
"Ahhhhhhhh, so any luck, sweetie?"

Nikita looked at Davenport and quickly grasped him by the throat.
"Let's get something clear! I'm not your sweetie - I'm you employer and you will respect that!"
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh....agh...choouuuugh....sure thing!" he stammered.
Nikita released her hold. "Now switch sides - you drive to Ghazni...we can make camp after I ask around the village. And you know what - I don't seem to be having difficulty with being a woman - my keys have opened a few Afghan doors - without your help!"

Davenport jumped from the truck and walked around to the driver's side. Nikita slid across to the other seat and nestled down, closing her eyes. Davenport put the truck in gear as dust spit out from the rear tires.

Within another hour, they arrived in Ghazni. Nikita stirred and sat up in her seat.
"Over there - I'll ask in that shop. Here's another picture of Michael Samuelle - you go to the hotel and ask there."

Davenport walked into the small hotel bar and ordered a beer. "Make is quick - I've got a hot blonde who's all bothered and needs my attention."
The bartender looked puzzled and handed Davenport a beer.

Nikita walked out of the shop and looked around the street. Spotting a cafe, she entered and showed the picture of Michael to the proprietor.
He stood shaking his head. As she came out into the sunshine, she stood looking up and down the main street.
'This could take forever, going to every village in Afghanistan. Where are you Michael? God, for some Section technology now....trackers and implants!'

Nikita returned to the Rover and sat waiting. Within fifteen minutes, Davenport opened the door and jumped into the vehicle.
"Thought I had a lead...had to buy a beer before the bartender would talk but in the end, he didn't recognize Samuelle. So...you want to go make camp outside of town?"
"Yes. Then I want you to set up the satellite; I will contact a source I have to see if they have any intel."

Nikita pulled the Rover into a shady area next to a small stream. She began pulling out her tent and started to set it up. Davenport erected the satellite communicator and sat at a portable table.
"Okay, it's set...you can transmit now. You want me to start cooking some food?"
"Yes, fine." responded Nikita.

She sat before the satellite and typed in codes to contact Walter on Ibiza. Soon his voice could be heard on her headset.
"Walter...I'm outside Ghazni, Afghanistan. I'm using a satellite communicator and have hired a Section op as a....well, guide, I guess. Yes...he says he is undercover for Section but hasn't been on assignment for years."
Nikita glanced over at Davenport who was busy setting up the camp stove.
"Check him out will you Walter - his name is Cole Davenport. Claims he met me when I was a trainee at Section. I don't remember anything about him - but then with what I was going through back then, I wouldn't. I'll try to contact you every night. Yes...stop worrying...I'm fine." She laughed. "We're camping out - great fun! Okay, talk to you tomorrow. Night."

After eating their supper, Davenport began setting up his own tent. Nikita sat on a camp chair, reading. Davenport walked slowly over to her and Nikita looked up. "Your tent set up?" she questioned.


"Yeh...it's up. Ahhh, look Nikita...I want to apologize for being kinda flippant about you...I mean...I've been on the outside for so long...I get sorta slack with my protocol. I respect what you are doing...even if I don't know why or what."
"Understood."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Depends on what it is."
"Well, you said you aren't in Section anymore - how the hell did you get out? You must have pull with the brass."
"I don't have any pull - I have limited resources." She smiled. "That's why I hired you."
"I remember Michael Samuelle in Section - never talked much but he was a top notich operative. Soooooooo....you and him....you are friends - I remember he trained you."
"Yes, he did."
"You and him....are you....?"
"What?"
"You know....together...partners...no, what's a better word...?"
"Lovers?"
Davenport grinned, "Yes! That's the word!"
"That intel is confidential. Only level fives know about operative status."
"Well, you are a level five - correct?"
"Ahhh, how do you know that?"
"I....ah....I....geeze....I just guessed." stammered Davenport.

Nikita rose and walked towards her tent. "Enough interrogation...I'm getting some sleep. You better too - I want to start at 5am tomorrow. Goodnight."

Davenport tossed and turned in his tent. "Whew! That was close - she was smart too. I better watch what I say about Samuelle....but...oh man...she's laying over there in her tent - probably with nothing on......!"

He clutched his groin and began working his manhood until he let out a low groan. As he lay on his sleeping bag, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.
"Sh!t!....if I don't get into her soon....I'm going to burst!"

Over the next few days, Davenport and Nikita questioned many villagers in five different towns about Michael. Davenport was beginning to tire of the exercise, knowing Michael was no where near any of the villages. He had no idea where Samuelle really was, but calculated he must be high in the mountains by now. When Michael had gone to obtain his four wheel drive, Davenport had rummaged through some of Michael's packs and spotted a map of the northern area of Afghanistan.
On the fifth day of travelling, Nikita wheeled the Rover into Charikar.
Young children ran after their vehicle and as Nikita stopped in front of a water cistern, she once again showed her photograph of Michael to an elder.
The man shook his head and looked over at Davenport, then leaned in to whisper to Nikita. "You have a man to protect you on the road? There are bandits....they killed a westerner a week ago...you must take care...."

Nikita thanked him and returned to the vehicle.
"Let's find a place to camp. That old man said there are bandits around here so we better be on the lookout."

Davenport had given up the notion he was ever going to have sex with Nikita. He had made one physical advance and the result was her throwing him on the ground, almost breaking his arm. He had tried to explain it was a mistake and he didn't mean anything. Nikita has agreed....saying he was meaningless and now it was out in the open. He had apologized and she had accepted the apology.
'This lady was way too smart in addition to being beautiful....way outta his league.' pondered Davenport. 'So maybe he should end this little mission, trang her and return to collect his $1 million from her daddy.

The Range Rover rounded a tight corner on the rocky road when suddenly an old army truck pulled in front of them. Davenport slammed on the brakes and Nikita reached for her revolver. The truck blocked their path and half a dozen men with scarves over their faces pointed guns at Davenport's head while five other men pulled Nikita from the vehicle, but not before she shot one man in the stomach. He fell to the ground, moaning loudly. A second man kicked Nikita from behind and ripped the gun from her hand. She lay in the dirt as the other men dragged Davenport over the ground and threw him face first into some rocks. They began kicking him violently as Nikita screamed, "Davenport! Fight them....!"

One of the men grabbed her by the hair and began dragging her over to a small tree where another man tied her hands behind the tree trunk. The men continued to pound Davenport's head on the rocks, blood spilling over the gray rock and dust.

Nikita yelled, "Davenport! Cole! Stop...what do you want! Take what you want!!"
One of the men leaned into her face, "He is dead...we will take your truck and everything...but now we will all take you...blonde...you have not had a man like us!"
Another man began pulling Nikita's khaki pants to the ground as a third began unbuttoning his fly. The men who had been beating Davenport stopped and crowded around the tree and Nikita. They started pushing each other and arguing who was going to be the first. The apparent leader of the group pointed his rifle in the air and fired.
"She is mine! I will be first! Untie her hands - I will take her from behind as she is a dog!"

One of the men untied Nikita and she slumped to the ground, her pants around her ankles.

She stared with an icey blue gaze at the men as the leader walked up to her.
Suddenly gun shots ripped through the men as they whipped around to see a bloody Davenport emptying an automatic weapon into them. Their bodies dropped onto the dusty ground as Nikita jumped and kicked the leader in the groin. He fell over screaming in agony. Nikita grabbed his rifle and immediately shot the remaining men. She pulled up her pants and raced over to Davenport who had collapsed back onto the rocks.
"Davenport! Don't die! You.....!"
Nikita quickly checked Davenport's wounds, then realized it was too late. The pounding on the rocks had cracked his skull open in four places. How he had managed to aim a gun and fire at the men, was amazing. She stroked his face.
"Davenport...you....thank you."

He looked into her face and attempted to speak. Nikita leaned in as he whispered. "Tell your father, this one's one me...even though I didn't complete my mission.....!
"What! What are you saying - my father!! What has he....Davenport!"
But he was gone: his head slumped to the side as the blood continued to pour from his wounds.

Nikita pulled a sleeping bag containing Davenport's body over to the Range Rover. She lifted him into the backseat and jumped behind the wheel. Looking around her, she sped away: a large cloud of dust rising behind the truck. She drove for two hours then pulled the vehicle over behind a cluster of trees. Reaching for a bottle of water, she poured the contents over her head. The water trickled down her face and shoulders.
'What should she do? She must do something with Davenport's body. There was no Housekeeping to call now. Should she take the body to a village and ask them to deal with it...what would these people do?'
She shook the water droplets from her wild mane: 'she would bury him. If he had any next of kin...she would notify Walter, and he could contact them'
Nikita wandered from the truck and found a spot between two banyon trees. She began digging. After an hour, she had a hole deep enough to bury Davenport. Dragging his body in the bag to the hole, she tipped him from the sleeping bag. The body slid into the ground. Nikita began shoveling the red earth over his body. Sweat soaked her clothing as she patted down the earth and crouched over the site.
She rose and returned to the truck, pulling out Davenport's tent. She cut a piece of nylon and retrieved a black felt pen from the dashboard. She carefully printed the words:

Cole Davenport - Section One Operative - died 2003, performing his last mission. He died with honors.

Nikita attached the nylon to sticks and planted them at the head of the grave site. She stood, bowing her head, tears streaming down her face.

Nikita returned to the Range Rover and wheeled the truck back onto the narrow road. She headed north into the mountains.

The Afghan leader motioned for Michael to be seated in the tent. He reached over and poured a thick tea into a small cup and handed it to Michael. The tent was crowded with other family members and their belongings.
Michael nodded and sipped the tea. The leader lit a long pipe filled with tobacco and handed it to Michael, who shook his head, no.
The leader then turned to the family members who squatted on the floor and pressed forward to peer at Michael. The leader motioned for everyone to leave the tent and as they filed out, he closed the tent flap after the last person.
The Afghan leader then spoke in broken English. "It has been much time since you were with us. You had lost your thoughts and were taken by the British army. You have been with them?"


"My thoughts returned to me...I have not been with the army...but I wish to remain with your people now. My world is lost to me....I hope to travel to the mountains to help with the work."
"Our work has much danger - others still wish to destroy us. This land has become a land of turmoil. We are leaving tomorrow for the high mountains to fight the Makoi tribe...they will not destroy our life. We will leave the very old and young here as the journey into the mountains will be too much."
"May I remain with you and fight for your way of life?"
"You come from another world...why do you wish to be with us?"
"I have no world...my life...ah...my soul has a deep wound...and I am a coward - I cannot destroy myself."
"Your magic you presented to us on your last visit cannot help you?"
"That magic was technology...computers and communication devices...I stole them from the white army...but they cannot help me - nor your people."
"You have no magic?"

"I never did...they are instruments from the other world."
"You may remain with us...and travel to the high mountains. 

Michael journeyed with the Afghan nomads over the next seven days.

Their mode of transportation was horses, but mainly by foot. On the evening of the eighth night, Michael crouched before a tiny fire. Winter was fast approaching and snow covered the high passes. One of the Afghan men wandered over and handed Michael a steaming cup of tea - a tea laced with a local intoxicant. Michael sipped the beverage, then struggled into his sleeping bag. He shivered as the icy air penetrated through the nylon bag. He felt himself grow drowsy and soon drifted into a troubled sleep.
After an hour he awoke with a start and crawled from the bag. His mouth and tongue were tingling: his eyelids were heavy as he staggered to a small stream and broke the thin layer of ice on the surface. He cupped his hands and drank the frigid water. He touched his face; now heavy with a beard. Michael stood and stared at the stars: she was there again - Nikita.

"Stop haunting me Nikita!", he shouted into the night.

He fell to the ground: he could feel her soft lips on his; her face; her eyes - he smothered her in kisses.

Nikita's face became Dana Delancourt.....

.....then Katerina Meracles.......

"Nooooooooooooooooo!!!! Stopppppppppp!!!!" yelled Michael into the night.

One of the Afghan men came running up to Michael and shook him. He looked blankly at the man. Another man ran up to the first, "He has lost his thoughts...like before...."

The men dragged Michael's limp body back to the fire and placed him in his sleeping bag. They stood watching him as Michael slipped into unconsciousness.

The following morning, as Michael packed up his belongings, the Afghan leader walked up to him.
"My men say you have bad memories...you are well now?"
Michael attempted a smile. "Tea...the tea and my memories...a bad combination. I am better now."
The leader grinned. "You will learn to enjoy the rewards of a special tea. But for now, we must leave and make a journey over the high pass. The early snow will make travel difficult...you still want to be with us?"
"Yes," replied Michael.

The Afghans on horseback, led the nomads on foot into the high pass. As they approached the narrow opening, a group of rebels roared down on the nomads. They had automatic weapons and with the tactic of surprise, gunned down many men. The Afghan nomads attempted to retreat from the direction they came. Chaos overtook the whole nomadic tribe as man after man dropped into the snow.

Michael crouched behind a dead horse, firing his revolver at the rebels, killing six. He frantically grabbed his backpack and ran back down the snowy trail. As he raced forward, his way was suddenly blocked by a group of armed men. They pointed automatic weapons at his head. One man boldly walked up to Michael and with the butt of his gun, smashed it into Michael's face, knocking him to the ground.
Michael struggled to get up, pulling the trigger of his now empty gun. Another man smashed the end of his gun over the back of Michael's head.
He dropped to the snowy ground - unconscious.


Michael lay on the dirt floor of a hut, his hands bound behind him. He fought to open his swollen eyes.
The area swirled before him; two guards pulled his body up and onto a wooden chair.
'Where was he?'
He fought to regain consciousness.
A man dressed in military fatigues grabbed Michael by the hair and pulled his face upward.
"Why are you travelling with the Balochi? You are from the west...are you a spy....maybe with the CIA?"
Michael struggled to remember...yes, the ambush in the pass...who were these men?"
"I asked you a question - CIA or British MI-5!"
Michael looked at the man and smiled. "Again?"
"What? What....again! What!!"
"I think this is where I came in," Michael laughed and then coughed, spitting out blood. "No I am not with the CIA or MI-5 - but if you need to hire a spy - that's me....."

The officer shook his head. "This is no spy, he is a drug dealer who has taken too much of his own drugs. Take him out and shoot him!"
Two men dragged Michael outside and threw him on the ground.

Suddenly a military helicopter zoomed in overhead. The men frantically scattered, leaving Michael lying still on the ground. The officer and all the men ran for their trucks, and raced off in the direction of the nearby mountains.

Michael struggled to his feet and re-entered the hut. A knife lay on the table next to some decaying meat. He cut the ropes binding his hands and looked around. He was alone. Michael shook his head and smiled. Over in a corner, his discarded backpack lay under some dirty clothing. He walked over, retrieved it and walked boldly out the door of the hut.

Nikita drove the Range Rover deeper into the mountains. Her body ached all over with the pain of the bandit attack and now she fought to keep her eyes open. She must eat something and get some sleep.
Peering into the darkness, only illuminated by the beam of headlights, she spotted a pull off next to a small stream. She lugged her tent over to some flat ground and pitched it; next she assembled the stove and soon had a pot of soup simmering. Squatting on the ground she sipped the hot liquid and pulled apart a loaf of flatbread. The air was cold; she set down the soup and reached for her down jacket.
Nikita looked up at the sky; no stars appeared, only an occasional snowflake drifted earthward.

She shivered and sipped the remainder of the soup. The silence of the night was deafening. She felt so alone.
'Michael....where are you? I don't know how much longer I can continue this search....please....give me some sort of sign...something so I know you are alive.'

As she packed away the stove and supplies, she glanced at Davenport's satellite communicator.

'Why had he made that last attempt to save her? If he had not shot the bandits....'
Nikita shuddered to think of what might have befell her. She would not doubt be dead now - after having been raped repeatedly.
She glanced again at the communicator. Contact must be made with Walter - let him know of Davenport's death and what had happened. Tomorrow...morning...now she must get some sleep.
Nikita crawled into her tent and snuggled into her sleeping bag. She clutched her gun tightly. The warmth of the bag surrounded her as she drifted into a deep sleep.
Nikita turned in the sleeping bag and felt the body next to her.

A hand reached out and stroked her face; brushing stray strands of golden hair away.
Lips touched her gently on the cheeks and neck and then she could feel a tongue lightly touching her breasts and abdomen.
She squirmed in the sleeping bag, feeling a throbbing in her groin. Her legs squeezed together as she looked up to see Michael's face over her. His hands opened her legs. He thrust into her opening; pulling out, then teasing her with the tip of his erect member. She yelled, "Michael! I want you...now...please!"


Nikita woke with a start; she looked around frantically. She had been dreaming.
The next morning, after eating some cold cereal, moistened only with water, Nikita packed up and pulled the Rover back onto the road. After an hour she entered the village of Baghlan. Parking the truck, she noticed a group of men with a small child.
She walked up to them, smiled and showed Michael's picture. The men squinted into the sun and said no.
After strolling through the village, she entered the market and purchased some fruit and bread. She realized her water supply was getting low and approached some men in the market and asked where she could purchase water.
After leaving Baghlan, Nikita steered the truck northward. Glancing at the fuel gauge, she pulled the vehicle to the side of the road and walked to the rear. She hauled the spare gas container down and filled the tank, scolding herself for not purchasing gas in Baghlan. She must buy gasoline in the next village she came to and be more careful.
As she drove along, the realization of the fact she had not contacted Walter on the communicator nagged at her. She knew what his reaction would be to travelling alone.
As the day wore on, the guilt of not contacting Walter, got the best of her. Nikita wheeled the Rover off the road, behind a cluster of rocks and set up the satellite communicator.

"Helmet! Helmet...it's you! I was expecting to hear Walter's voice...no, I'm fine. Well, just a little trouble. Did Walter tell you about the Section op I was travelling with? Well, we ran into a bit of trouble. Actually...more than a bit...he...he's dead. His name was Cole Davenport...could you ask Walter to find out if he had next of kin and to notify them. I'm okay...really...no...they're...well....the bandits are all dead...Davenport killed them. Helmet...please...I am fine! I know this is difficult...but please...I'm going to continue searching for a few more weeks...and if I....well...if I don't find Michael by then...I'll return to Ibiza...I promise. Now...do you have any news! How are the babies doing...crying and pooping I suspect! Good...and thank you for looking after them for me. You are...very special to me. Do you know if Walter has any new intel from Dr. Leslie? What! He's disappeared! He had gone sailing...what happened? Oh, my God Helmet...do you think he's been killed...I...well...I know my father has been trying to thwart my attempts. I suspect he had Davenport watching me...something he said before he died."

"Do you think Dr. Leslie's disappearance has anything to do with Center and my father? I know...maybe I'm just paranoid. What? What is that? When did you receive that intel? Where did it happen...hang on, let me grab my map. Yes, I see that on the map - explosions...what do you think it was? No! Bio-chemical weapons...and they were all destroyed! Helmet! That could have been Michael...he was tracking the bio-chemical weapons! Over two weeks ago? I know...I know...but he had been tracking them from Syria and Jordan! I'll head to villages in that area - I was going to anyway. Look Helmet, kiss the babies for me please and say hi to Walter - this battery is getting low and I need to recharge it. I'll contact you tomorrow night...I will be okay...I can look after myself...you know me...independent. Thanks Helmet...bye."
Nikita packed up the communicator and jumped back into the truck. She glanced at her map and wheeled the vehicle in the direction of the location Helmet had given - the location of the explosions over two weeks before.
That evening as Nikita sat in front of her tent, looking up at the stars; the same stars Michael had sat looking at only a few night before, she reached into her dusty sports bag and pulled out a cardboard frame. She opened it: two cherub looking babies smiled up at her. Walter had spent many hours trying to capture just the correct picture of the twins. She had laughed at him, saying he had missed his calling - he should have been a baby photographer.
The baby girl had a riot of fluffy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes while the little boy had hair slightly darker, auburn colored; but his eyes - they were Michael's - deep grey/green.
Nikita stared at the picutre and then cradled it to her chest.
'What am I doing out here? Will I ever find your father? He may not even be alive and I've abandoned you! I've abandoned my own children, my tiny babies - left them without their mother!'

Tears streamed down Nikita's face as she tucked the picture back into the bag. She crawled into her tent, unzipped the sleeping bag and slipped inside. She lay staring up at the nylon tent walls.
'Two more weeks my little ones, then I will return to you. If I haven't found your daddy by then, I will return to you and I will never leave you again!'
Remorse overwhelmed Nikita and she began sobbing uncontrollably. She shook until she couldn't breath. Sitting up and taking deep breaths, she yelled out into the night:
"Michael! I am so alone! Why have you done this to me! Why have I had to take this journey! Why did I have to bear your children! My life before, in Section, the missions - never knowing from day to day whether I would live or die - life was unbearable enough. But this - this is worse!"

The next morning, Nikita sat watching her coffe come to a boil on the small camp stove. She turned the stove off, poured the coffee into her camp cup, and stirred in some sugar.
'I should really eat something.'
Nikita opened a can of fruit and sat spooning out the contents, chewing slowly. She ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it into the syrupy fruit. She gazed off into the mountains that were now becoming covered in snow.

'What a beautiful country this is...if only her and Michael could be experiencing this land together.'

Just then she heard trucks coming down the road. Nikita immediately grabbed her gun and raced over to the Rover. Crouching on one side of the vehicle, she peered down the road and spotted a UN flag on the first truck.
The two military trucks pulled over to where she was parked and an officer jumped out. He waved to her and Nikita recognized him as one of the officers she had met at the Canadian military base in Kandahar.
"My gawd," he exclaimed. "It's you - what on earth are you doing out here all by yourself!"
Nikita strolled over to him and smiled. "I'm still searching for my friend."
"I thought you were travelling with a guide?"

"Yes, I was," said Nikita.

Her training from Section immediately clicked in. Should she tell this officer about Cole Davenport's death; about the attack by the bandits and the fact she had buried Davenport...or should she just make up some story and not have to deal with the consequences. She envisioned many hours, perhaps days, of tedious details and debriefing by the military, so decided to lie as she had so many times before when working for Section.

She smiled at the officer. "We had a difference of opinion...or at least he had a different idea of what our relationship on this trip was going to be...so we parted ways."
"Oh, sorry," said the officer. "Everything okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine...but I see winter is fast approaching."

The officer looked up into the mountains. "Yes, soon we will not be able to do any reconnaissance into the high mountain passes - the snows will be too deep."

Nikita eyed the officer. "So, tell me - I heard on my communicator that there were explosions around a village called Daulat Yar."
"Yes, a few weeks back - mysterious explosions. Rumor has it that illegal weapons were being stockpiled and that someone decided to destroy them."
"Do you have any idea who that might have been?"
"No - nothing. And whoever had been stockpiling these so called possible weapons - has long since gone."

Just then one of the soldiers hollered over to the officer. "Sir - a radio communication for you."
The officer smiled at Nikita. "Suppose I better get going. Oh and by the way - be on your guard. We've had reports of bandit attacks on westerners travelling the roads. We came across a burnt out Land Rover not far from here. If you're continuing on this road, you will probably see the remains of it."

"Was it a bandit attack?"
"Not sure. There's not much remaining of the truck - just the burnt out frame."
"Thanks for your concern," said Nikita.

As the officer walked off, he turned again. "You take care of yourself - you are a brave lady to be out here all alone. Good luck - good luck finding your friend!"
"Thanks," hollered Nikita.

Jones returned to his office at Center after disembarking from his personal helicopter. His trip to Brussels and the conference with the top officials of MI-6, Interpol and the CIA had not gone well. Disagreements on protocol procedures had erupted between the different leaders.
His video phone buzzed: "Sir, I have Quinn at One for you."

"Fine - encode the call," directed Jones. "Quinn - what news do you have for me?"
"Not good, I'm afraid. I intercepted a satellite communications to the Volker residence on Ibiza."
"Yes."
"Davenport was killed in Afghanistan - an attack on the road by bandits."
"And Nikita!"
"She is safe - well - not harmed. Seems Davenport shot the bandits. She is continuing her search."
"No! But you say she was not harmed?"
"No sir - she is continuing and I'm afraid, maybe getting closer to locating Samuelle."
"What do you mean - have you located his whereabouts?"
"Intel shows he is living with a nomadic tribe in the mountains."
"Dispatch a small team to locate Nikita and bring her back - if they have to disable her - so be it - if Nikita locates Samuelle, she will be lost to me forever."
"Ahhhh....yes, sir...I'll prepare a team."

Jones clicked off the video phone and picked up a photograph on his desk.

'Thank God you are not hurt....but you will return to me Nikita!'

 After escaping from the Makoi rebels, Michael made his way to a secondary road.

The early melting snow lay in soggy patches along the roadway as he walked towards the village of Pol-E-Khomri. He was dirty and wet from the constant wet snow and rain.

He entered the village and stumbled into a small cafe. The proprietor eyed him suspiciously, then walked slowly over. He spoke in the local dialect. Michael responded in both French and English. The man shook his head. Michael pointed to the large urn of coffee and bread on a sideboard.
The proprietor brought over a steamy cup of coffee and bread. Michael pointed to a sausage on the counter. The man retrieved the sausage and a small knife and announced the cost. Michael reached into his pack and dragged out a palmcorder. He handed the man the device. The proprietor looked puzzled, then Michael showed him how it worked, calling up a video game. The man laughed and nodded his head in approval.
Michael made gestures indicating he wanted a place to rest. The man nodded again and pointed to a room in the rear of the building. After finishing his food, Michael dragged his pack to the dusty room, pulled out his sleeping bag, and spread it over the dirt floor. He lay on the floor breathing deeply. Blood from his head wound had dried on his hair; his head ached.

'Why was he continuing this futile journey to nowhere? Why could he not end his life?'

He looked around the room; canvass bags of floor were stacked in the corner; crates of dried food lined the walls. But in one corner - a fish tank; filled with stagnant water and two silvery fish. The fish floated languidly in the water as Michael closed his eyes:

Nikita's image floated on the water. Her lacy blue gown drifted through the water as she lay on her back and looked upward.
'Why can I not join you Nikita," murmured Michael. "You wait for me but I cannot be with you. I feel your skin; your body joined with mine; but you are not there...why can I not join you.....?'

A few hours later, Michael wandered from the cafe and out into the street. He continued into the countryside. The snow had melted and the sun returned as he made his way into the foothills. Michael stopped at a stream, bent his head and drank the cold water. He pulled his water container out and filled it, then continued walking high into the foothills.
Darkness was approaching as he made his way through large bolders and craggy rocks. He squinted into the night: an opening in the limestone rocks appeared a few meters away. Michael staggered to the opening of a cave; he reached for his headlamp and cast the beam into the opening.
The remains of an old campfire lay at the cave opening and nearby and pile of dry wood. He threw his pack into the cave and collapsed on the ground. His head wound sustained at the hands of the rebels had stopped bleeding days before and he had tried to clean the wound. However, the affects of the blow to the head brought on a repeated dizziness, a headache, and a compulsion to sleep.
Michael drifted into unconsciousness.

The next morning two sheep herders approached the cave and spotted Michael sitting before a small fire.

He sat drawing a knife over his tongue, then he picked up the remains of a large salami and pieces of bread. He looked up at the sheep herders and offered his food. They shook their heads - no. Then, the herders turned and continued to gather the sheep, stepping over rocks and making their way down to a tiny patch of dry grass.

They crouched and watched the sheep begin to graze. One of the men turned and looked back in the direction of the cave. He spoke softly to the older man.
"A magic one?"      “Yes…..a good spirit.”

Nikita's Range Rover bumped over the road.
The snow had melted off the roadway, so the going was easier but Nikita mused to herself: 'If the snows got too deep, I'm sure there are no ploughs to keep the roads open.'

An hour later, the road narrowed and seemed to end suddenly. Nikita stopped the Rover and pulled out her map. The highway did indeed end here; only a track through the snow led off into the distance. She put the vehicle into four wheel drive and pushed ahead. The snow was not deep, so the truck moved along with no trouble. After five kilometers, she spotted it - just ahead - there it was - the burnt frame of a Land Rover.

Nikita edged her Rover over to the burnt vehicle and jumped out. She walked around the truck, inspecting it closely.

'Fire balled - gun shot into the gas tank. Not bandits - they would not have destroyed the truck, only stolen it. Why destroy a new Land Rover? Hummm, someone covering their whereabouts? Drug dealers perhaps?'

Nikita returned to her Rover and pulled away. She carefully followed the tire tracks in the mud and melting snow, that according to her map, led to a wide open stretch of highlands with only one village many kilometers away. The village of
Pol - E- Khomri wuld be at least two days travel by vehicle, barring no problems on the road.

By noon, Nikita was growing weary of fighting to keep the Rover on the narrow track of so called roadway. She stopped and jumped out, stretching her arms and legs. Then something caught her eye; in the distance; it looked to be a cluster of something dark. She grabbed her binoculars and spotted a group of tents. The cluster of tents were well off the cart track that led to Pol - E - Khomri. But something.....something was drawing Nikita to make her way to the tents.

She wheeled the Rover carefully over the rough terrain. The closer she drove, the less snow there was - the snow had almost disappeared completely.

'Very strange,' she thought.
Off to the east the land was still covered in white.
Nikita left the vehicle some distance away and walked slowly up to one of the tents. She could see a family seated outside. An elderly woman and children squatted on the ground at the tent entrance.
Nikita approached them with caution.
A small child ran up to her and began pulling her towards the tent. She smiled and walked with the child, then extended her hand to the elderly woman. The old woman motioned for her to be seated and pointed to a teenage girl to bring a cup. The woman then poured some thick tea and offered it to Nikita.

The old woman spoke in Balochi but Nikita shook her head, indicating she did not understand.
Nikita brought the battered cup of tea to her lips and pretended to drink. She remembered reading about the strong intoxicant tea the nomads drank. She needed a clear head; but better not offend them by refusing the cup.
The old woman shouted for another teenage girl to come out the tent. A beautiful girl of about sixteen years emerged and smiled.
"Hellow...my grandmother would want me to speak for her."
"Hello...and what's your name?" questioned Nikita.
"My name is Mantou...this is my family...well all the girls and old people. The men went to fight the Makoi in the mountains. We are very afraid now...we have heard many of the men were killed by the Makoi. Do you think they will come and kill us too!"

"Why would they come here to harm you," questioned Nikita.
"It is the way it has been for all time. My grandmother had a dream...she says our men will return...not all were killed."
"I'm sure your grandmother is correct."
"Where do you come from?" quizzed the girl reaching out to touch Nikita's hair. "Your hair...so white...a yellow white...."
"Where did you learn to speak English?" questioned Nikita.
"I live at a missionary school...I was separated from my family by wars and the missionairies brought me up and I learn English."
"You speak it very well."
"Why are you here?" quizzed the girl.
"I am looking for a friend...may I show you a photograph?"

Nikita pulled out the tattered picture of Michael and handed it to the girl. The young girl gasped and quickly passed it to her grandmother. The old woman shouted at the girl and waved her arm in the air. Nikita looked startled. "Is there something wrong!"
"I too have a picture of this man," stammered the young girl.
"WHAT! What do you mean!"
The young girl disappeared into the tent and came back with a small booklet. She handed it to Nikita.

"Oh my God! It's Michael's passport! Where did you get this?"
The old woman began speaking very rapidly and loudly, gesturing with her arms. The young girl attempted to quiet the woman.
"Please...I mean no harm...please...was this man here...did he give you this passport?" pleaded Nikita.
"Passport? What....."
"This is called a passport, with his picture...was this man here?"
"Yes, he is the magic one...he left with our men to go to the mountains."

Nikita's heart sank. "Noooooo! You mean to fight the tribe war with your people!"
"Yes....but....."

The old woman began speaking loudly again, gesturing towards Nikita.
"I am sorry if I have upset your grandmother...it's...I've been looking for this man a long time...and now you say he went to fight....and...he may have been killed."
"My grandmother says no."
"What! How can she...what does she say?"

The young girl spoke to the old woman who replied, her arms waving in the air.
"My grandmother is a....I do not know the word...a person with special powers."
"A shaman...like a prophet...a...oh, god, a person who can see into the...no, that's not correct...", stammered Nikita.
"My grandmother has special dreams...that is why she knows not all our men were killed."
"Please ask your grandmother if she knows what might have happened to the man in the picture...please......"

The young girl spoke quietly to her grandmother. Once again the old woman gestured with her arms, waving them in the air.
"My grandmother says the 'magic one' was in the high mountains when our people were attacked by the Makoi tribe. The 'magic one' was taken by them, then a bird came in the sky and the 'magic one' flew away."
The old woman sat nodding her head repeatedly and pointed in the direction off to the east.
"Flew away! I'm sorry...you mean a plane took him away!" coaxed Nikita.
The young girl spoke quietly again to the old woman who rose and walked in circles, gesturing with her arms.
"My grandmother points to the village of Pol-E-Khomri....it is not far...perhaps no more than two days from our camp, but you have a truck...you can go there faster."
"Does she mean a plane took the man there? I don't understand!"
"She says his magic is no more....he came here with no magic...but had magic before...."
"What sort of magic? I'm sorry...this is....", stammered Nikita.
"I think she means when he first was with my people, he had....ah,....a picture in a special metal...flat, metal box...I saw pictures...the name....I remember...it was called a 'puter."
"And that was his magic?"
"I guess. But my grandmother says he had more magic...I don't know myself what she means....I am sorry."

"Please ask your grandmother if she knows where he is now...the man."
Again the girl spoke quietly to her grandmother. The old woman pointed off to the east and spke the same words over and over.
".....she says 'the magic one' lives in the sacred caves now....outside Pol-E-Khomri."
"Caves? But why...why would he....?"

The girl looked at the old woman who was now wandering off into the tent.
"My grandmother is very tired now. She will sleep. Would you like more tea?"
"Ahhhh....no thank you...you have been very kind...and helpful. I must go now. Thank you so much and thank your grandmother."

Nikita shook the girl's hand and began walking away. The girl ran up to Nikita and extended her hand containing Michael's passport.
"He left this here...I liked the picture...he is...oh, the word...handsome."

Nikita took the passport and smiled. "Yes, he is handsome. Please take this picture of him."
She handed the girl the crumpled photograph of Michael; the picture Nikita had wept over so many evenings. The young girl grinned. "Thank you...you find him...and I know you will."

Nikita sat in the Range Rover and breathed deeply. 'What had just happened?' She shook her head. 'What was this old woman saying...Michael may have been at this camp....gone to fight with the men...but how could this old woman know the things she said - superstition and....ah...what...witchcraft...no...sorcery. Well, she had nothing to lose now...there was only a few days left in her self-imposed time frame of two weeks.'

Nikita put the Rover in gear and headed east in the direction of the village of Pol-E-Khomri.

After reaching Pol-E-Khomri, Nikita began showing the passport photo of Michael to different villagers.

She wandered into a small cafe and spoke to the proprietor. He motioned for her to follow him and together, they walked to the end of the village. He pointed in the direction of the foothills and indicated the direction she should take.
Upon returning to her Rover, she jumped in and headed off into the foothills. Soon she pulled the truck to the side of the narrow dirt road and spotted two sheep herders attempting to gather their sheep together in a makeshift corral.
Nikita approached them; pulled out the passport picture of Michael and held it before them. Then, the older man nodded, yes...he had seen the man in the picture.

Nikita thought she had misunderstood or that the man had not understood her. The past month had only brought negative replies from all the people she had asked.
She smiled, thinking they probably wanted money. The younger man pointed at the picture and smiled back. He pointed into the foothills.
She could not allow herself to believe that this was in fact going to be a solid lead. The older man touched her arm and motioned for her to follow him.

Nikita struggled over the rocky ground up into the foothills, following the man. After almost an hour, he stopped and turned to her, pointing towards a narrow trail. She shook her head; her heart racing; her stomach churning.
The man took her down the pathway towards a cave and pointed with a crooked finger at a figure crouched before a small fire.
Nikita approached cautiously, her hand pressed to her revolver inside her jacket.
"Michael? Michael is that you?"

The man jumped up and pointed a gun at Nikita's face.

His hand shook, "You are haunting me! Stop haunting me!," he screamed.
"Michael - it's me! It's Nikita!"
He waved the gun at her, "You will not haunt me anymore! I will kill you once and for all! You are dead! Do not haunt me anymore!!"

Nikita backed off and Michael stood, the gun shaking in his hand. Nikita attempted to gather herself after the shock of seeing him.

"I see you've built a fire...it looks warm. May I come and join you by your fire?'
Michael said nothing. She started to inch forward again. He stood gripping the gun and pointing it at her.

"Michael...do you remember the fire we built together on the beach? When we went sailing and rowed ashore to that beautiful beach...and we made that fire...and then we made love. Do you remember that fire Michael?"

He breathed deeply, "You are a dream...you are only in my head...you do not exist."
"Michael, please put the gun down...please touch my hand. Feel my hand, Michael...I am real...I am here!"
Nikita started to inch forward again until the end of his gun was pointed at her chest. She reached out and gently grasped the gun and pushed it aside. Michael made no attempt to stop her. She took the gun from him, placed it on the ground, and then reached out her hand.

"Take my hand Michael...feel my hand. It is real flesh and blood...it's me - Nikita."
He looked at her and blinked his eyes. "I know that name...but you are only in my mind...you haunt me always."
She reached out towards him; he stared blankly at her.
"Please take my hand Michael."

He slowly lifted his arm and with his fingertips, lightly touched her fingers. Then he clasped her hand.

He rubbed her palm and fingers the way he had done so many times before.
"Nikita...don't be just a dream...."
"I'm not Michael - I am here."

Very slowly, Nikita moved closer and placed her hands on Michael's shoulders; drawing his body to hers. He slid his arms to her waist and put his head on her shoulder.

Nikita whispered gently. "Michael - I love you....and I am here now. And we are together."
"Kita," he whispered. "Kita...it is you....it is really you...."
"Yes Michael...I am here now."

They sat huddled together before the small fire. Nikita stroked his face as her tears streamed down her face. Michael said nothing.

"Michael you must come with me...I have a truck...we will go to the military base and have the doctors check you. "
Michael shifted his body and lay his head on Nikita's lap, his arms clutching her waist.
"We can't stay here Michael...there is a storm approaching and you need medical help. Please......"

Nikita struggled to get to her feet and pull Michael up. He lay in a curled ball on the ground.

"Oh God Michael! Please...we must go now!"

Nikita walked to the cave opening: huge storm clouds had gathered and snow was beginning to fall. She returned to see Michael sitting, rocking back and forth.
"Michael...the storm is here...we must go now. We can't say here!"

He looked up at her. "We are safe here...we must hide out and always remain in this cave...no-one will find us here."
She looked frantically around the small cave. The remains of MIchael's food lay discarded in the dirt together with three empty water bottles. His backpack stood in the far corner with Michael's dirty sleeping bag. Nikita grabbed the pack and checked the contents. There was very little of consequence contained inside. She scooped up the sleeping bag, unzipped the opening and wrapped it around Michael. Picking her way around the cave, she reached for scraps of wood and piled it beside the tiny fire. Carefully, she placed the sticks on the glowing embers. She squeezed herself next to Michael under the sleeping bag. The temperature was dropping quickly as she wrapped her arms around his body. She could feel him shivering.

"What has happened to you Michael...why are you here, like this?"
Nikita scanned his face and head as Michael stared into the fire. She could see the dry, matted blood on his scalp and hair.
"What happened to you? You've been injured...a head injury..you need to get to medical Michael!"

Nikita peered out towards the entrance of the cave.

The storm has reached full capacity and snow blew into the cave opening. She silently cursed herself for not bringing her pack with supplies from the truck. In her haste to follow the herders to check out the cave, the only item she carried was her revolver. 'What did she have in her jacket?'
She pulled herself from the sleeping bag and Michael. 'Matches, binoculars, and two granola bars....Nikita...you are slipping...you should have been more prepared. But...then, I had no idea what I was going to find.'

Michael reached over to her, placing the bag around her shoulders, and leaning his head on her breast. He clutched her tightly and said nothing.
Nikita whispered gently, "When the storm subsides, we must leave Michael...you have a head injury and need medical attention."
She looked at him; his eyes blinked shut and he drifted off to sleep. Nikita fought back the panic. 'God, was he slipping into unconsciousness...in a coma!'
"Michael...you must stay awake! Please wake up!"

He stirred and lifted his head, staring into her eyes, then returning his head to her breast.
The wind howled outside the cave and snow swirled into the entrance. The tiny fire flickered as Nikita struggled to put on the remaining bits of wood. She felt Michael shivering as he clutched her body. She fought the urge to start shivering too; the icy cold began to penetrate her core.
'No, after all they had been through...they must not die here...die of hypothermia...freeze to death.....!'
She felt herself begining to shiver uncontrollably.
Michael had drifted off to sleep again; and Nikita felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.

Nikita jolted herself awake......"Michael! We will not die here! Wake up please!"
Michael stirred and shifted his body, trying to obtain more contact with her. Nikita closed her eyes and then the images of her tiny babies appeared before her.
"Michael! We have two babies that need us! We will not die!"
The wind roared outside the cave and the snow began to pile into the cave entrance.

Nikita had fallen asleep with Michael clutching her tightly. In the distance, she could hear a crying sound....a muffled crying from far away that gradually became louder.
She stirred as the crying grew in intensity.
At the far end of the cave her babies lay on a blanket, shivering and screaming. Nikita fought to regain consciousness. 'Was she dreaming...or had she....died?'
Her eyes shot open; Michael's head lay on her lap. Nikita frantically looked around the cave......she had been dreaming. Pulling herself out of the sleeping bag and laying Michael's head on the ground, she jumped to her feet and staggered to the cave entrance.
Snow was piled deeply at the opening.
Nikita pushed the snow away and burst through the opening to be greeted by bright sunshine glistening off the glaring white landscape. She squinted in the direction from where she recalled leaving her 4 x 4. They must leave here now.
Nikita returned to Michael, who was still sleeping. She shook him violently. "Michael! Wake up! Please...don't be in a coma! I can't get you out of here through the snow by myself!"

Michael stirred and looked blankly at Nikita. She smiled and kissed him gently. "Thank God! We must leave now....please get up....!"
Michael laughed, "You are my dream again! But you are so real!"
"Michael! I am not a dream! I am real! Now get up! We are leaving here!"
Michael rose obediently, staggering slightly. Nikita put her arm around his waist and edged him out the cave.
They trudged through the deep, wet snow; Michael staggering and Nikita coaxing him along. After almost an hour of wadding through the heavy snow, they reached Nikita's Range Rover. Michael collapsed into the snow as she cleaned the windows and doors of 20 centimeters of snow. She helped Michael inside and turned the key in the ignition.
"Oh, please start!" she muttered.

The engine sputtered, then roared to life. Nikita engaged the four wheel drive and the vehicle churned through the snow towards the village. She realized how important it was to get Michael medical attention.
"Damn this snow! I could have had a plane fly to this village's airstrip and to Kandahar and the military base...now I will have to drive all the way!"
She glanced at Michael who sat passively, his head nodding as he drifted asleep. As Nikita entered the village, she spotted a small market and pulled over and raced inside. She purchased a dozen bottled water, bread and fruit, then quickly returned to the vehicle. Michael had now slumped over onto her seat.
"Michael! Wake up! You must not sleep! MICHAEL!"

He stirred and Nikita pushed him back into his seat. "Michael here - drink this water - all of it! And eat this fruit...you need nourishment!"
Michael stared at her and took the water. He drank thirstily and chewed on the fruit. Nikita grabbed her maps.
"Okay...I need to get to Kandahar...the quickest way."
She wheeled the Range Rover through the village and headed south.
As she drove, the thought came to her, 'I could contact Walter on the satellite...have him arrange for a plane...but no...where would the plane land with all the snow! Damn!"
Nikita gunned the truck and tore over the narrow roadway. The fresh snow flew from the tires as the Rover raced towards Kandahar.
Nikita drove all that day and through the night. As dawn arrived the following morning, she entered Kandahar. She drove directly to the Canadian military base. After showing her identity card, she was ushered into the base and raced the vehicle to the base hospital. Nikita sat on a chair outside the hospital ward. A military doctor approached her.
"Hey, you should be examined lady. You look beat...probably dehydrated and...."
"I'm fine - how's my friend?"
"You were correct - he has a concussion. A blow to the head, but he's doing okay. Physically he is dehydrated, and the affects of the concussion are still prevalent. He is very disoriented....not speaking at all...the concussion has left him confused but that should wear off. We better keep him here for a few days. But you need some help yourself. Let me arrange for a cot so you can rest and get you some chow. You can clean up in the washroom at the end of the hall."
"Thank you..but can I use your satellite communicator. I need to contact someone."
"Sure thing."
The military doctor waved to an orderly. "Take this lady to communications, then to a rehab room...show her where to grab some chow also."
"Yes sir," replied the orderly.

Nikita sat in the radio room. "Walter! It's me! I found him! He has a concussion and we are at a military hospital....no still in Afghanistan. They want to keep him in observation a few days...he's disoriented...and well....not speaking."
Nikita laughed at Walter's response. "I know Walter, he never did speak very much!" She laughed again.
"Oh Walter...I'm so...I can't believe....what? Oh, the military will fly us to Ankara, Turkey, then I will bring him to Ibiza to recuperate. Is Helmet there? I need to speak to him. Oh, and Walter....don't tell my father I've found Michael."

Three days later, Nikita and Michael walked from the military transport plane in Ankara, Turkey. An army jeep drove them to the Ikibin Hotel. Michael had not spoken to Nikita since being in the cave in Afghanistan.
A bellboy ushered them into a large room and as Nikita tipped him, he smiled and closed the door.
Michael's beard had been shaved and his hair cut while at the military base. He sat on a chair and looked up at Nikita. She kneeled in front of him.
"Michael...do you know who I am? I'm Nikita...you knew me when we were in the cave....remember the cave, the snow...it was very cold. You still have a concussion, but the doctors say you are okay."
Michael took her face in his hands, leaned over and kissed her forehead, eyes and cheeks.

She smiled, her deep blue eyes flashing.
"Oh Michael - I love you...I can't believe I found you! We are together! We have two beautiful babies....remember - I told you about them in the hospital. I can't wait until you see them!"
Michael remained silent; staring intently into her eyes.
"The doctors say you are still somewhat disoriented...that's why you aren't speaking...do you remember me...who am I Michael?"

Still he said nothing.
She rose, "That's okay...the doctors say you will remember. Hey! You hungry? I'll call room service - wow! Is that great or what - room service! Let's order everything - pig out! What do want? Hey, look at this menu...you love Coq au Vin! Let's get two the those and yum! Look - currant-glazed rack of lamb...one of those and wine...red wine. Oops! Maybe not for you...cause of the concussion. Wine for me only....sorry Michael...and let's see what they have for dessert. Yes! Ice cream torte...but we need something with lots of chocolate....I have a sudden craving for chocolate! Wow...look Michael...chocolate Pots de Creme...!"

Michael sat watching Nikita; a small smile crept on his face as Nikita danced about the room announcing what she would order from room service.
An hour later, their meal sat before them in the room. Michael nibbled at the Coq au Vin as Nikita devoured a portion of hers and started on the rack of lamb.
"I didn't kow how hungry I was! This is wonderful...eating....being together...eating. Do you want just a little red wine...a little won't hurt...what do you think?"

Michael sat eating in silence and extended his glass, making a motion with his hand for just a little bit of wine. Nikita poured the wine and held her glass up for a toast.
"Michael! We are together...I can hardly believe it!"

Michael sipped his wine, then pushed away from the table.
Nikita watched as he walked to the window, and stood staring at the city lights.
"Everything will be okay now Michael...we are together...and when you feel better, you can tell me about you mission."

He returned and sat on the sofa; sipping his wine. Nikita joined him with a plate of chocolate de creme.
"Here have a taste...one can never have too much chocolate!"

He took the plate from Nikita and placed it on a corner table. Michael looked into the deep blue pools of her eyes; like he was floating on a current of blue waves. He brushed back the blonde strands of hair that danced across her face.
Nikita gently kissed his hand. She started to speak but he put his fingers across her lips and wiped away a dab of chocolate. She grasped his fingers; licked the chocolate, then inserted his finger into her mouth and began sucking.

"Michael...I want you...I want to love you."

He leaned forward and gently kissed her eyes and cupped her cheeks. Nikita rose and held out her hand. Michael followed her into the adjoining bedroom. He stood watching her remove her clothing and when she was finished, she walked naked to him and helped him remove his.

Nikita pulled back the bedcovers and motioned for Michael to lie on the bed. He obliged and stretched across the queensize bed.

Nikita straddled his body and began placing butterfly kisses on his lips, his ears and neck. She then began kissing and licking his chest, sucking each male breast, then continuing down his torso to his navel. Michael shuddered as he reached up to her.
"Let me love you Michael." she whispered.

He inhaled sharp breaths, his body continuing to shudder under her touch. Nikita ran her fingers up his arms and dragged her fingertips down the arms and onto his hips. She butterfly kissed his abdomen as he breathed deeply.
Michael moaned and inhaled sharply as she reached his manhood. Nikita took him in her right hand while with the other, she gently stroked the sacks between his legs.

Nikita slid her body down as she began to stroke his manhood, then leaned in to place a kiss on the tip of his penis. Michael moaned loudly. She began to lick and tease him with her tongue and lips while stroking his length with her hand.
Michael became erect immediately as Nikita took his length into her mouth as deep and slowly as possible. Michael began to thrust his hips upwards and grasped Nikita's head. She continued to suck and press her tongue on the underside of his erection. Michael moaned loudly as he released his climax into Nikita's mouth. He immediately pulled her head and body up and kissed her mouth; their tongues exchanging the fluid release of his climax.
Michael pulled her face away, breathing heavily. He stared into her flashing eyes.
"Kita! Kita!!"
"I am here Michael...you have come back to me."
Three days later, Nikita and Michael drove up to Helmet Volker's villa on Ibiza. Walter stood in the foyer and smiled as he watched the couple enter the front door. He extended his hand to Michael.
"Michael....well....never thought I'd really see you again. Welcome."
Nikita grinned.
Michael took Walter's hand. "I'm glad to see you again Walter...you are well?"
"Forget me! How are you doing?"
"I will be fine, thank you."
"Is Helmet here, Walter?" questioned Nikita.
Walter shook his head, "Ah, no, he thought it best to give you guys some space...and besides he had to return to Ireland to meet his daughter....she finally agreed to see him."

"I'm so glad she has," smiled Nikita. "Now...are the babies in the nursery with the nanny, Walter?"
"Where else, Sugar...they're waiting to see you....ah, both."
Nikita grabbed Michael's hand and began leading him up the stairs to the nursery.
Walter stood grinning from ear to ear. "God! I love happy endings!"

Nikita and Michael entered the nursery as the nanny looked up. Both babies were in a play area. The nanny smiled and left the room.
Nikita led Michael over to the babies. She reached in and picked up the baby girl and handed her to Michael.
"This is Terri, your daughter."
Michael gingerly took the baby from Nikita, then she reached down and picked up the baby boy.
"And this is Marko, your son."
Michael stood and smiled. "Two...two babies...."
"I told you we had twins...a boy and girl."
Michael took the baby boy in his other arm; he leaned in and kissed the babies on their tiny foreheads. Tears began streaming down his face.
"Nikita...and two babies...I am alive again...my life complete."

Later that evening, Michael and Nikita had returned to their room with the babies. Earlier they had Walter join them for dinner in the dining room. Michael had sat toying with his food the whole time: he was watching Nikita.
She had chatted constantly, filling Walter in on all the details of her journey through Afghanistan and her elation at finding Michael.
Walter had tried repeatedly throughout the meal, to question Michael about how he had traced the bio-chemical weapons. Michael replied in short sentences and continued to stare at Nikita. She looked over at him.
"Are you not hungry? If you don't like the food, we can get some....."

"No, the food is fine. It's just difficult to believe I am here with you."
Walter grinned. "Yes, it is a little surreal if you ask me...but, hey....you two are finally together again!"
Michael reached over and grasped Nikita's hand and she smiled.
"Say if I'm not being to nosey," quipped Walter. "Have you two talked about what you're going to do or where you're going to live?"
Nikita quickly interjected. "We'll talk about that when Michael is feeling better - he's still suffering from the concussion."
Michael kissed her hand. "I feel fine."
Nikita looked over at Walter. "The main thing is to disappear from the clutches of my father."

Now as they sat in their room, Nikita nursed the baby boy. He fussed and started to cry.
Nikita looked over at Michael who sat looking at the baby girl. He picked her up and rocked her gently in his arms.

"I guess I'm not producing enough milk," frowned Nikita. "They were using formula while I was away and maybe changing back to breast milk is upsetting them."

Michael lightly kissed the baby's head and looked at Nikita.
"You are a wonder Ni-ki-ta....you are amazing...and you are so beautiful...these babies...."
"Your babies Michael."
"Yes...but I just can't believe this....I keep thinking it's all a dream...another dream and I'm going to wake up and you and the babies will be gone."
"It will be real enough when you are woken at 3am to crying babies!" she laughed.
The baby girl started to fuss in Michael's arms.
"Try giving her the formula...the bottle's on the table."

They sat quietly, nursing the babies, then Nikita spoke: "Walter is correct - we do need to talk about what we are going to do and where we should live...and how we are going to live."
"Not now Nikita - not yet."

The baby boy had fallen asleep at Nikita's breast, so she got up and placed him in the bassinette.
Looking over at Michael, she smiled with a glint in her eyes. "I'm going to have a bath."
Michael just nodded his head, his eyes riveted to the tiny child in his arms. "She is you Ni-ki-ta...she is so perfectly you."

Nikita smiled and went into the bathroom. After awhile she emerged, wrapped in a terry towel robe and rubbed her wet hair virgorously with a towel.
Michael sat with both sleeping children in his arms. Nikita smiled, "So Michael - you planning on spending the whole night like that?"
"They are such a gift Ni-ki-ta...you have given me such a gift...I can't believe this is all real."

Nikita took the baby girl from him and placed her in the bassinette. "We can go into the village tomorrow - buy you some clothes."

Michael sat in the chair, clutching the baby boy. "Can't they sleep with us?"
Nikita took the baby from Michael and placed him next to his sister and gazed at Michael with a devilish look.
"Ahhhhhhhhh....Michael - they're fine in their own bed."

Nikita took his hand and led him to the queen sized bed. He sat down and pulled off his shoes and socks as Nikita prepared the bedding.

"Now - Mr. Samuelle - let's get you ready for bed!" she teased.

Michael opend her robe and wrapped his hands around her bottom. He drew her abdomen to his lips and placed kisses over her stomach; she grasped his head and moaned softly.
He stood up suddenly, clutching her tightly as she wrapped her legs around him. He licked and sucked her wildly.
"Mic-hael!"
He swung around and dropped her on the bed - then look somewhat startled.
"Sorry...I'm sorry...I...."
"The only thing I'm sorry about is you still have those clothes on!"

Michael quickly removed his jeans, pulled the t-shirt over his head and started to crawl back onto the bed.
"Hey," quipped Nikita. "All the clothes!"

Michael stood up again and removed his boxer shorts. Nikita devoured the sight of his body. His enormous erection rose towards his abdomen. Nikita had shed her robe and lay naked on the bed as Michael crawled over to her. She gently touched the bruises and scars on his body. He lightly kissed her lips; sucking on the lower one, and inserting his tongue into her mouth. He held her arms above her head as Nikita squirmed below him.
"Mich-ael....I want to....!"

"Let me love you Nikita...please...."
She closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensations his tongue was administering - licking and sucking - her eyes, her cheeks, her neck - he worked his way down her body. Michael's tongue and mouth teased her breasts, encircling each erect nipple, then sucking - continuing to suck.

Michael place his head between her legs, fingered her opening and inserted his tongue. Nikita moaned loudly. "Oh God Michael! Enough! I can't take more.....!"
Her whole body tingled with electricity but Michael continued as she felt an overwhelming orgasm sweep through her body. She reached down and grabbed his hair, clutching tightly as she heaved her pelvis upward. Michael brought Nikita into a second orgasm as her body continued to vibrate. She arched her head backwards on the pillow and yelled out: "Michael! I want you in me now....now!"
Michael looked up as Nikita lay gasping for breath.
He inched his body up and gently inserted the tip of his manhood into her opening. He manipulated himself to tease her sensitive bud. Nikita reached down, grabbed him and forced his erection inside her. She thrust her hips upwards. Michael whispered in her ear: "Slowly Ni-ki-ta...slowly...."
"NO! Now...please Michael!"

She wrapped her legs around his back and pushed violently upwards, pulling him into her. Michael marvelled at her flexibility and strength, but with one movement, grasped her arms and pulled her into a sitting position. They entwined their legs and arms around each other, clutching tightly. Nikita attempted to thrust her hips towards Michael. He whispered again, "Slowly...Ni-ki-ta...slowly...."
"Mich-ael! Mich....aeal!!!"

He could feel himself deep inside, her muscles gripping him tightly. He desperately fought the urge to release and let his climax overwhelm him. He wanted to remain forever - inside her - never letting her disappear from his life. This was real...this was no dream.....

Nikita's body quivered, her breathing labored. Michael craddled her in his arms and rocked gently back and forth. "I have dreamed of you so many times," he whispered. "You are my dream..."

Nikita began to move her hips in a constant rhythm, pushing towards Michael. She ran her fingers up and down his spine, then fell backwards onto the bed, pulling him with her. Once again she wrapped her legs around his back and pushed up into him. She gripped him tightly and milked his aching manhood from within. Michael's resolve was now broken and he began moving, slowly at first, then thrusting frantically into her. Nikita rode with him, meeting each thrust.
She felt another wave of orgasm approching. Their sweat soaked bodies pounded together. Michael desperately fought his urge to release, wanting to forever remain in this place.
Nikita cried out, "Now Michael! Now! Please...now...!"

She could hold back no more as a wave swept her away; her eyes rolling back in her head. Michael thrust one last time as a violent orgasm swept throughout his whole body.
He cried out: "KITA!"

They lay clutching each other as they both came down from their orgasms. Their breathing was still labored as the night was broken by the sound of one baby crying and then the other joining in.
Nikita giggled, "Well - at least their timing was alright."
Michael pulled from her body and looked over at the babies. "Now can we bring the babies into our bed?"
Nikita smiled, "Sure Michael...seeing we're the ones who woke them up."


The next day, Michael and Nikita were driving back from the village. The babies were bundled in their travel bassinettes in the rear seat. Michael looked over at Nikita.
"Ahhhhh, last night, and well the nights in Turkey....ah, I didn't use a condom. You are taking precautions, aren't you? I mean....."

Nikita slipped her hand along Michael's leg. "No, I'm not taking the pill....I ran out in Afghanistan."
"What?"
She grinned.

"But we should...."
Nikita smirked devilishly.
"The next baby - you can help me with the birth!" She laughed. "Don't worry Michael - I renewed the prescription for the pills.
A small smile appeared on Michael's face. "You still love to tease me Nikita."
"Well....payback for teasing me last night in bed."

Michael parked the Mercedes in the driveway and as they unbuckled the baby's car seats, Walter came rushing outside.
"Hey...there's a Greek lawyer here to see you both...he's in the den. He's Dr. Leslie's lawyer...I can take the kids up to the nanny for you...okay?"
"Thank you Walter," nodded Michael.

Michael and Nikita walked into the den and shook hands with a tall, dark man in a business suit.
"My name is Stavos Polupos...I was Dr. Ian Leslie's attorney.

"Was!" exclaimed Nikita.
"Yes..I am sorry to inform you but Dr. Leslie was located on his sailboat a week ago. He had suffered a heart attack...the boat had been drifting with only him aboard."
"A heart attack?" questioned Michael.
"Yes, the autopsy revealed, he had a massive attack...possible during a storm we had a few weeks back."
"Oh my God! The poor man...I hope he didn't suffer," said Nikita.
"By all appearances, he died quickly....the heart attack was massive."
Michael turned, walked to the window and looked out at the sea. "He was a good man."
"I am settling his estate. As he had no living relatives and, well it appears you two were close to him."

Michael and Nikita looked at each other. "What? We knew him yes..." stammered Nikita. "Michael worked for him but..."
"You both are named in his will - he has left you his villa, his business, plus all monies in two Swiss bank accounts - the bank accounts total about 500,000 British pounds."

Nikita drew her hands up to her mouth in shock. Michael stood shaking his head.
"You two obviously had no idea of this?" questioned the lawyer. "You must have meant something special to him."

"He had a nephew that was killed," replied Michael.
"Yes, I had met Stewart McTavish...a bright young man...very tragic death in the middle east working with you, correct Mr. Samuelle.""
"Yes. He performed a very brave act on a mission for his uncle."
"I know Dr. Leslie thought of him as a son...the loss was great to him. Well...I have all the necessary paperwork, we can sit down and finalize the estate transfer."

Nikita stood, unable to speak. Michael motioned to Polupos. "Come, we can use Helmet's office...would that be okay, Nikita?"
"What...yes...sure...this way."

They led the lawyer into Helmet's office. He opened a slim briefcase and spread documents on the desk. "I met Mr. Helmet Volker once at Leslie's villa on Rhodes...is he away?"
"Yes. He's in Ireland..with his daughter and...his daughter's mother..they are getting reacquainted."
After Michael and Nikita had signed all the necessary documents transferring the estate, they shook hands and Michael led the lawyer back to the main door. Nikita remained in the office, sitting, staring ahead. Michael returned and knelt before her.
"Are you alright, Nikita?"
"Michael...why? I only met the man once...yes, you worked for him but...why would he give us everything?"
"I don't know...I don't know what to think."


"You know what this means! We can have independent lives! My father can't touch us now...we are free...we have our own place..you can run the business from Rhodes..mind you...you can't go on any more missions...just send operatives! Walter can work for you...and the money!..."
Michael smiled. "Yes...it will make things easier...but the most important part...we are at last together. We are one."

 

END

return to LynusLinus stories