Chuckles rushed from the room, running at full speed towards the door.

"What the hell?" Falcon jumped from his seat, toppling the table to intercept Chuckles. "Are you out of your mind? You're going to blow our cover." He hissed under his breath, hauling him over to the side away from Habidi. "Where's Jaye?"

"You self-absorbed shit." Chuckles jerked his arm free of Falcon's hold. "If you didn't have your head so far up your ass...you'd have seen her slip out the back...or seen me warning you. Those fuckin' bastards got her."

"WHAT?" Falcon whipped his head back to the door of the women's room.

"She slipped out through the window to do some recon...she slipped into a group of women...and they," he looked down to the floor, floundering for his words.

"They what?" Falcon shook him, forcing him to look up at him. "What did they do?"

"They...we're too late," Chuckles choked. "She's gone..."

"She couldn't have gotten far." Falcon stepped towards the door only to be stopped by Chuckles' arm before he could walk out into the bazaar.

"We're too late...she's dead." Chuckles pointed to the men surrounding the dead woman.

"No, she can't be...NO!" A deep seeded fear knotted Falcon's stomach. He lunged forward only to be pulled back by Chuckles and Habidi. "LET GO OF ME!" He hissed through gritted teeth. "They'll pay for this," Falcon vowed, struggling against the men as they pulled him away from the door and shoved him into a chair. "We can't leave her...like that." He kicked the table aside with his foot and charged for the door with his revolver drawn. "They're going to pay...so help me God... they're going to pay."

"Wait...brother." Habidi blocked the door, flinging his arms out across them. "If you storm out there now, you'll draw suspicion to yourself. "There's nothing we can do for her now," regret filled his voice.

"Falcon, she knew the risks. We all knew the risks going in." Chuckles placed a hand on his shoulder as they watched the chaos outside. Samir's men were rounding up the women and forcing them into the back of the transport. Falcon flinched at the sight of another woman being struck down by the butt of an AK-47.

"That's how they took her down." Chuckles bit the inside of his lip, glancing away from the scene. The guard kicking the woman's fallen body with the toe of his boot while he spat obscenities.

"We came to help your people and they allow this," Falcon challenged Habidi.

"They're the minority...they...Samir," Habidi corrected himself, "rules with fear. Do not blame all of us for his regime. Come we will avenge your friend."

"Where's she at?" Falcon strained to view the bazaar.

"They're dragging the bodies to the side. The women of their families will come to retrieve the bodies once Samir's men have left." Habidi pointed to the men milling about the bazaar.

"Where are they taking them?" Chuckles craned his neck to observe the transport leaving.

"Some will be sent to the prison...others simply vanish as my daughter did," sorrow filled Habidi's voice.

"Why did they take them?" Chuckles glanced back to the old man.

"They were protesting. Samir plays on the ignorance of the disenchanted. The younger women grew up under Jabal and his father's reign so they will fight for what they believe to be their freedoms."

"Samir fits right in with Cobra Commander's flunkies," Chuckles grumbled, watching the transport disappear from sight.

"Let's get her..." Falcon started for the door.

"Wait!" Habidi stepped into his path with his hands once again blocking Falcon from leaving. "I'll arrange for her to be retrieved by your people." Habidi offered with his gaze lowered respectfully. "We must get you back to your hotel undetected."


"Jabal, we ain't gonna find that tunnel." Dusty leaned over his shoulder as he crouched down along the base of the wall.

"Never give up hope, my friend," he replied, continuing his search. "We must escape to fight later."

"Jabal...Dusty back in your places. We got company." Flint jumped down from his look out position. Using the reflection provided by his belt buckle, he studied the passage leading to their cell. "Dusty, you rest along the far wall," he nodded, fastening his buckle before sliding into his spot. "Keep your heads down...let them think you're sleeping." He advised, lowering his chin to his chest.

Hearing a mixture of the guards shouting and the wailing sounds of several women, the men steadied their resolve to wait. Unless they could find an escape, they couldn't help anyone. Flint clenched his fist closest to the opposite wall, drawing up the dirt and dust with his glove. Shooting a glance to Dusty, he saw the desert trooper struggling not to react; his hand smoothing the edge of the wall where it met the floor. Flint noticed him pausing. Had he come to terms with his inability to react? He wondered, hearing the sounds of footsteps shuffling through the passage.

"GET UP!" A guard sneered in a dialect close to Afghani, dragging a woman to her feet as she fell in front of the men's cell.

A groan escaped her lips as he delivered a kick to her side. Placing her hands down to the clay floor, she raised her head to see into the cell. Flint rested off to the side of the cell door, his chin tucked to his chest. She saw the rise and fall of his chest, the tension in his arms as she raised her head and shoulders up rigidly.

"MOVE!" She heard the guard shout, raising his boot a second time. She sprung up, dodging the blow only to intentionally trip into the cell door for support. A gasp caught her throat at the sight Flint presented as he raised his head suddenly at the sound of her body hitting the bars. His right eye was blackened, swollen and puffy over the cheekbone. His lip had a split in it from the backlashes he sustained during his interrogation. Fighting an urge to reach out, she pulled herself up to stand.

"You'll pay for that," the guard hissed, raising the butt of his rifle to send a blow to the back of her head. She braced for the impact that never came. The hall fell silent as she shifted her eyes towards the guard. "ENOUGH," she heard a man's warning growl. Turning, she saw the captain of the guard twisting the guard's arm back and shoving him away from her. "You want them to see you can't handle a woman...get out of my sight. We're losing time. He's waiting to see what we've brought this time." He stalked over to her and roughly jerked her up by her upper arm. She winced at the pressure of his grip. "You will follow me since you're so clumsy," he spat before turning to sneer at the guard to bark the order, "Watch the prisoners..."


A light wrap on the door jolted them from their anguished thoughts. "I got it." Falcon raced to the door, ripping it open. "Habidi, any word?" He yanked the old man inside, scanning the hall for stragglers who could be watching.

"We couldn't get to her in time. Someone took the body," Habidi replied solemnly.

"Who took her...you had to have seen them...who?" Falcon grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him.

"No, my friend, I swear to you I didn't see."

"It wasn't her," Chuckles argued, drawing the drapes apart enough to scan the street below. "If they found her, they'd be tearing apart the city looking for us."

"Yeah, but if she's alive...Where is she? This isn't like her, she should have shown up by now." Falcon dropped into a chair, rocking his forehead in his hand.

"We have to meet Samir. He's assuming she'll be there as well. How are you going to cover her not going with us?"

"How the hell do I know...you're Covert Ops," Falcon snapped, turning to face him. "How could you let her go cowboy on us?"

"Me...if you had been paying attention to your surroundings like you're supposed to..."

"Gentlemen, this will not solve the problem at hand." Habidi stepped between the two men, shoving them apart. "Now, you will say that she is ill. No one has seen her face so we're safe."

"I suppose that'll do," Falcon hesitantly agreed, looking to Chuckles. "Jaye's a pro. She'll turn up."

"Let us hope so gentleman...let us hope so," Habidi attempted to offer his support. "If she's alive and discovered, she's in more danger than the average woman here. Her foreignness makes her an open target."

"Jaye's ok...she has to be...she can bend down with a basket of oranges in an Afghani marketplace and blend in perfectly...undetected," Chuckles supplied more to soothe his own fears.

"Still, it doesn't pay to be too optimistic. I'd be cautious. I have my people searching for her as we speak. Rest assured they will find her...dead or alive. They will find her."


"You there...come here," an older woman snapped at Jaye in Arabic. "Remove your veil...let's have a look at you." Jaye stared a moment, noticing the woman pointing towards her head with her finger waggling in a sweeping motion. She hesitated for a brief second. Feeling the presence of the captain hovering over her, she swept it from her head to a chorus of gasps. "You're ..." She heard the woman address her in flawless English.

"I'm English," Jaye replied cautiously, cowering slightly to portray herself as a timid woman.

"Alert Samir that we have a problem." The woman walked around Lady Jaye, accessing her with a critical eye. "You have beautiful green eyes...how unique?" She grabbed Lady Jaye's chin, roughly turning her face side to side, her thumb pushing up her upper lip. "You're teeth are white...excellent cheekbones...complexion." She stepped back. "Turn around." She commanded, pointing her index finger down in a circular motion. "NOW!"

Jaye complied, pivoting slowly on her toes. "Look lady..." Lady Jaye bulked, feeling one of the female servants pulling on the hem of her abaya, lifting it to reveal her feet and legs. "Big feet," the older woman commented, grabbing a hold on Lady Jaye's wrist. "Hands too...send her to the women's room. I'll not have her disrobe here with the men present," the older woman dropped Lady Jaye's hand, waving her own in a dismissing fashion.

"Just a second...if you think I'm going to..." Lady Jaye attempted to elude the guard only to run smack into the chest of the captain.

"SILENCE! Take her away NOW!" The older woman commanded. "Find my son and let him know I wish to see him." She followed Lady Jaye as she struggled with the guards.


"What was all that?" Flint waited for the guard to leave before he crept over to where Jabal sat.

"I'm not sure my friend."

Pstt...pstt. "Flint...Jabal, you gotta see this," Dusty whispered, sliding away from the wall.

"What is it?" Flint scowled, checking over his shoulder before approaching.

"It looks like some sort of a trapdoor...it's bolted down...ti..ght," Dusty grunted, using all of his strength to pry the door open. "I can't get it."

"Here...let me give you a hand. Jabal, watch the passageway." Flint dropped to his knees, running his fingers along the outline of the door. Years of dirt and rust impeded their progress as they dug their finger into the seam. "Try the lat...ch," Flint hissed sharply, straining as he pulled up on the edge of the door.

"Gotcha." Dusty nodded.

"On three...1...2...3," Flint counted. Throwing their backs into it, a snap echoed off the cells walls.

Flint watched in horror and dismay as Dusty went flying back against the wall with the latch in his hand. The trapdoor remained sealed shut, immoveable.

"What now?" Dusty stood holding the remains of the latch in his hand.

"Give me that." Flint took it from him, rotating it over in his hand as he studied it. A lopsided grin formed over his face while tracing his index finger along the sharp edges of the broken latch. "We dig the dirt and rust out...or scrape it out...what ever it takes. We're getting out of here..."