She was obviously being monitored, Annie realized, as the Land Rover came to a screeching, dusty halt. It was opposite her on the road, coming from somewhere north, and she appeared to be its target. A man, uniformed as if not-quite-a-jihadi, hopped out and shouted and gestured furiously at her. For the first time ever, she heard her "new" name with relief. There was a brief pantomime - the man would have preferred to bodily throw her into the car, but that sort of man handling had obviously been forbidden. To Annie/Noor's surprise, the other occupant of the back seat was an ancient old woman. Ah. Her chaperone, old enough to be nearly acceptable even in the company of unrelated men. What Annie could see of her eyes looked grim; the old woman reached forward and shoved a stray strand of hair back under Annie's head covering.

"Where are we going?"

"Your uncle will see you," was the answer. No, not her uncle, Annie thought. The "uncle" of my "husband". No mention of said husband however.

"My husband's other wife, Laylah, has stolen my baby. We must look for her!"

The driver, a burly, bearded but very fit-looking man in desert camouflage, turned around to look at Annie, which was unnerving as they wheeled around and began driving in the opposite direction. "What?"

Annie explained as simply and carefully as she could. The passenger made a call on a cell phone, relaying the facts. "We have other teams out looking for you. They will see if they can find this woman."

"I want to look too!" Annie insisted, but she didn't have much hope that her wishes would be attended to. " Where is my husband? Ask him. He will tell you to look for our baby!"

The driver shook his head. "We are taking you to your Uncle. Anything else, you ask him."

"Where is he?"

"You will see." Annie resigned herself. She was not going to fling herself out of the moving vehicle. What she could do was watch for any sign of Laylah. She saw nothing – on foot they had already traveled much farther than she could have gone, but if she had gotten rides, joined a caravan with camels, she could be anywhere.

But she wouldn't have much time to watch for Laylah. Up ahead, approaching in the sky, was another sleek helicopter. Adrenalin hit her hard, clear fight or flight; helicopters had brought her both good and ill, but mostly the latter. Judging by the reactions of the men in the front seat, this was "friendly" – at least to them. It landed a short distance ahead, stirring up the dust, and the vehicle zoomed up to it. There was a brief handover – the old woman was, remarkably, outfitted with earphones and strapped into a seat; Annie was left to figure it out herself rather than be touched. The pilot seemed indifferentl; a few taps and words and it was obvious her microphone was not even turned on. She surrendered; whatever was happening, the next phase had begun. She watched the desert speeding by below, still hoping for a glimpse of a figure that could be Laylah, clutching her stolen child.

To Annie's surprise, she could see the edge of the ocean beyond as the helicopter descended. A cement landing pad, clearly marked, awaited them. Getting out of the helicopter, she felt a firm hand on her arm - it belonged to a no-nonsense housekeeper type, a strong woman who led her away. Annie glanced at the others approaching the helicopter, searching for Eyal or for the sheik, his "uncle", whose picture she had been shown in Israel. But no, she recognized no one. In her briefing from the old man, he had mentioned the "other" uncle of Eyal's - the one who didn't believe the story for a moment. Was that where she was? The building was fortress-like, but in a Disneyesque way – like a hotel trying to be historic. She was rushed through tiled hallways and past enclosed gardens with tropical flowers and palms and brought to a luxurious bathroom. A new outfit awaited her, a golden beige, with shoes to match. A nice break from the black. "You will wash, and change, and then you will meet with His Eminence."

"And that is?"

Apparently there was no need for her to be further informed. The housekeeper turned and left her, fortunately, apparently not excited at the prospect of handling her nomad clothing. Which was just fine with Annie – it would give her a chance to conceal her equipment disguised and jewelry and the rest of her stock of gold. She showered in the high-tech stall, a dozen jets from every possible direction extracting the dust from her pores. Eyal had told her once to treat every meal as if it were her last; this shower she put in the same category. It felt marvelous. A powerful professional blow-dryer was on the counter and she tamed her hair and dressed. With a deep breath, she stepped back into the hallway, where the housekeeper awaited her, looking bored. She took her to a pretty sitting room where there was a tray of snacks, dates and grape leaves, a cinnamon-dusted chicken pie, a few other things, and lemonade.

"Eat something."

Annie obliged. The woman left her. She'd grown suspicious of food during her recent stay in Israel, but she didn't think this meal would be drugged or poisoned. That they might save for later.

"You come now," the woman said, returning. She brought a pitcher of water for Annie to rinse her hands. She toweled them off.

Annie followed her through more ornate hallways. She felt herself breathe a sigh of relief as she saw an Arab man rise up from behind a desk bigger than a king-sized bed. It was the "right" uncle, who was smiling widely. The housekeeper remained at the threshold, looking in.

"Welcome! I trust your travels were not too troublesome? You are well?"

"Yes. But my child – I was searching for our baby, Laylah has stolen it. We must find him!"

"Yes, yes, we received your message. Already they are searching, and I have sent more men to do so. Do not worry. All will be well. We will find your child."

"I want to help search. I know approximately where she went with it," Annie insisted.

"All will be well. As Allah wills it, all will be well." He smiled at her . She could tell he found her pleasing, that her arrival brought him happiness. Which was better than any alternative, but why, exactly? He gestured for her to sit down. He returned to his seat behind the massive desk. "I wanted to speak with you. To welcome you, and to meet you in person. Your bravery, devotion – you do not know it but your story is well-known now. "

"Oh!" Annie looked down. He took her horror at the thought as a sign of becoming modesty.

"There is no need to be embarrassed. It is very inspiritaitonal, very good. You, a woman from another place, who has surrendered to the will of God, it is very good. Very useful."

Great. She was being held up as a tale for other women to emulate, most likely at the cost of their lives."

"I am glad athat anything I may have done has been found of service," she mumbled out. "But?"
"What?"

"But what of my husband?"

"Ah," he said, and her heart clenched. His face grew more serious and her heart sank. What was he about to tell her? Then, realizing the effect of his expression, he added, quickly, "No, do not worry. He lives. But I did want to speak with you, to warn you…"

"Warn me of what?"

"Faisal has endured much. He has been badly wounded, and … he has always been serious, but perhaps more so, now. I think your return, your safety, will mean much to him." He got up from behind the desk. "Come. Come with me."