"Falcon you know what to do?" Lady Jaye stood behind him, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"Yep, just let me take care of all the paperwork." He grinned, posturing to his full height. He patted his chest indicating the passports tucked inside his Armani suit jacket's inner pocket before straightening his tie and shifting the corner of his Gutrah casually to the side. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a glass partition. Lady Jaye had outdone herself, disguising him. Gone was the soldier, in his place, the powerful arms dealer dressed in Armani and sporting the traditional head cover of white linen over a white cap called a Thagiyah and bound by a black cord.

"Falcon," Chuckles groaned, adjusting his abaya, a black gown that enshrouded him completely, except for a slit for the eyes through the black veil over his head.

"Quiet, both of you," Lady Jaye hissed a low warning, adverting her eyes from Falcon's as they approached the customs officer.

"Salaam, Sheik Akbar al Haq," the man greeted him humbly, examining his papers. "Your wives?" He quickly glanced his eyes towards Lady Jaye and Chuckles.

"Is there a problem?" Falcon sneered, snatching the passports back.

"Ah...no...sir." The man blanched, stepping to the side. "Please, welcome to our small kingdom." He studied them carefully through the terminal, reaching for his cell phone once they were out of sight.


"Nice work, Falcon," Lady Jaye whispered, tugging on his sleeve immediately after the bellhop had left. "Chuckles?" She whispered, prompting him to action. He gave her a thumb's up and proceeded to scan the room for listening devices.

"All clear." He whipped the veil from his face. "God, I hate wearing those damn things," he groaned, wiping his hand down his face.

"How do you suppose I feel?" She sighed, removing hers. "You'd think they'd be a little more understanding with the heat." She walked into the bathroom and straight for the sink where she quickly opened the facets, running the cool water over her hands. She reached for a hand towel to dampen. Dabbing it over her face and neck, she returned to the living room area.

"Understanding has nothing to do with it. It's their tradition." Falcon said flatly as he stood in front of a mirror, posturing with his arms folded over his chest.

"Rudolph Valentino, you're not and neither understanding nor tradition has a thing to do with this." Lady Jaye retorted as she picked up her veil. "It's more of a controlling fear." She shuddered, walking towards a pair of shuttered doors. "I'm taking the bedroom with the balcony. The two of you can take the other room or you can flip for it and the other can take the sofa. I'm going to grab a shower. Can you call down for dinner, please?" She called over to Falcon while pulling the doors closed.

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged, lifting a menu from the hotel directory. "What does she like?" He looked to Chuckles yanking the abaya over his head. "Chuckles?"

"What? That damn thing soaks up the heat." He stood in a pair of loud Hawaiian shorts.

"What does she eat?"

"Oh...any thing's fine with her." Chuckles replied, crashing into an overstuffed chair with his head leaning back towards Falcon. "Order me a thick, juicy t-bone will ya, pal."

"Yeah right." Falcon reached for the phone, switching into Arabic. "They said 20 minutes...you'd better hide."

"C'mon... give me a break," Chuckles protested. "She's done in the shower!" His eyes lit up, hearing the water stop. "You handle room service." He slapped Falcon on the back and rushed for the bathroom door. "My turn!" He pounded, hearing a hair dryer turn on, he began to beg, "Allie...please..."


Lady Jaye peered from the shutters, waiting for the room service attendant to leave before coming out from the shuttered room. "Coast is clear," she heard Falcon call out to her.

"Phew!" She came out in the abaya minus the veil.

"About time." Chuckles raced up to the table, lifting the tray from the short table on the floor. "Hey, where's my steak?"

"Sorry, Chuckles, it's couscous with curried lamb." Falcon shook his head, crossing his legs awkwardly to take his seat on the floor.

"Man some things just aren't right," Chuckles groaned, searching for a fork.

"No fork." Lady Jaye smirked, rolling the couscous with her right hand.

"No fork?"

"You know the culture from the briefings." Lady Jaye sighed, shifting to reach for a napkin. "Falcon, you need to make contact at the bazaar." She ran her eyes between the two men. "Chuckles, make sure you follow him several paces back and watch how you conceal your weapons."

"Hey, take it easy, doll." Falcon waved his hand towards her. "This'll be a piece of cake." Falcon grinned, stuffing a ball of couscous into his mouth.

"We can't afford to make stupid mistakes." She hissed, standing to face him. "We have to stay in character." She threw her napkin down, stalking off towards her room.

"What'd I say?" Falcon frowned at Chuckles.

"She's just worried about Flint and Dusty. She'll be all right. She's a consummate actress." Chuckled placed a hand on his arm to keep him from following her. "She's fine. Just keep your mouth shut and follow her lead. These aren't your typical locals, kid."


"Flint? Flint...ya all right?" Dusty shook him, trying to wake him. No response. "C'mon Flint...think of Jaye...she's gonna be mighty upset at me if anythin' happens to you."

A groan escaped from Flint as Dusty turned him over. The moonlight trickling through the small barred window played over his face to reveal the beating he had taken a few hours earlier.

"He didn't break." The other prisoner in the cell spoke out, bringing the remnants of their dinner and a cup of water. "He must drink."

"Thanks yer highness." Dusty nodded, accepting the cup from him.

"Jabal is fine. I am merely a man after all." He studied the cell walls, running his hands along the crevices of the stonewalls.

Flint slowly sat up, choking on the water Dusty forced down his throat.

"What the...how long?" His voice was dry and raspy. He looked to Dusty. "How long?"

"You been out a while. Samir's men dragged you back here a while ago." Dusty handed him a crust of bread. "It ain't much but we figured you'd be hungry just the same. What are you looking for Jabal?" Dusty followed Flint's eyes to the king.

"When I was a child, Samir and I listened to the tales of hidden passages. My father told me the tale of a king once imprisoned within these very walls. He escaped through a secret passage to rejoin his army."

"Nice tale, but, that's all it is," Flint groaned, standing to his feet.

"Maybe so, but still, all tales are based on some truth, are they not my friend?" Jabal continued to search for the passage. "Samir has my kingdom, my wife and my son hostage. I cannot stand by idly waiting."

"I'll give you a hand while Dusty watches for the guards." Flint followed Jabal, running his hands over the wall. "I've got a score to settle with Samir when I get my hands on him." Flint sneered.