

### The Profit Prophet

Published by Anthony Van at Smashwords

Copyright Anthony Van 2013

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 1

Her lip curled up slightly in a humorous twist. Was she laughing at them, or had he mistaken a Parkinson's tremor on her aging face for something more malevolent. Could she really be trying to ignite their avarice, their greed for wealth and substance, for her own perverse entertainment? If so, his perception of her had been grossly flawed. He had never seen this side of Aunt Marcie. The promise of a somewhat theatrical presentation in this challenge to qualify for the bulk of her estate left him with a dull, empty feeling in his stomach.

Daniel Treloar was an electronics engineer. For the past several months he had been totally engrossed in the development of microscopic 3-D chips and was a little bemused by this distraction. He had been summoned by a call from his Aunt's lawyer. The lawyer had virtually commanded him to come to her extravagant home—an ornate building that had been the obsession of her late husband. She was going to set up preconditions for possible benefactors of her liquidation of assets and all close relatives were being asked to attend. If he didn't attend, he was told, he forfeited any chance of being considered as a beneficiary. This had been little incentive for Daniel and he let his Aunt know. However his brother Earl, in England, had encouraged him to go—if only to represent their side of the family—as he himself was too tied up with his university lecturing to even consider the trip.

He viewed the guests. The group was actually quite small. His Aunt Pat's family were there: Gerry and Trish Greer along with Pat, Pat's ex-husband Eric and her new husband James Jones. They were really the closest relatives to Marcie since Pat was her full sister. Angus, Alastair and Heather were the three offspring of Marcie and Pat's half-brother Donald and his Scottish wife Morna, and they were all there. Daniel was the only representative from his family. His mother, Jenny, had been a sister to Donald and a half-sister to Marcie, and also the youngest of the four Quentins.

The links were all rather convoluted—complicated by Daniel's grandfather, John Quentin, being married twice.

Seeing relatives made him think of his mother. He had loved her. He felt a deep seated regret that he had rarely expressed it. She had died of cancer three years ago and his father had subsequently embarked on some humanitarian quest in Africa. His thoughts meandered there. Daniel hadn't quite understood his father's motivation, other than it being a vain effort to find purpose for his life. After being assured by his boys, Daniel and Earl, that they could cope without him, he had enlisted with some NGO and headed off to Mozambique. Last Daniel had heard he was working in Somalia. Being a trained GP, there was no shortage of work for someone with his father's skills.

Daniel's glazed stare resolved into focus and he gazed again at his Aunt Marcie. Other family members were still hovering around her sipping drinks and munching on hors d'oeuvres. Such were deemed the proper preliminaries to this strange family reunion. The elderly widow glanced his way and he was sure that he detected that mocking glint in her eye which matched her previous condescending smile. His aunt had established one of the most successful independent fashion houses on the east coast. She had married a wealthy Bostonian who, after twenty two years of childless marriage, suffered rapidly declining health and left it all to her at his death. The business had then become her life, her marriage. It had seemed that Aunt Marcie would always be at the helm, always calling the shots till she died. Then five weeks ago, for no apparent reason, she announced that she would sell the whole business for a not-so-small fortune. This declaration had triggered the unusual meeting they were attending this day.

Marcie was now in her late fifties, and still quite sprightly. She and Pat were somewhat older than Donald. His grandfather had remarried and both Donald and his sister—Daniel's mother—had been born more than ten years after Marcie. So there was a natural division between the four siblings. Daniel sighed inwardly; that would only be exacerbated by this fiasco, this fabricated test of loyalty where family members were expected to pay obeisance to the 'queen'.

***

Naomi was talking to a good looking, well dressed, highly conceited, young lawyer—Joel Reagan. He thought he was charming the blonde 'heiress', as that was his perception of her. In reality, however, she was extracting information from him about the family. Also listening in was Stacey Greene. To Naomi, everything about Stacey spoke of her professionalism. Of medium stature, her tailored business suit and immaculately coiffured, glossy black hair gave some indication of her attention to detail. She was personal assistant to Garth Haversack and had basically done all the housekeeping to facilitate the event. The studious looking young woman was politely listening to Reagan trying to impress Naomi.

Naomi had just about everyone pegged now, but she was curious about the young man across the room. She had watched him stroll in about half an hour earlier. Even from a distance his vivid blue eyes were evident as he scanned the room. Nonchalant, even bored in appearance, his casual attitude fascinated her. She wondered what he did during the day that allowed him to turn up in jeans, tee shirt and dark blue jacket.

"Who's the blond guy across the room?" she asked, indicating towards him with a slight nod of her head.

Scarcely turning aside his eyes from her, Joel added to his catalogue description of the guests.

"That would be Daniel Treloar; he's a chemist or something. He's a son of her half-sister. Says he's not interested in the money, but he's here isn't he? I'd watch him. He's a bit of a favourite of Marcie's and I think he expects to get a bit of the inheritance". Naomi turned her head to examine this 'pretender' only to meet his unsettling gaze. She performed a welcoming smile before turning back to Joel. She felt the heat rising in her face. How long had he been studying her? Was her response phony, too cheesy? She was sure it was.

Naomi tried to continue her conversation normally but her mind was elsewhere. How was it that she had been with Marcie for a number of years now and hadn't heard about this 'favourite' relative?

***

Daniel continued scanning. As well as the fawning relatives being present, around a small table across the other side of the room, there stood four other people. Two were obviously lawyers; one quite a bit younger than the other. The junior lawyer was probably the apprentice who had come to see how these estate matters were handled; Daniel surmised. Another, a dark haired girl may have been an assistant or a paralegal. The senior lawyer had his head averted and talked discreetly on a cell phone while the young man was talking to a striking young woman and the paralegal.

In his conversation with the elder lawyer earlier, he had broached the subject of the girl who had attracted his attention. Garth, in his officious legal manner, had explained that she had been in his aunt's employ, part time, for five years now. She was basically a personal assistant but was also a qualified nurse. That would be handy, Daniel had commented, because of the increasing medical needs that might beset Marcie as she aged. It was a facetious remark and he wondered at how mean spirited he became when Marcie was involved.

Why was she here? Daniel had asked. Apart from the fact that she lived in a largish house next door and was usually near where Marcie was, Garth had also confided that she was to be included in the considerations for the drawing of the pseudo will. This soured the taste in Daniel's mouth, for it appeared that she was trying to take advantage of her proximity with his aunt. Maybe ingratiate herself with Marcie to reap the financial rewards.

"Just goes to prove ... " he quoted to himself, "appearances can deceive." He came to this conclusion as he once again found himself appreciating the attractive girl's slender figure, straw coloured shoulder length hair and always smiling countenance. In addition to that, she was understated in her makeup, her neat knee length skirt, 'office attire' white blouse and her quiet demeanour communicated modesty. A more flaunting display could have shouted, 'hey everybody look at me, I'm gorgeous,' but she didn't.

"Just goes to prove ... " except this time he enunciated his thoughts audibly as he observed her deferential manner, talking to the junior lawyer.

At that moment she looked across at Daniel as if she had been discussing him. Seeing his gaze, she smiled sweetly and returned again to her conversation. The dark haired law firm representative also flicked her eyes across to him. Her examination was predicated on some prior knowledge that she mulled over. There was no averting with her stare. He was determined not to turn away first.

"Just goes to prove what, Daniel?" Marcie inquired imperiously as she approached from behind. He was startled briefly before displaying his nimble mind with a touch of sarcasm, "What an entirely innovative Aunt you are Marcie ... to announce your will before you die."

"Is that what you think this is?" she returned with a hint of disappointment in her tone.

"To tell you the truth, I have no idea what this is about. I'm only here because Earl wants me here."

Marcie became more conciliatory. "Well, I'm glad you're here because I have something really important to share..." She tailed off. Then in a firmer voice, "No, I'll let my lawyer explain it." The old woman became more commandeering and aimed her next utterance to all those gathered in the room.

"All right everyone, come and sit in the seats around the desk. Mr Haversack has some announcements to make."

There was a short hubbub as last comments were made which sought to welcome those not yet greeted or finally deduce the possible outcome of the aggregation of relatives. Following that, a disorderly trooping of sub groups sauntered over to the expensively upholstered leather dining chairs that had been arranged in the large, wood panelled office-library.

When the shuffling of chairs had subsided, Garth motioned the young lawyer to begin his spiel. He began with, "Good afternoon," then halted while he stared at one of the younger Greers who made an unflattering remark.

"Good afternoon," he repeated. "My name is Joel Reagan. Mr Garth Haversack and I belong to the legal firm 'Haversack and Neesham' and we represent the interests of Mrs Marcia Dougal-Quentin and would like to welcome you all here on this important occasion.

You have all been invited because of the important connection you have with the Dougal-Quentin family. I would like to hand over to Mr Garth Haversack." He looked at Garth and gave, what Daniel thought was, a smarmy smile before continuing ... "one of two senior partners in the firm. He will explicate the purpose of this assembly."

He paused, as if expecting some polite applause, before moving aside for the more distinguished and impressive Haversack.

"Well, what can't one lawyer do that two can, you might ask?" he began in a rich baritone voice, "... double bill!" he guffawed over exuberantly. His two hands were quickly raised as his quip informed them of nothing new, "Only joking ..." There was a little chuckle or two, but one suspected it wasn't at the 'joke'.

"So, as Joel informed you, a decision is going to be made about the disbursement of Mrs Marcie Dougal-Quentin's estate in the very near future." As he said it, Daniel noticed a shoulder or two sag and some people slouch in their seats as if the event was going to be futile.

"The purpose of this meeting is to inform you of the criteria on which this disbursement will be based." Ears pricked and postures straightened as those seated became more attentive.

"If you wish to qualify for consideration to be in receipt of Mrs Dougal-Quentin's benevolence, you must be prepared to participate in a quest." Garth paused for effect, obviously enjoying the drama of the moment. "That's correct ... I said a quest!" Some mumbling and scraping of chairs accompanied necks craning as they each gauged reactions to the disturbing turn of events. Apparently this was not going to be a handout!

Haversack, who was accustomed to being the focus of attention, cleared his throat noisily before almost growling, "All right now!" then more smoothly, "I'm sure you're keen to find out the details. If you listen carefully you'll find out that the quest, which will give access to your benefactor's largesse, is relatively simple." His stature changed then, and he seemed to address them as an old fashioned school master with his hands behind his back.

"Your task—the quest you are required to complete—is to locate the most valuable asset of Marcie's, I mean Mrs Dougal-Quentin's wealth, and to come up with a plan for putting this asset to use to maximise its profitability. It's a bit like a business management assignment, except the grade you get could be very rewarding." He smiled at the allegory he had used before launching into his last dot point on his hand held card. "Are there any questions?"

Immediately James Jones called out, "How do we find out where these assets are?"

"Mmm, that's the trick isn't it?" Garth droned smugly. "There are six locations," he continued, "We'll give you a list of the countries and you'll have to work out the rest yourself."

"Is there a time limit?" Morna asked in a rich Scottish brogue.

"Right, well I'm glad you asked that," the lawyer responded stuffily realising that he'd missed a dot point on his list. He quickly perused his hand held card. Stacey, standing nearby, pointed to the information.

"Each of you needs to present your plan or idea within three months. The exact date is September the twenty fifth. It only needs to be a sentence or two written down, or it could be a comprehensive document. It's up to you. Regardless, Marcie's decision will be final. The selected beneficiary will be eligible to receive up to seventy percent of the profits from the sale of 'Quentin Fashions'."

Eric called out, "Up to seventy percent? That could mean nothing."

"That's true Mr Greer. That's the risk you take. You have to participate in good faith and accept the final outcome—whatever that may be."

Daniel stared with dismay at the questioner, wondering what strange truce had been arranged between Pat and Eric in the Greer's efforts to advance their cause.

No one else offered any comment. Joel handed out cards with the asset city names listed. Haversack told them they were welcome to stay and have more refreshments or ask questions, but the business had concluded. Small voices became louder as the 'quest' became the main topic of discussion.

Daniel sipped a coffee and chatted to his Uncle Donald who had a real estate business in Scotland. As Donald was distracted by his wife Morna, Heather, his cousin, left her brothers and came over and gave him a hug. It had been five years ago when Daniel's family had visited his brother in London and then travelled up to Edinburg. She was his favourite extended family relative by a long stretch so, putting his cup on the table, he hugged her with energy.

"So, what's a bonnie lad like you doing still being single?" she ventured with a slightly exaggerated accent.

"I could ask the same of you," he nudged the attractive auburn haired girl.

"Well, you might be surprised that I have a young gentleman suitor. His name's Gregory. I think you'd like him Dan."

"I'm not surprised at all, a comely girl like you." He hugged her again. "Congratulations."

"A bit premature, maybe, but thank you," she smiled coyly.

A number of heads had turned to observe their spirited embrace. Among those were Marcie and Naomi, who had been identifying the various family members. The two moved purposefully toward the animated cousins.

"Heather, Daniel, I'd like you to meet Naomi Stockton. Naomi has acted as a sort of PA and advisor for the last three years. She is also part of the quest."

Naomi looked demurely at her feet for a second before appearing to summon her thoughts. She looked up and smiled. An attractive dimple punctuating her cheek.

"Pleased to meet you," she almost purred.

"Welcome to the family," chortled Heather in her affectionate manner.

Daniel nodded non-committedly.

Naomi turned to face him directly. "And where are you going to search out first Mr Treloar?"

Daniel looked cynically at the young woman, but thawed slightly as she gazed at him with soft brown eyes.

"Maybe I should follow you around as, I imagine, Marcie's PA would have a distinct advantage in this quest."

She felt the sting of his words and licked her lips unsure how to reply.

Marcie growled, "Don't be crabby Danny. It was my idea that she participate. I'm interested in her perspective about my business."

"Okay, maybe I was a bit rude. I'm sorry Miss Stockton. The truth is, I doubt I'll have time to go running around. I have some of my own work to finalise."

"I believe your brother Earl was hoping you'd represent the family. I heard he's fallen on hard times." Marcie was taunting him with something he was unaware of.

Daniel waited for the ache in his stomach to subside. He stared at Marcie. "What sort of problems is he having?" Naomi pressed her lips and watched the conversation like a tense tennis match.

"You're going to have to find that out yourself." She was blunt. He had to admit that she always had been. "You should talk to him more often." It was said plainly but he heard the implied accusation.

"Well, some of my business is in London so I could probably drop in and see him and, as well, maybe even check out your London fashion house if I have time." He meant to sound indifferent, though his tone conveyed his slight agitation at his Aunt's rebuke.

He glanced at his watch as if it was somehow connected to what he had just said. It was time to go, but Marcie hadn't finished.

"Daniel, when you go to London, I want you to take Naomi with you. She has, at least, agreed to go to London, although she has never travelled and has no real desire to join my little escapade."

Taken aback, he looked at Marcie and then at Naomi, who had lowered her gaze. "Well that makes two of us Marcie." He gave Naomi a little grin as he made eye contact. He was beginning to warm to her contrary nature. "I'm sure I would love the company of the delightful Miss Stockton, but I can't afford to go haring off to Australia, Malaysia, Canada," he checked the card, "and England and Scotland." He wavered for a second. "Maybe, as I said, if I'm required to go to London, which I suspect will be the case, Miss Stockton can accompany me." The moment he said it he wondered why he was acquiescing to Marcie's dictates.

"That's very magnanimous of you Mr Treloar," said Naomi softly, "I don't want to be any trouble. It's just that London is one of the two places in which I also have some personal matters to deal with."

"Will you two stop being so formal?" grumbled Marcie. "Daniel, her name is Naomi. Naomi, his name is Daniel."

Naomi smiled attractively at him. "Thank you Daniel. I would really be grateful for the chance to travel with you."

Daniel felt a warm glow as he looked into her eyes. Her flecked blonde hair framed her beautiful face. She dimpled and coloured at the same time as she became mindful of his stare.

"You're welcome Naomi," he replied engagingly. "I'll let you know if and when I'm heading to London."

"Thanks again," she offered her hand and Daniel felt the smooth, small hand and shook it gently, afraid that he might break it.

"So, I'll see you then," Daniel said lamely as he dwelt on her touch. He turned and started to leave feeling out of his depth.

"Daniel," her call spun him about. Her expression indicated a slight awkwardness. "You probably need my number." Naomi handed him a small card with her contact details.

"Er, thanks." He slipped it in his pocket. "Goodbye Marcie," he added, not aware of the glint in her eyes. "Interesting parties you have." With that passing shot Daniel left. He was berating himself for letting his guard down. Why had this girl managed to inveigle her way into his affections? The more he got entangled with this nonsense the more he would be distracted from his research projects.

Chapter 2

The laboratory of Wafer Chip Research was in the bottom storey of a fairly new two level building in a Boston North technology park. Daniel met with Gavin, Max and Erin, his fellow researchers, as they reviewed the performance parameters of their vertical wafer 3-D chip.

Gavin summarised, "The patent has been finalised through Reuben." He referred to their lawyers. "... and Erin is finalising a draft of a second application describing multiple layers of vertical wafers."

"You having any troubles with that?" Daniel directed his question to the pretty, red headed chemical engineer; the youngest member of their team.

She looked up and batted the long lashes of her blue eyes. Being somewhat taken with Daniel, she resolved to sound confident and competent. "I'm waiting for the techies to finish the last round of current flow analysis on the vertical transistor wafer, but initial figures on the testing rig have been tabulated and are really promising."

"What sort of comparison are we looking at?"

"Well, like for like, on the testing rig; thirty to forty per cent differentiation speed improvement – from cold to warm."

"And remember," enthused Max, "The single vertical wafer is itself consistently showing twenty five to thirty per cent performance improvement."

"That's confirmed, definite?" Daniel queried tautologically.

Gavin opted to answer as the others nodded. "It's passed all the voltage and heat sink tests three times over standards."

There were lots of smiles and everyone was upbeat as Max continued. "Preliminary stress and durability testing by Examchip also show our 3-D architecture is robust. It shouldn't be too difficult to translate that to a mass production scenario." He then post scripted, "Provided we can reproduce the sterile environment at a macro level."

Daniel smiled. He wondered if Max could ever give a report without including the word 'scenario'.

"This is all good; especially since two major chip producers have already started sounding us out for negotiations."

"A few other interested parties have also contacted us as well," inserted Gavin.

"So, you're happy to sell the licence?" Erin asked, aware of his vacillation about the decision after all the time he had invested.

"You know," he scrunched a smile as he made eye contact with Erin, "I've decided to let it go before we get bogged down in production issues, and concentrate working on the carbon nano tubes. If you guys are anything like me, it's the innovation that gives me the buzz."

"Is that the only reason?"

"We'd have to get bigger Erin, much bigger. Do you want Wafer Chip Research to get bigger, and move from development to production?"

Erin shifted uncomfortably as all eyes turned to her. "I don't know. You're the boss. I thought you might see this as an opportunity to expand."

Daniel seemed to resolve something then. "Erin's got a point. If you guys want to build the business around the vertical chip, I'll sell my share. You can buy me out and I'll start again, working on organics."

There was instantly a storm of protest from all three.

"I didn't mean..." began a flustered Erin.

"No, don't be crazy," inserted Gavin, "I love this breakthrough technology stuff. Let's stick to the innovation approach. It's paid off once now."

"I agree," concurred Max, "Production also means big investment and big risks. Let the big boys do that."

Erin looked distraught, "I'm sorry Daniel. I didn't mean that. I meant..." she was muddled now and wasn't quite sure how to backtrack. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm really happy doing what we're doing."

"Great," chuckled Daniel. "Let's break for a coffee." As they moved to the coffee machine Erin tried to clarify again. "I guess I was just saying what a lot of companies do ... I really am happy here." There was a little tear in her eye. Daniel gave her a hug and said firmly, "Erin, your job is safe. I don't think less of you for speaking your mind. I expect you to say what you think."

Gavin also gave her a reassuring pat on her back while Max expertly produced an espresso, a latte and two cappuccinos.

***

Two weeks had passed and Daniel was in his office going over the final copy of the successful patent submission. He had spoken to Reuben who had given the credit to their junior, Harrison Neills. The young Neills had done a science law degree and now handled their patent work. Reuben assured him that Arnold and he had reviewed the application. The lawyer had finished the conversation by reminding him that Arnold was available to advise on contract negotiations.

Daniel had his secretary file the paperwork and was in the adjoining office when a west coast multinational electronics corporation called to confirm a trial for his chip prototype. This meant that he needed to provide the optimum samples and printouts of specifications. He was still considering whether he would go to San Francisco himself or send Gavin when the phone rang again.

"Daniel Treloar," he enunciated flatly.

"Daniel, it's Naomi Stockton."

"Hi Naomi." As he said it he felt pleasantly cheered. "What can I do for you?"

"Marcie has announced her first briefing at her LA outlet in the fashion district. It's the day after tomorrow. I was wondering whether you could spare the time."

"... Didn't think you were interested in chasing after this quest."

"Well, you're right there ... But ... well ... Marcie has managed to find information ... personal stuff that I've been after for a while now. I know it sounds weird, but I feel Marcie is manipulating me in this."

"Aunt Marcie? No." The sarcasm, purposely blatant, suddenly seemed too harsh. "Sorry, I'm venting my spleen from years of Marcie making certain recommendations to my father and Earl and me."

She was taken aback for a moment. "So, does that mean you aren't going?" Naomi's voice came across uncertainly.

"No, no, I think we can arrange something. I could actually combine the trip with some business in San Francisco. Listen, can we meet for dinner tonight. I know it's out of the blue. We can sort some things out." In his mind he was processing – 'I need to know what Marcie is up to; I have some questions for you too.' But the thoughts were unspoken.

"Sounds ominous ..." Daniel wasn't sure if she was mocking him then. After an interlude of silence in which Daniel was furiously trying to think how he could reopen the conversation on a lighter level, her voice quavered, "So, what time are you picking me up?"

"Um, how about seven?"

"Okay."

"And you're next door to Marcie's, is that right?"

She assented, "Uh huh, the house on the left facing from the street," she responded before curtailing the conversation with a practised salutation.

***

The drive to the north shore of the lake about seven miles north east of downtown Boston featured the prestigious homes of the well-to-do. The house Naomi was in was not as resplendent as Marcie's but it still qualified as large. Both belonged to Marcie and they could easily accommodate large families. It seemed that Naomi was just occupying the neat, white two story residence next to the larger fawn brick mansion that Marcie lived in until Marcie could sell it.

Standing at her door, Daniel wasn't sure why he had asked Naomi out for dinner. There was something about her—something right about being with her. Either that or she was more devious than he could imagine. He drew his breath when he saw her. She wore an attractive strappy black dress that flared near the knee length hem line and a simple black velvet choker.

"Should I go more casual?" she asked self-consciously as she noted his jeans and open neck white shirt. A soft fragrance of citrus and flowers invaded his senses.

"No, no... you're beautiful," he managed haltingly.

They went to a quaint Italian pasta restaurant near the dock redevelopment. Little orange and red lanterns hung about and accordion music was piped around the timbered room.

"I'm sorry, it's not very classy. I just like the atmosphere."

"It's lovely," she smiled and he was entranced by the dimple that formed. They sat at a table in the corner alongside a large window that framed an idyllic view of distant tall buildings and nearer yachts; all with lights that reflected off the ruffled bay surface.

"I guess I just wanted to talk," Daniel started as she looked intently at him. He jumped right in. "I guess I'm curious about what Marcie has over you that she can get you to do this stuff when you don't really want to."

Naomi's eyes dropped. She suddenly registered his statement and bit her lip. She moved uncomfortably. "I feel a bit silly," she said quaveringly, "You just want information?"

"No ... I mean yes, but not just that. I wanted to have dinner with you ... but I was curious too." He paused. "I'm not doing a very good job of this am I?"

Naomi took a breath and looked at him more resolutely. "Well ask away, and I'll see if I can answer your questions."

Daniel decided then that he had probably ruined the night for her already. He tried a different tack.

"How about we order and I'll tell you why I have issues with my Aunt Marcie. It's up to you whether you want to share anything or not."

"That's very considerate of you." Her words came with more venom than he thought she was capable of.

An uneasy silence hung over their secluded table. Naomi examined the crisp red and white check tablecloth as Daniel finished ordering for them. She was contemplating how her embarrassment had somehow mutated into anger with Daniel. She had been flattered that the successful young engineer with boyish good looks had so quickly asked her out. Now she was rebuking herself for her self-centredness.

When their food arrived they ate quietly, with occasional muted comments about the food, the location and the very unusual Aunt Marcie. Coffee and dessert cake was the signal for Daniel to muster his courage.

He began. "I want to tell you why I don't get on with Marcie. A few years ago...probably closer to eight now that I think about it, my family was a fairly happy and stable one. Of course Earl and I had those usual brotherly fights—disagreements really—and, well, I guess that's normal isn't it?" Daniel didn't wait for a response from Naomi. "Then Aunt Marcie started talking about her religion, first to my mother and then to my father. Well, my mother soon got really involved in the church, and, that was okay with us. Dad was totally involved in his practice—he is a GP—and we, Earl and I, were finishing our studies."

"When Mum was diagnosed with cancer she started asking us to come to church with her. Earl, who had come back with his English bride from post grad studies in London, tried to support her. He and I went a couple of times, but Dad continued to go as Mum got sicker and sicker until she passed away." Daniel spoke the words slowly and with effort as he stared into his half empty coffee cup. If he had looked at Naomi he would have seen her eyes glistening with tears.

"Soon after she died, Earl went back with his new wife to London to take up a position lecturing. Dad stopped going to Marcie's church. He was angry, bitter, an absolute mess. I wasn't much better. Then Aunt Marcie visited and strangely Dad started going to church again. Before I knew it everything changed for us. He told me he was going to do aid work in Mozambique. He sold his practice and left. Now Marcie seems to want to drag me into this new scheme of hers, and I'm a bit reluctant, as you can tell."

"So, you blame Marcie for what's happened?" Naomi gazed wide eyed at him with something like disbelief and then with growing compassion.

"No," his voice was despondent. "No ... it's just ... what business is it of hers what we do? We needed each other then and, instead, Dad leaves for Mozambique and eventually went into Ethiopia ... Earl had already gone to London."

Naomi placed a hand on his. "Did your dad just leave or did he talk it over?"

"Yeah, we did talk about it, quite a lot I guess, and he talked about doing something that mattered. He said Mum would have wanted that. We both agreed that he should do what he thought was right, but I couldn't help thinking that Marcie was behind it all."

"Now Marcie is back on the scene and you don't like it," surmised Naomi.

"Something like that." He gave a wry grin. "So, what's your story? How does Marcie have influence over you?"

Naomi sipped her coffee. "We seem to have a few things in common." Her large brown eyes peered at him over the cup she was holding with two hands. "From what I've been told, my mother died at my birth. My father was a missionary and I was with him in Kenya till I was five. When he was called to do some work in—guess where?—Ethiopia." She half smiled, "Spooky huh?" Naomi went on, "I was sent to an Aunt's place. I later heard that Dad was caught up in a rebel attack while helping in a famine relief hospital. He was killed." Her dull tone betrayed no emotion at all. She continued, "My Aunt looked after me till I was fifteen, up till when she started to have medical problems. I stayed for five years with a girlfriend's family. That's when Aunt Marcie, that's what I always called her, that's when she took me in. She has been a real support for me for quite a while. I was sort of her ward."

She looked up at Daniel. Her eyes danced a little, some moisture still evident adding to their sparkle. "You can see that Marcie holds no demons for me."

"So why are you doing this silly quest? That is, if you've got no interest?"

"You think I'm motivated by greed?" Naomi clunked her cup into its saucer and sharpened her scrutiny of Daniel.

"No, but Marcie has got you doing what she wants."

She sighed and contorted her face, crinkle nose fashion, as her mind was occupied with constructing the next sentence.

"Marcie has located some relatives of my father; an uncle in LA and his sister in England, so I agreed to go to those places so I could visit them and, of course, her idea was to check out her possessions at the same time. I can find out about my personal history, about my father and his family, but don't think I'm going to present a financial plan."

Daniel nodded slowly, but he had no response. He felt a bit shallow complaining about his family situation when she had none to speak of. Naomi seemed uncomfortable too and so conversation dwindled until they switched talk to their upcoming flight.

After making arrangements to go to LA together, Daniel and Naomi got back into his sports car. She suggested that she pick him up in her Toyota rather than park his car at the airport for two days. Daniel was quite amenable to the idea as his yellow Porsche was a treasured toy. He drove past his two story town house to help Naomi with her navigation for their journey to the airport. He let her know that his office would organise the flight booking and hotel rooms.

***

The next day had Wafer Chip Research staff ensuring that all the sample 3-D chips were performing at or above the cited specs of their product abstract. The samples were safely packed in a briefcase for Daniel to take with him. Gavin talked to him at length about security arrangements. There was too much at stake to treat the samples as just another bit of luggage.

That afternoon he met with Arnold Worrell. He was the company lawyer that knew most about their business. Initial pleasantries took several minutes as progress on some documentation was flagged and some tasty commentary on poorly worded patents that had cost a west coast firm an electron beam etching procedure.

"That wouldn't happen to us, would it Arnold?"

"Don't worry Dan; your patent is rock solid. Our new guy is very thorough."

Daniel nodded slowly. He was tempted to suggest that the lawyers of the other company had probably said the same thing, but he was restrained by the fact that Arnold hadn't displayed a sense of humour in all the time he knew him. He moved on.

"So, did you do that research for me?"

His lawyer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and humphed. "That quest description basically says that Marcie Dougal-Quentin can do anything she wants with her holdings, and the quest is just some sort of non-binding diversion."

"So what's your opinion?"

"Our opinion—I spoke with Reuben about it—and it's just that, but we believe you are right; Naomi Stockton will most likely inherit everything. She has been involved in the business on occasions and is treated like a daughter. As to the purpose of the quest ... no clear motive has been determined. "

"Did you do an estimate of the value of the business and associated properties?"

Worrell flashed a quick self-satisfied smile before delivering his summation. "Our most conservative estimate was twenty five million, allowing for twenty per cent remaining in her control." He elaborated, "We believe she will divest herself of the business but not her properties, which are quite dear to her."

"Minimum of twenty five million ..." Daniel whistled.

"Yes, Miss Stockton will be a wealthy girl."

Chapter 3

On Thursday morning Naomi pulled up outside Daniel's home. She emerged from her light blue Toyota prepared for adventure, all fresh faced and neatly dressed in pale blue jeans, white tee shirt and a short vest to counter the slight chill.

"Good morning Mr Treloar," was her cheery greeting, "May I provide you with some transport to the airport?"

Returning her mood he replied, "You certainly may, Miss Stockton." He stepped out the door carrying an overnight bag and his briefcase all readied the previous day.

Just scanning the road as they walked toward the car, Daniel caught a glimpse of a dark object protruding from the passenger window of a rapidly approaching white car. As if in slow motion, he became aware of the rising scream of the accelerating engine. Naomi had just turned her excited face toward him, her silky, light hair swishing across her cheeks in the breeze. She became concerned when the threat registered in his expression. Daniel's face contorted in a frantic grimace as he dropped his bags, lurched toward her, grasped the bewildered girl in his arms and lunged down behind the brick mailbox. He rolled them both across the lawn, tumbling over the short length to the base of the brickwork. Thudding consecutive concussions on the pavement and bricks were accompanied by the cracking reports of a large calibre automatic pistol. The last shot shattering her windscreen and driver's window. A spray of small glass blocks rained down on them from the disintegrating pane.

Skidding, squealing, tearing rubber brought the car to a halt. Footsteps were followed by threatening shouts, "Don't move unless you want a bullet through you."

Another gravelly voice growled, "Grab the briefcase." Slapping steps and slamming doors related their hasty retreat. A diminutive yelp emanated from beneath Daniel as the descending pitch of the racing car indicated its speedy departure from the scene.

More insistent this time, a gasp and anguished cry, "Will you get off me?" wheezed Naomi. Daniel looked down to locate the girl crushed beneath him.

"Sorry," he stood offering his hand and assisting her up to stagger to her feet. "They were shooting at us," he appended lamely.

"Why would they shoot at us?" She was aghast. There was a nervous quiver in her voice. Her expression turned to anguish as the shattered glass from her car came into view. Then miserably,

"We'll miss our plane," her disappointment almost tangible. Amazed at first that that was her first thought, Daniel remembered what he had been told about Naomi's travels. This would have been her first plane trip since childhood. He looked about. Sure enough the briefcase was gone; and so was his overnight bag!

A wailing police siren sounded in the distance, drawing ever nearer. Someone must have already called. Daniel was quickly on the phone getting the office to transfer their flight and inform their connections that there was a setback. Naomi was brushing herself down as she pondered the near miss. She was still shaking noticeably so Daniel wrapped an arm around her to provide support as he finished his call. Snatches of thoughts raced through his mind. How did they know when to strike? The timing was so perfect. They could have been killed. Though he suspected the aim had been to make them cower. It was a violent and abrupt raid by experienced thugs. The two attackers had got away and he without any idea what they looked like.

A whining sound emanated from the lifting garage door.

"What are you doing?" Naomi's voice, even now, was quavering from the shock.

"Putting your bags in my car before the police get here; they won't let us touch the car once they're here." He got Naomi to open her car and retrieved her luggage before steering her inside so he could pack another bag. He grabbed a spare tablet and downloaded his files from their work server.

One squad car pulled up outside. Naomi waited, sitting in a velour couch, arms clutched about her, while Daniel was upstairs throwing a few days' worth of clothing into another overnight bag. She was questioned and offered the concise details of the event. When more police arrived Daniel was just on his way down the stairs.

While one officer was still inspecting the damaged car, Daniel also explained briefly to the others what had happened. The policeman in charge introduced himself as Sergeant Kendle and then followed Daniel as he dumped his bag in the yellow Porsche. A third squad car arrived and a female trooper emerged and went in. She spoke with Naomi and gave her some comfort.

A good hour was lost answering questions about possible enemies, motives, descriptions of the vehicle and the offenders. All their answers were vague apart from Daniel's description of the white Ford Capri. He informed them that they had already missed a flight and needed to move to catch the next one, though that was a slight exaggeration since they had plenty of time. Calls by the senior officer to his superior eventually gave the go ahead for them to travel. Contact details were obtained though, before they were allowed to leave.

Naomi sat trancelike in the first class lounge opposite Daniel, peering out at the docking aircraft through the giant tinted windows. Her first comments confirmed what he already supposed, that she had been mulling over the shooting.

"Why would they try and kill me? No one knows what's in Marcie's grant..." She broke off. "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Daniel was intrigued by her beauty even as concern tugged at her features.

"Unless Haversack and co have leaked what they know?"

"Do you know?" His probing was direct and pointed.

Her large eyes slid from taking in the view to examining his face. "I should have said, 'what they think they know'. Marcie has hinted many times that she would like me to take over the business, but I told her I wasn't interested. I saw this quest as, maybe, a way of sorting out who would qualify for her generosity. I mean, she keeps saying I will be well looked after, but I think it worries her that I don't really care." She gave a half smile, "I know, it's hard for you to believe, but I have a good profession. My faith tells me that money doesn't buy happiness... and I have plans to follow my father's footsteps."

Daniel felt a pang of disenchantment. He almost blurted out, 'What... and die in some terrorist ridden, third world country?' but he remained silent for the moment. He couldn't understand. Here was a girl who had everything to live for and she seemed determined to throw it away; for what? Was he bitter about his father devoting his life to one of these endless causes? To him it was senseless. He reflected; it may be that the resentment he harboured was more entrenched than he had first thought.

When he hadn't said anything, she asked, "What are you thinking?" He harked back to her response. "Just the same; whoever it is probably thinks you're first in line for the Dougal fortune. That inheritance is a lot of money. It might be they are just trying to scare you off. They may see you as the main contender in the quest, given that you know Marcie so well." His speech was subdued as he chewed over what had happened. He didn't point out that it was his briefcase that had been stolen. Was she just being obtuse; not aware that the raid had targeted his briefcase or was she deliberately smoke screening her possible involvement?

He looked at her empty glass. "Do you want another drink?"

"No thanks, that milkshake was enough."

It occurred to him that the obvious risk to her during the attack probably indicated she had nothing to do with it. Still the timing was highly suggestive of some inside information.

"Who knew you were coming to pick me up?" he demanded suddenly.

Naomi looked startled. "What do you mean?"

"Did you tell anyone that you were coming with me?" He softened his voice, but there was still a noticeable keen edge to his inquiry.

She gathered then that he was still in deductive mode. "I let Marcie know because she was going to buy me a ticket if you weren't going. And, I told Joel Reagan since he also offered to organise my flight."

"Mm..." was Daniel's only reaction. It didn't seem likely that Marcie was related to the attack. What motive would the young lawyer have?

Naomi continued after a moment's thought. "I told some friends ... and anyone could have followed me. It wasn't as if I was being secretive or anything."

His deductive structure teetered at the complication of numerous possibilities. "Mm..." he murmured again. But this time it was hesitant, unconvinced.

There was still a sandwich on her plate. "You didn't eat much. Do you want something else?"

"I'm not hungry ... really!" She accentuated the last word as he looked doubtfully at her. His own pastry and drink had been consumed in half the time it took for her to finish her milk drink. A quick glance at his watch informed him it was time to make their way to check-in.

***

The flight across to Los Angeles had been uneventful. Her preoccupation with the window seat and taking in the sights of her first plane trip since she was five, limited their conversation. That was fine with him as he had to annotate the outline to his microchip presentation on his tablet. The samples and technical details should be waiting for him in LA. That was the plan, anyway. He smiled as he imagined Gavin's face when they would meet again. Nothing could compare to that triumphant, supercilious expression. It was always the same; he had that comical head tilt, wide eyed stare and raised eyebrows. He resumed typing.

After landing in Los Angeles and leaving Naomi at an up market hotel, Daniel returned to the airport. There he met Max who greeted him with a big grin.

"I heard what happened. Aren't you glad that Gavin is paranoid about security?"

"I'll never whinge again about locking our documents up in safes, setting alarms and paying for a night watchman," Daniel mocked solemnly while holding up his right hand.

Max handed him a briefcase. "This one's actually not stuffed with newspaper. Your computer is inside with the prototypes. I bet those guys will be a bit miffed."

"A bit miffed? That's an understatement."

"So what gave Gav the clue that something was going to happen?"

"He was just suspicious; he's always suspicious. He said that any suggestion made about my travel plans meant we should have an alternate strategy."

"And he was right."

"Don't remind me. I'm sure Gavin will get plenty of mileage out of this. He still won't let me forget my blunder with the article."

The two spent half an hour having a coffee together before Daniel left Max in the airport lounge. He called Naomi, told her that he mightn't make it to the inaugural 'Marcie briefing' held that night because he was behind schedule for his meeting and then made his way to the local departures terminal. He then caught a private jet, provided by the multi-national electronics corporation, to San Francisco.

Welcomed with some esteem after the hour long flight and following introductions and a degree of ceremony from some minor company executives, Daniel was whisked away in a corporate limousine.

Once through the gated entry, a short drive led them to a shiny glass and steel fifteen storey tower, which was the centrepiece of the complex.

It was late afternoon, and having freshened up, Daniel enjoyed the view from the fourteenth floor. He could just see the slowly descending sun reflecting off the distant Pacific while he stood and ate a snack provided by his hosts. He found it difficult to tune into the polite chat offered by an executive personal assistant and was a little relieved when he was taken to the board room.

The presentation went smoothly. Beginning with a comprehensive review of the patent to ensure there was no doubt whose intellectual property it was, he then cited the performance parameters of their 3-D chips. Data referring to conductivity, current flow and heat generation compared to contemporary silicon micro circuits was shown along with microscopic depictions of the vertical wafer arrays. Daniel finished off with power consumption graphics and draft planning documents for the mass production of the vertical array wafer chip. Finally, he exhibited the microchip samples he had in his briefcase.

Numerous questions followed and they were predominantly about the performance and testing of the circuitry. Some questions toward the end quizzed his company's motivation for selling the technology rather than developing it. After responding with his take on the Wafer Chip Research's vision and core business being research and development, there was a lull amongst the engineers, scientists and managers; a low murmur of discussion was interrupted by an inquisitive researcher.

"What direction is your research focus taking once you've licenced the vertical silicon wafer?" the questioner in a crisp lab coat asked.

Daniel gave a broad smile, "Our next innovation," he stated enigmatically nodding his head knowingly. There was a chuckle around the room accompanied by, "Good try Bob," and "What was he thinking?"

Bob responded with a shrug, "It was worth a try."

The rest of the early evening was taken with the executives discussing their offer for exclusive rights to the manufacturing and distribution of the product. Describing the agreement as a 'standard contract', they outlined the 'generous figure' and the ongoing benefits of working with them. Daniel let them know that if they forwarded the final offer with the contract documentation, he and his partners would respond under advice from their legal team.

Although invitations were made to accommodate him overnight in San Francisco and entertain him the next day, Daniel insisted he was required in LA for another meeting. His hasty exit heightened their speculation and anxiety to close the deal and, more than likely, increased the monetary value of their proposal.

Leaving behind his samples for testing, Daniel jetted back to LA and arrived, somewhat travel weary, at the wholesale warehouse of Marcie's clothing line.

Marcie gushed as he came in, "Thank goodness you've arrived Daniel. I'm sure Naomi can fill you in. If you had missed this you would have been disqualified."

He raised his eyebrows and pulled a face as if to say, 'That's all news to me,' as Naomi came up to him looking every bit the casual cargo pants fashion model.

Noticing his surprised look she explained, "Apparently it was written on the sheet we were given."

Naomi went on to say that their submissions needed to take into account all Marcie's properties. They were to identify her most valuable asset and had the choice to respond in a variety of ways: a complete comprehensive business plan, a vision idea for moving the business forward, or even just a short, clear explanation of where the proceeds should go if the business were sold off.

"Not very different from what was said the other day," Daniel mused.

She walked him around the building to where the others were finishing up their tour. He gave a tired smile as they were reunited with their fellow 'questers'. The group was dealing with the quest in different ways. He observed the note takers, the photographers and the computer users. And there was Heather sitting reading a novel. She abandoned the lightweight diversion to greet him. Heather complained that looking through a warehouse was not her idea of seeing America.

A planned rendezvous at a local café was avoided by Daniel who claimed that he needed a quiet night. Naomi took the opportunity to leave with him being unwilling to organise her own transport to the hotel.

They shared a taxi back to the hotel and Daniel suggested a late dinner together in the hotel restaurant. Although she had already eaten, Naomi went along for a late supper. He again wondered if somehow she could be conspiring against him and his company and, yet strangely at the same time, he also wondered why he felt contentment in her presence. He tried not to stare at her, mesmerised by her natural beauty, buoyed by the gentle scent of her perfume. Small talk led to his invitation to see the sights with him the next day. She smiled sweetly and declined his request.

"No, I thought I told you. I have some personal business to attend to."

"Do you want some company?" he asked a little wistfully.

"No, but thanks for the offer," her nose wrinkled with a funny grin as she added, "You know, I never thanked you for this morning. I really appreciate what you did."

"This morning?" He was so taken by her that his brain refused to click into gear.

"You saved my life ... it was a very brave thing to do."

"Oh ..." Daniel shook his head, "Don't you believe it, it was self-preservation. I just happened to drag you down with me."

"You're being too modest. Those shots could have killed either of us ..." she stopped reflectively, gave a slight shudder and added, "Anyway, thanks."

Back in his room, he rang Earl in London. It was early morning and his brother was about to head off to the university. Following familial greetings, Daniel started fishing for information about his brother.

"I thought I'd just let you know that, for your sake, I attended Aunt Marcie's bizarre meeting. You wouldn't believe it; she has set up some sort of quest for her wealth."

"A quest? So how did it go?" Earl sounded distant and his accent was strangely rounded.

"Well, don't be surprised if we miss out entirely."

"Why?" His voice was agitated.

"Well, from the advice I've received, and from what I've seen, a girl working for Marcie will probably inherit."

"But that's not fair," he protested, "Why is she building up our hopes? Isn't there any chance?" was his dismal enquiry.

Daniel's reaction was stern. "Earl, what's wrong? What does it matter? You've got a good job. Surely you don't need more?"

No reply came. Daniel waited a few more seconds. "Earl?"

His words were quiet, almost ashamed, "I ... I've made some bad investments and ... and Ginny is sick ... her treatment is expensive ... and ... it doesn't matter. I have to go to work." Earl's attempt to abruptly curtail their conversation concerned his brother even more.

"Earl, I'm coming to London soon. I'll contact you ... we'll talk."

"Right, Daniel ... Let me know when you're coming. I've got to go, goodbye." The phone clicked. Daniel looked at his phone oddly.

While Daniel trooped around the next day he was preoccupied with conjectures about Earl. Since he was conveniently disengaged with what was going on around him by thoughts of his brother's difficulties—was Earl ill too, how bad was his money trouble, what was wrong with Ginny—visiting the central fashion house, design rooms, distribution and marketing centres of Marcie's fashion business and checking out her west coast residence was a blurry but bearable background event.

***

Naomi was visiting her grandfather's brother. He was among the short list of living relatives she had been given by Marcie. Hopefully, one more step closer in unravelling the tangle that was her childhood.

Upon entering the neatly kept grounds of the retirement village in her small hire car, she followed the directions received at the entrance gate office. The stylish row of retirement duplexes followed a gently curving avenue decorated with carefully trimmed maples. Naomi took a deep breath as she pulled up at the address she had been given.

At the door of George Stockton's home she hesitated. What would he think? What could she say to explain her visit? It had all seemed so reasonable when the decision to visit was made.

Soon after the buzzer was operated a be-whiskered gentleman opened the door enough to look her up and down. He looked kindly and, although elderly, still very full of life, a cuddly sort of grandfather.

"Hello?" his husky questioning greeting implied that he wasn't accustomed to unheralded visitors.

"Er, Mr Stockton, I'm Naomi Stockton, your grandniece. I mean, my father was your nephew.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "You're John Stockton's daughter?"

She nodded.

"Well, come in grandniece, come in."

The quite spacious unit was impeccably neat and smelled slightly of camphor. George ushered her into the combined dining lounge area.

"What can I do for you girly?" His congestive, throaty voice gave the impression speaking was an effort, but his manner was sprightly and welcoming.

"Well, Mr Stockton—"

"Call me George," he insisted.

"—Um... George," she began uncomfortably, "I came to ask you what you know about my father, John Stockton. You see, I was quite young when he died and I guess I'm curious about my family history."

"Johnny Stockton ..." He stared unseeing, right at her as if he were looking into the past. "Johnny, he was a wild one. He was the proverbial prodigal. His father, my brother, was a pastor. Did you know that?"

She shook her head, but said nothing not wanting to disturb his train of thought.

"Well, he lived a bit of a wild life out east, then he met this girl ... well, there were a few girls really ... and you were born in there somewhere. Anyway, the girl he ended up with was a Christian and she helped draw him back into the fold. He was certainly a changed man. They headed off to Kenya where she died."

"That was my mother. Her name was Gayle," Naomi filled him in.

"Was she?" George looked doubtful. "I thought ..." but he petered out as if he had second thoughts. "It's all so long ago ... So he looked after you for a few years there I think."

He gave her a kindly look. "Things weren't easy for you were they?"

Naomi clenched her jaw to stave off rising emotions. She always got a bit teary if caring people gave her sympathy. "I was okay," she barely managed.

"I think Gayle's sister looked after you ... that's when that awful civil war in Ethiopia claimed John's life. And after that, what, you've been with Marcie Quentin haven't you?"

"That's right. I stayed with some friends for a few years but you seem to know the story pretty well."

"Yes, we have some mutual friends through church, and she has kept in touch. Are you still with her?"

Naomi blushed a little. "I live next door. She has a second house. Probably not for much longer though." She didn't want to give the impression that she wasn't independent. At twenty five, she knew, her life experiences were limited, though the last few days were changing that.

George suddenly stood up. "I'm forgetting my manners. Would you like a coffee or a tea? I have some cookies too."

"That would be lovely. Tea please." She watched him fuss about in the kitchen and listened to him explain how Marcie had lived in Santa Barbara and was converted as a result of his brother's preaching. Again, George pulled up short as if weighing his words.

"Then she could have known my Dad here?"

"Uh huh," he indicated non-committedly. "So Marcie hasn't told you anything about being here and then moving to Boston?"

"No ... I thought she knew my mother well, but I didn't realise she probably met my father here."

For an instant it seemed as if the older man would say something. His eyes were traitors to his internal struggle. His head shook minutely. There were things that weren't right in the world.

Vaguely he said, half to himself, "I should contact Marcie more."

George brought the tea in and sat opposite her. He went on to share about the pioneering work her father had done in Ethiopia, establishing a clinic and combatting the scourge of famine and high child mortality. The church there had supported his mission and so they had heard of the many challenges that he faced over the years.

Naomi learned more of her distant relatives in California and viewed the obligatory photo album. She actually really warmed to her great uncle and it was clear he enjoyed the company.

The conversation, as she was leaving, seemed to progress from one topic to the other with each step toward the door, and culminated with assurances to keep in touch. She couldn't help feeling that there was something more; there was something that George knew but just couldn't say. It left her pondering the things he had said.

***

That night the questers all met again at an art museum supported by Marcie's 'arts and culture' foundation. Marcie spoke of a number of very expensive items, some bequeathed to the museum and some on loan. Even though Daniel attended, he was fed up tagging along with the more avid would be heirs. He sipped coffee in the small café to the side of the main building.

He'd already talked at length by phone to Gavin. His colleague told him that the police were no closer to catching the drive in shooters, though they had located the stolen car and CCTV footage showed two men in balaclavas.

His other news was more upbeat. The lawyers were going over a very generous bid for their chip technology. Apparently, testing of the vertical wafer circuits proved them to be at least as efficient as the specifications provided by Wafer Chip Research. Daniel felt a high degree of satisfaction as Gavin told how they had been impressed by his presentation.

Heather joined him as he ended the call and picked at his cookies.

"What a bore," she sighed. "Can you believe that we're trailing after her like sycophants? No self-respect ... How desperate we've become. I don't understand it. Dad's doing all right in the real estate business. Why does he lower himself to this ... this?" she searched for the right phrase.

Daniel grinned, "Circus? ... Parade of greed? ... Invitation to indulgence? Am I being helpful?"

She took a sip of her coffee and then threw a sugar cube at him. "A dinna ken," she giggled. "Such a tease ye are."

He smiled at her affected Scots accent and she leaned close to him with a mischievous look.

"You know you're aggravating some of the others, don't you?"

Daniel looked a little bemused, "Why?"

"Well you're gettin' very friendly with the 'heiress' they say; sort of hedgin' your bets."

It felt like a blow to his stomach. Whether it was resentment or indignant pride, he didn't know, but he felt constrained to abandon the tour then and there.

He looked at his watch. "I think I'll head off Heather. Give my apologies will you?"

As he walked away Heather was guiltily bothered by his reaction; she called as an afterthought, "She's a lovely girl Dan."

Although it was an early return flight that Saturday morning, the loss of two hours flying east meant their arrival would be at two in the afternoon. Heather's comment had been gnawing at Daniel and he broached the subject, in a roundabout way, on the way back.

"Naomi, I can't spend my time doing this stuff. I just have too much work on at the moment, so I won't accompany you to London." He felt like saying, 'I'm about to close the biggest deal ever for the company, so I don't need Marcie's money,' but he refrained. Naomi showed visible disappointment and looked down at her hands.

"I thought you had to go to London for business," she commented meekly.

"I will have to go eventually, but with what's happening now, I can't say when. I just can't spend my time trying to work around Marcie's timeline."

It was after Daniel had dropped Naomi home that he realised he had made no mention of her visit to relatives, and he hadn't shared the information he'd received about the shooting. He was no different was he? Just as all the other relatives were, he was absorbed in his own little 'material world'.

Chapter 4

Back at Wafer Chip Research, Daniel and the others tried to figure out how to resolve their contract negotiations quickly and they also had to decide how long they were prepared to devote to consulting on the production line of the vertical wafer. A couple other companies were aggressively courting them, making ingratiating offers with contract incentives. But Daniel and the others were predisposed to favour the company whose reputation they had always admired. It was agreed to offer a three months intensive support program, another three months where Max and Erin would problem solve, and the remaining six months Max could be on call for a minimal fee. Anything additional to that and premium rates would apply. They had Reuben and Arnold write it in the contract.

Several days were spent getting the contract package to their liking. Daniel then hived off to get up to speed on the latest developments in carbon layer conductivity trials. He read of some graphene trials in England and emailed a researcher over there to see if he could access the data they had on the conductivity of a carbon lattice one molecule thick. Preliminary reading indicated a huge improvement in power consumption, though at this stage, in his opinion, not as viable as their experimentation with carbon nanotubes.

Daniel and Gavin drafted a timetable for the carbon nanotube development, with a flowchart describing a number of different directions to investigate, to build on their promising preliminary trials. Using carbon depositions on silicon oxide was their current strategy, but another promising option involved graphene sandwiched between Boron Nitride wafers.

***

At the end of the week Marcie rang.

"We missed you in Toronto Daniel. I'm not sure how you're going to respond to what I find most valuable if you don't have a complete picture."

Daniel felt like saying he didn't care but manners prevented him from doing so.

"I'm sort of busy at present Aunt Marcie. How did it go?" The moment he asked the question he reprimanded himself silently; he was obligated, because of course she would give him all the details.

"You wouldn't believe it Daniel, Morna couldn't make it because she was sick ... had a little bit of a tummy upset. Donald stayed back here with her while their children came along to Toronto. The doctor said it was food poisoning, a practical joke or something. Apparently Pat's children added some phenolph-something into her food. The doctor said it's a laxative and can be quite harsh."

'Phenolphthalein,' thought Daniel, "It's a crude, high school chemistry prank," he offered almost mechanically. Marcie went on. "Needless to say, I have disqualified the whole family from the 'quest'. Jason said he'll sue. He's getting his lawyer onto it, but Garth assured me he doesn't have a leg to stand on."

"Why did they just nobble one meal?" Daniel was inquisitive.

"Well, Naomi saw them up to something and asked them what they were doing. They claimed they weren't doing anything. Anyhow, when Mona became sick the whole story came out—so to speak," she giggled.

"We're going to London next week. I'm emailing out the program. I don't suppose you'll humour me and make an appearance."

Daniel would have liked to say 'no thanks', but the truth of the matter was that he was keen to speak to the Cambridge researcher whose article he had read. The professor had emailed an invitation for Daniel to visit as he had read Daniel's published article on 3- D wafer technology and was interested in brainstorming the possible marriage of the two approaches. His brother's financial situation was also a concern and Daniel felt it necessary to intervene in some way.

He replied slowly. "Matter of fact Marcie, I am going to London next week for business, so I may find time to join the 'Wacky Racers' or 'Keystone Cops' or whatever you like to call this event you've organised."

"Don't be so condescending, Danny. Have you ever known me to do something without a good reason?" It occurred to him that she always called him Danny when he was being rebuked.

He had to admit he hadn't known her to be anything but a reliable, principled and sober business woman. Nevertheless he was still tempted to say 'no, this is the first,' but he exercised some restraint and restricted himself to just 'no'.

"I'm heading off by myself Tuesday morning and the others will meet me on Friday in London, before we go to the estate in Ayrshire."

"Why isn't Naomi going with you?"

"I believe someone promised to accompany her to London." There was a touch of irony in her voice. He had nowhere to go. He had said that if he was going he'd give her a call.

"Yeah, that's right. I better give her a call. I'll get Marnie, in the office, to book the tickets."

"You're a good man, Daniel," she warbled patronisingly. "I'll see you in London." Marcie hung up.

After hearing from Marnie, Daniel tentatively punched the number Naomi had given him into his cell phone.

"Naomi speaking." Her words were musical to him.

"Er, Naomi, it's Daniel Treloar; listen would you be okay to fly to London Wednesday?"

After some think time she responded, "Pardon?"

"I'm going to London Wednesday, would you like to come with me? You're still doing this quest aren't you?"

"Daniel, that sounds great." This, after her initial uncertain response, was far more effusive—as if she was relieved to hear from him. She toned down her next words, "I sort of thought you might have bailed on the trip after what you said."

"I wouldn't do that ..." the words were out before he had considered them. He backpedalled with a qualifying explanation. "Truth is ... I wasn't going to go but a business opportunity just came up and ... well, Marcie reminded me that I had agreed to take you ... I mean travel with you."

He heard her snigger, "Fessing up are we? Well, I should tell you that I had made provision for an alternative plan. Joel Reagan and Garth Haversack are leaving early Thursday and they said I could travel with them, but I had to let them know today. So you just squeezed in."

"I'm glad to hear that because the flight has already been booked." She was quiet for a moment before responding, "You're pretty sure of yourself. What would you do if I had already booked?"

He smarted at her estimation of him. "I would have brought Erin along," he countered, amazed again at the acuity of his thinking under pressure.

There was a pause, "Erin?" she struggled to put the next question to him and he didn't help.

"Uh huh, I'm sure she'd love to go to England."

"So ... is Erin a girlfriend or ..?" Again words became elusive.

Daniel rescued her, but there was some merriment in his voice, "No, nothing like that ... Erin is a chemical engineer who I work with. She would visit the research facilities with me."

"Oh, okay ... well what time Wednesday?"

"Yeah, well, about that ..." he sounded reticent, "It's an 8:15am Flight, so I'll pick you up at 5am. It sounds early but I don't want to get caught in traffic. I'm sorry, but I'm not into rushing."

"That's okay," she chirped. "I can organise myself to do that. So I'll see you at five on Wednesday. Bye."

"Okay, see you then." He listened as he heard her end the call.

Daniel stared at his cell phone wondering what it was about Naomi that captivated him.

***

The drive was serene in the early morning dark. Travelling from his place in Ten Hills up to the lake to pick up Naomi had been a time of reflection. What was happening to his ordered life? Something was deep at work altering his predictable rhythm. Was it Marcie or some influence transcendent of human perception; something he was loath to acknowledge?

His heart did a little leap as Naomi appeared at her door. Was he already smitten by this girl after so few encounters? As he took her bags he tried to convince himself that his life had been an emotional desert and that he was vulnerable, that, perhaps, he was just grasping for any affection. She was cheery as she quizzed him on his week, how much she owed him and whether anything had come of the police investigation. His spirits rose as he responded to her excited chatter and the sound of merriment in her voice.

For the second time in two weeks Daniel parked his Porsche in the high security parking at the airport. The transition to the plane from the business class lounge had some hiccups as a university lecturer just in front of them was being scolded like a naughty little boy by the matronly security guard. He had accidentally left a laser pointer in his hand luggage and was publicly humiliated as they explained to him the list of illegal articles.

Once on the American Airlines flight, Daniel settled down to reading the data they had gathered in testing their use of nanotube fullerenes as transistors. They were slowly improving consistent performance in their formation of reliable semiconductors, but it was all too time consuming and unpredictable. He pondered over the processes. Naomi left him to read and watched half a movie, had half a sleep and read half a magazine. Her mind was buzzing with questions, yet she was reluctant to disturb Daniel's concentration.

When a meal was served, he stowed his computer away and looked to the side. She gave him a restrained smile. "Welcome back; thought you were in another world there for a while."

"Just some homework ..." His thoughts had constantly been distracted by her proximity. There was a growing awareness that he faced the dilemma of being drawn to her and being suspicious of her at the same time.

"I didn't ask you. Do I need to book into a hotel or something?"

"No, that's all done; at least till Friday. I've kept an option for extending, but I think you're heading up to Scotland on the weekend."

"Thank you," she almost whispered. "You know I can't help thinking that you're doing all this under protest." Her look was questioning.

Daniel looked into her soft brown eyes. "Mm, well ... let's say, to begin with, circumstances conspired to involve me. Now ... I think I'm intrigued, even a little bit obsessed by what's going on here."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the shooting, the theft of my luggage ... you."

"Me? How do I fit into that?" Naomi was wide eyed and a little bothered by his statement.

Daniel grinned, "That's my question; how do you fit in? It's a bit of a mystery to me."

She tilted her head questioningly and then smiled enigmatically.

***

In London, Daniel had the cab driver show them some of the sights before driving to their Park Lane hotel. It was eight thirty before they made it down to the restaurant. To Daniel, it almost felt as though he were dating Naomi. He was looking across the table and seeing the idiosyncratic way she always dabbed her lips with the napkin before speaking, watching her eyes dance with excitement as she saw a new sight or shared ideas about life.

Except, and it was an important 'except', he had doubts. Why was she involved in the quest? Why was Marcie so conniving to get them together? Was she implicated in the raid at his place?

"So, what are we doing tomorrow? What will we see?" she asked with a glint in her eyes.

He couldn't resist smiling at the assumptions she was making.

"Well, I am visiting my brother Earl and finding out if I can help him out a bit. You're welcome to join me, but it might be a bit boring."

Her demeanour changed, "No, I wouldn't like to intrude. You need to spend some brother time together. I'll give my Aunt Betty a call. I let her know I would visit; may as well be sooner than later."

A sigh of disappointment in her voice suggested she was hoping for some sightseeing.

"Where does she live?"

"She lives in Paddington—Chapel Street, in an apartment."

"That's not too far from here, you could almost walk." His comment caused Naomi's eyes to open perceptibly. "No," he chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll get a cab in the morning and pick you up in the afternoon. How does that sound?"

"That would be good," she responded with breathy relief.

Half way through a trifle dessert, Naomi tilted her face up to him, "Am I a burden to you Daniel? Because if I am I could ..."

"No, no ..." he interrupted. He slid his hand onto hers, suddenly aware that his feelings for her were beginning to dictate his actions, "more of a ... distraction." He pulled a face that looked like he had tasted a sour lemon as he anticipated a reaction. She turned her hand and caressed his thumb. "That's a good thing isn't it?" He couldn't resist her playful expression and grinned as he clasped her hand in his. 'Naomi Stockton, what is it about you?' he wondered. Her eyes slowly averted his constant stare. Self-consciously, Naomi withdrew her hand and continued with her dessert.

Her questions were more distant after that. It was as if she'd been alerted that he was of doubtful character. She hedged around any personal comments and made phlegmatic remarks about the quest, Aunt Marcie and how tired travelling made her feel. He took the hint and was soon escorting her back to her room.

***

The two mile trip to her Aunt's apartment took about ten minutes. Not much was said between them on the short journey to Paddington. His query about her first meeting with her relative on the west coast was answered with a vague reply that it created more questions than answers. She told him she'd tell him about it later since they had arrived at her destination. He waited in the cab until she entered the flat and bade a brief wave goodbye.

His directions to the cabby to go back the way they came to the University where his brother taught, was greeted with the certain delight that a substantial fare provided.

"So, you've been to London before?" the cab driver offered.

"Yes, third time. First time was for study, second was family reasons and this time it's a combination of both family and business."

As they tracked past Buckingham Palace toward Westminster Bridge the cabby again engaged him in conversation. "Any reason why someone would be following you?" he almost droned.

Daniel spun around and peered behind him, "Which one?"

"Dark blue sedan ... one behind the Honda; it was behind us going up to Paddington, and now it's trailing us back."

"I don't suppose you can lose it?"

"Sir, this is not Hollywood. If you like I could put in a police call, but I'm not sure what I'd tell them."

"Never mind, just drop me off at the front entrance of the university."

"Oh, I see sir ... hush, hush."

Daniel didn't have the heart to shatter the driver's cloak and dagger interpretation; nevertheless, he was concerned about the possibility of another attack. When he exited the cab he scanned the street in both directions. There was no sign of the tail. The driver, Harold, gave him his card when he received the fare and told him he could book him up if he were doing any large trips.

Inside the foyer he saw the reception area. A pretty, dark girl with a West Indian accent directed him to Earl's office. His brother was expecting him. There was a moment of cool, sizing each other up before they almost simultaneously relented and gave in to brotherly affection. After the obligatory 'It's good to see you s' and 'How have you been s', and a hug and back slap, they talked the family catch up theme.

Daniel discovered that Earl had been in contact with their father far more often than he had and so his brother had heard of some of the struggles and events in central Ethiopia and the mission in Somalia.

Later, Earl took Daniel on a tour of the university. It was not a prestigious institute, more a working class facility for accountancy and business management, arts and human sciences and construction.

He had two lectures before lunch. During that time Daniel was shown around by one of the psychology lecturers. It was apparent she had a keen interest in all things American. Although, feigning interest in her personal dissertation about the evolution of the human psyche, Daniel had no interest in the esoteric vagaries of psychological statistical analysis. He longed to talk to a physical empiricist—someone who could discuss the application of the laws of physics and chemistry and relate to him some scientific advancement in technology.

When he was finally rescued by his lunch break with Earl, Daniel couldn't help but raise the question that was in the back of his mind. What was the failed investment? His brother stared at him deadpan. "Australian emu farming," he said, as if it had been wrung out of him. "It seemed such a sure thing."

He went over the whole thing in detail with Daniel. He'd basically gambled the majority of his savings in a venture that was losing value fast. As more farms sprang up the market for their product failed. It was not an uncommon story.

He then talked of Ginny and her failing liver function. They were on the transplant list. He was hopeful that a second diagnosis of a non-malignant cyst was more accurate than the initial information.

Amidst the description of medical opinions Daniel suggested monetary help but Earl wouldn't countenance his offers of financial assistance. He quickly changed the subject and insisted that Daniel stay at their place. They had plenty of room.

Daniel tried to explain that with a travelling companion it was a bit awkward. Earl, however, was adamant that he and his friend stay with them; even if it was only one night.

When Daniel was about to leave with Earl, he recalled the earlier events of his arrival and considered the possibility of being followed again. He explained his predicament to his brother.

"Why would anyone follow you?" was his first reaction.

"Something to do with our breakthrough in micro circuitry... It appears that industrial spying is alive and well," he commented sardonically.

"What! ... because you've created a fast chip?"

"Well, it may also have something to do with an article I wrote describing some algorithms we had planned for a prototype nanotube array."

"What sort of algorithm?"

"One that a quantum computer might run ..."

Earl gave him a disbelieving stare. He knew enough about number theory and the exponential capacity of the theoretical quantum computer to realise a functioning prototype of any description would be of great interest to military intelligence operations the world over.

When his wordless stare became really uncomfortable Daniel snapped, "What?"

Earl shook his head slowly. "What possessed you to publish something like that?"

Almost apologetically the younger sibling answered, shrugging, "Egotism? Machismo? Audacity? I don't know. It was as if I had something to prove at the time. I know now it was a mistake. We've already had several visits from various national security agencies informing us that our research is now the property of the United States. Apparently the Homeland Security Act allows for compulsory purchase of any intellectual property deemed necessary for intelligence or security needs. Our lawyers are still haggling."

Earl ran both hands down his face in exasperation. "And I thought I had troubles ..." his words evaporated with the heat of a new idea. "I'll grab a lab coat from Errol's office. That should make it more difficult for them to recognise you."

"Good idea," Daniel humoured him. He was quite certain that should these people want to find him, they would have a list of addresses, including Earl's, which they would stake out. In the meantime, it was a relief to be leaving via the basement car park and be an anonymous, lab coated passenger in Earl Treloar's car.

***

Daniel directed him back across the bridge, past Hyde Park and up to the residence in Paddington.

On the way he checked with Naomi to see if she would be ready. She sounded relieved to hear his voice. Earl was taken aback by the fact that his brother's travelling companion was a girl and he suddenly had a barrage of questions for Daniel.

"How long's this been going on for?" was his first blunt question.

Daniel looked at his brother to try and determine exactly what he was getting at when it struck him.

"Oh, it's not like that. We're just travelling together ..." He could see from Earl's reaction that he wasn't clarifying the situation. "What I mean is ... you know that girl I said is likely to get the inheritance? Well it's her ... Naomi."

"And, you're just travelling with her." Earl had a smug grin as he said it.

Daniel then registered how he was making it worse; his account was being misconstrued. They were pulling up to the kerb so he resigned himself to elaborating the narrative at a more opportune time.

"It's a long story. I'll explain later."

The appearance of a beautiful girl being ushered into the back seat didn't alleviate the constructions Earl was placing on their relationship. After introductions, which quickly had Naomi wondering what had been said about her, Daniel made a face as if to say he didn't know what was going on. What had piqued Naomi's interest was the way Earl said, "Ginny will be delighted to meet you. You'll be able to have a real natter." What was he on about?

On the way to the hotel, Naomi related an entirely unsatisfactory meeting with her Aunt Betty. It seemed she had no new family history to contribute and talked incessantly about movies. She had a wall full of DVDs and in one corner vestiges of a VCR collection that had been mostly converted or replaced by DVDs. Whenever Naomi tried to bring the conversation back to her father she seemed to clamp up as if there were secrets; perhaps there were secrets that she was not permitted to divulge.

Having reorganised some of their luggage from their hotel rooms, they took the Vauxhall Bridge to the A2 all the way to Bexleyheath. Earl quizzed Naomi about her history with Marcie and they somehow diverged onto the topic of Marcie's faith. "I suppose she was responsible for putting my father on the straight and narrow," recollected Earl. "And then she contacted a local church when we arrived and they made us feel welcome. We've been going there ever since."

Daniel just clenched his jaw and remained silent. Earl continued, "Yeah, I guess I was curious that Dad changed completely when he converted. I mean, I figured he wasn't an unintelligent man. You know he's a doctor," was his aside as he glanced behind him to see if Naomi was still tuned in. She nodded, "Daniel's filled me in a bit."

"Well, we read, that's Ginny and me, and found out as much as we could about the historical veracity of the existence of Jesus. Then we read other apologetics and started to recognise the morality and purpose of the Christians at church. It didn't take long before we were convinced, not just logically but morally, that we had a need and we've been pretty steady ever since."

"I love to hear people's stories about how they came to faith. It sort of puts everything into perspective." Naomi sounded buoyant. "Maybe I can attend your church with Ginny and you before I leave."

Daniel roiled within. Religion! Where had it got his family; they were totally disconnected. What had it done for Naomi? Her father had died and she was orphaned. And Earl! How had it helped his situation? It took considerable effort to not make some scathing comment about sanctimonious fools who got themselves into trouble and then expected logical, clear thinking, rationalists like him to rescue them. He monitored their progress along the A2 past Greenwich Park and on toward Bexleyheath. All the time he scowled in sullen silence, trying to ignore their observations about contemporary evangelism and being relevant to the community.

They arrived at a neat two storey house not far from a lake and park. In contrast to his morose mood in the car, Daniel regrouped and successfully portrayed the cheerful brother in law for Ginny. She had a slight yellowish colouration and looked listless. He didn't want to add to her trials by being sceptical and belittling their quaint beliefs. Ginny got the wrong impression right from the start when Earl had phoned and told her to expect two visitors for an overnight stay.

"How did you meet Daniel?" she asked Naomi when they were tidying in the kitchen.

Naomi chuckled, "It's not like that Ginny. Both Daniel and I are caught up in this quest, so we're travelling together. It's my first time out of the US, so he sort of agreed to help me out."

"Oh, sorry ... I just thought ..." She smiled to herself, she was certain there was more to it. She had seen the way each had glanced at the other during the meal.

They talked into the evening about their jobs, about Aunt Marcie and about life in England. When Ginny took Naomi to show her the rest of the house and her room, she shared how they were postponing having children until her medical issues were resolved. Daniel saw that as an opportunity to confront Earl about his hypocrisy.

"Earl, how can you spout all that stuff about faith and being satisfied when your finances are in a mess and Ginny is so sick?"

"I think you've missed the point Dan. Sure we've got troubles but at the same time we're at peace. When you're where God wants you then it's all good. You really ought to check it out for yourself. Ask yourself, why are you alive?"

"You're saying God wants all this to happen to you ... and it's all good?" He couldn't conceal the hint of scorn that crept into his tone.

"I'm saying that there's more to life than health or money. We're relying more on God than ever. We're more relaxed about things, more thoughtful and loving to each other, and more aware of the purposes of God. What have you got?"

Daniel was dumbfounded. He expected to find Earl and Ginny in a mess, and instead Earl was provoking him with some disagreeably searching questions. What was it with Christians? Couldn't they keep their beliefs to themselves? Why did they have to try and convince everyone else? Ginny and Naomi came back and Earl brewed them all some coffee.

That night there were a few forays into the humorous stories of growing up together and some fuzzy commitments to get together in the near future before the brothers said their goodbyes. Since Earl would leave for work early the next morning he felt it necessary to finish the evening with some brotherly advice.

"Dan, you should contact Dad. At least send him an email. He always asks if I've heard from you."

Daniel nodded, "Yeah." It was an unconvincing response, but all he could manage before they went off to bed.

***

Friday breakfast at the kitchen table was a peculiar experience for Daniel, who was last to surface that morning. Earl had already left to join the daily commute and Ginny and Naomi were poring over a devotion book together and discussing thoughts with the familiarity of sisters. The fare was marmalade on toast and tea so while he made his own, declining Ginny's offer to be the responsible hostess; he tried to appear totally disinterested in the subject matter.

They were discussing Jesus washing his disciple's feet and how everything Jesus did appeared to be opposite to their expectations. How Peter's pride wanted to reject a gracious act. It was a symbol to them of being a servant, but also a lesson on how to follow in His steps.

Daniel had grabbed a newspaper and pretended to take no notice. The picture of Jesus washing the feet of people who looked embarrassed, confused, insulted even, invaded his thoughts though; it was just what his dad, and what Naomi's dad, had chosen to do—serve others.

Why did words written so long ago demand his attention so that the words on the newspaper were like a foreign language? Naomi was commenting on the last verse mentioned in the handbook, "That verse seventeen is a challenge to me – 'Now that you know these things blessed are you if you do them.' I struggle with the doing part."

"You're telling me," affirmed Ginny, "After two years of being sort of spectators at church, we're going to start inviting fringe members to meals, just the way we were treated when we arrived."

Naomi looked concerned, "But what about your condition? Won't you find it too taxing?"

"I talked to Earl. We want to start now before it gets too difficult. Besides, it's much better than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself."

All too soon for the girls they had to part. There were more promises of keeping in contact as Daniel and Naomi carried their overnight bags to the door.

With hugs all round, the two Americans bid a fond farewell to Ginny and took Harold's taxi on a lengthy journey via the hotel to a small boutique in Chiswick. This was where they were scheduled to meet that morning with the other 'questers'.

It was a quiet trip with Naomi practising in her head a way to let Daniel know that he didn't have to chaperone her any more. She wanted him to know that he'd been more than generous with his time; she had enjoyed his company and meeting Earl and Ginny, but he should feel free to carry on his own business.

***

The charming fashion boutique was one of a small chain in the UK that had gained a substantial foothold in the market. Marcie again explained her plan of selling the assets to set up a trust before distributing any funds. She would then evaluate people's business acumen and their understanding of her most valuable possession. She also informed them that the remainder of the destinations were no longer on the mandatory itinerary. They were free to visit if they wished. A dossier of these foreign based businesses would be provided. It would be at a meeting back in the US where she would let them know her final decision.

Marcie then left them to their own devices. Heather and Naomi scouted the fashions and acquired a few trendy items each as they egged the other on with little appreciation for the solemnity of Heather's family, who were busily estimating how this store compared with the other places they had seen.

Daniel had found an Italian café a short distance away, on an opposite corner, where he sat and read from his computer while sipping aromatic draughts of frothy cappuccino. He chatted briefly with Harold, who had been exploring while waiting for the return trip, and dropped in for 'a cuppa' himself.

Daniel eventually returned to the boutique and informed them he was leaving to go to his appointment with a Cambridge professor. The Quentins said they also had to leave as they had an early flight back to Edinburg. They would go home and meet at the castle in Ayrshire on the Monday. Naomi gave Heather a hug as they parted. Shopping together had obviously bonded them, thought Daniel.

Naomi glanced nervously at her feet before fortifying herself with a deep breath and looking up. "You don't have to worry about me. I can catch a cab back to the hotel."

"No, we'll take Harold's cab together and I can drop you off." Daniel surprised himself with the realisation that he was starting to rely on her companionship and the relationship they had.

"You're sure? Because I want you to feel free to make your connections without me tagging along; I think I can handle getting to Scotland. I mean you've been really great, but I don't want to be a burden."

"No, it's fine. It's good to have some company. And, I will go to Ayrshire, just because I'm curious."

"You certainly are," she said mischievously as she stepped toward the kerb. He didn't say that Harold's chat had alerted him to a possible threat. The mere suggestion that they were being followed had him in protective mode. He would feel less anxious if they were together.

Once the journey to the hotel had begun it occurred to Daniel that maybe a trek to Cambridge would let Naomi see a bit of England. His offer was eagerly accepted and it was apparent that she craved company as much as he did. The mutuality of their attraction was becoming more evident.

The M11 proved to be no boon for sightseers though, so it was a pleasant distraction that their conversation was animated, not least by Harold's home country humour.

When their Cambridge destination had finally been attained, Harold and Naomi went for a walk around the University gardens while Daniel met with Professor Smith. He was an articulate and enthusiastic questioner. However, his responses to Daniel's questions were guarded and vague. It became very clear to Daniel that the interaction was mostly one way. When he tried to tie the graphene researcher down to coating substrates and etching methods the responses were qualified by a blunt - 'proprietary product restrictions prevent me from elaborating.' Daniel tired quickly of the mental gymnastics required to get a straight answer, thanked the professor for his help and left.

On the return trip, Naomi drowsed and Daniel kept peering through the rear window.

"I don't think we're bein' follered son. They know where you've been and where yer goin, so there's no reason. But if I were you I'd keep my lookout," Harold advised.

"You may be right Harold. I'd sure like to know what they're planning."

Upon their return to the hotel, Daniel booked Harold to take them to the airport later in the day.

Chapter 5

Daniel and Naomi had a late lunch at the hotel. With several hours to kill before they were to leave for the airport some exercise and fresh air seemed a good idea. They walked through Hyde Park, then through Green Park and on to Buckingham Palace and mingled with the throng of other sightseers.

All the while they talked. For the first time in his life Daniel was aware of how relaxed he was in the company of this very attractive girl. It wasn't that he was shy, or that he was a misogynist, that had led to his previous discomfort with women he became acquainted with. It was more that he had often been set up with incompatible personalities by well-meaning people. And because, in general, when it came to girls he was socially inept, he had usually just plain bumbled his way during interactions. Perhaps it was the facades put on to create an impression, just as he did with them, which irked him. He wanted someone that was genuine and stood her ground, not defined by other people's expectations. It was a standard he didn't apply to himself.

Whether it was the past social clumsiness or more recently, the unfortunate experience he had with a female friend who interpreted their friendship in a far more personal and permanent way than he had envisioned; or even if it was the fact that he had once read an article in a women's magazine about behaviours of females trying to 'catch their man', he didn't know. Whatever it was, he had viewed the motivations of girls he had met recently with suspicion.

He supposed that he related with Naomi because she clearly disagreed with him in a number of areas and she let him know. To his thinking there was no ulterior motive with her either—no motive that stemmed from the perceived safety of dating a 'solid professional'. Given that she was likely to be very rich very soon, it was unlikely to apply to her. It even appeared, paradoxically, that she didn't appear to covet or chase after that wealth at all—unless of course he was grossly mistaken.

"There are some things I like about you and there are some things I don't like," she candidly admitted as they strolled under some ancient English oaks. He grinned at her. There was an appealing quality about her 'no pretence' dialogue.

"What! There's something about me not to like?" he feigned astonishment.

Not to be deterred she went on unfazed, "Despite your brusque manner, you're compassionate. You are interested in your brother's problems and you've helped me without any complaint about the inconvenience. Thinking of others without personal gain; I like that."

"Haven't you heard, I'm after your millions? At least that's what Heather tells me is being rumoured around. And don't you think I enjoy being seen with a beautiful girl. It's great for my ego."

"Mm," she ignored his ribbing and spoke concisely. "What I don't like is ... the way you just discount Christianity, without examining its claims or evaluating the evidence. For a scientist it doesn't seem very scientific."

Daniel was jolted by the direction the exchange had taken. Why did everything revolve around beliefs?

Naomi turned to face him and recognised the angst showing in his expression. "Okay, I'm coming on too strong aren't I? You know many atheists have become Christians; you could check out some of their stories and find out what motivated them."

"What about Christians who became atheists?" he prodded wryly.

"Sure!" she countered, "In fact, why don't you read the same number of each and compare them for rationality, prejudice and faith? I think you'll be surprised.

"You sound pretty confident about that."

"I should, because, to me, it's a sure thing. It's reality itself. Everything else is a construct of our own deluded imaginations ... what we want to believe." Her words emanated from deep within her. They were spoken eloquently and with conviction.

"You really believe that don't you?"

She looked up at him nodding and smiled, "You could say I'm speaking from experience."

"That's not fair."

"What?" she looked puzzled.

"You, smiling like that. I can't resist it when you smile at me."

Naomi gave him a light punch on the arm. "So you'll do it." She smiled again, a cheesy, exaggerated smile, right in his face. He placed a hand on her cheek. She turned away quickly as if distracted, "Come on, we'd better get back or Harold will give up waiting for us."

Daniel was wondering what had happened. He had unexpectedly been stirred by her closeness. Now the metaphorical tinkling glass of that shattered moment was all that was left. Naomi was striding back in the direction they had come, moving away as if she had violated some sort of taboo.

***

Back at the hotel, after a leisurely meal in the restaurant, Daniel decided to check them out of their rooms, being unsure how long the stay in Ayrshire would be. Some vital phone calls preceded their exit. Naomi waited patiently in the foyer unsure of Daniel's preoccupation with the phone. It was eight pm when they emerged and Harold was waiting dutifully at the entrance to the hotel.

Daniel gazed about as if savouring the sights one last time while the bags were deposited in the trunk. Harold raised his eyebrows with an unspoken question and he responded with a slight negating shake of his head.

Setting off for Heathrow the mood was again subdued. Daniel spent some time emailing Gavin and the others informing them of his disappointment regarding the Cambridge meeting, updating them about his travels and generally posing a series of questions about their circuit trials and the police investigation.

Halfway along the M4 Harold cleared his throat and alerted Daniel with eyes agog that their unwanted companions had joined them on the motorway. Discretely, the young scientist twisted around to examine the traffic. There, about three cars back, was a blue BMW, visible under the strong motorway lighting. So long as they remained at that distance Daniel wasn't too concerned, but he wrestled with the problem of the reason for the surveillance. If it was the same crowd who stole his bogus notes then they knew he wouldn't carry valuable information with him. So, what were they after? Determined and effective at dogging his steps, they were now tracking them to the airport. Would they get on the plane or just phone ahead to Edinburg?

In short time they had turned south to the airport. Once disembarked from the cab, Daniel almost dragged Naomi with their luggage on a trolley through the departures. Without hesitating, he continued past, down to arrivals and out the doors.

"What are you doing?" panted Naomi, totally flummoxed.

"Just trust me. We've been followed here. I want to shake them so I've made alternative plans."

"Alternative plans?" was all Naomi could manage before she was bundled into another cab Daniel had hailed. He dumped their bags and slammed the trunk before the taxi driver could get out and help. Apologetically he justified his rush, "Eustace Station please; we're in a bit of a hurry."

"Certainly sir," the cabby answered in a monotone 'I've seen it all before' voice.

Daniel leapt in the back seat beside her and sank down low. Naomi's head was spinning, "Station?" she said questioningly.

"I'll explain it all later. Do me a favour and just keep low for a bit."

With seat belts fastened and the return trip well under way the cabby, Cyril—his name as determined from his identification tag—became sociable. "Got a train to catch have we?"

Daniel's replies were those of an exhausted traveller. His reticence was an effort to minimise chit chat social niceties. Though his responses were not quite terse, Cyril soon realised his passengers were caught up in some sort of urgency and wished for a quiet ride.

***

Having spent almost three hours in taxis it was a relief for the two of them to bustle through the concourse of the station, collect their tickets and make their way to the overnight sleeper to Edinburg. Anyone watching their progress would presume that a young couple was departing for holidays. Daniel was shepherding Naomi into the carriage his arm loosely around her waist as she stepped through the doorway. Upon showing their tickets, they were ushered to their respective adjacent first class cabins. The décor of blue and white with a mock wood panel door gave an ultra-modern setting to the functional, economic use of space.

A knock on the door seconds after he deposited his bags made Daniel jump.

He opened the door slightly, identified Naomi, and let her in. "Nice cabins hey?"

"Uh huh," she scanned the room as if she hadn't really seen hers. "All right, what's this all about?" her hands went to her hips. He corralled her back through the doorway.

"Come on, let's go to the lounge carriage; we'll talk and have a coffee there."

In the lounge car, soon after the wheels began to roll and the carriage rocked gently, Daniel opened up. "Okay," he started hesitantly. We've been followed for the last couple of days. So it's better if we're unpredictable. If they're expecting us at the airport they'll be disappointed."

"Who's they?" There was a quiet insistence in the way she said it.

"I wish I knew. But I'll guarantee it's the same people that attacked us last time."

"Why are they after us? What have you done?" Anxiety had crept into her voice.

"It's a long story." Daniel leaned forward. He suddenly felt drawn to her as if nothing else mattered than that she understood. "They want a technical breakthrough that Wafer Chip Research has made. It has cryptanalysis ramifications," he paused then clarified as he saw her brow knit.

"Intelligence organisations see code breaking possibilities for it. Not what we had in mind when we were developing it but fast chips will always have military uses."

"I don't understand. Can't they just buy it when it comes on the market?"

"The government has instigated compulsory acquisition. So the only way they can get it is steal it."

"So, are you carrying it with you?" she rasped harshly with a lowered, breathy voice as she suddenly seemed appalled.

"No." It was a quiet response; almost as if he knew what was coming next.

"Why—" He cut her off, knowing what was coming.

"Why are they here? ...because if they get me they get the information—one way or the other."

"Oh ..." Naomi was lost for words. Their situation took on a whole new complexion for her. The regular beat of the wheels on the track was amplified by their silence.

Later that night Daniel was on his computer in his sleeper cabin. Connected to the train Wi-Fi, he was researching atheists and Christians. Though wanting to associate with the arguments presented by rational atheists, Daniel was surprised how lame they were. Pathetic allusions to discrediting the life of Christ by citing perceived inconsistencies. One said 'Jesus sinned because He defended his disciples eating grain gathered on a Sabbath'. This atheist thought that Christians considered Jesus as just love and he was at pains to point out that Christ was angry and judgemental. It left Daniel wondering whether atheists were more religious than Christians. To him a multidimensional Jesus with strong emotions was more believable than an insipid person who avoided controversy.

As he read the Gospel of John from an on-line Bible it depicted Jesus as Truth. That meant revealing the hypocrisy of the religious and talking about sin and death and judgement. Other atheists were in the sport of bagging Christian hypocrites. This was incredibly easy as, by Jesus' own reckoning, those who come to Him are sinners.

Daniel tried to find some claim that Christians were better or more moral than other people but the passages he read just had the Christian writers urging followers to be like that, to be good like Jesus; which surely was laudable.

In contrast, the stories about atheists converting were by and large cogent, philosophically sound and unambiguously filled with hope. Daniel felt that maybe he should pen a few lines in defence of rational free-thinkers. His problem was that he admired the value system inherent in what Jesus taught, and he liked the ethics of the people he knew to be Christians.

So what could he write to dispel this adherence to an invisible God? It was difficult. He couldn't complain about the lack of proof or the fact no one had seen God, as this God wanted his followers to have faith; to trust Him. He was invisible after all. He could complain about the ruthless violence of the Old Testament. How did that disprove God? All it did was describe the cruelty of ancient peoples and the actions of a deity to disobedience. You could detest what happened but that wouldn't mean it didn't happen. You could choose to say I won't follow a god like that, but did that diminish its truth?

He looked back at one of the converted atheists. There were ten points that this person listed that convinced him. Many of these ideas related to the concerted opposition that was applied by secular governments, including the US government, over history. Despite all that, the writer noted, Christianity had flourished.

After two hours of grappling with the stories and arguments of Atheists and Christians, Daniel came to a conclusion; both positions couldn't be proven, they both required faith. What was clear was the choice. There was a choice between a meaningless, random existence and a purposeful, divinely planned life; choosing between moralities based on pragmatism and socially defined mores, and a way of life based on the values of an eternal, loving, all-knowing Power. One proponent described it as a choice between a materialistic, hopeless, finite and a spiritual, hope filled, infinite.

He went to sleep mesmerised by the rhythmic thrum of the wheels, wondering if becoming a Christian was just wishful thinking or if it was based on real evidence.

Breakfast was delivered at six the next morning. Having hardly slept three hours, it was all too soon for Daniel. Naomi, still in pyjamas, followed the steward in to his cabin carrying her tray with toast, spreads and coffee. She waited for the steward to leave before addressing Daniel.

"Hope you don't mind. I ordered breakfast for us before I went to bed last night."

He looked at his cereal and coffee. "No, it's perfect ... just a little early." He sat up and as they ate they discussed what lay in store. Daniel tried to allay her fears. They should be safe amongst crowds and especially in a foreign country. He couldn't believe how fresh and perky she looked; it was the opposite of how he felt.

"What's the plan for today?" She was sitting cross legged on the end of the bed and grinning girlishly.

"Get dressed and, when the train stops, we'll change at Edinburg for Ayr. I checked the net and we can take our time as there are plenty of trains leaving, maybe the eight fifteen or eight thirty. Then hire a car to drive to the castle."

"Do you think we'll avoid those people who've been trying to follow you?"

"For a while, but the sooner we're back in the States the happier I'll be."

Chapter six

The castle, some way east of Ayr, was an impressive three level stone construction. The large round tower at the front provided a grand entrance while another smaller turreted tower was on the right flank of the building and still smaller cylindrical spires were placed on strategic corners. The whole complex nestled neatly into the wooded hills behind it while up front the castle was graced by well-kept gardens and a lake that verged the road as you approached.

Daniel rolled slowly up the drive in the rented four wheel drive. Both Naomi and he were taking in the classic lines of the castle and the nurtured, tailored gardens and manicured lawns. The greenery of the mild late summer surprised him. Its recent renovations and reconstruction were hardly distinguishable from the original medieval structure—as was the wont of the National Trust.

"Wow!" was the only utterance Naomi could manage.

"It's remarkable isn't it? They knew how to build imposing buildings didn't they?" As he got out, Daniel gazed up at the crenelated topped walls of the edifice. He moved around to the other side since Naomi was still in her seat, enthralled by the grandeur of the castle. Opening the door he made a pronouncement. "This may soon be yours Princess Naomi." And he bowed solemnly.

Stepping out, she punched him a little harder on the shoulder than he anticipated. Something he thought might soon become a habit of hers. Naomi protested his suggestion. "Not likely. Of all the things Marcie has, this castle is the one thing that is dearest to her heart. I think she'll want to live here."

Daniel was wide eyed in mockery, "Are you giving me clues? I knew if I hung around you the secret would come out." He attempted some diabolical laughter which sounded like a witch with a throat condition. "The plot thickens."

A roar of an engine at the distant gateway filled Daniel with alarm.

"Get in the car!" he snapped, almost savagely.

"What's wrong?" Naomi was unaware of the threat he had seen but felt the urgency in the pressure of his hand on her arm and the harsh edge of his speech.

"Quick!" he shoved her in and sprinted around the other side. The car, fast approaching was flailing away at the gravel surface as it followed the winding driveway. Daniel gunned the engine and spun the wheels in his haste. The four wheel drive launched off around the circular route towards the exit. Almost too fast the back drifted around the last curve leading up to the massive stone gateway.

Still one hundred yards behind but advancing fast, the dark sedan roared louder. Naomi shrieked as she saw the gun protrude from the side window. The next instant Daniel swerved around the bend and through the gateway that was enclosed by an obscuring, high, cypress hedge. He slammed on the brakes, veered savagely to the right and was perilously close to tipping the car before he halted parallel to the hedge covered wall.

At once he had the car in reverse. Rapidly he started backtracking through the huge gate.

"Hang on!" he commanded grimly. Naomi registered what he was attempting and clutched on to her seatbelt. Almost immediately there was a metal tearing crash as the colliding vehicles crumpled together. When the front end of the pursuing vehicle caved in, an ear splitting whump of the airbags inflating around Daniel and Naomi causing them to be momentarily compressed in their seats.

Not wanting to be nearby when the armed men recovered from the concussive smash, Daniel cleared the bags, threw the car into first and, after having dragged it several yards, disentangled their vehicle from the battered, twisted metal of the pursuant' s car.

Roaring back onto the road, he was soon swinging right back, almost out of control, through the entry point. He then sped up to the front entrance.

Tumbling out of the recently modified rental with the banged up rear end, they grasped their luggage and fled into the building. "Ring the police!" Daniel yelled at Marcie who was standing holding open the door, momentarily gawking at them, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"The police ... call the police. There are men with guns out there. Can we lock them out?"

Marcie commenced securing the door with a heavy bolt and told a mystified caretaker-come building manager, to lock the other doors.

The phone call to the police somehow managed to absorb and dampen the frenetic urgency they sought. With typical bureaucratic aplomb the local constabulary insisted on some details and promised a patrol car within half an hour. Daniel was bemoaning to his Aunt the menacing stalkers who had dogged their every move when Marcie's head spun round.

A thudding at the huge oak doors had them all jumping. Daniel was scanning the hall for some weapon. A suit of armour in the corner had a big ornamental mace which he tried to extract from a clamp.

"Don't worry. It's just an elderly couple," said Marcie peering out a narrow side window. She unbolted the wooden doors and let them in. The plump, grey haired woman had cherry red cheeks from the harried march along the long driveway. Behind her a stooped white haired man shuffled.

"They stole our car. They blocked the road, ordered us out and stole the car. You have to ring the police," she panted.

"That's already been done," cooed Marcie calmly. "Why don't you come in and have a seat?"

Marcie led the elderly couple into the sitting room while Daniel and Naomi stared blankly at each other.

"This will be interesting to explain to the rental company," Daniel stated in an 'I'm thinking of something else' sort of way. In his head was the question; 'Had someone given these criminals an itinerary?'

Naomi crinkled her nose, "Can I be there? I want to know how experts negotiate these things ... 'I decided it was best if I charged into him in reverse. And it did the trick. Sorry about your car'." Her parody had him grinning and drew his conjectures—about how their presence was always known—to a close.

"I hope the police will just sign us off as 'victims of crime' or something like that. Otherwise I'll get Gavin to do the travel insurance run around. Knowing him he'll just delegate it to Arnold, our lawyer; he's very efficient."

The two travel companions were still very wound up as they went to settle into their rooms. If Naomi hadn't been at risk as well, he would have suspected her of communicating his whereabouts. As it was, Daniel pondered the problem. He examined his luggage for some type of location device and suggested that Naomi do the same.

When they finally arrived, the police were quite fastidious about getting every detail. Because the damaged car had been stolen and the car they now had belonged to the hapless elderly couple, no links could be made to the thugs who had now been thwarted twice. The police were alarmed to hear that this was the second episode of violence and suggested that Daniel find safer climes.

The senior constable assured Daniel that an investigation would assess the likelihood that the same criminals were involved. He asserted that the Boston police would be contacted to pool resources. The officer added that at present there was little they could do but collect evidence and alert authorities regarding the second stolen car. Daniel had little doubt that it had already been dumped.

***

The other Quentins arrived just before lunch and they all sat around a roughly hewn timber table and consumed the soup and sandwiches on offer. Much talk surrounded the morning's incident with some nervous laughter at Naomi's description of the fastest reversing collision she had ever experienced. Despite their concern, a lighter mood was enjoined as Daniel described how he couldn't convince the armoured knight to relinquish his decorative mace so he could bludgeon the elderly couple at the door.

"Nevertheless ..." began the grave words of Marcie, "you are obviously a target and I believe your life is in danger. Perhaps you should employ a body guard." Everyone was still. Head down, Daniel was reflective. He raised his eyes, "You're right Marcie. It is serious. I think from now on I should travel alone. There's no reason why I should put other people at risk." He glanced at Naomi.

"In fact, I've booked myself into the nearest B&B in Ayr, the little town down the road. I'd hate to be responsible for anyone being hurt due to me, so it's probably best." His dull patter waned as it became clear that there was little support for his idea.

"Don't be ridiculous lad," blurted Morna, "There's safety in numbers, and we'd be offended if you didna think your rellies would stick by you." Heather and Marcie supplied much of the same kind, but Donald was strangely quiet. He was having second thoughts about the whole pursuit of wealth obsession. He knew that the odds improved dramatically for each member if he eliminated himself from contention. Perhaps it was being back in the home country that made him hunger for the simple life.

"You could come back with me to Livingstone," Donald growled. "I'm giving up on this circus." Everyone looked at Donald. He shrugged. "It was a mistake. Morna and Heather can remain here, but I've got work to do."

"Thanks Uncle, but I'll stick around. Ayr is nearby but far enough away to keep everyone safe."

Naomi looked like an abandoned child. She had sensed her 'Green Gables kindred spirit' in Daniel and now he was gallantly riding off into the sunset. She feared for him. But she also feared for herself. Her association to him was growing out of proportion to what she was prepared to admit to. There were too many differences, too many issues still unresolved and there were life values that at present seemed totally incongruent. She sat and fretted. Where was her faith when she needed it most?

Angus and Alistair offered to join Daniel and, though rejecting the offer, the conversation about the previous incidents drew the three cousins closer. Guesswork and opinions made for colourful talk and occupied them during the post lunch coffees.

In the afternoon Haversack and Reagan turned up and outlined the schedule for the remaining few weeks. A clothing production set up in Malaysia and a cattle station in Australia were detailed. They provided pro forma for those needing assistance with their presentations and then reviewed market valuations for all the assets.

A high tea of jam, cream and scones with hot drinks followed the small get together. Daniel had shifted to a balcony to take in the sights when he was joined by his aunt. He commented to Marcie that he thought it was a bit of a junket to have the lawyers travel to Scotland to deliver details that could have been communicated via email or in a written report. After all, hadn't they abandoned the remainder of the 'tour'? His aunt corrected him about his assertions. She made it clear—no, the travel arrangements were reverting to the initial plan. It seemed that Morna and Heather had already planned an extended holiday, so she was honouring the original arrangement. Marcie also assured him that anything the lawyers did was covered by their initial quote for the assignment.

"You're joking!" remarked Daniel a little too loudly. "A lawyer settling on an account figure before it's completed. That's unprecedented!"

"I have it all in writing in our contract for services rendered." She smiled contentedly. Daniel was filled with new respect for his canny aunt.

"In fact, they insisted on coming here. It was Garth's idea. He said that they had business in London anyway and so they would combine it with a bit of sightseeing and also provide information for the quest."

A little shiver running up Daniel's spine was the only evidence that qualms about Haversack's involvement had begun to crystallise in his mind. While Heather and Naomi talked with the two brothers, Daniel made his way to the young lawyer. He asked Joel what sort of business had brought them to London. He appeared a bit caught out.

"Er, a foreign client has us doing some research." With more confidence he continued, "Yes, we're hiring some investigators and setting up a dossier."

"So what's the client after?"

Reagan grinned nervously and touched his nose, "Sorry privileged information. You know how it is. You wouldn't want your lawyers discussing your business dealings would you?"

The statement made Daniel wonder how much he knew about what he did. He delved some more but made little headway.

Soon after Marcie led a tour of the castle, and during the exploration Daniel grabbed his bags and quietly departed. Despite the extensive modifications to the back of the Land Rover, it still seemed to operate adequately. He drove the damaged four wheel drive five miles back to a bed and breakfast. Pulling in to the antiquated stone cottage, he smelled burning rubber. A quick examination showed it was from the scrubbing of the rear tyres. First thing he did inside, once he'd settled in, was to organise the replacement vehicle. It took some explanation and reference to the local police before a new agreement was reached. Following that he contacted Gavin via video link. Although it was quite late in Boston, Gavin was in the mood to share some good news.

"Our bank balance is looking amazing."

"Oh yeah, how so?" returned Daniel feeling the aches of the morning's collision beginning to stiffen his movements.

"Well, initial payments for the vertical wafer technology have come in, and... the lawyers have settled with the defence department for compulsory acquisition compensation for our nanotube stuff."

"So, the contract for the wafers is all signed and sealed?"

"Yep, they want to start right away. In fact, they have already replicated our prototype process which means it won't be long before a trial matrix is done. It's all happening Daniel."

Daniel was having trouble being enthused. Whether it was the physical danger bringing him closer to confronting his own mortality or the recent revelation of a non-material aspect to life, his zest for the company and its concerns was fading.

"Gav, have the police made any progress?"

"Not that I know of ... I get the feeling it's not high on their agenda at the moment."

"You're kidding. I should tell you. A couple guys pulled a gun on us again?"

"What?"

"I'm telling you ... they tried again."

"So ... what happened?"

"Well, they stole a car like last time ... I smashed into them with the rental and they disappeared in another stolen car. Oh by the way, I'll need Arnold to do some negotiating on our travel insurance to bridge the difference on the rental insurance. Otherwise they won't replace the car."

"So you smashed it up pretty bad hey?"

"You could say that."

It suddenly occurred to Gavin what he should be asking. "Are you all right? Was anyone with you when you smashed?"

"I ache a bit. Naomi Stockton was in the car, but she's fine too."

The call tailed off with the assignment of some minor tasks and greetings to colleagues before Daniel hung up.

Once he'd heard back that Arnold had effected his miracles, he drove to the centre of Ayr to pick up the new car. Daniel then went into a pub to have a meal. With little else to do, he stayed longer than planned. The venue provided some live folk music upstairs which kept him entertained as he sipped coffee.

***

Restlessness and a sleepless night—due to a racing mind and, probably, too many coffees—had Daniel abandon his initial plan of an early morning walk. He lay in till seven thirty.

When eventually he left, he was thankful that the Sunday traffic was light except for a bit of congestion near the local Presbyterian Church. Daniel called in at Aunt Marcie's at nine. He greeted Naomi and Marcie briefly as they were heading off to church. An invitation from his aunt was quickly side stepped with the excuse that he hadn't had breakfast yet.

The excuse became suggestive enough to develop an appetite and he munched on some cereal at a servery in the kitchen and chatted to the cooking staff. They were locals; two women who came in whenever Marcie occupied the castle. While Daniel ate, they filled him in on village trivia. The cooks told him some dos and don'ts for travellers to Scotland and then shared how the current gossip was about their American—namely Aunt Marcie—being 'Lady of the manor' possibly selling up.

Daniel listened but said little.

Once he'd had enough of breakfast and gossip he decided he would move to the library. The move made him glad that his preference had been, to not be exposed to a proselytising pastor in the pews of a local church but to luxuriate in the cosy armchairs of this walnut panelled, book-lovers' inner sanctum.

Fascinated by the walls of books, he studied the titles on the spines and fingered through old collectors' items wearing white gloves provided for that purpose. There he read an old book called 'The Everlasting man'1. He was intrigued to read a preface: 'The point of this book, in other words, is that the next best thing to being really inside Christendom is to be really outside it. Now the best relation to our spiritual home is to be near enough to it to love it. But the next best is to be far enough away not to hate it.' 1

He read a little further. Was it about objectivity? Was he so impartial that he longed for a spiritual dimension? Did he envy or even need that purpose and contentment with life that Christians claim to have? Or was it the other? Was there an element of his being tainted by the influence of Christendom on his family so that there was a gnawing aggravation to faith?

He considered the phrases again. It was an argument for the truth of the gospel. He guessed he was outside. Far enough to not be bothered by the religious weirdos and cranks that occasionally hit the media. Far enough to say live and let live; they were entitled to their beliefs—except that he had issues. There were his family histories about religion that irked him. So he wasn't that impartial. Maybe that's what was causing him to resist, to be sceptical, before examining 'the facts'—most unscientific. Wasn't that what Naomi had intimated. Maybe his closeness did engender some hatred toward religion.

So he moved to a comfortable armchair, sat down and read some more. He found it hard going and glanced at the end of the book. What were the conclusions this Christian intellectual had come to? He read two paragraphs at the finish. The line began:

'Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.'

He was quoting the Bible he thought. There was a sense of the indestructibility of 'God's Word'.

When he finished, Daniel put it down. It was intriguing that someone could argue so passionately for a belief based on an episode in history two thousand years ago. Yet, it occurred to him that if you believed, it put the whole universe, the whole of history, into perspective. The author was arguing, of course, for the existence of Christianity itself. To the author it was not serendipitous, it was ordained. It could not just be refuted and interred into the grave of primitive mythologies, no, it was somehow empowered.

It gave Daniel pause for thought. Had he really been content to accept everything as random? It just suited him to explain 'the special human animal' as a result of eons of time. It hadn't occurred to him before, that the rate of producing someone human shouldn't alter the fact that the end product was, in a sense, miraculous. And just because science had proclaimed that that was the way it had to be, it didn't mean it had to be.

Was it true that man was an everlasting man? That the perceived virulence of faith by humanists was in fact the inexorable force of truth prevailing, as part of some divine plan? He sat back and thought. So where did it start? At Jesus? Perhaps he should read what the Bible had to say about 'the everlasting man'. Daniel had an inkling that if 'Anno Domini' were a correct description of the present era then the story began a long time before that.

The argument was similar to the claims of the converted atheist, who viewed 'government' treatment of Christianity, historically, as akin to a conspiracy to sideline it.

He knew the problem was that he wanted science to be right. It would mean that people were in control—that he was in control—that intellect and innovation would see him through. He shook his head. What was he thinking? That science was his religion—that he was a disciple of human endeavour? Is that what he wanted? If only he could know the truth. If God were true why didn't He just introduce Himself? Maybe he should ask Naomi, but he had a feeling that she would tell him it didn't work like that.

Closing his eyes, Daniel could almost feel his mind swirling through confusing possibilities. Consider the alternative; the path taken by many and, perhaps, sought by even more. Was there a world with a purpose, a God who loves and a hope in the 'everlasting man'? Was it wishful thinking, or was it true? He would have to read more.

***

When Naomi and Marcie returned they found Daniel in the library reading a Bible. He put it down quickly when they walked in, but it was clear they had noticed and there was some celebratory, self-satisfied collusion between the two.

"Do you understand what you're reading?" asked Naomi.

"What? That?" Daniel indicated defensively to the well-thumbed book and then offered a sheepish grin. "It's all very ... epic isn't it? I mean ... creation ... good and evil ... judgement."

Naomi nodded. "I'm sorry. I was being a bit flippant. You see that question was asked in the Bible by someone when they saw someone else reading scriptures."

Daniel gave a funny look. "That's a conundrum; a book that has a character reading the very same book in the book. Did he get to the part where he was reading it?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's made up of old parts and new parts. They were put together much later ..." Naomi sighed, "I didn't mean to confuse you..."

Daniel held up both hands, "No, don't apologise. I was just teasing. I'm not totally ignorant of biblical history. I just haven't made a habit of reading it."

Naomi relaxed and sat down near Daniel while Marcie who was still standing near the doorway with an amused expression spoke.

"I'll get Annie to fix us a coffee. Is that okay with you two?"

Their murmurs of thanks were all she needed to slip away quickly.

"So what did you read?" began Naomi.

"Well, I started in Genesis ... means beginning you know. So I thought I'd begin there."

"Uh huh," she responded, purposely avoiding acknowledging his silly grin.

"Well, I got past the flood and opted for the New Testament. I figured I could go back and get to know all those families some other time. Anyway, I read Matthew and got a little bit into Mark and Luke but ... I don't know ... same story, different point of view?" he said with an upward inflection.

"You could say that. Scholars call them the synoptic gospels. Pretty much means what you said."

"Mmm, well, I was just getting into John when you guys came in. I reckon there are some mind boggling concepts in just that first chapter. It's sort of poetry and philosophy and theology all wrapped into one."

There was a cute crinkle around Naomi's eyes as she gave a squinty smile. "I shouldn't have interrupted you."

"No, no it's fine. There's enough for me to mull over for a while. The whole value system of Jesus is a bit of a shock. It's a different economy than you see these days, Christians included."

"What about your Dad?" countered Naomi.

"Yeah, well ..."

"What about my parents? I'm sure I could list a whole lot of people ... but that's not the point is it?"

Daniel looked up into her soft brown eyes. "No, I guess not. It's my world I'm thinking about. I say I'm not after Marcie's money, but it's only because I'm after my own. Material success has always been in the background in my life, not always evident, but it's there. Believe it."

"Well if it's any consolation, us Christians have the same problems. It's just that we made a commitment not to head towards hang-ups like materialism and hedonism; we're going in the opposite direction. I guess we're aiming at being like Jesus and all those things are weights that can hold us back."

"Is that a cop out?" he asked, his head tilted questioningly.

"It seems like it doesn't it?" Naomi leaned forward on her seat and spoke softly. "Our pastor explains it like this: A Christian is not someone trying to do good, though there's nothing wrong with that, a Christian relies on what Jesus has done and gets infected. CS Lewis calls it a 'good infection'." She stopped and got up.

"What's wrong?" he quizzed.

She ran her hand along a row of books. "I'll bet Marcie has a copy. It's called 'Mere Christianity'2. You'd be better off reading it yourself rather than getting it second hand. Oh, here it is. Goodness; she's got three copies!" She sat down and handed him a paperback.

Just then Marcie came in with a tray of coffees and scones. Her smile lit up as she saw their proximity and the book in Daniel's hand. After acknowledging his willingness to explore some of the arguments, the discussion diverted and related more to the next few days and whether Daniel could spare the time to journey to the remaining locations. He told them he would have to consult with his colleagues before he could make a decision.

***

The next day Pat and Eric Greer contacted Marcie and appealed to her compassionate nature to allow them to re-join the quest. Pat assured her the 'children' were now out of the picture; it was just them. Marcie relented, filling them in on the past week, and insisting that they sign an agreement that in no way would they contest her decision. The assumption that everyone else had already signed similar stipulations caused them to accede to this requirement without a whimper.

Daniel spent time on the phone with Gavin mostly being convinced that they could survive for a week or two without him. Max, Erin and he were going to spend those two weeks on the west coast at the integrated circuit labs and trial production line. Although Gavin was confident that all indications suggested a successful transition to volume production, he was still keen to consult with Daniel regarding electrolytic deposition on gallium indium alloy etching. Daniel referred him to his notes and almost deferred his travel plans before his colleague held his ground and said straight out that they would let him know if they needed him. Gavin's stance, that a phone call would cover most eventualities, finally won him over.

***

The following two weeks were spent travelling to Malaysia and then to Australia. While some of the group were absolutely focussed on completing the quest, Naomi and Daniel went sightseeing. They snorkelled around coral reefs, hiked in tropical rain forests, visited theme parks and went shopping. The latter activity not entirely to Daniel's liking.

He was growing closer and closer to his beautiful companion and was trying to summon up the courage to tell Naomi how he felt.

Their last night was in Sydney and all were eating dinner in a revolving restaurant overlooking the spectacular harbour. Sitting opposite her and a little away from the others, Daniel earnestly gazed into Naomi's dewy brown eyes. As if sensing his resolve she leaned away a little and began with a nervous croak in her voice.

"I didn't tell you ... I've been accepted into Bible College."

Daniel stared trying to decipher the words. "What?" He eventually managed.

She spoke again, steadier this time. "Well, after talking with the mission society, they were pleased to support my application to serve in Africa, but they said I had to complete a year in Bible College first. So that's what I'll do ... starting next month."

There was a dull ache in Daniel's stomach. He was angry and sad at the same time. Her eyes averted as she sensed his pain. There was a tremor in her words as she spoke, "I'm sorry ... I should have told you." She gathered herself, "Dan, I've really appreciated being with you. I ... I mean you're a great guy and ... and, well ... I know this is what I have to do." Her eyes were glistening now; and even more so when she saw his downcast eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Looking around she became aware of glances from the others. Barely audibly she spoke again, "I've been unfair to you."

Daniel tried to say something but his throat was tight and in that instant he didn't trust his emotions.

"I should go," he managed to utter. Then he just got up and left the restaurant. In a trance he descended the elevator and exited the building. Soon he was walking along the harbour-side, gulping in the mild, salt tainted air and wondering; at what point had he fallen in love with Naomi? He didn't see the shimmering lights on the water or the immense arched bridge spanning the stretch between the north and south of the city; he just trudged through a vortex of emotions.

Was it this religious fervour that had ruined his life again? Could Naomi's faith mean more to her than being with him? Had he over estimated their relationship? Somehow he imagined, even assumed that she had affection for him. Surely it was mutual. It had felt shared.

Now he felt foolish. Confusion created a mist in his mind. For the first time since his mother's passing he wanted to cry. If God was in this, what sort of a God is he? Does God drive away everyone that he loves? He walked back through the streets and, almost like a taunt, was confronted by a sign; Eternity it said. He recalled his reading 'The Everlasting man'. What was he being told? That there's more ... that compared to eternity his life was inconsequential? He stared at the shiny metallic sign. He would have to read more ... maybe locate a copy of 'The Everlasting Man' on the internet.

He shuffled back to his hotel room, dazed by his turmoil, still aching inside from the perceived abandonment.

Sleep eluded Daniel for some time as he dwelt on trying to isolate a rationale for his life. He hadn't looked for a relationship, but somehow his life had become enmeshed with Naomi's, and now he was stranded. Could he retrace his steps and pretend it hadn't happened? He doubted it. Thumping his pillow, once, twice and then with a third aggressive punch for good measure, he collapsed on his stomach. In his insomnia he tossed and turned, attempting to find a more comfortable position.

Chapter 7

Escaping the hotel early, Daniel fled for the airport and caught one of the first flights back to the States. By doing so, he reasoned, he avoided the distress of having to make polite conversation with Naomi and pretending that nothing had happened. This way he had put a full stop to a chapter in his life. He would start again.

A gnawing feeling inside him left him restless. Comparing graph results emailed to him on his computer distracted him briefly but images of Naomi's smiling face as they swam in the sea or walked on a beach kept appearing in his mind like some video replay—a cruel reminder of his shattered dreams.

***

Later that morning, as the rest of the group were checking out of the hotel, Marcie handed Naomi a note. It read, 'Have taken an earlier flight – Daniel'. There was no apology, no explanation, just a curt note saying he was gone.

"It's my fault," murmured Naomi. "I've hurt him. I was too busy enjoying his friendship to realise that the very thing I had to tell him would aggravate an old wound."

Marcie raised her eyebrows but said nothing. It wasn't the time or place for some maternal advice. She stored, for later, some comments that came to mind. Not that she wanted to interfere with a noble calling; it was just that she wanted to ensure that Naomi wasn't going to chase after a course of action—some personal crusade—just because of misplaced loyalty to her father. If, on the other hand, she genuinely was drawn to the mission field, Marcie would support her whole heartedly.

Naomi spent the return trip blankly staring out at the blue Pacific, chiding herself for her emotional entanglement. She desperately tried to assure herself that the churning feeling she was experiencing was an expected trial; it was part of the price of a life of devotion. Was this going to be her weakness? Her aunt had said bluntly, 'don't brood, get on with life.' Perhaps the stern words Marcie had dealt out were magnifying the pain she felt.

She hoped that when things settled down she wouldn't have that sense of loss that she had now. Her eyes blurred with tears. She closed them, took a deep breath and pretended to sleep.

***

Daniel visited the circuit manufacturers on his way back to Boston. Max was the only one still there as only a few issues had arisen. He brought Daniel up to date and declared confidently that 'things were cool'; which was his way of telling his boss to go home and rest up.

Back at Wafer Chip Research, the crew quizzed Daniel about his holiday and struggled to extract more than a couple of sentences about each destination. It took Erin's feminine perceptiveness to discern the storm that raged beneath the calm veneer affected by Daniel. She brought a coffee to his office and caringly placed her hand on his.

"Are you okay? Anything you want to talk about?" She looked into his face and detected a slight clench before he replied.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Mm ..." Erin was unconvinced. "Well if you want to talk, I'm here."

Daniel forced a smile and glanced up at the pretty red head. He was quite fond of Erin and the tousled, wispy new hairstyle framing her face made her look cute.

"I'll remember that," he managed, just as a vision of Naomi flooded his thoughts. He closed his eyes and sighed. Erin tapped his hand and started to leave. Stopping at the door she turned to meet his upturned gaze. "You should call her," she advised.

He looked at the phone as the door closed. 'Probably not,' he thought. There was nothing to say. She had been honest with him from the beginning. He had just assumed that things had changed.

The phone rang and he jolted upright. Vacillating as to whether to answer the phone or let it ring out to the recorded message, he finally succumbed to its demands.

"Hello, Daniel Treloar speaking." As he spoke Marnie peaked through the door, wondering about the phone, and mouthed 'okay'? He held up a hand and nodded and she retreated quietly.

"Daniel, it's Marcie. We're meeting at the lawyers' office; Haversack and Neesham, this afternoon to conclude the quest. I'd like you to be there."

"I won't be there," Daniel answered flatly.

"Daniel, don't be unreasonable. Everyone will be expecting you."

"I'm not going Marcie. I've wasted enough time swanning about. I don't need your money."

"I know ... I heard you're financially independent. You don't need anyone." The words were laced with sarcasm. "What about Earl though. Not willing to represent him?"

"Is this some kind of blackmail?"

"Maybe, but I think you owe Naomi an apology anyway ... leaving like that without a word."

Just hearing her name stirred an ache within him. Of course he wanted to see her again, but what was the use? With the phone back in its cradle, he contemplated what lay ahead. Ultimately, he caved in with the rationale that he was going for Earl.

***

Pulling up in his Porsche in the angle parking, he walked the remaining fifty yards to the glass fronted office building. The whole fourth floor was taken up by the law firm. Inside, the others were already gathered in a conference room. They had collected on the right side where there were window views.

His searching eyes quickly located Naomi's demure figure sitting next to the female paralegal. Casual in blue jeans, white long sleeve shirt and knitted vest, she still looked elegant. Her conversation was diverted by a comment from the PA. She glanced sidelong in his direction and forced a brave smile. He steeled himself with a steadying breath and focussed on Garth, who was getting everyone's attention. By the time Daniel had distractedly dawdled to the conference table Garth was already reprising the criteria of the quest.

He wound up. "Everyone who responded to the question; 'What is Marcie's most valuable asset?' qualifies for the bequest. Marcie has the responses and she will now bring her decision." The lawyer made a slight theatrical flourish as Marcie walked to the fore of the assembly.

"Thank you everyone for coming. I have some interesting answers to my challenge; and I've decided to reward everyone for just joining in on the quest. I believe it my prerogative to make such a choice." She eyed Haversack for confirmation, and he gave a little nod.

"Firstly," she went on, "two people have made no response." Her gaze found Naomi.

"Naomi, have you any comment about my most valuable asset?"

With all staring in her direction, the girl gave an agitated shake of the head.

"I'm not getting involved Aunt Marcie," she said hoarsely. "You know where I'm heading."

Daniel shrivelled inside. Did he come just to be reminded that something that was becoming more than a friendship, a relationship that seemed so real, was now disintegrating just because of religion. He heard disjointed voices and nearby muttering as he fixated on the idea that people's faith had so intruded on his life.

Daniel!" The name had been repeated twice now, and it was his turn to be the centre of attention.

"Yes Aunt Marcie," The words came out with some bitterness.

"What do you think I value most?"

"Your precious faith of course," The rancour was still evident in his voice. "My mother, my father ... you drew them in ..." he struggled for words. "Anyway, you're giving your wealth away, so it's not valuable to you anymore."

There was a nervous hush as whispers conspired together and agreed that it was the end of any chance Daniel had of profiting from this meeting. But Marcie thought otherwise.

"All right, thank you Daniel. That's probably the most accurate assessment I've had." Marcie gained their attention. "So ... I've made my decision. When everyone has travelled so far to get to this point, I don't have the heart to not provide some ... er compensation. So, upon the sale of assets and the settling of my business matters; the Greers, the Scottish Quentins and Earl Treloar will all receive one million dollars."

An abrupt clamour of exclamations and questions was allowed to settle before Marcie continued. "The remaining funds will be placed in a Trust Fund. Naomi Stockton and Daniel Treloar will be nominated trustees to deal with the funds for charitable purposes, as they see fit. I would think their disinterest in personal wealth qualifies them to administer the trust."

The Greers, their children not present, were surprisingly agreeable to the outcome; no ranting or stomping out. It was as if the last month or so of travelling together as a couple, rather than their whole family, had somehow nurtured a relationship that was now more substantial than monetary reward. The sharing of stories and experiences had enriched their lives in a way that their scrabbling to better themselves never could.

Donald, who had joined Morna for the meeting, just hugged his wife. Naomi and Daniel were bewildered by it all. Heather grabbed Naomi's hand and led her to Daniel. They regarded each other numbly.

Well, you two are going to have to talk now. No good keeping this little spat going on when you've got twenty million dollars to look after. Oh, that Marcie is a canny one," she almost giggled. She patted Daniel on the shoulder and then left to talk with Marcie.

"I don't want the money Dan," Naomi said throatily. Her hand touched his. He recoiled visibly, not sure of his bruised emotions.

"What? You think I do? As far as I'm concerned you can have it all."

Naomi was viewing her feet, deep in thought. Raising her head she met his eyes with a tight lipped smile. "Maybe we can meet tomorrow and settle on some charitable trust."

"Yeah, maybe," Daniel granted reluctantly.

Naomi studied his tortured features. She wanted to tell him she cared, that her heart flipped in his presence, but it was more complicated than that. How could she do what she must do if she wasn't single minded?

"I'll give you a call tomorrow, okay?" she said quietly.

"Okay," he responded barely audibly. He stood there reflecting. Did he secretly want the money? Was that why he had stayed involved? He had considerable funds and the promise of more, but Marcie's wealth would get him so much more. Maybe his protestations were just pride and concealed his underlying greed.

Daniel looked around the room at his jubilant relatives. Did they get what they wanted? What did he want? What was he trying to gain from all this? His gaze fixed on Naomi who was talking with Heather. At least she seemed to know what she wanted.

A short time later Naomi excused herself from the animated conversations. The sight of her spurning an offered cup of coffee with upheld hand resonated with Daniel as a depiction of her response to him, the smile ... the 'no thanks'... the polite escape, all so emblematic of her courteous rebuff of him. He almost wished there had been an explosive argument with raging denunciations so he could feel some enmity toward her. Instead, he knew, as he examined her graceful exit, that he still loved her.

The admission stunned him. He had to do something. Immobilised, staring blankly at the door she had gone through, a sound pierced his consciousness. Words; someone was speaking. "Are you all right?"

It was Heather. He looked at her and without acknowledging her query, strode off in the direction of the door.

"Oh that Marcie is a canny one all right," she said softly.

Outside the offices, he saw Naomi walking toward her repaired, paint spattered, blue Toyota. Daniel ran to her, "Naomi," he called. She looked up. A perplexed expression appeared as she saw him running. He slowed down as he suddenly wondered what he would say. Naomi looked at him expectantly as he drew near. Three words hovered at the back of his mind; three life changing words. Would he say them? Could he say them knowing that everything would change.

"I ... I ..." was all Daniel managed before hulking forms appeared beside him. He was knocked to the ground and punched viciously on the side of the head.

Vaguely he sensed someone grabbing Naomi. She was screaming. Was that his name? Coarse threatening commands, slamming doors and a roar of a car engine penetrated the kaleidoscopic dance of colours across his vision. All faded to black momentarily before he regained consciousness, becoming hazily aware of shouts and the slapping of feet on the pavement. Dazed, he felt arms turning him face up.

It seemed to take ages for him to understand what was being said. The warbling, garbled tones finally distilled into meaningful words.

"Are you all right?"

"I saw it all." From a high pitched voice. "Three men ... knocked him down and kidnapped the girl."

"Call the police," growled a deeper voice."

He couldn't see! His eyes wouldn't open. Either his eyes were refusing to open, or he was blind. Daniel squeezed his eyes and squinted. Shadows surrounded him. Hands were supporting his head.

Soon after, faces and bodies became joined to the reaching hands. While he was attempting to focus, the group parted to the insistent clamour of an authoritarian voice. It was Marcie.

"Stand back. Give him some air. Daniel, are you all right?"

He tried to nod but a jabbing pain lanced across his jaw and, instead, a loud moan blurted out. Daniel touched the growing welt on his face. He tried to sit up but everything spun, he swayed and arms had to support him to lie down again.

Police cars screeched to a halt alongside the curb and double parked next to Naomi's car. An ambulance arrived simultaneously and the attendants asserted the right to examine Daniel as a priority. Concerned by his disorientation, and despite his protestations, he was put in the ambulance and taken to a nearby hospital.

The police spent half an hour questioning witnesses while calling in an 'all-points bulletin' on a dark sedan with some plate numbers loosely suggested by various onlookers.

***

Naomi was terrified. She screamed out Daniel's name as he collapsed under the savage assault of one hefty brute and a wiry accomplice. A third assailant pinned her arms to her side in a crushing bear hug and hoisted her bodily around in an arc into the open door of a dark sedan. He tumbled in on top of her, restraining her flailing arms as the door was slammed behind him.

She screamed again as the other two piled in the front and started the engine. A squeal of tyres prefaced a rapid acceleration, and a harsh voice yelled, "Shut her up Squint."

A bottle was extracted from his pocket. She shoved and scratched at the balaclava clad mass squashing her. Forced down into the far corner of the back seat, she gagged as cotton cloth soaked with the sickly sweet, sharp smell of ether was jammed against her nose and mouth. Instantaneously aware of the hazard of inhaling, Naomi stopped her breathing. She vigorously resisted for five long seconds then gradually relaxed completely.

She indistinctly heard, "Ooh ... did you have to do that in the car? You'll put us all under. Put her in the trunk."

The car screeched to a halt as, in desperation for oxygen, she inhaled the noxious fumes. Almost unconscious now, Naomi felt herself bundled like a rag doll into the trunk. The ether soaked cloth was thrown in her direction and landed near her face. Hardly registering the thudding trunk and overcome by the rapidly evaporating fumes, she sank into a stupor.

Minutes later, in a gloomy alley, the car skidded to a stop. All three kidnappers tumbled out and hastily transferred her to the trunk of a waiting sedan. All the time they were taking deep breaths to try and clear their lungs. The cloth, nearly dry now, was thrown on her face again.

Heading off in the second vehicle at a much more sedate pace the front passenger remarked, "That wasn't too difficult was it Reg?"

"We still have to get her to Wills' place."

"What then?"

"Then I'll let him know we got her. He can contact the scientist and let him know we've got his girl."

Squint spoke for the first time. "When do we get the money?" The throaty gravel sound told of his heavy smoking.

"Be patient Squint. When Will gets the stuff, we'll get our money."

"What do we do with the girl?" It was the passenger again.

"Dump her ... she hasn't seen us so she can't hurt us."

Naomi was slowly coming to. A nauseating fog clogged her mind and a dry unpleasant aftertaste stung her throat. She tried to think. What was happening? The dark space, the cloying smells; it all took a while to process. Muted sounds of rough speech droned in audio relief to the growling hum of tyres on tarmac.

As lucidity returned an essential idea formed. It was crucial to get away; if that was not possible, then to leave a message. A message! Her phone ... she felt in her pocket. She still had her phone! Fumbling, she eased it out. Before she could get it open she dry retched violently.

Convulsions of stomach contractions wracked her body, but all her empty stomach gave up was a sour slug of gastric fluid. Shaking and wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Naomi dialled 911.

After a harrowing interlude the operator answered; "What is your emergency?"

To Naomi it seemed to shriek aloud. She cupped her hands about the cell phone and tried to whisper, "I'm being abducted." Her mouth wasn't cooperating and it came out as a muffled moan.

"I'm sorry, could you speak up please?" came the reply.

Concentrating and trying to reword her urgent situation Naomi spoke in short syllables.

"I'm ... trapped ... in ... a ... car." It was still mumbled, but clearer this time.

"Where are you now?" The tone indicated an increased appreciation of danger.

"I ... don't ... know."

At this point, amazingly, the synchronicity of police department procedures came to the fore. Alerted that an abduction had just recently occurred, a supervisor monitoring calls quickly made the correlation. Immediately, technicians were instructed to trace the source of the mobile signal and the operator was given specific advice.

"Don't talk ... just keep the line open," she instructed, adhering strictly to the advice.

Reports were flooding in. The kidnap car had been located. Everyone waited as a squad of officers approached it. The technicians were already informing them that the call was coming from some distance away from the initially identified stolen car.

A senior officer commented, "They've switched cars."

At the same time news arrived that the car was abandoned in an alley and there was no trace of the girl.

"Did you give her enough chloroform?" Reg turned and asked Squint.

"I couldn't get chloroform. It's ether ... works just as well though."

The big man, the nameless accomplice, responded for Squint. "She should be out to it. I'm still woozy and I didn't have it stuffed in my mouth like she did."

"Should I give her some more?" growled Squint zealously; his enjoyment of applying the dope very apparent.

"Nah! Any more of that stuff in the car and I'll lose it. Just keep an ear out for her. If you hear anything let me know." He kept swinging the car through suburban streets north of the river.

"Where are you head'n?" It was the big man again.

"Just wanted to make sure we aren't tailed," sneered Reg, satisfied with how things were turning out.

"It should be safe to double back now. There are no cops anywhere."

The wiry driver with angular, rat like features had a smug expression. He said nothing as he deviated down another side street and followed the light traffic until he approached the sought after intersection. Veering right he drove onto a main thoroughfare in a different direction.

Clarity infiltrated the numbness in Naomi's head as it pounded with the after effects of the anaesthesia. The vibration of the wheels exaggerated the pressure on her temples. Where were the police? What were they doing?

"Are you still there?" she whispered forcefully into the phone.

An unexpected, softer, mellow, male voice replied, "We're still here. Just sit tight. We're tracking the car at this moment."

Just sit tight! She wanted to scream. What else could she do? The new emergency incident handler kept his calm. His even control hadn't informed her of the flurry of activity and flustered shouting of commands flying through the headsets.

"They've changed direction. We need cars three, five and seventeen to set up an intercept on Broadway at Eastern ... that's right they're now on West Broadway going north. Units seven and fourteen get onto West Broadway... leave a buffer till they near the intercept. Jack, could you come South from Bennett?"

Units that were just monitoring the alert were suddenly thrust into the action and police farther south that had been readying a road block, noticeably slumped at the release of tension.

Jerking forward and back for traffic light stoppages, Naomi shone her phone light around the dark capsule. From the wheel well she retrieved a wheel brace ... 'Sufficient to do some damage,' she thought uncharacteristically.

All at once sirens were wailing, brakes were screeching, thugs were yelling and cursing and the car crunched into some immoveable object, flinging her against the back seat. More yelling, thumping on car panels and suddenly the late afternoon setting sun painfully blinding her as the trunk was flung open. With a hand shielding the sun, Naomi gripped one extension of the brace and held it up threateningly.

Contrary to his training, the heavily vested policeman blustered with a raucous laugh as he saw the attractive girl unconvincingly poised to strike.

"Give her a hand Mac." The silhouetted outline of another policeman spoke. The first officer didn't approach though.

"You're safe Ma'am. You can put the tyre lever down now." Naomi hesitated, unsure who was speaking.

Her eyes gradually adjusted to the glare and she saw a group of uniformed men gathering around, a little too cheerful for her liking. She placed the brace down and extended her hand to the outstretched arm. Seeing that Naomi was trembling with delayed shock, a policewoman wrapped her in a blanket and sat her in a squad car.

Now the focus of caring and concerned inquiries, Naomi crumbled into tears. The more she tried to stifle her gasps the more she sobbed. It took a few minutes for the wave of emotion to subside. Then another bout of retching and her head began to clear.

"What's your name?" the policewoman asked, more to establish her condition than determine her identity. Naomi looked up at her. She had kindly grey eyes and a spray of freckles across her nose. "Naomi ... Naomi Stockton," she responded.

"I'm Officer Gomes. I'll just get the sergeant to come and talk to you."

Naomi nodded.

What ensued was a preliminary information collection session. Did she know who the abductors were? Did she know why they had taken her? Did she know where they were taking her? Had they beaten her? Naomi repeatedly shook her head and offered a diminutive 'no' to each question.

"So there's no reason for someone to kidnap you? Are you wealthy, or do you have wealthy relatives?" The sergeant was just winding up.

"Well, I suppose it could have been for ransom." She looked up a bit bewildered. "I've just been made a co-trustee of a twenty million dollar estate."

The sergeant stood stock still gazing at the pretty girl with the grimy face as she gave an apologetic smile. He wondered how such a fact could occur to her as an afterthought.

"Twenty million dollars," he said appreciatively. He called in his findings only to discover that investigators from uptown had already established from the other victim that a considerable amount of money was involved. They had interviewed him in hospital.

A cry from the car drew his attention. He turned. Gomes called out, "She wants to know if the other victim, Daniel Treloar, is all right."

After a few more words on the radio, the sergeant assured Naomi that Daniel was just knocked about a bit, but was well and resting in hospital. He promised to take her there after getting her formal statement at the station.

Chapter 8

Evening had considerably advanced when Naomi was admitted into Daniel's hospital room. A red haired girl was hovering over the bed giggling at some comment Daniel had made. Equivocating uncomfortably in the doorway, Naomi was about to withdraw when Daniel hailed her. "Naomi ... come in ... ooh, he clutched his face as pain stabbed the side where he had been struck. The girl spun around, surprised at her appearance. Naomi noted the cute upturned nose and the bright blue eyes.

Daniel continued speaking, but more circumspectly, with smaller mouth movements. "Naomi, this is Erin. Erin works with me developing micro circuits." Erin gave a nervous little smile and a small, fluttering hand wave type greeting. Immediately Naomi noted the affection in her gaze as she looked at Daniel. She sensed that she was imposing in the awkwardness of Erin's reaction.

"I should come back another time," she demurred.

"No, no stay," Daniel insisted.

"Yes, stay," added Erin's chirpy voice. Then less convincingly and with a hint of disappointment she went on, "I'm just visiting my boss in hospital ... making sure he's okay." She gave a sunny smile tinged with regret. "I have to go now anyway." She leaned over and gave Daniel a gentle peck on the cheek before turning to go. "Nice meeting you Naomi." She waved to both of them at the doorway and then was gone.

"She's lovely Dan ... sort of sparkly personality," observed Naomi quietly.

"Yeah, she's a nice kid. As keen as mustard at the lab; always volunteering for extra tasks."

"Mm," responded Naomi knowingly.

Daniel switched the subject of the conversation. "So how are you after your ordeal? Sorry I wasn't much help."

She approached the side of the bed and felt a strong yearning for him. Usually, he was in control, but now he looked vulnerable and in need. She wondered if it was her sympathetic nature or whether it was because she really did care for him. She touched his bruised face tenderly.

"They really whacked you didn't they?"

He answered her comment with a strained smile that distorted into a grimace.

"You could say that." He picked up her left hand and stroked the fingers as she lifted his sandy fringe with her right hand and exposed a bump on the right forehead.

"Ooh, that's nasty."

"It's where I landed. Doctor said that's what knocked me out; and, probably why I'm staying here overnight for observation."

Shyly, Naomi withdrew the hand he had just started caressing. She indirectly justified her action with several combing flicks through her hair, training it behind her ear.

"The police believe the attackers wanted a ransom." She had a far off look as if her mind were tracking an elusive phantom of an idea.

"What do you think?" Daniel prodded.

"It's possible. Would you have paid it?" she asked candidly, with the beginnings of her appealing dimple forming in her cheek.

"It's your money," he teased.

"It's not. It's in a trust, or will be. We're co trustees so we have to manage this together."

"Yeah, well I'll relinquish my trusteeship to you."

"You can't just give it up."

"Why not? The last thing I want is to be in Marcie's debt because she's given me a packet of money."

"You're just too proud and stubborn aren't you?" she retorted with increased aggravation.

He reflected for a moment before contributing a cynical self-evaluation. "That's part of my problem." He cut short from listing or elaborating on the growing guilt of his self-centred, materialistic existence.

Naomi tilted her head questioningly, expecting that he might go on. He mimicked her tilt. "You need to go home and get some rest. You look worn out."

"Are we still on for a meeting tomorrow?"

He shook his head slowly. "They won't tell me till tomorrow whether I'm going home. Apparently, I have to have a scan or something."

"Maybe Thursday then?" she suggested.

"Maybe ..." He was still dwelling on 'proud and stubborn'.

"I've got some ideas about setting up a charitable foundation..." She began as he closed his eyes from another jab of pain that seared behind his eyes.

"Dan, are you okay?" Concern flowed from her gaze as she leaned closer.

"Headache," he groaned. Her hand went back to his face and gently rubbed the uninjured side.

"I'll come in tomorrow if you're still here." She planted a soft kiss on his lips and quickly fled as she cross examined herself. Where had that come from? She had never been impulsive; no one ever would describe her as 'spontaneous'. Her actions were usually organised, premeditated, even clinical, but never random like this.

Daniel lay still, eyes closed, savouring that kiss. The light fragrance of her perfume lingered around him. He had glimpsed her departure and then luxuriated in the intimacy of that moment. Maybe there was hope after all.

Wednesday had him cleared of brain damage and warned about the ongoing side effects of concussion. Erin called in after lunch. She was delighted to hear he was being discharged and that she was able to drive him home.

In his town house she fussed and mothered him and then strangely, to him, promptly excused herself when he contacted Naomi.

They had to get together. He suggested going somewhere to eat for lunch. It was a bit of a drive. Naomi sounded less decisive about what to do.

"You know we're going to have to discuss the trust at some stage, don't you?" he declared.

"Yes, I know. But at the moment I'm really confused about us ... and I don't want to give you the wrong impression."

Daniel thought briefly. There must be a way to do this and make her realise that they were still in danger. Whoever it was, had now tried three times so they were determined and desperate.

"How about I pick you up at ten tomorrow and I tell you what I'm thinking. If you have any issues I'll turn around and drive you home."

"Okay, Daniel ...and Daniel, I'm sorry ..." The words conveyed so much meaning in the way she said them. He sensed the torment in her. "Forget it ..." he was a bit terse, because he couldn't forget.

"See you at ten then." Her tone registered some pain at his reaction.

He made a call to Max. Max was a fixer. Somehow he had a way of knowing someone who knew someone who could do a favour. The call was a hypothetical. 'What were the chances', type of question, if they wanted to do something irregular. After some to-ing and froing with some details, Max said to leave it with him. There was a heightened excitement in his voice.

***

The warm, early autumn weather was ideal for the pleasant drive to Rockport. Daniel held the car door open and looked approvingly at Naomi as she came over. Her first sight was his injured face. Mottled blue and yellow discolouration blotched the area where he had been struck.

"How's your head?" she looked up with concern in her eyes.

"It's a bit tender." He felt the raised flesh on the side of his head. Naomi lifted his fringe to check the lump where he made contact with the pavement.

"Well, I think you're a quick healer. It doesn't look too bad."

"That's good," he replied, not admitting to the recurring, almost chronic, headaches he was experiencing.

The leisurely, normally sixty minute, drive was punctuated by a stop off at a fruit stall, and then Daniel was talked into a walk along Good Harbour Beach in Gloucester. The fifteen minute wade through the shallows gave Naomi a chance to quiz him.

"Have you read 'Mere Christianity' yet?"

Daniel pulled a face. "I thought this ... 'stretching my legs' had ulterior motives."

She grinned, "Have you?"

"I've started."

"Well, what are your thoughts?"

Daniel reflected a moment. "I guess I'm still standing outside looking into the hallway."

She presumed he was referring to the idea of faith. In a way he was, but in truth he was specifically rephrasing Lewis' stated aim to draw others into the hallway so that they could then choose which doorway or 'communion' to enter; a reference to the denominations that clung to the periphery of Christendom, and were secondary to Lewis' way of thinking.

"Lewis talked about it," he said, seeing her puzzlement.

"I don't actually remember that part."

"It's just in his preface. I've read his argument about good and evil ... the idea of right, a natural law, being evidence for the existence of a higher order. It's a fairly compelling case, but ultimately, as he says, it comes down to what you choose to believe."

Turning in front of him to block his progress she asked, "So, you've just started then?" She had a self-satisfied, almost cheeky, dimpled grin that charmed him.

"Uh huh." His appreciation of his slender companion with the rolled up jeans and sneakers over her shoulder restricted his breathing. Her angled gaze into his face seemed to harmonise with his own gaze and flagged their mutual attraction and increasing closeness.

Suddenly aware that her guard was down, Daniel clasped her hand. "Come on, we need to go." They walked back along the hardened sand and through shallow, cool water hand in hand. Naomi was strangely aware that she was enjoying the thing that she had purposely avoided—the strengthening of their relationship. Rinsing the sand off their feet at the car park they walked barefoot to the yellow Porsche before putting socks and shoes back on.

At the car he threw a couple of headache tablets, dry, down his throat. In reply to her curious glance, he assured her that he was fine.

The drive along Thatcher Road into South Street accessing the main street of Rockport took only a few minutes. Daniel filled her in on some of his boating experiences with Gavin, who kept his yacht moored in Rockport. Pulling onto a promontory surrounded by small harbours and having numerous restaurants, knick-knack shops and studios, they entered a restaurant with a harbour view and a tantalising variety of seafood dishes.

It wasn't long before Daniel outlined his plan.

"Why do you think it's them?" Naomi's brow furrowed.

"They're the common factor. They had our itinerary. They went out of their way to accommodate Aunt Marcy; something most law firms would only do if they were free to bill their time, not constrained by a fixed quote. And Reagan said something about my business as if he knew more than just having a passing interest."

"So, what do you hope to find in their offices?"

"Something that gives us a clue as to who their clients are; maybe something of their plans, so that we can be prepared ..."

"I don't understand. What do you want me to do?" She was still perplexed.

"Explain to Haversack that I've offered to set up the trust fund. Just ask them for advice. I'm sure they'll suggest that you show them the paperwork before you sign anything."

"How will that help you?"

"You'll be wearing a tiny camera that will have infra-red detection. It will help locate CCTV points and give me an idea of the layout of the offices."

Naomi was wide eyed. "You're going to break in?"

Daniel nodded.

"Well, I won't be any part of that. You're crazy! And it's illegal!" she was affronted. "Is this what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes but ..." Daniel struggled to justify his approach.

Even though she was only halfway through her meal Naomi stood. "I think you should take me home."

"Naomi!" he called as she walked toward the door. Many pairs of eyes from other customers glanced up, and many whispered comments followed. Daniel set off after her. He diverted his course to go to the counter. He quickly paid enough to cover the bill while casting glances in her direction as she went outside.

He jogged toward her. When he caught up he matched her pace. She briskly continued walking to the car as he tried to explain.

"Naomi, these are people who kidnapped you, had gunmen shoot at you; you don't want them to get away with that do you?"

"You don't know that for sure. And just because they do the wrong thing doesn't mean we should."

"What! So we do nothing! These people are lawyers. Unless we have some facts we won't be able to touch them."

She had arrived at the car and her turn toward him appeared quite hostile.

"So you want to involve me in this scheme in the hope that you'll get some facts."

Daniel remained silent for a few seconds, looking at her sparking eyes. "Forget it," he said. "I'm sorry I suggested it." He opened the door for her and then went to his own side.

The drive back was tense with muted offerings from both sides. His thoughts examined his own value system. He had always been one for action and dealt with any opposition head on. He saw it as one of his strengths to not take a backward step and be largely self-reliant. Now, for the first time, he was questioning himself. Could he be more passive? How could he just let things happen to him without reacting?

After he left Naomi at her place and had taken a couple more pain killers, he turned back north again to Peabody. Daniel dropped in at work amidst protests that he should take the rest of the week off.

He sought out Max, who was a gadget guru, especially when it came to modern electronics. Daniel was aware that what he was about to do was patently illegal so he had ensured that Max was on board in terms of confidentiality.

"Have you got the camera and infra-red detector?"

Max grinned, "Yep, and that's not all. I managed to get some schematics for the building." In response to Daniel's raised eyebrows he explained, "... when you know the right people ... Anyway, I figure it'll be safer just to shut down the power. Go in with some night glasses ..." He held up some goggles. "And just use the light when you're checking the files."

"What about battery powered cameras?"

"Well, there's always that. I suggest you wear dark clothing, cover your face ... and be discreet." Max had a mischievous smile. "Seriously, I might tag along to help you with the technical stuff."

Daniel made a face.

"Okay, you could probably handle it, but an extra pair of hands is always handy." He chuckled at his pun. "And why should you have all the fun?"

"Because I'm the one who'll get in trouble if I'm caught."

"Oh, come on Dan ... it'll be a lot easier and safer if you have some help."

A quiet stare examined his colleague. "Okay," conceded Daniel. "You can keep watch. But get out of there the moment there's any sign of trouble."

Max beamed. This would be a great story to tell ... sometime in the distant future.

Suddenly his face brightened even more. "There may be some other things I can help you with." He got up and disappeared out the door. Daniel opened an internet map of the business district that showed the building in which 'Haversack & Neesham' offices were located. He mapped out routes of approach and escape. Meticulously, he studied the building plans. Once inside he would have to move quickly and hope he found what he was looking for. He made a mental note of his procedure. Check desk and any notebooks first, then filing cabinet second. He wouldn't waste time on any computer as that was too risky and required expertise, and probably passwords, that he didn't have. The fact that Max had planned on shutting down the power hadn't really registered.

About half an hour later, Max arrived back in his office. His smirking face begged the question.

"What have you got?" Daniel asked suspiciously.

Max opened a large, black plastic garbage bag. "Cleaner's overalls ... They actually belong to the company that cleans that building."

"How did you—"

Max cut him off, "Well you might ask ... remember I told you it's who you know?"

"Yeah."

"Well my brother in law owns the cleaning business." As if anticipating how the conversation had arisen he went on, "I had just mentioned to him I was doing some research on business premises in the city for someone. Did he know of Telnet Offices? And voila, he tells me it's one of their clients."

"So, he gives you the overalls?" Daniel sounded astounded.

Max replied with a sneaky grin, "Not exactly. I sort of just dropped by and picked them up."

"So, what happened to dark clothing and shutting down the power?" Daniel was amused by Max's fertile mind.

"That's plan B. This way everything seems normal. I'll tell them Bernard sent us to help out, watch them and learn on the job then we'll have clear access to the office. You've been there before haven't you?"

"Just their conference room." He pointed to the diagram in front of him. "These are the offices. I'm not sure which one's Haversack's, but he's my prime suspect."

Further conversation was about photographing any documents they would find, wearing gloves and keeping option B, of shutting down the power, in mind if things proved a bit dodgy.

"Oh, and I'll drive my dad's blue Nissan. That Porsche of yours will attract too much attention."

"Okay," Daniel had no arguments there, "Can you pick me up at ten?"

"No problems, and don't forget your dark clothes; you know, plan B."

So it was all set. After wandering around in the laboratory, nosing through some of the research results, and again being scolded for being on the premises, Daniel left to rest a bit at home and ease another developing headache.

A text arrived from Naomi. It said; 'Don't do anything unorthodox ... can't talk now ... will meet tomorrow.'

Daniel grinned at her avoidance of the word 'illegal' and replied; 'Too late, everything is in the works ... will let you know how it goes.'

He felt too nervous to eat a meal so he snacked on some fruit and crisps. His attempt to make some headway mapping out his nanotube research was unproductive because his mind strayed to his ethics, or lack of them, and his overall moral condition. The words of Lewis about a morality based on Christian principles and how it was futile without it being enacted as part of the Christian life, chafed at his conscience. That was his issue now. He had chosen to be pragmatic instead of principled.

Even while he was justifying his actions another text arrived from Naomi. It just said; 'Don't.'

When he didn't respond his phone started ringing. It was Naomi. He turned his phone off. He was in no mood to be preached at. He was trying to save their lives for goodness sake! The end justified the means, didn't it?

The evening dragged on. He tried reading more of his book and wondered at the author's careful use of words. The way he likened Christian charity to the left of politics but refrained from saying a Christian's respect of authority was like the right; and Daniel surmised it was because the British were in a fierce war with the Nazi regime at the time.

He picked up the Bible he had been given and tried to reconcile some of the words he read in Hebrews with what he knew from the other passages he had read.

Daniel meditated on the idea that 'God was mindful of him ...' that, somehow it all hinged on Jesus Christ. Irrespective of what flavour of Christianity you adhered to; it seemed that Christ did what had to be done in his crucifixion to remedy the malady that beset man. As the God man he bridged the gap. It was much the same as what CS Lewis had written.

He felt less certain now about the proposed actions for that night. Maybe there was some other way. He growled at himself. It was unlike him to equivocate, to second guess himself to the point where any decisive action was jeopardised. No, he and Max would uncover the truth about Haversack and Neesham's involvement, even if it took all night. Besides, Max would be disappointed if he pulled the plug after all their preparations.

They would just look around.

***

When Max arrived, Daniel noticed his nervous grin. Both were on edge. A quick review of what they would say and do was a precursor to a cross examination of each other; did you remember such and such ... what about ...?

"Should you even be out tonight?" growled Max as Daniel squeezed his eyes in reaction to a stab of pain. Max made a gritted teeth smile empathetically at his friend's noticeable reaction to the pain.

"I'll be okay," he managed as he grimaced at another wave of throbbing ache. Deftly he palmed some tablets and threw them into his mouth, swallowing them with a gulp. He then checked his diminishing supply.

Finally, they set off for the city address. Having stopped a short distance away from their destination, they both put on a pair of cleaner's overalls.

The Nissan was just pulling away from the curb when a police car darted past. Max deviated erratically for a second, clearly spooked by the sudden appearance of the law. Nearing the office building they saw that another squad car was positioned diagonally opposite.

"Keep going and we'll come back from the opposite direction," suggested Daniel anxiously.

"What if they're looking for suspicious characters? These overalls will be hard to explain."

As they drove past a policeman emerged from the building and glanced at their slow moving vehicle.

"Just keep driving," hissed Daniel. "I think they've been tipped off."

Max's grip tightened on the wheel as he imagined the eyes of the officer staring at him, perhaps recording his registration.

At the next main intersection he swung right, accelerated and then right turned again to retrace their course parallel to the first.

"I know what I'll say if they contact me."

"What?" There was tension in Daniel's reply.

"That I knew my brother in law's company cleaned that building so I slowed down to look."

"And where were you going at that hour of the night?" questioned Daniel taking on the role of devil's advocate.

"Good question ... mm," Max concentrated hard.

"I think you'd better hope that looking suspicious is not a big enough crime for them to investigate." He breathed in deeply to relieve the tension. "Come on take me home and I'll make us a coffee."

"What do we do if they do ask?" It was still gnawing at Max.

What started off as a little adventure was now having some scary ramifications.

"The truth ... well, some of it. I'll tell them that some crazy things had happened to me and I was suspicious of the lawyers. We were driving past to check out their offices when we saw the police cars."

"Well, it's sort of true," admitted Max.

"I have a feeling that's all we need to say. If they press the point we'll just ask Arnold to join us. They'd be struggling to get us on loitering with intent."

"You're a sneaky character aren't you?" observed his workmate.

Daniel mumbled some sort of denial, but he didn't feel proud of himself.

Back in his unit the coffee machine had produced two fragrant brews to their liking. Max related what was on his mind. "So, who do you think set us up? That's what you think isn't it?"

Daniel didn't have to speculate. He was quite sure. "I'm afraid I suggested to Naomi Stockton what I was planning to do. She told me not to... and I guess when that didn't have any effect she made sure we didn't." The last was stressed through clenched teeth.

"I take it you're not too happy about it." Max was beginning to see a humorous side to this battle of wills.

"She doesn't seem to understand the serious danger she is in."

In his mind he resolved; 'Tomorrow I'm going to give her a piece of my mind.' Then reflectively he added, "If we'd been caught it could have been... well, embarrassing to say the least."

His complaints went on. Not only had she informed on them, he still rued the missed opportunity of establishing whether Haversack was driving the attacks or colluding with someone else.

By midnight he had worked himself up into a lather.

"You sure you want to call her, it's..." he checked his watch, "It's after midnight." Max had a wry grin. He was sure Daniel's aggravation, even aggression, was more a symptom of his affection for someone who had got under his skin. Daniel's distorted facial expression told of another bout of cranial agony. He quickly downed some more analgesics.

"They're not candy you know," objected Max. "You should go back to the docs, or at least take it a bit easier."

"Yes Mum," he retorted dryly.

Daniel punched in the numbers. He waited. His eyes wandered around the minimalist white tiled kitchen. It rang through to a recorded message. He hung up and redialled. Eventually there was a tired response; "Hello..."

"Naomi, it's Daniel," while Daniel spoke, Max scrunched up his face, discomfited by his friend's brash attitude.

"Daniel, what's wrong?" a touch of anxiety crept into her query.

"You rang the police!"

"What?"

"They were waiting for us at Haversack's office building."

"Daniel, you didn't go... I tried to contact you telling you not to."

"Is that why you tipped them off?"

"Is that what you think?" Irritation and hurt trembled through her reply.

He backed off a little. "You were the only one who knew I was planning to search his office."

"So, what... I rang the police hoping you'd get caught, thrown into prison for not listening to me?" There was a touch of venom in her speech.

Daniel squirmed within as it dawned on him what his accusation implied.

He regrouped. "No, no... I'm sorry for how that sounded. It's just that, well... we were almost caught. There were police all over the place."

Naomi was silent for a few seconds.

"Naomi, are you there?"

Her next words were conveyed with a measure of coolness. "Well, I didn't call them. I do know what happened though. You can take me out to breakfast tomorrow and I'll fill you in. Good night Daniel." And she was gone. If it hadn't been for the proposal for breakfast that 'goodnight' would have sounded like 'goodbye', end of story.

He looked askance at Max who seemed to have gotten the gist of the conversation. Max shrugged and then excused himself, complaining that 'tomorrow was a work day' for him. Daniel spent a sleepless hour speculating how Naomi could have information about the police presence and still claim the high moral ground.

He read the first chapter of Romans and felt even more depressed. Was it really all about his choice? The evidence was out there, it said. He had no excuse.

In a dream that night he was at Wafer Chip solving some intangible problem when he bumped into Naomi. She just smiled at him knowingly, as though she understood him completely; she knew his deep emotions and all his faults. He was filled with shame. Then it was someone else looking at him. In his dream, mystically, identities morphed. The other eluded him; an unknowable entity. Then he felt very vulnerable.
Chapter 9

A call he made in the morning informed him that Naomi was already up. He hastened on the short five mile drive to her place from his Ten Hills' unit. Her mood had warmed considerably from the previous night and she greeted him, carrying a small backpack and wearing a huge self-satisfied grin.

"So what happened?" was his opening line.

"And good morning to you too," she teased. Her dimpled smile captivating him; not for the first time as he looked across to her.

"Well?"

"Well, you'll have to be patient. I think you owe me a nice breakfast for penance."

"I didn't think you believed in penance."

"Mm...think of it as grateful compensation then."

"Sounds like penance to me."

The glint in her eyes piqued his curiosity but he resisted raising the subject again as Naomi gave him a tour guide's version of the route back along the tree lined parkway, pointing out some of the notable houses.

He drove on the west side of the lake, down the parkway, and followed it to a well-known Starbucks. She quizzed him about his headaches, which he insisted were easing. Her doubtful gaze suggested she wasn't convinced.

Inside the café, Daniel chewed on his hot turkey and bacon sandwich watching Naomi delicately eat her oatmeal and fruit. He couldn't help wondering what her explanation for the previous night would be.

Finally, when their coffees arrived, Naomi opened up the backpack and placed a small notebook computer on the table. Inexplicably she said, "I didn't tell you that I've become quite friendly with Stacey Greene did I?"

Daniel furiously tried to associate the name. His baffled expression was apparent and so she expanded on the statement.

"Stacey is Garth Haversack's personal assistant. She was at the first meeting we had and also at the meeting in the law firm's conference room. She confided in me that the day she has finished her bar exam she's leaving the firm. She doesn't enjoy the work there at all. Anyway, I chatted to her about your concerns regarding Haversack and Reagan... that they were the source of information to whoever it is that's been pursuing us."

"Ohh!" he interrupted. "So she told Haversack I was after information. Did you tell her what I was planning to—" Before he could finish Naomi slid her hand onto his and her glowing brown eyes laughed at him. "You're jumping to conclusions, again. Let me finish will you?" There was glee in her tone that collaborated with her eyes.

Naomi carried on with her recount, "I asked her if she knew of any correspondence involving you. She said her access to the computer files meant she was quite familiar with most of the clients and the briefs. She had in fact spent some time transferring older files to the computer system. She had noticed a 'Daniel Treloar' file— a separate file designated 'confidential' titled with your name. It was strange because all the people involved in the quest were already mentioned in the 'Marcie Dougal' file; a file she had helped compile. To make a long story short; Stacey got a copy for us." Naomi triumphantly held up a USB drive.

Daniel was transfixed by the memory stick, but his mind was still churning over thoughts.

"So why did the police turn up?"

"Well, because she couldn't get into the office and check all the files till the others had left, Stacey was a bit flustered getting the information. And because, in her rush, she didn't lock up properly, a security man set off the alarm. He was unaware he'd done it till the police turned up."

"Did she tell you all this?"

"Uh, huh, well most of it—first she dropped this off to me—before she went home. Then Stacey called later to say the police had been called by their security company. She had to apologise to Haversack for not locking up properly. Apparently he gave her a bit of a roasting."

"You could have told me all this last night." Daniel had a quirky, lop sided smile.

"I could have..." she said softly.

Suddenly guilt ridden he lowered his voice. "Naomi, I am sincerely sorry for last night. I..." He left off trying to justify his actions and simply finished with, "I'm really sorry."

Naomi pulled a forced smile in acknowledgement and he realised afresh that she had been hurt by his accusations. Sliding the memory stick in, she moved her chair nearer to Daniel. There was some controlled breathing as the USB drive booted up.

Quietly they read the 'Daniel Treloar' file noting the various sub-titles. Looking at each document as they were opened up they gave the impression they were taking it in turns to read aloud key phrases.

"Look, this one's like a professional profile," observed Naomi. "Daniel Treloar is a fast rising, innovative microcircuit designer and engineer. His recently formed company, Wafer Chip Research has submitted some pivotal patent designs on their way to developing a high speed 3-D silicon chip..." She dug him in the ribs. "Wow, Mr High Flyer."

The extract from an electronics periodical went on to provide bio information and an outline of the ramifications of the imminent breakthrough.

"Let's get on to the other docs," urged Daniel while Naomi was still engrossed in reading of the promise he showed during his academic research years.

"Oh, all right, I can always read it later."

They opened a document with a Cyrillic letterhead.

"Look at this!" he said a little too loudly. "As previously agreed, payment will be made on the acquisition of the research data developed by Daniel Treloar and his company, Wafer Chip Research." The letter went on to say that it was important to stress the confidential nature of this agreement... and that the value of these new technologies shouldn't be underestimated.

"What's a quantum computer?" Naomi was reading a detailed list of documentation they required.

"A big mistake," he uttered in a monotone with a hint of regret.

"So, Haversack and Reagan organised the attacks?" she looked at Daniel inquisitively.

"No, look," he said indicating further down the page. "All we require is a schedule of Treloar's whereabouts and we will do the rest. We must get the details as soon as possible as we already have an interested buyer." He turned his eyes to her and her light, floral and citrus perfume claimed his senses. "They're feeding information to this company... and these, what do you think; Russians... probably hired some thugs to do their dirty work."

"Haversack isn't doing too badly either," commented Naomi pointing to the bottom paragraph.

"You will find a payment of $30 000 US dollars in your account as an incentive and to defray any costs." Both were now close together, focussed on the screen, but also aware of the proximity of the other.

Attention shifted to another message. This time it was an email to 'Yuri Novovich'.

Reading the text introduced a feeling of dread between them. Haversack had responded to a request for a list of personal acquaintances to Daniel; especially close relationships. As well as his colleagues at Wafer Chip Research, there was a list of relatives with asterisks. The asterisk was annotated underneath indicating close bonds to his brother in London and to his father, Rick Treloar, thought to be in Mogadishu doing humanitarian work with a charitable mission. An additional note suggested that Treloar senior would be the easiest hit.

Underneath in italics with two asterisks were the words; 'Naomi Stockton, newly observed attachment.' Naomi's face coloured as they faced each other.

"That's the reason!" And his statement, accompanied by a thumping of the table, drew the gaze of other breakfasters. He lowered his voice. "This file shows they were working out ways to get at me through you. You're not safe. You're going to have to find somewhere to hide away. You can see what they're trying to do?" There was a touch of hysteria in his voice.

Her head moved minimally in a strained sort of trance. "What are you going to do?" Her eyes were filled with concern.

"I have to go and find my dad... warn him what he's up against. At least if he knows, he can be prepared."

"Would they go that far?"

"It's probably the one place they could get away with just about anything that graft and corruption can achieve. Who would notice if another westerner went missing in Somalia?"

"So what can you do?" She appeared dismayed by the whole notion of this threat.

"Well, I could try and arrange protection for him. I imagine I could hire a small militia there. Or, I could persuade him to come home with me, where we could get the feds to do the job."

Naomi paused pensively, "I could go with you. We could go with an aid organisation and my nursing qualification would help."

"No, no... it's too dangerous. If I'm by myself I won't hesitate to do some risky things, but..." he left the rest unsaid.

He started on a different tack, "What about if you go to the Quentins in Scotland? You and Heather got on quite well didn't you?"

"I can't see that that's safer than here." She deliberately turned her face close to his, "Remember, Scotland... the car crash." It was a pointed reminder. Naomi turned away to view the list again. "And if you're by yourself, they're just as likely to go after you."

"I wondered about that. That would be like stirring up a hornets' nest. Once our intelligence guys caught on they would be under a lot of pressure. No, I reckon they think that if they grab someone close to me I'll cooperate and not tell the authorities. Besides, they can't guarantee that they could get anything out of me anyway." He forced a tight smile, thinking how ludicrous he must have sounded—the timid chemical engineer full of bluster and heroics!

Over another coffee the two perused copies of their recent travel details and hotel bookings that had been passed on to their pursuers. There was some discussion, between the two, as to whether Haversack knew what he had been party to. At worst he had traded in government secrets and, at best, assisted in industrial espionage. They concluded that he probably chose to be ignorant of the specifics for the sake of 'easy money'.

Back in the car, Naomi watched him as he rubbed his temple. "Still getting headaches?"

His closed-mouth, strained smile was his only response.

"You should get it checked out."

"They said I might get a few headaches. I'll just take a couple of these and it will go." He gulped down two tablets from the small bottle in his glove box.

She looked at the bottle he had shoved back in its place.

"These are quite strong—it's codeine. You shouldn't just take these when you feel like it. There are limited dosages."

"Okay," Daniel gave a pained sigh. "I'll try to stick to the dose."

"And rest up a bit... you shouldn't be rushing around so much after a concussion."

On the way back to her place Naomi kept at him, gently cajoling, but nagging in her persistence, till he promised to go home and go to bed for the rest of the day.

However, when he arrived at his unit, Daniel wanted to get straight onto the task of contacting his father. And he would have, but because his head still ached and he wanted to be true to his commitment, he reluctantly went to bed.

Surprisingly, Daniel slept deeply all afternoon.

He woke with disturbing thoughts and an urgent concern for his dad. The longer he did nothing the more time his antagonists had to get at his father. He rang Reuben. Was it possible to get to Mogadishu soon? The lawyer calmed him down. Why did he want to travel there? Was he aware that the place had been wracked by civil war for more than twenty years? Only last week a car bomb exploded with at least one fatality.

Daniel pictured Reuben furiously Googling for information while he tried to explain that his father may be in danger from the people who had been pursuing both he and Naomi.

Reuben spoke with a rich baritone voice, and even on the phone it had a soothing quality. He asked some strategic questions. How did he know his father might be at risk? Who was his father working for? Had he forwarded any information to the authorities?

The conversation became complicated when Daniel revealed that information had been garnered in a manner that was something less than ethical; he mentioned no names. He cited the NGO his father had enlisted with and explained that his last whereabouts, to the best of his knowledge, was Mogadishu. And no, no one had been contacted.

After some background side chatter, his legal adviser addressed him soberly.

"Daniel, first of all, I wish we didn't have this conversation. If I have to defend you it needed to be without any involvement in subterfuge. Should that be the case then Arnold will get the brief.

Secondly, my secretary informs me that the relief agency you mentioned was only in Mogadishu for a few weeks before being evacuated; it was just too dangerous. Most of them went to Somaliland or Ethiopia.

Gracie is checking the location of your father with the agency now. His name's Richard Treloar," Daniel heard him say it louder, and he imagined the distant response of Reuben's secretary relaying the information. "That's correct isn't it Daniel?" he said seeking confirmation.

"Yes, that's right."

There was some further communication in the background before he heard the lawyer thank his secretary for her 'invaluable service'.

"I don't know what I'd do without Gracie; she's just so efficient." He provided the aside for context to his next remark. "It seems, Daniel, as though your father is attached to a—for want of a better word—field hospital in Hargeisa."

"Where is that?" Daniel readily displayed his geographical ignorance in a trade-off for quick information.

"Somaliland, the northern part of what used to be Somalia... It's sort of the capital of the separated republic."

"So, how do I get there?" Daniel grabbed a pen and was prepared to write some notes.

The lawyer paused briefly and then answered, "Look, leave it with us and I'll get back to you later."

Once he'd hung up, Daniel's inquisitiveness had him searching the internet for information about Hargeisa. He gathered data about flights and the route from the port city of Berbera to Hargeisa which was about ninety miles inland at a considerably higher elevation.

By all accounts the civil war had left that area many years previously. It was now relatively safe, although a quite bland place for tourists if they were looking for western luxury or entertainment.

He read on and was appalled to learn that there were over a million displaced persons inside the country as well as refugees from Ethiopia. He found out that children were not only the victims of poverty, but also of violence and brutality.

Once again Daniel was confronted with this conflict within him. It was a conflict between the material possessions, ease and comfort on one side, in opposition to compassion, relational purpose and, dare he think it, spiritual purpose on the other. He wrestled with his conscience as he weighed up the values that were important in his life.

The spiritual dimension of everything impinged on his thoughts. Daniel reconsidered how a life 'ought' to be lived, which previously had been devoid of meaning. He began to read Lewis again and found himself challenged by the concept of 'forgiveness'. It was detestable to think that he should forgive these 'propagators of evil' that wrought such misery in Somalia. And yet, it was not about condoning their atrocities, it was about recognising their humanity. Lewis argued that the same motivation that caused one to hate their own behaviour and seek betterment should be applied to others; in that way he would follow the imperative of 'you will be forgiven as you forgive others'.

Daniel prickled at the realisation that his anger with his father had been an ongoing contention for a number of years. If he held on to a grudge so tenaciously with someone he, purportedly, loved, how could he forgive his enemies? Even these thugs, who were a threat to the safety of his friends and whose actions were repugnant, fell into the category—that of the lost—and that he found difficult to stomach.

The Christian life was all tied to the idea that we should love everyone; not with feelings or emotional affections but with acts of kindness; ergo his father's amazing transformation from a bitter and resentful man to someone who cared for others. That was his conversion. It had not been a nominal Christianity that had typified much of middle class western society. It was more the radical, countercultural life, in the steps of its founder, Jesus Christ.

The notion that he was loved and was expected to love; that he was forgiven and was expected to forgive had him wavering between inadequacy and guilt on one hand, and antipathetic self-righteousness on the other.

Daniel felt queasy when the next chapter told him that his problem was pride. He was conceited and self-obsessed. Had he done anything that wasn't for the cause of Daniel Treloar? Compared to his father, who Daniel had always judged based on his own egocentricity, he now felt petty. He loathed the fact that the things he had been so critical about in others were truer about him. He was self-interested, self-promoting and proud.

Discontented and dejected about this new perception of him, Daniel took a few seconds to realise that his phone was ringing.

"Hello..."

"Daniel, Reuben here... look we've—that's Arnold, Gracie and I—made some enquiries about travel to Somalia, and... well, to put it succinctly, the State Department will make it difficult for you to travel to such a dangerous place given your security status and recent events."

"Did you explain that it's sort of a family emergency?" Daniel's voice became louder as he spoke.

"Yes, but I don't think that helped your cause. However, after some research there may be a more circuitous route to get what you want. There were a couple of relief agencies who were after people with particular skills. But you didn't fit the requirements. Perhaps if you enlisted the services of a doctor or a nurse and went as a travelling companion, you could travel under the auspices on one of these agencies... sort of sponsor an aide worker."

Immediately Daniel made the implied connection. "How soon could the trip be arranged?"

"Well I could get Gracie onto it. She's quite adept at finagling these things. Of course I imagine you would require some shots."

"Of course," his slight apprehension betrayed his aversion to needles.

"Maybe four weeks," Reuben summed up.

A moment's gathering of his thoughts preceded Daniel's response.

"It's got to be much sooner than that."

"Your shots won't have time to take effect."

"I'll take that risk, and Reuben, offer them a healthy donation if they expedite my travel."

"So, who will you take?" The question was more mischievous than genuine. The lawyer had a knack for deducing the obvious.

"I'll let you know," he uttered distractedly.

His next phone call wasn't easy. It took several dial tones before Naomi answered. She and Marcie were at a church function so Naomi asked him to wait while she found a quiet space.

He began by explaining the efforts Reuben's office (namely Arnold and Gracie) had made to find a viable way to Somaliland. There had been constraints applied to his travels so that he was unable to travel alone to 'less secure' destinations. It was possible, however, if he was part of a delegation or representing an official organisation.

Once he'd described the opportunity that had been provided by a particular humanitarian group, he added that there was a hitch.

"Go on," encouraged Naomi warily.

"Well, I guess I need you to go, as one of the requirements is someone with medical skills."

"Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you needed me?" She was making mileage out of his much vaunted independence. "This is Daniel Treloar... Mr 'I Don't Need Anyone's Help'?"

He sighed, stung by her sarcasm, "Okay, so I've been a bit of a big head. I'm sorry. It's still going to be dangerous, but we can support each other."

There was a silent prelude before her next comment; "I'm sorry too Daniel. That was a bit harsh," she ruefully admitted.

"I'd be happy to help. I'll have to let a few people know. If you give me the details I can let the Bible College know. They may make some concession for my starting date."

"Listen, if this is going to put you out too much I can come up with something else."

"No, no... If I can help in a genuine relief operation and get you to your father at the same time... well it seems a real solution, doesn't it?"

"I really appreciate it Naomi. I'll get you the details as soon as I can. Oh... you might have to get some shots."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm up to date on mine. I have to for work."

"What? You still doing nursing?"

"Sure, I temp all the time. You don't think I sit around here all day with Aunt Marcie do you?"

Daniel remained tight lipped. That was one more misapprehension that he had about her and he was in no mood to own up to it given his present form.

After further mundane arrangements about a possible time-line and the route that Reuben suggested, Daniel thanked her again and hung up. Immediately he speed dialled his lawyer to pass on the news.

With his plans in motion and a degree of anxiety that he'd be too late, Daniel made every effort to warn his father of possible dangers. The NGO he was sent by explained that communication to central Somaliland was haphazard at the best of times, but added to that difficulty, his group had a habit of travelling to remote sectors to treat refugees unable to transport themselves. They assured him that the messages would eventually find him, but there were no guarantees regarding timing.

Chapter 10

To distract from his disquiet, Daniel immersed himself in the world of micro chemistry. They had been granted permission to engage in further experimentation on what was now a government owned secret. Various agencies had been involved in boosting their security and now everyone wore identification pass cards, guards were posted and the whole building was monitored.

Their molecular carbon lattice circuit was beginning to show even more promise and the fabled 'buckyball' was now beginning to replicate in long chain fullerene nanotubes in their custom built vacuum arc chamber; and generally conforming to a prescribed architecture. Vaporised Carbon was starting to behave in more predictable ways as they tweaked the electrical charge and positioned micro metallic particles.

Their magnetic alloy catalyst promoted the rapid formation of the molecular sized hollow carbon tubes and behaved far beyond previously published results. Daniel was researching and drafting documents to accredit the linked catalyst as a proprietary product. The whole lab was abuzz with speculation as microscopic gold tipped connectors were trialled to link with bundles of miniscule fibres.

At the height of the experimental fervour gripping the lab—as Daniel ran some initial integer factorisation algorithms—he mentioned to his leadership group that he was heading off to north east Africa. 'It wasn't possible', they told him; so close to a breakthrough. Without going into details, Daniel informed them that it was a family crisis and that his trip was unavoidable.

Max, who was in the know to some degree, asked him if it had to do with the information that he had been after. He assented with a small head movement. Some muted offers of assistance followed when his co-workers saw that his mind was made up. Questions followed but apart from conceding that his father needed him he didn't elaborate.

Later, just before leaving his office, Daniel confided in Gavin and Max that Reuben would be his best point of contact. Also, if anything happened to him, Reuben was instructed to transfer the business to the both of them.

Of course, all Daniel had achieved by saying that was to agitate his friends. They tried to dissuade him from any reckless jaunt into the third world. The more conservative of the two said he'd contact the State Department. Daniel fixed him with a stern gaze, "Gavin, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't believe my father was..." he paused to prevent himself from saying 'in danger', then substituted a milder phrase; "... was in need of my help."

***

It had been two weeks since Reuben's office had been left with the travel arrangements. Naomi had spent some time in interviews with the relevant supporting mission organisation, getting their commendation for a short term stint in Somaliland. She asked for letters to confirm their support given that Aunt Marcie had promised to underwrite all her costs. Allowing that she had committed to travel anyway, and because the need was great, they acceded to giving qualified support for a trial period, leaving Doctor Richard Treloar to assess her usefulness. It was a case of; 'feel free to visit and they may be able to use you'.

Once Naomi had their support, visas for the both of them were obtained.

***

It was early on a Wednesday morning when Daniel and Naomi boarded an Air Canada flight, ultimately headed for Dubai. The short flight on a twin prop De Havilland to Montreal prefaced a lengthy layover.

Convinced by a Gallic taxi driver, who exhibited irresistible entrepreneurial flair, to allow him to escort them around his newly adopted home; they sat in the back seat and listened to his patter.

At first they visited the Expo Biosphere on Sainte-Hélène Island. Following that, Simone, the driver, waxed lyrical in his heavy French accent as they were being driven around the old city. It felt like he was providing travel commentary for an organised tour.

As a self-proclaimed bon vivant, he thought it proper that he should join them for a late meal in Montreal's underground shopping precinct. It was 'off the clock' and a chance for Simone to show off some of the city's culinary delights. The food sampling ended a pleasant distraction from the ordeal ahead.

During the flight from Montreal to Frankfurt, they endured more than seven hours of fitful slumber. Neither had the energy to take advantage of the seven hour layover there, so they sat and read, snoozed and talked the time away in one of the airport lounges.

Daniel reflected to Naomi that his company may be on the verge of one of the greatest breakthroughs in molecular circuitry and, meanwhile, he was on some private pilgrimage. He read her some texts from Max describing a few minor setbacks, and he suggested by his manner that things might have gone smoother if he'd been there.

Was it so important, she pressed, given the current situation? Daniel agreed but still went on and described, in simple terms, the revolution to micro circuitry; the increase in processing speed nanotubes could bring and the thrill of being involved in cutting edge technology. Naomi nodded as she acknowledged his enthusiasm with something less than the hype he conveyed.

When he realised that she was underwhelmed by his passion, he meekly defended that it also provided him with a good living; especially of late. She responded that, though obsession was part of invention, what he was doing now in supporting a family relationship was on a higher plane altogether.

As the time for their departure drew nearer, both retreated into reading. Hers was documentation relating to the expectations of what she was to do in Hargeisa. It provided some orientation information about customs and conditions; what to do and what not to do.

Daniel pulled out the pocket Bible he'd been given. In a disconcerting turn of events he found himself reading Matthew 16. "What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?" It was challenging his way of life. Particularly telling was Jesus' rebuke to Peter: "you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns."

That was him. He was totally absorbed with his own concerns. It was only now, when he was aware that his preoccupation with technological innovation had somehow sucked in family members and jeopardised their safety that he ventured away from the security and approval of his Bostonian life.

He jumped as Naomi's hand clutched his knee. She had spoken twice and then resorted to the interventional touch to alert him to their flight call. His reaction gave her a start as well.

"Are you ticklish?" she queried not able to conceal a smirk as she said it.

"No comment," he replied softly. He placed the Bible in his jacket pocket.

"We should go. That's our flight." She was still looking pleased with herself that he had given away a vulnerability that he was bashful about. They both stood. While he stretched, a little jab to his side and his corresponding baulk had her giggling.

The nine hour flight to Dubai was spent sleeping sporadically as fatigue caught up with them. The darkening sky insisted on some sort of predictable circadian response. Rousing from the numbness of travel slumber by a weight on his shoulder, Daniel turned and gazed into Naomi's face resting against him. Her complexion was smooth and delicate; her expression tranquil, totally untrammelled by the cares of the world. He wanted to caress her cheek and ease a stray lock of hair away from her eyes, but he just watched.

The contentment she seemed to embody had him reaching for the pocket Bible again. What was the mysterious power of this text that had adherents living an other-world mission?

Once he found the passage he'd been examining, he thumbed back through those confronting words... "deny himself." Until recently it had never occurred to him that he wasn't the centre of the universe. Not in the sense of megalomania or egotism, but just in the way all his thinking referred to himself as the frame of reference. The idea that you could be defined by how you lived for others was shockingly refreshing and perplexing at the same time. It assumed a greater reality. He sat back and observed the closing act of the flight, strangely captivated by the proximity of his companion.

The pitch black of the desert night was punctuated by tiny pinpricks of fishing boat lights visible to the airliner, before descending in an arc over the land. Several clusters of coastal towns merged and Daniel felt they were being invaded by a swathe of glimmering city lights.

Glowing glass spires of oil financed construction greeted them as they emerged from the airport and looked across the city's west. At one am Dubai time there was some traffic, but mainly airport related. They took the metro to the Emirates Towers Hotel and were soon booked in, settled and sound asleep in their rooms.

At eight thirty in the morning, Naomi appeared, pyjama clad from her adjoining deluxe suite.

"This must have cost you a fortune," she squealed.

Daniel raised his head from the luxurious pillow and tried to clear the fog of sleep from his bleary eyes. He felt a warmth flow through him as he appreciated her flannelled form.

"Reuben's idea; a couple of days of luxury before we endure the harsh deprivations of the third world," he grinned. "But it was surprisingly reasonable compared to some of the places... and the bank balance is looking healthy these days."

She tilted her head attractively. "So your deals came through?"

"Uh, huh... even more than I could have hoped. It's weird though; I had an empty feeling about it all until I started experimenting on the carbon lattices. I think it's the research... the discovery that gives me a kick."

Naomi looked back with a knowing peculiar smile. "So how come I get the suite? This would have been fine."

"You're the talent on this venture. I'm just tagging along. Anyway, you're my guest."

Naomi drew back self-consciously as she felt his scrutiny. "So what are we doing for breakfast?"

Realising he'd been staring; he turned and examined the hotel information folder.

"Ah, they have several restaurants... what about this place?" He showed her a picture of a modern looking cafeteria that offered meals anytime. After shuffling over and leaning towards him a little closer she gave a quick glance.

"Uh huh," she gave her approval and then escaped with a promise to be showered and ready within the hour.

With time at his disposal, Daniel revelled in a long hot shower. Slowly dressing for hotter climes, he was a picture of abstraction. Pensively, he stood at the window and hardly registered the view as he considered the plight his ill-conceived article had gotten them into. Heralding their quantum capable circuitry was his idea. His company could have discreetly communicated their ideas, but he, with his inflated ego, chose to publish.

While he sought to castigate himself once more for his past indiscretions the connecting doorway opened and Naomi stood fresh and youthful in a light floral cotton dress. He glanced across at her and the turgid ruminations fled from his mind.

"Wow," he said throatily.

She coloured slightly and did a little spin. "So you like it?"

"You look... beautiful." Even as he said it, it sounded corny and affected. "What's with the papers?" He nodded at the file in her hand.

"Just some documentation about the mission hospital we're being sent to."

"It's a mission hospital?"

"Yes, it seems sometimes secular and church NGOs collaborate in the less glamorous, out of the way, humanitarian stations."

"So what have you learnt so far?"

Her brow creased, "Well, they report that one in five displaced children die before their fifth birthday."

Daniel stared ahead blankly as if there was something beyond that he could see. He gave a slow shake of the head. "But that's not why I'm here, really... is it? We've got to find my father, to warn him."

A slight shadow passed across her face as she interpreted his response as ambivalence, rather than outright denial. Her expression softened. Maybe in the same situation she would do whatever it took to protect her father.

He stammered, "I don't deny it's important, it's...it's just that..."

His faltering words betrayed the turmoil of his thoughts. They were ignited by the phrase 'deny yourself'.

"You okay?" her words were soft, compassionate as his face contorted with the emotion that filled him. He had endangered his family and he had endangered his friends. He was now rushing in to make things right, but his father may reject his intervention because he too was part of this other world domain; this humanitarian dimension where 'displaced children'—refugees—were central to their lives.

Most breakfasters had finished by the time they arrived at the contemporary eatery. Tourists would be rushing to the Burj Khalifa, or the cruises to the Palm and World islands, or visiting the shopping malls and the beaches. In the peace and quiet, Daniel and Naomi had a leisurely breakfast.

Their flight to Hargeisa wouldn't be till six the following day so they had plenty of time to chat and then do a bit of sightseeing. Reuben, or maybe it was Gracie, had booked tickets to the Burj for them. It would be a fitting end to the day to have a meal high up in the world's tallest building.

Following their meal Naomi took Daniel exploring. The shopping precinct of the building was far too tempting to pass up. Walking around enjoying each other's company, sometimes playful, sometimes subdued and reflective; unconsciously they began behaving like a couple.

An afternoon swim in the pool had them both almost in holiday mode. The vagaries of the quest were behind them and the unknown of Somaliland seemed too distant to consider in this enclave of wealth and modern living.

It was the first time in a while that Naomi saw Daniel enjoying himself and relaxing. She recalled that the last time he had been like that she had brought his mood to an abrupt end by telling him of her mission plans.

***

It was about five thirty in the evening when Daniel called on Naomi for their 'dinner date'. She had some calls to make before they left so he spoke with his lawyer to gain news and thank him for their travel arrangements. At the same time Naomi called Marcie and she learned about the Trust proposal. It was up to them to identify worthwhile charities. There was some interchange to try and clarify what that meant. Marcie assured her that appropriate advice would be available once they commenced the trust.

Daniel sent emails to his brother and Marcie just to let them know of their whereabouts. After that he contacted Gavin to hear of the progress with the new carbon fibre process. He was informed that they were trialling some minor adjustments to iron out discontinuities in the circuits and all was reported to be going to plan.

The evening was an incredible experience. Ascending high up in the Burj Khalifa, which dwarfed the other, numerous, almost linearly arranged, sky scrapers, they saw the sun set on the shimmering Persian Gulf.

Observing the man-made residence and resort islands off the coast was a surreal experience; knowing that engineering, human effort and a lot of money had created these geographic extensions, provided a stark contrast to their ultimate destination described in Naomi's induction material.

Daniel and Naomi wandered around the perimeter of the observation deck. Their quiet stroll, hand in hand was both intimate and innocent. Looking into each other's eyes and then drinking in the wonders of human ingenuity, a certain unspoken bonding was taking place. They did two circuits before going down two levels to the restaurant.

The dining experience was memorable. With the lights from downtown Dubai glittering below them and the silvery, waning moon shining off the Gulf of Oman in the south east. The intimate mood had Naomi subdued and reflective. She warmed when he mentioned that he was intrigued by the language of the Bible and felt he understood Christians a little better. She replied that it was part of the journey of seekers to be 'intrigued'.

"Oh, I don't think I could ever be a Christian... 'taking up your cross and denying yourself!' It's all a bit hard for someone as self-centred as me. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't do it."

Naomi's eyes glistened with laughter.

"You don't try... you surrender... you have to change sides first and find out what it's all about. Then, when you're committed, you're empowered by Jesus' spirit to live the way He wants you to live. And then the trying, the striving comes through His strength."

He smiled. "It almost makes sense when you say it. I guess the surrendering is the hard part for me."

Naomi nodded, "That's the biggy... and only you can decide when you're ready to surrender."

"Or if I'm ever ready." He pulled a tight smile.

"Uh huh." She played with her food thoughtfully. "So what do you think of Jesus?"

Daniel took a deep breath, "Wow... straight in there with the tough questions." He furrowed his brow. "If you'd asked me that six months ago I would have just brushed you off as part of the religious fringe, but I guess I'm a bit more informed, and now I honestly have to say... I don't know."

Naomi hesitated as if considering whether to go on. "If He's who He says He is then saying things like..." she concentrated for a moment, "like 'what shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world and lose his own soul?' really is a crucial question."

Daniel looked bemused. "That sounds like what I read the other day." He paged through the tiny print version of the Bible that fitted in his coat pocket. "Here it is. This says, What good is it..."

"It's the same verse. I just learned it in an older version." She took a last mouthful and wiped her mouth with the napkin.

Daniel was struck once again by her fresh faced beauty. The words seated in his memory.

"What shall it profit a man? I think I like that version better. Everyone's after a profit. It makes Jesus sort of a profit prophet." Naomi rolled her eyes. "No, I'm serious," he added. "He's saying where true profit exists... and by deduction it's not in this world."

"The profit prophet, hey?" Her eyes sparkled and the dimple caved into her cheek as her smile broadened.

Naomi suddenly stood up. She had a concerned look on her face.

"Hey, we've an early start tomorrow. Come on we should go." She reached out with her hand and he readily grasped it as he rose to follow. He drew close to her side as they strolled to the window and took in one last night-time vista. A short detour to pay the bill, a last look from the observation platform and they exited via the downward hurtling elevator.

Chapter 11

Wearied and now exceedingly hot, the two flustered travellers emerged from the Berbera airport. It had been a taxing flight; a three hour leg to Addis Ababa, a seven hour layover and then another two hour leg. The late afternoon atmosphere was a dusty, cloying, suffocating, jet exhaust tainted miasma. The arid port city was a palate of sepia and yellow grey colours. Looking out at the desolation it was hard to believe there was a city nearby at all.

An old taxi pulled up. A wizened, wiry, white haired driver greeted them with a whiny Amharic accent.

"Selaam. Are you needing drive?" he spoke stridently as he hung his head out the window.

"Ahmah-sagahnalo ... yes, a drive to the Maan Soor Hotel, i-bahkeh."

The old man smiled a stained tooth grin. "Yes... the only hotel. You needing a drive tomorrow?"

By this time Daniel realised he was waiting for them to get in so he helped Naomi with her pack, stacked his in the back seat on top of hers and then they both sat in the remaining confined space. The driver looked back and repeated his question hopefully.

"Ah, no... we're taking the shuttle to Hargeisa tomorrow."

The driver's lower jaw jutted, his bottom lip pouting as he nodded an unhappy acceptance of their plans.

Within ten minutes the driver had transported them along a dirt road, through the parched, barren outskirts, past the jumble of buildings and enclosures and past the port. The hotel was a surprise. Though not five star, in contrast to the rest of the town it looked quite habitable.

Once they'd settled into their noisily air-conditioned rooms and they had removed the dust and grime from the journey, Naomi had recovered enough to consider quizzing Daniel on a few things. So over a light meal in the restaurant she began her tongue-in-cheek interrogation.

"Okay, so why didn't we fly directly to Hargeisa?"

"Yeah, I should have told you. Apparently the runway is closed for repairs or extension... something like that."

"Mm..." she gave a slightly disapproving pout. "And how long will it take to drive?"

"I was told about three hours. Yeah, listen, I'm sorry for not filling you in. You have every right to grill me." He pulled a guilty face.

Naomi rubbed her forehead and raised her eyebrows at the same time in resigned manner.

"I didn't mean to grill you. I just want to know what's going on. For instance, when did you learn the local dialect?"

"Amharic?"

She nodded.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I Googled it... thought it might come in handy."

After some quiet exchanges over post meal coffees, Daniel thought he'd better divulge all he knew rather than damaging his credibility any more. Checking notes on his phone, he told her the common greetings in Amharic that he had listed and showed her the wad of Somalian Shillings that he had acquired for local expenses.

He shared that while Naomi was 'freshening up' he had learned from his virtual travel agent, Reuben, that the aid agency had sent messages so the clinic would send someone to meet them at the shuttle terminal in Hargeisa.

***

That night Daniel tossed and turned in a lather of sweat, even though the room temperature was pleasant enough from the output of the rattling air conditioner. Shadows of fearful thoughts, amplified by the darkness of the room, assaulted his mind. There was evil about. Weren't there people trying to steal from him and harm him? And what about the harm aimed at his relatives and friends? Yes, the world was an evil place.

Not only that, deep down he knew he was evil. Not with explicit villainous behaviours; he wasn't a tyrant or anything like that, but it was a subtle, duplicitous evil. Wasn't he carrying on a charade of interest in Naomi's religion just to be near to her? What shred of decency did he have? Wasn't it his pride that had sucked them into this vortex of violence and intrigue? If his ego hadn't spurred him to publish, none of this would be happening. His boast to his aunt was that he was self-sufficient. Materialistically, he, to a large extent, could satisfy his wants. But what good was that when he was confronted by the darkness of his own soul?

Suddenly, sitting up in bed, the pall of his indiscretions, no his transgressions, became a stifling shroud and weighed heavily on him. Tremors shook his body. Was it too much rich Arabian coffee? Or was he under attack? Had he only now become aware of an evil adversary because he was considering 'faith'? It was no longer intellectually abhorrent to him. Maybe Satan (as Naomi had personified evil) had ignored him till now, but if he was considering changing sides that could be stirring things up!

Had he really been on Satan's side? If it meant living for the kudos from his colleagues, being absorbed by material satisfaction and viewing others patronisingly as intellectual inferiors—then yes. There was nothing humble or selfless or kind about the way he had lived his life. Was his attempted change genuine or just an opportunity to court Naomi? He was filled with doubt.

She was too good for him... too pure, too innocent. How dare he think that somehow a simple change of mind could make everything okay? His thoughts were unworthy of her. His attitude to life had always been disdainful of others, but who was he?

While he sat shivering from the wringing moisture in his tee shirt, the idea came back to him that God was mindful of him. Daniel turned on the light, grabbed his computer and randomly searched for Bible readings. The one he opened confronted him with its relevance.

Leave your troubles with the LORD, and he will defend you; he never lets honest people be defeated.3

His first feeling of consolation evaporated as he focussed on the qualification... honest people! That wasn't him. His life was a lie. Maybe he was heading for defeat. He found another site.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.4

Again, Daniel was initially comforted. Here was a promise of strength and support. The qualification seeped into his consciousness that it was addressed to a devotee. Could he claim Him as my God? The synchronicity of the notions struck him with force. Was he being told something? Could he try a third time and have the illusion shattered by a totally unrelated theme? Twice could be coincidence.

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you.5

He almost gasped at how appropriate the text was. Had God been sitting on the end of the bed instructing him? The impact of what he read made it seem as if he could sense an invisible presence that was emphasising the significance of those three texts. Wasn't it exactly as Naomi had said? You have to surrender. 'Submission'; how alien that term was to him. 'Submit to God...' This was the battle that was churning his innards and repelling the sweet unconscious slumber he craved.

The thought occurred to him that he wanted to 'resist the devil', but his whole life had been going along, so to speak, for the ride. The only way he could succeed changing sides, he figured, was to mutiny. As the verse suggested; 'Come near to God and he will come near to you.' He put down the lap top and grabbed the Bible. It was his only clue to getting near to God. He went back to the passage about denying himself. This was a struggle for his soul so he wanted to find out more.

He read the whole chapter again—wondering, as he read how the disciples of Jesus must have felt. Here was their leader, doing miracles, claiming to be God and then telling them that he was going to die; and if they had a problem with that then they were caught up in human concerns and not with God.

Those thoughts resonated with him. That was the dichotomy! That was the contradiction in his mind; earth versus heaven, human versus God. His mind wound through a maze of possibilities. Before he knew it he had fallen asleep, book still open, mulling over the challenge.

***

An early checkout had them waiting impatiently outside the airport for the shuttle to Hargeisa. It seemed that schedules were not sacrosanct in this country. The van turned up half an hour after their expected departure. The driver then explained, in broken English, that he would wait for more passengers. It appeared two customers were not enough to make the trip worthwhile.

Soon after, three backpackers arrived, and after that a young couple also backpacking. These seemed more informed as to the casual nature of local transport. A further half hour was endured before it became apparent that no one else would turn up.

The driver started the engine, grumbling something in the local dialect that didn't sound particularly pleasant. He then asked the passengers to get in and got them to pay their fares up front. The three experienced backpackers bartered the driver down to a reasonable price, suggesting that another shuttle would soon arrive and get their custom. And all passengers were happy beneficiaries of their travel nous.

Finally, they were off. Heading through the dun coloured landscape, there was little to see but hardy desert scrub, washouts and dunes. Soon, one truncated cone and another, almost perfect, cone of two adjacent dormant volcanoes came into view. Wending gradually upwards, on what could dubiously be called 'the main road'; they passed a number of small settlements and historic sites as commented on by the young German couple for the benefit of their fellow travellers.

Kurt and Marta, the German couple who had arrived last, were more sociable than the three male passengers. They asked how long Naomi and Daniel had been together. The two glanced awkwardly at each other before Naomi diplomatically replied that they'd known each other for only about four months. Fortunately an elaboration wasn't expected and Marta explained that they had been together for two years and decided to travel together before settling down.

Kurt shared that he had quit his software writing job to travel, but had been promised a position when he returned. He went into some tedious details about the software, to which Daniel politely feigned interest.

Before either Daniel or Naomi had a chance to tell their stories, the van pulled over at a roadside stop which provided overpriced drinks and a rest 'facilities'. The locals, who also sold souvenirs of trinkets and postcards, were clearly in collusion with the shuttle drivers to extract foreign capital at every opportunity.

Standing outside the air-conditioned van, waves of heat hit them. In the distance, slate grey mountains tinged with pale streaks drew their gaze. Dan pointed and indicated the higher elevation as their destination. A number of vehicles had pulled over at the wayside stop.

A short distance away a goat herder was edging his flock behind the settlement. The pungent odour wafting past mimicked the heat haze blurring of the seared landscape so that smell and swelter were a sordid duet.

There was no hastening the practised ritual of hospitality and greetings between the tribesmen and the drivers as one by one they stopped and were offered drinks and qat. The qat was a ubiquitous narcotic leaf chewed socially for its stimulant effect. Daniel suggested to Naomi quietly that the prolonged stop had the passengers spending more than they normally would have. Just standing in the heat incited their thirst, and all the passengers bought drinks from the stalls at inflated prices. Cokes and Sprites were drawn from generator powered coolers and provided a brief respite from the stifling temperature.

Eventually they boarded the van and continued toward Hargeisa, fleeing the oppressive conditions of the lowland cauldron. The climb through the desiccated foothills, past salt pans and wadis gave little indication that there was civilisation anywhere near. Ascending the escarpment required more power from the engine and Jamal, the driver, explained that the air conditioner had to go off. A token consolation was that the temperature was slightly more bearable as their elevation increased and soon the wind rushing through the open windows was almost pleasant.

Sections of the traffic pulverised road were torn away by recent rains. Paved stretches gave way to gravel and washouts. The occasional war relic and accident wreck added to the roadside detritus.

The tedium of travel and the wearing stress of wondering whether they would make it in one piece on this dangerous road had Naomi clasping Daniel's arm tiredly. Her head rested against his shoulder and Daniel reflected on how pleasant the contact was—a balm for the journey.

Even though the dusty port city of Berbera was only about 140km away (according to the travel brochure) from the even dryer, dustier city of Hargeisa, the state of the road made it seem double that.

The grinding, interminable journey was finally nearing its end. The nominal capital of the autonomous state of Somaliland greeted them with the smell of a recent downpour still in the air. Dropping down off the ridge the large inland town spread out before them. They saw a clutter and jumble of low lying buildings, ramshackle industrial properties and numerous trucking companies that eventually gave way to some semblance of order near the centre of the city.

Passing old buses, water trucks and an old MIG fighter that was displayed on a pedestal near the city centre, the previously sleepy passengers were now all taking in the sights. Because of the bustle of the afternoon city commerce, the van crawled the remaining kilometre to the van terminus.

Once off the van they paused expectantly and looked around. Eye contact was gained with a couple of likely contenders. But no one was waiting for them. Daniel wondered about the effectiveness of the communications with the missionary society.

After fifteen minutes waiting they decided to make their own arrangements. Nearby, not far from the city centre, they found a hotel with rooms that cost twenty five thousand shillings a night each. It sounded formidable but in reality it was only fifteen dollars US each in total. Surprisingly, the room had hot water, washing facilities, Wi-Fi and a television.

"So what's the plan?" Naomi had held off as long as she could. Daniel had contacted Reuben asking him for details of their contacts and he had responded by forwarding an address and a digital map image of the location for the medical centre.

"It's here," Daniel said pointing at the digital map on his screen. "Not far from the camel market... this unmarked building. I think it's the medical centre; that's where my father's humanitarian group is stationed at."

"It's fairly late. Do you want to wait till tomorrow?" Naomi sounded exhausted.

"No. I want to catch up with him as soon as possible. Why don't you wait here and I'll go check out the centre?"

"Um... no!" She smiled sweetly. "I think I'll tag along... you know... just for company."

It was clear Naomi had no intention of being left behind, alone in her hotel room, wondering where he was.

They headed off at a brisk pace through the milling crowds of the city. Daniel had his backpack with his lightweight computer. He wasn't prepared to risk leaving valuables such as money or documents in the hotel. Naomi also wore her pack.

Their walk slowed as people pressed to view the strange couple and, Daniel was sure, ogle at Naomi, who was a rare sight with reddish blonde hair escaping from a hastily wrapped head scarf. They stood out being two pale skinned travellers amongst the dark skinned, dark haired locals.

Traffic was everywhere along the congested, electric wire cluttered thoroughfares of urban Hargeisa. Trucks, buses, vans and tankers almost outnumbered the surprisingly modern cars. Stall fronts and ramshackle lean-tos housed vendors of food and clothing and almost anything else imaginable. Goats wandered randomly, cars were parked haphazardly; the whole city seemed to be a chaos that somehow worked.

By the time they reached the open field of the camel market, interest in their progress had waned. Children were playing soccer on the large open field vacated by the morning crowd of hagglers and herds of camels and goats. Vestiges of the rank animal odours still wafted about.

"Where to now?" Naomi breathed tiredly through pursed lips. The back of her blousy khaki shirt had a sweat stain down the centre. She put an arm on his shoulder as he stooped against a car and glanced again at the map he had transferred to his phone.

Daniel indicated a position about a mile west of where they were. Twenty minutes later they had arrived.

"Just over there." He pointed to a concrete building with commonplace blue doors and window frames. Next to it were two small residences. Some distance beyond those buildings were rows of other buildings. Daniel assumed these to be the orphanage and school. The bare concrete structures were surrounded by earthen playing fields.

***

The front door creaked as they entered. A bell jingled. Inside the building there was a desk and chair that attempted to convey the idea of a reception area. Through the connecting passageway cries were heard.

A young woman emerged wearing a nurse's uniform. Her complexion was shiny and almost black. She looked up and smiled with dazzling white teeth. Her high cheekbones and glistening dark eyes accentuated her classical beauty.

"Can I help you?" she almost sang the words in perfect English.

"I hope so. We're looking for Doctor Richard Treloar."

"Ah, Doctor Rick... he's not here. He's gone inland a bit to visit some of the smaller towns. I don't think he'll be back till tomorrow night." There was interest in her dancing eyes. "Why are you after him?"

Daniel stared at her still not connecting the educated English accent with the speaker. "Er, my name's Daniel Treloar. I'm his son. I have to speak with him."

She laughed delightedly. "His son! Of course you want to see him. I'm Ellen. I've only been here a few months... but your father... he's a saint, such a lovely man." She looked at Naomi and smiled. "Is this your wife?"

Naomi shook her head vigorously as Ellen sucked her lips in as if to retract the question. "Er, no... this is Naomi. She's a travelling companion," Daniel explained. Neither Ellen nor Naomi appeared to think much of that description.

Daniel registered the uneasy, perhaps disapproving, glance and knew some clarification would be necessary; but he had more urgent business.

"Is it possible to contact him?"

"Not really... we usually hear from him if anything is required." Her demeanour changed. "It's a bit strange though. A man came earlier and also wanted to see Doctor Rick."

"What did he say?" Daniel's tone was insistent.

She was taken aback by his abruptness. She replied slowly, "He said he had a message for the doctor from you."

"What did he look like?"

"Tall, blond... Germanic if I had to guess." A crease appeared across her brow as she noted Daniel's agitated questioning. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all... did he leave a name?" He orchestrated a calmer manner but, within, his stomach was knotting.

"No, he just said he had a message from Daniel Treloar for his father... I take it you didn't send him," she deduced. Ellen's bearing became more resolute like someone accustomed to dealing with crises. "Come into the kitchen for a cup of tea and tell me what's going on."

Both followed the statuesque nurse off to the right, through to a small kitchen – dining area. She got cups, a teapot, deposited tea leaves in an adept motion and put in hot water from a stainless steel urn. Ellen turned her head over her shoulder and instructed them, "Sit down, I won't be a minute."

With a packet of cookies opened in front of them and the pot brewing, it felt very English.

Tilting her head inquisitively as she started to pour the teas, Ellen went right to the heart of the matter, "So, why would someone pretend to have a message from you?"

"Someone wants something from me, and they've decided the best way to get it is to threaten my friends..." he gave Naomi a glance, "or members of my family."

"So, your father is in danger?" Ellen's wide eyed concern was accentuated by the contrast between her dark skin and the whites of her eyes.

"We have to warn him. Maybe take him somewhere safe."

"What, away from here?" The nurse was dismayed. "I don't think he'd go."

"He has to. In the States he can be protected." To Daniel it had been a foregone conclusion that his father would just up and leave.

"Well, you can try." She took a sip of the tea thoughtfully. "I will try and find out where he headed and let you know tomorrow. Maybe one of the boys here could take you to him."

"That would be really helpful," offered Naomi, genuinely grateful.

Then, after giving Daniel a wide eyed 'well-here-goes' kind of look broached a new topic. "Listen Ellen, I'm a qualified nurse. I'm happy to help out here while Daniel looks for his dad. In fact, that's one of the reasons I came."

Ellen had a slightly bewildered look, as though someone had a hidden camera and all this was a prank.

"You want to help. That would be marvellous, but I will need to get approval."

"I have these," Naomi said quietly and, retrieving a sheaf of paper from her pack, handed over the documents from the aid agency. The resultant puzzled scrunching of her face revealed that the young nurse was struggling to decipher the unusual turn of events.

While she was paging slowly through the sheets Daniel asked if he could use a computer to send some emails. Ellen directed him to his father's small office before sitting down opposite Naomi.

"So you were planning to help here all along? What was the business about Doctor Rick all about then?" She was shaking her head.

"Oh, it's all true. It's just that Daniel needed someone with a genuine reason to come here, and I really wanted to serve here. You were meant to be informed by the agency. We were told someone would meet us."

Ellen sighed, "I'm afraid communication with Doctor Rick is notoriously bad. They send emails, but the doctor is very slack in reading them, and our phones are more often down than not. We can check his inbox if you like." Then she remembered that Daniel was using the computer.

"Maybe later," she added.

As Ellen pored over the documents, the cloud of concern evaporated from her eyes. Soon the two young women were exchanging life stories. Naomi noted that Ellen appeared to be of different stock from the locals, and she commented about her British accent. The tale then unfolded of how Ellen was born to Masai parents in Kenya, but she was orphaned by conflict between two tribes over land. She related how she was looked after by missionaries and then moved to England with one couple, her adopted parents, when things became a bit dangerous in Ethiopia.

Naomi shared how her father had been killed in Ethiopia, but had served in Kenya before that.

When she mentioned his name Ellen erupted with excitement.

"John Stockton! He was one of the missionaries at the mission. I remember the couple who adopted me kept referring to his bravery and commitment to helping others." She stared with renewed interest at Naomi. "So he was your father?"

"I hardly knew him before he was killed," she stated flatly.

"Oh, I am sorry. That must have been awful."

There was a pause in the conversation as Naomi considered her response.

"At first it wasn't so bad," she said stoically. "People cared for me... and, I guess I was too young to really understand. Later, I wondered about him. Maybe I became a bit resentful. Other relatives had to cope with some of my anger when I was a teenager, and now Aunt Marcie has had to cope with my moods," she added pensively.

A bond began to develop then, between two girls who were victims of the brutality of Africa and who shared the heartache of always wondering what regular family life was like.

Quiet settled over them as both cast thoughts back to childhood memories.

Ellen observed, "I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to ... to know my parents and have a ... a normal family." Even as she said it Ellen knew it wasn't what she meant. Naomi nodded. "I sometimes imagine that my childhood is like a photo album in which all the pictures have been spoilt so that the images are blurred and fuzzy. Nothing comes into focus. There are names and vague memories. Only Aunt Marcie remains clear, tangible; she's my only real reference left to the concept of family—and she's not even real family."

"So, how did you meet Daniel?" Ellen probed a little curious. Interpreting her question as inferring a more than platonic relationship, Naomi hastily replied, "Oh, we're just friends. His Aunt Marcie has been my guardian for a number of years. We've sort of been thrown together by a trust fund. And, of course, this trip to warn his father and..." she searched for the right words, "and, well, we're not in a relationship or anything."

A smile crept onto Ellen's lips and within, a clear feeling. There was something more; she sensed it. "Oh, I see," she nodded as if she appreciated the situation. And in truth she probably did.

Both looked up when Daniel returned. He informed them that he had relayed their safe arrival to Marcie, his friends and colleagues and Reuben. He had also answered some queries related to some methodology he had recommended and read a missive from Reuben describing the State Department's chronicling of his flights to Somaliland and registering their concern, perhaps even irritation, that he left the country without proper notice. This latter information he only hinted at.

"Are you in trouble?" ventured Ellen.

"No, not so much trouble... After all, as a citizen, I'm free to travel. It's just that they'll think I'm a nuisance because I don't follow their recommendations. And, Reuben said that if anything happens they are limited regarding what they can do. The onus is on me." He again glanced at Naomi and added softly, "...on us."

Ellen nodded slowly, but the portent of the unspoken threat was evident in Naomi's eyes as she looked at Daniel, and Ellen had seen enough of fear to breathe a prayer for them then and there.

The brief hush was interrupted by a shuffling noise at the door and a couple of long strides. A voice sounded in the corridor.

"Sweetie, where is the new delivery of antiseptic solutions?"

Ellen gave an explanatory smile, "That's my husband Joel." She raised her volume. "Joel, come in here. We have visitors."

A tall man with close cropped curly hair appeared at the door. He was not quite as dark as his wife and his face wore a quizzical expression.

"Visitors?"

Ellen interpolated for him. "Daniel, Naomi, this is my husband Joel Odiah."

Daniel stood and received a firm handshake while Ellen continued. "Daniel is Doctor Rick's son and Naomi has come to do a short term mission with us." She looked across to confirm with Naomi. "That's right isn't it?"

Naomi nodded while at the same time also receiving an exuberant handshake greeting from Joel.

"Oh, you're a real blessing. Ellen is run off her feet with looking after patients and training the nurses' aides."

His wife continued proudly, "Joel is a doctor. We're learning the ropes here before considering going to the refugee camps in the southeast corner of Ethiopia."

"Ah yes," Joel added in his rich English voice, "I don't know how your father has lasted here so long." Then, remembering what he was about, he reiterated, "I'm after some alcohol or some quats to clean out a putrefying sore." He said to Ellen.

Ellen directed him to a box, as yet unopened, in a storage nook and he left hastily with a,

"Nice meeting you," salutation.

"He uses quats?" said Daniel ambiguously, thinking of the common chewing leaf.

"He was talking about quaternary ammonium compounds. We managed to get some stronger anti-bacterials to cope with some of the infections," she explained.

After a quick tour of the buildings, which testified to their struggles with hygiene and trying to attain some semblance of medical orderliness, Daniel and Naomi thanked Ellen for her time, left her with the name of their hotel and headed back toward the city centre. It was quite a trek back after such a full day.

Several times along the way Daniel glanced around at the bobbing heads streaming up and down the edge of the road. There was one in particular that drew his attention. Clad in the traditional embroidered taqiyah type cap called a koofiyad and ankle length macawiis, his efforts to look like a genuine local failed miserably. He stood out amongst all the jeans and tee shirts of many of the citizens, partly because he was younger than those who usually wore the old-style costume and partly because he wandered about without any purpose. Then another face emerged. He'd seen him before—dark glasses, western style clothes—and he loitered across the street for no apparent reason. The stranger then turned and walked in the other direction.

As he examined the market area Daniel feared that he was becoming neurotic.

Instantly, his eyes latched on to the man ostensibly dressed as a local. He was much nearer and fingering beads at a stand for female adornments; a somewhat incongruous scene.

"What's wrong?" demanded Naomi after his fifth hesitation and furtive scan.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." He took her arm firmly and side stepped a fruit stand. Striding purposefully, he hustled her along the way through the crammed pedestrian traffic and mingled amongst a crowd of shoppers before darting down a narrow alley onto the next road.

They found that this street had several eateries, cafés and snack stalls just adjacent to the road their hotel was on.

An Ethiopian owner hawked them into his establishment with promises of 'anything you want I will cook for you'. So they happily went in, relieved to be away from prying eyes. Willing to risk a bit of local cuisine, both deferred to their host to concoct a tasty local meal. Ahmed, the owner, introduced himself and his family. Then he went behind the counter and helped out cooking with his wife. Because there were only a few customers, he regularly came to his honoured guests. He brought deep fried triangular snacks that had to be dipped in hot sauce. Then he delivered tall glasses of apple drink.

There was little chance of making like a couple of carefree tourists with Daniel and Naomi sitting in the darkest corner.

"What were we running from?" her low voice still sounded too loud for Daniel.

He tried to lower her volume by placing a finger to his lips. He whispered, "I'm sure we were being followed. I think there were two guys. One was the same European looking guy I saw earlier."

"What do you mean, European?"

"Well, not a local. He was a white guy... dark hair, jeans, casual light shirt and sun glasses. The other was dressed in traditional costume, but it didn't look right."

"Do you think they saw where we went?"

"I don't know. I doubt it. We were pretty slick."

"You were," she gave a nervous giggle. "I just got dragged along."

Daniel looked at her, then shook his head slowly. "Look, I could be just imagining it. With all the things that have happened I'm becoming a bit paranoid."

She put her hand on his. "We didn't imagine those other things, so it won't hurt if we are on the alert for anything unusual."

Ahmed came with their meal. He served goat meat and a sweet concoction of cracked wheat and spices. A trickle of local customers increased to a steady flow the later it got. The two weary strangers ate slowly and watched warily as Ahmed's family members came out and attended to the growing throng. No other foreigners joined them amongst the boisterous restaurant customers.

A rich aromatic, sweet coffee capped off a highly satisfying meal. With the late orders being taken by one of his daughters, Ahmed went about socialising. Arriving at their table, he sat down and spoke like a familiar acquaintance.

"So, you are Americans, yes?"

"That's right," Daniel answered cautiously.

"If you stay some nights, I cook you good Ethiopian food, yes?"

Daniel nodded abstractly, and Naomi forged a lifelong friend with her response.

"Ahmed, the food was delicious. It would be wonderful to taste some more of your cooking. If we're still around we will come back."

Ahmed gave a toothy grin. "I get one of my boys show you Hargeisa, yes?"

Daniel couldn't help smiling at the distinctive consistency of his sentences. He took his cue from Naomi, who obviously was more proficient when it came to people skills.

"Thank you Ahmed, but we are here to visit the medical clinic... the one near the camel market," added Daniel when he saw Ahmed's questioning glance. It was apparent that he needed to be more specific when it came to medical clinics.

"Ah, Dr Rick, yes? He's a good man... the children's refugee," he mispronounced. "You help him, yes?"

"Well, Naomi is a nurse and, I hope to help him too." As an afterthought he asked, "Do you know where to find him?"

"You look the children's village, yes? Sometimes he move to camps and villages. He come back."

After assuring himself that his American customers would return, Ahmed went on to speak with some of his regulars. Daniel was resigned to the idea that their tail, whoever he was, would be waiting at the hotel if he really was determined to find them. Nothing would resolve that. They paid the bill with a bundle of shillings which equated to a sum of ten dollars and cautiously skirted the block. There was no sign of their mysterious shadow.

Within five minutes of arrival they were both ensconced in their rooms. A light knock on his door signalled that Naomi wasn't quite ready for sleep.

"Do you mind if I use your computer? I want to email Marcie, let her know what we're up to."

"No, go right ahead. Do you want to take it to your room?"

"Could I use it here? I was hoping for some company." She squeezed her face into a scrunched squint with hopeful inquiry, mildly abashed at the inconvenience of her intrusion.

Daniel insisted that it was no trouble and lay back on his bed. He watched her type her email, once again warmed by her presence.

"What if you can't find your father?" She spoke softly glancing up from the screen as she said it.

"I'll just keep on looking until I do. Ellen didn't seem to suggest that it would be a problem."

"What about that guy that was following us? What if he finds your dad first?"

"Let's just hope he doesn't." A feeling of helplessness made him sigh deeply. The hollow sensation in his stomach conveyed his inner anxiety.

Since Naomi was attending to her emails, Daniel pulled out his C.S. Lewis book. He felt she didn't need his interruptions so to keep from falling asleep he read. Daniel was reading the chapter 'The Obstinate Toy Soldiers'2 and musing on the suggestion that he was resisting God's offer for him to become not just a real human—the one he had been created to be—but a begotten son of God; that choosing his own way was obstinate and limiting, and in the end a futile, meaningless existence.

According to Lewis, the 'timeless spiritual life' has been appropriated for us by Christ. In essence, Christ died his death for us so that we wouldn't have to suffer that ultimate punishment, and he acquired a resurrection life to share with us.

Daniel closed his eyes. Was he prepared to alter the focus, the whole premise, of his life? All he had to do was believe it, accept it, lay himself open to it and the 'good infection' would do its work. Could he admit his need? The situation he was in was evidence enough. Selfishness, ego and his materialistic living was a damning case.

He prayed then. He acknowledged his wasted life. He wanted life. The kind that was generous and humble, not the tin soldier existence that had him marching to the materialistic, fulfilment of selfish desires tune. He prayed that he would be near enough to catch the good infection. He prayed that he could surrender his will—that he could take up his cross and follow.

Then he prayed for his father. And then he prayed for Earl and Virginia. Somewhere amid petitions for other family and friends Daniel yielded to fatigue and rasped the heavy breath of deep sleep.

In the early hours of the morning he woke, finding blankets draped over his clothed body. He stayed awake long enough in his somnolent state to undress for bed, before sinking once more into sleep's insentient embrace.

Chapter 12

The morning found them both again at Ahmed's. For the first time they noticed that the sign stated in large letters 'Ahmed's Restaurant'. They were served tea and a pancake type of bread with sugar sprinkled on it. Neither wanted the goat stew or soup he offered but relented to his enthusiastic pitch for fruit. Ahmed's preparation and care with the presentation of fresh mango and banana delighted the two Americans.

Having extricated themselves from his effusive hospitality, Daniel and Naomi headed off hurriedly to the medical centre. The cooler morning air made the exercise enjoyable. They were becoming accustomed to the dry, dusty atmosphere, crowded streets and the constant stares of passers-by. And, even the jumbled amalgam of shanty town structures contrasting with quite modern buildings were starting to become a familiar feature.

Little was said between them as they both absorbed the almost convivial atmosphere of locals enjoying the recent, new found security of life in Somaliland.

Daniel ruminated on his spiritual awakening. It was like excising the cancerous growth of pride. He didn't know it but it would become an oft repeated procedure. More and more he felt unworthy and grateful at the same time.

Naomi also harked back to the previous night. She had covered Daniel with a blanket before she left and noticed he had fallen asleep while reading 'Mere Christianity'. She warmed at the thought. He was genuinely searching. Although curious about what his stance was, Naomi restrained herself from forcing the issue. She wondered whether it was wishful thinking on her part that he already seemed somehow humbler, gentler.

Glancing at him, it was clear his mind was elsewhere. She decided then that maybe her growing affection was causing her to draw conclusions that were unwarranted.

The two travellers were both shaken from their private musings by the growing clamour. A dusty haze hovered about them, the air redolent with the strong, musty odour of animals.

The camel market was a hectic hubbub of bleating, groaning and bellowing creatures. Billowing clouds of powdery grit surrounded touting sellers and wary prospective buyers. Its transformation from the deserted scene of the previous day was remarkable. The spectacle slowed their progress as both were fascinated by the sounds, sights and smells of this exotic phenomenon.

When Daniel and Naomi entered the medical centre, having replicated their arrival of the previous day with the bell again tinkling their presence, they found the reception area deserted.

They wandered past the first ward and found Ellen in a treatment room bandaging a young boy's injured arm.

"Oh, you're here. Sorry, I couldn't come," remarked the nurse after a momentary glance. "I won't be a minute." She turned to her young patient.

"Now Hakim, you stay off the football field for a few days, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Ellen," came the dejected reply.

"Why don't they go to the local hospital?" Daniel queried after the boy left.

"Most refugees are distrustful of the locals so they come here. Many of the orphans from the children's refuge come here too; especially for minor conditions. Doctor Rick goes to the central hospital with patients who need critical care. Actually, that's where Joel has gone this morning. That infection has gotten worse."

"So the hospital is quite good?" inserted Naomi.

"Not good, but much better than it was. With foreign aid it's being improved all the time."

Ellen washed her hands and led them out the back. Under the cover of a metal roof was a four wheel drive. Next to it lounged a tall, wiry, teenage boy.

"This is Rashid. He will guide you to the camp. You can take my truck."

"Thank you Ellen. I really appreciate this."

She smiled briefly, flashing her white teeth before turning to the boy. "Rashid, this is Doctor Rick's son. Remember, I told you about him. His name is Daniel." The boy nodded.

"Hello Daneel," Rashid said formally, giving a little bow.

"I want you to show him where the Wajale refugees have gone."

The boy nodded. "I will show." As he spoke his dark eyes danced.

Ellen turned to Daniel. "You must be discreet. If there are any cars about, just wait until they go. The authorities want to deport these Ethiopian asylum seekers. They escaped detention and have set up a small community in a town west of here, with some sympathetic expatriate Ethiopian landowners."

Naomi looked at Daniel. "Do you think I should stay here and help Ellen?" she suggested.

Daniel looked a bit bewildered. He hadn't been prepared to lose his partner. It suddenly struck him how reassuring her presence had been; how accustomed he had grown to her company.

"I guess," he answered uncertainly. Then turning to the tall nurse he asked, "How long will it take?"

"Shouldn't be longer than two hours. Just wait for a second." Ellen disappeared inside and just as quickly reappeared. "Here's water and some canjeero. You can put them on the back seat," she indicated with her hand, at the same time handing him the keys. He looked in the basket and saw that she was referring to something like the pancake bread they had eaten earlier for breakfast. Next to it were some bottles of water.

After handing the basket to Rashid, Daniel moved to get in the vehicle. Naomi grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Be careful," she whispered huskily. He looked down at her as she forced a tight lipped smile. Naomi then turned and walked into the medical centre. Daniel was left gazing at Ellen who had an odd smile on her face.

"Godspeed," she said and waved.

The engine rumbled to life and soon there was a trail of gritty sand and wispy dust behind them. Daniel quickly eased off the accelerator as they negotiated the back streets to the main sealed road. Rashid signalled that they should follow the main northwest route out of the city. Initially progress was slow. They wound past haphazard drivers, recalcitrant goats and homemade carts fabricated from recycled car parts.

Driving into the harsh, arid countryside, trucks were again in evidence in both directions. Rashid told Daniel that much of the produce came from this direction. Water scavenged from the broad river beds was abundant, by Rashid's way of thinking; water enough to grow vegetables and fruit for the region.

Forty minutes into the journey was enough time to hear the boy's story of despair and hope. His parents were victims of the fighting around Mogadishu and he had been rescued from the child soldier draft by white missionaries. He explained that only Christians could enjoy the hope of a certain promise... "Everyone else they try hard to get to paradise, but they never know," he put it succinctly. Daniel couldn't help admire the youth's buoyant spirit.

"Mister Daneel, you must turn here," he insisted. Initially, Daniel could barely make out the dirt road veering to the right. The rough track sloped down to the wide sandy course of the river bed and then deviated left to follow the mostly dry water course up stream. Winding past houses of farmers with their rectangular plots. He was amazed that people could eke out an existence in such a desolate environment. Surprisingly some crops seemed to be thriving. Farmers were pumping water from holes dug in the river bed and even from large cisterns constructed in the ground to pool the water.

About a mile up the road Rashid indicated to turn right again and they pulled into a farm with one large house and a number of smaller dwellings. 'For the workers,' explained Rashid.

A gaunt, elderly man emerged from one of the smaller buildings. He waved when he saw Rashid and Daniel walk from the four wheel drive.

"Negasi, where is Mr Ali?" began Rashid.

"He is with the mangos, amare." The old man pointed beyond the last row of buildings.

"Thank you Negasi."

The skinny teenager led Daniel to the orchard. There, near the end of the field, a couple of men were picking fruit while another man, supervising, stood near a few crates already filled.

As they drew near the man called, "Rashid, what are you doing here?"

"Mr Daneel is here to find Doctor Rick,"

"Everyone is looking for Doctor Rick this morning," he laughed. "You are too late. He has gone with some of our friends to the market." His careful reference to the refugees did not escape Daniel.

The farmer walked over with a frown on his face. "Why do you seek him?" It appeared to Daniel as if there was an air of suspicion in his question. Daniel took a respectful tone, "Sir, he is my father. It is important I speak with him."

A pained look crossed his face. His brow was furrowed. "There is trouble in the wind, I believe, Mr Daneel. Two men were here earlier. They said they had a message from his son. I did not think they spoke the truth. Now I am sure. You must go to the market quickly."

Daniel and Rashid thanked him, with the latter saying something in Amharic and receiving a stream of excited vernacular. In the vehicle the boy declared, "Mr Ali is afraid we will be too late. He didn't tell where your father was going, but unfortunately Negasi told them when they were leaving. He was not to know it was not good to tell."

His concern now elevated, Daniel jogged to the truck with Rashid trailing close behind.

The return trip was tense and considerably quicker than outbound. Daniel chafed at the congestion of Hargeisa's streets. And it got progressively worse as he neared the main market precinct.

Rows of stalls surrounded the intersection of busy roads. In his haste, Daniel stalled the engine pulling into a parking space. He left the car protruding randomly, in a manner axiomatic of local parking customs. Rashid ran off with a wave of his arm and Daniel tried to keep up with the boy, who gave the impression that he knew where he was going.

They baulked and dodged the bargaining shoppers. It was an obstacle course of ducking awnings, sidestepping carts and nearly tripping over ruts in the road. Past hawkers selling shirts, trousers, shoes and a profusion of western fashion accessories; clattering past roadside food vendors and qat sellers, they surged purposefully on into one of the many food produce market areas. Without warning Rashid stopped. He scanned the tables of fruit and vegetables and the many customers.

Daniel, just about out of breath, searched too. An exclamation of triumph prefaced a rapidly jerking, pointing motion. Following the direction the youth was pointing toward, Daniel could make out the tall form of his father.

Just toward the end of a row of tables with bananas, he was resisting the coercion of two men. One was tall and blond the other shorter, stockier and balding. They were hustling him toward the far end of the souk like marketplace.

"They've got Dad!" Daniel cried out involuntarily. He started pushing and stumbling through the milling crowd. Behind him he heard a high pitched shout. For a moment he lost sight of the retreating abductors. Where were they?

Turning about he could see that Rashid now stood on a cart and gabbled loudly in Amharic while pointing accusingly. There were responsive cries and a surge of bodies when the words 'Doctor Rick' were mentioned. Daniel saw the knot of people towards where the boy was gesticulating.

Soon a group of Somalis tightened around the three westerners and amidst the crush of bodies, the occasional brandishing of knives and one automatic rifle that appeared from nowhere, the two would be kidnappers were separated from their quarry.

Daniel called out, "Grab them! Don't let them get away!" But the summary justice of the locals didn't extend to the prosecution of the wrongdoers. There was sufficient criminal history among the rescuers for them to resile from involving the local police.

The offenders scurried to their van and pulled away with vengeful sneers in the direction of the crowd and Daniel, who had gotten as far as the edge of the main concourse as they drove off.

A number of men, obviously acquainted with Doctor Treloar, were ensuring that he was uninjured. Others were curious about the cause of such an attack. 'Had he offended the men? Was there a feud? Were they after money?" The doctor spent his time patiently explaining that he had no idea what it was all about; a story that was looked upon with considerable doubt by the Somalis around him.

Daniel made his way toward his father. Rashid had joined him by the time they were within a half a dozen yards of him.

When his eyes locked onto Daniel's he froze mid-sentence. He tried to grapple with the absurd vision; an impossible reality. The novel concept of his son being present with him in an African market place gradually gained momentum in his mind.

"D..D...Dan?" he stuttered almost incoherently.

"Yes, it's me, Dad."

"What are you doing here?" His voice was breaking and his expression was incredulous. The moment he said it he realised how cold-hearted he sounded. The doctor took the remaining steps and hugged his son.

"It's good to see you Dan." He leaned back and gazed at the young man in front of him as if he were some apparition. Another hug soon followed, just to further establish the substance of his presence—he was really there!

In a land renowned for hospitality it took a while for the idea to form to remind him of his manners; instead he still shook his head in disbelief. The words eventually came, "Let's go and have a cup of coffee and you can tell me all about..." he paused reflectively, "why you're here."

He placed an arm over his son's shoulder. Just then he noticed the youth.

"Rashid, did you bring my son?"

"Yes, Doctor Rick."

"Well thank you very much. And I think I owe you a debt of thanks for your stirring up our friends to action."

Rashid lowered his head coyly and breathed Amharic comments discounting his role. The older man scruffed his head and thanked him again in the boy's native tongue. The high praise made him glow.

Bustling through the crowd, Daniel's father was constantly diverted to greet friends and ex-patients. When at last they rounded a corner, there was a café with outdoor tables and chairs scattered between large tubs with shrubs. It was a cosmopolitan, treed, neater corner, away from the structural disarray of the city. The three of them sat down and were immediately addressed by a keen proprietor.

A sudden wide eyed expression change on the doctor's face surprised the café owner. It was as if a light had switched on in a dark room. Richard Treloar made the mental leap.

"That's why you are here isn't it? You knew something was going to happen," he blurted as their host waited for their orders. Daniel appeared shamefaced.

"I'm sorry Dad. Yeah... this whole thing's my fault." His father looked quizzical but turned and patiently communicated their orders, watched till the three of them were unattended, and then waited for Daniel to expand on his statement with the prompt, "Go on..."

Daniel ran his hands through his hair. "It's a long story. I guess it's simplest to say that certain people are after industrial processes my associates and I have developed; that the government have listed as restricted by the state secrets act."

His dad looked nonplussed by the convoluted sentence. Daniel rephrased, "We developed a process and people want to steal it."

He went on to explain that the easiest way for them to get the information was for Daniel to give it to them. And, from what had happened to them, it was fairly apparent that they had been trying to create a hostage situation.

Daniel, looking somewhat beleaguered, concluded, "After several incidents, we found out that they were going to target you as leverage to get me to cooperate. So Naomi and I jumped on a plane as quickly as possible to come and warn you."

"No! You're saying that these guys were going to kidnap me to pressure you?" His father looked unconvinced.

"Doesn't sound real does it?" countered Daniel tiredly.

The doctor then went off on a tangent, latching on to the reference of a travelling companion. "Naomi?"

Daniel sighed, did a tight lipped squint and looked at his father. His father grinned, "Is that another long story?"

"You could say that," the younger Treloar replied.

He then proceeded to relate the events of the previous few months as they sipped aromatic coffees and ate genuine imported Oreos. Even Rashid, who seemed by western standards to be quite young to be imbibing caffeine, enjoyed the rich brew while silently spectating.

When Daniel detailed the communications they had discovered revealing the extent of the plot, it drew an utterance of disbelief from the older man. He stared at his son.

Daniel stared back. His look, a half grimace, was enough to confirm to his father the seriousness of the situation. He went on to describe their travels to get to Somaliland.

***

At the completion of his tale his father tilted his head and with an enigmatic expression asked, "So what induced er ... Naomi is it?" Daniel nodded. "What induced her to join this rescue crusade of yours?"

"Mm... well, I guess two things. I needed someone with a genuine reason to come here to hasten my visa application, and also, she...well she actually wants to help out at the refugee centre. She's a qualified nurse." He added that as a sort of half-hearted justification that it was all reasonable.

Then he summed up. "So she went through your organisation and they're taking her on for up to six months trial assignment. Aunt Marcie is sponsoring her."

"We can certainly use the help," commented the doctor reflectively as more cogent connections were forming in his mind.

Suddenly his tone became serious. "Dan, after all you've said this girl has gone through because she's been associated with you, was it wise to bring her here?"

The stultifying realisation of the possible consequences invaded Daniel's thoughts. What had he set in motion? Already two or three, or maybe more columns of dominoes were falling as a result of his precipitous decision making. He had intercepted one course, but other calamities may have been triggered.

"We have to get back," he announced compulsively as he stood.

His father, hearing the anxiety in his voice, was already rising and Rashid, who had been a passive but engrossed listener, suddenly registered their urgency. The café owner rushed over concerned at his customers' apparent distress.

The doctor quickly defused his consternation. He paid him immediately with a small pile of shillings and apologised in fluent Amharic that a situation had developed at the centre and they had to leave with unseemly haste.

The other patrons muttered and watched with lethargic disdain, considering the westerners' behaviour as a lack of decorum for the 'sacred ritual' of coffee.

Once he'd seen where Daniel had parked, his father instructed him to wait there until he brought his car around. Then he would lead him out on the fastest route back to the medical centre.

A battered Land Rover soon appeared and both vehicles then fled the city hub as quickly as traffic would allow.

Thankfully, the early morning crowd and clamour of the camel market had died down. Remnants of herds of goats and the last of files of camels were trailing toward exits. Daniel barely spared a glance at the dispersing marketers, not averting his gaze from the route to the mission medical buildings. In minutes they were fast approaching the entry.

Both vehicles shuddered to a stop almost simultaneously under the carport like shelter. All three leapt out and ran inside as if anticipating the worst.

Coming through the back the doctor just about bowled over one of the local nurse's aides.

"Oh, sorry Gabra," he panted, partly winded by the collision, and then grasping her barely in time before she lost her balance. "Have you seen Miss Ellen or the new visitor, Miss Naomi?"

"No, Doctor Rick, I have been cleaning bed sheets. The doctor trotted down the corridor, glancing into this room and that with Daniel and Rashid close on his heels.

Upon reaching the front entry and having seen no sign of either woman, the tension rose.

"Where could they be?" The younger man almost snapped.

"Ellen's truck was still in the carport so they can't be far," The doctor was trying to convince himself that there was no need to panic.

They rushed across to the residences. Inside the first one, after a cursory glance around the kitchen and dining area Treloar senior called out "Ellen!"

"Naomi!" shouted Daniel almost immediately after his father's cry.

They rounded the corner to see Ellen standing at the wire screen door at the back, with a cup in her hands. She moved in and was soon followed by Naomi also carrying a cup.

"What's all the ruckus Richard? Is there something wrong?"

The charge of agitated Treloars slowed down like a toy with a flat battery. Rashid, having diverted to another area, cannoned into the back of Daniel as he raced around the corner trying to catch up.

All at once they were sheepish, searching for a coherent explanation for their flustered entrance.

"Er... we were looking for you. We thought something might have happened to you both." The excuse for their stampede sounded lame even to the doctor; so he just grinned and concluded, "It's good to see that you're all right. Um... is there more tea?"

Naomi twigged that there was more to this noisy intrusion and pointedly phrased the question.

"So, Daniel it sounds to me like you two have run into those nasty acquaintances of ours again."

"Mm..." Daniel flopped down into a kitchen chair and exhaled tiredly, "Yeah... this time it was the blond guy Ellen mentioned and a short bald guy. We arrived at just the right time, and, thanks to Rashid, the market crowd rescued him."

"What did you do Rashid?" Ellen asked excitedly.

The teenager was probably blushing but it was impossible to tell. "I just scream bad men are taking Doctor Rick away from us. Stop them. Doctor Rick has many friends. The men let him go."

The nurse patted him on the head with admiration. "Well done. You were very brave."

Rashid excused himself citing some errands he had to run. Though it was more likely the attention made him uncomfortable.

The nurse turned to the doctor, "What are we going to do Richard. It sounds like we are not safe anymore. Maybe you should take a furlough until it is safe again."

"I don't really want to leave the Children's Refuge, but maybe you and Naomi should work in the hospital for a while." He rubbed the bridge of his nose as if thinking were hurting his head.

"Dad, this is serious. I think all of you should leave with us now; until it's safe to come back."

"Leave for where?" His father hadn't quite comprehended the implied meaning.

"I'm talking about going back to the States. They can keep us safe there."

"No, no that's out of the question. I'm sorry Dan. I can't leave here just yet, there's far too much to do." His attitude changed as an idea struck him. "I have some friends who might help us though. They can be very handy in dangerous situations."

Daniel looked perplexed, wondering what his father was getting at.

Naomi deposited cups of tea in front of both men even as the elder of the two was getting up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Daniel was a little baffled by his father's eccentric behaviour.

"I was about to contact those friends I was telling you about."

He motioned for him to sit down. "Have your tea first. I'm sure it can wait a few minutes."

The doctor yielded to his suggestion and eased himself back into his chair.

A smile crept onto his face. He examined the young nurse who had seated herself at the end of the table. "Naomi is it?"

She nodded, biting her lip as she became aware of his scrutiny.

"So, I believe you'll be staying with us a while." He surveyed the others before continuing. "Has Ellen shown you around?"

"Yes thanks. And I've brought some forms 'Mission HelpServe' have given me; if you'd like to have a look at them."

That triggered a giggle from Ellen. She turned toward Naomi. "I didn't tell you. I found the email MHS sent. It seems the good doctor hasn't got around to reading his emails that arrived last week." She said the last with emphasis as she faced the medico.

Then she told the doctor, "We did rounds together this morning. Then we walked up to the children's refuge and spoke with Sister." Ellen beamed with the almost permanent smile that adorned her face.

"Ahh good, I'll look at the papers tomorrow. So, what church did you go to back home?" His glance strayed across to Daniel as he said it.

"Carepoint, in Boston." Her eyes tracked across to Daniel as well.

"And you Dan... still a sceptic?" It was clear that the subject had been contentious between them.

The younger man gave half a smile. "I think you'd be surprised. I mean, I'm always sceptical. I think it's the nature of my job, but I'm slowly coming round. I've read lots... but no, I haven't been to church."

He avoided saying he had asked God to intervene in his life because it seemed too trite. He didn't feel any different. How did he know that God had listened; that he'd been accepted?

The doctor ensured he had eye contact with his son when he spoke quietly, "Let me know if you want to talk about it." His face then became quite animated as he directed his next words at Naomi. "Carepoint. That's Marcie's church isn't it? We still keep in contact you know."

The girl nodded and shook her head in sequence. "I live in Aunt Marcie's house," she announced as if the information was a necessary connection to the conversation.

"So, how do you fit in with Marcie?"

"It's a long story, but in short; Marcie knew my dad. When both my parents died on the mission field Marcie became a sort of guardian."

Both Ellen and the doctor appeared quite interested by the last statement.

"Who were your parents?" The senior Treloar pressed.

"John and Gayle Stockton; they served mainly in Kenya," she added the latter as almost a disclaimer—as if to say you wouldn't know them.

Richard lurched to his feet and dashed out of the building and into the neighbouring structure. The others conjectured as to what set off his remarkable reaction. Half a minute later he reappeared waving a book in his hand and with a look of jubilation.

"Unbelievable! You're John Stockton's daughter. This is a record of some of his recollections; becoming a Christian, responding to the call, and some of the things they did in Kenya. You should read it."

"Is there anything about me?" she asked excitedly.

He put the book down and looked sympathetically at Naomi. "Um I'm not sure... not that I specifically recall." His voice was dull, realising the disappointment such news would be to an orphaned girl. "I think he just described the hardships of life on the mission station and how he felt a call to help Somali refugees."

"I remember reading an outline of his normal day and was amazed at the things he had to do. There is a lot of anecdotal comment about his faith journey and the struggles he faced." His face distorted with the effort of concentration, "I'm not sure if I actually finished reading it."

Naomi picked up the notebook and thumbed through the pages. She masked her disappointment with a wide-eyed enquiry.

"Can I take this to read now?" She looked up hopefully.

"Sure, I mean it's your dad's. Read it anytime." His eyes also opened wide as his brain clicked into gear. "You should keep it. It's yours."

"No, I couldn't do that." Even as she said it she looked at the notebook longingly—to have something of her father's! It was like stumbling across a gold nugget in the barren waste that was her family history.

"I insist," he firmly intoned. "And not another word," he further contended with both hands held up in rebuttal as she made to reply.

The doctor stared for a second and then made a tangential observation, "Joel's not here."

Ellen took it as a question and filled him in. "No, he had to go to the hospital. He took Abyan. Remember her. The infection on her leg is quite serious. Anyway, he rang before to say he was staying for the day to help them out a bit."

"Oh, I was going to show Daniel around."

"You can still do that." Her face lit up with her gleaming smile. "It's fairly quiet and I have Naomi to help." Naomi added her support when Richard looked at her.

"We'll be fine."

The doctor didn't raise his objections. He wanted to prevent an atmosphere of fear taking hold. But it was still all too clear in his memory what had happened to him, and what he dreaded was still a possibility for any of them. He would make certain that his capable friends were present before Daniel and he went anywhere.

With that settled in his mind the doctor rose from the table to make the contact, only to be cajoled into sitting for a meal before they left.

They had a strange mix of canjeero bread spread with marmalade and peanut butter followed by fresh fruit. It was all consumed with a hot tea. Daniel remarked how tasty the meal was. His father described how in recent years food production along the wadis had become far more efficient, though water supply was still a critical issue.

At the end of the meal, Richard made his phone call. Sauntering in from his office he fussed around and gave Daniel and Naomi random information about Somaliland, its seasons and the local economy. He even showed some maps and places of interest before an old four wheel drive turned in from the street and parked around the back.

It was an unspoken signal. He immediately stopped his delaying tactics and announced that they should leave.

Daniel shrugged, indicating he had no idea what had just happened. When he looked at Naomi and Ellen, they also both appeared baffled by the doctor's sudden decision. Well, was he ready asked his father?

The doctor was a little too inscrutable for his son. It wasn't until Daniel had established that his father had seen to the security of Naomi and Ellen that he comprehended what was going on. Only then did both Treloars depart.

Once they had gone, Ellen thought it appropriate to set about instructing Naomi on the routines and resources of the clinic, and get down to the really important business of finding out about the relationship between Naomi and Daniel.

While they sorted through dressings and medications, Naomi tried to explain the complexity of their friendship. Whether it was the shared disinterest in the quest, Aunt Marcie's conniving or just an attraction based on the openness of their conversations, something drew her to him. Maybe it was a combination of those things with the life imperilling events that had befallen them.

Even as she shared the story it became apparent to Ellen that Naomi's emotions had so entangled her that there was a touch of desperation in relation to Daniel's faith journey.

"You've just got to step back a bit. Give him some space to make his own decision," Ellen advised as they demonstrated setting up clean sheets on a bed to a new trainee.

"I'm not even sure if he's still interested. He was pretty mad when I told him about my plans to serve on the mission field."

"Oh, he's interested all right." Her dark eyes glittered with laughter. Ellen then confided, "I've seen the way he looks at you."

Naomi smiled bashfully. To her, at that moment, they still seemed so far apart in many ways, and yet they were now inextricably linked by the trust fund and by this venture into the Horn of Africa.

***

Daniel and his father visited some displaced Somalis in a collection of scrappy hovels on the outskirts of the city. These were mainly refugees from the fighting in Mogadishu; the few who chose the harsh journey to Somaliland rather than the nearer refugee camps in Ethiopia.

Richard delivered some aid supplies that had recently arrived and noted to his son that two families had moved out of the vicinity to live on farms in the higher valleys. He was pleased that, though work was scarce for strangers, some of the IDPs (designated 'internally displaced persons' by the UN) were slowly being assimilated.

It was then that Daniel again raised the issue of returning to the States with Naomi and him. Richard, as a good father, listened patiently then simply restated his refusal. Daniel tried numerous angles but his father had a reply for every argument: His calling, his faith was too important. He had friends who could protect him. Ultimately, it was a calling that he had taken on irrespective of the risks.

His son disputed each point unsuccessfully. He tried to emphasise that they were in more danger here because there was no US government protection. Daniel became a bit heated but it did no good. Richard was unruffled. He had a mission.

"Come on Dan, I'll show you why I do this and what a detestable place this world can be sometimes."

They drove around the city, past the general hospital and a maternity hospital before arriving at the children's refuge. The presence of the truck brought a swarm of children, many of them calling out 'Doctor Rick, Doctor Rick'.

The doctor tenderly patted children, chatted, and knelt down to talk to another that was sitting, leaning against a wall. Both feet had been amputated. Amongst the banter and joy of their visit he turned a sad face to Daniel and said with a weight of feeling, "What do they call this? Collateral damage? It's obscene that such inhumanity can be dismissed with such an innocuous sounding phrase; don't you think?"

Daniel didn't know what to say.

As they moved around some of the rooms they saw more of the carnage of war. He felt a sense of despair but, at the same time, he also felt a warm glow of pride and love for his father. His perception of sacrificial giving immediately became real, tangible. It was no longer some abstract adage.

They had a meeting with the refuge's coordinator who detailed the hardships and needs of the refuge. Richard said that Mr Ali always ran out his sympathy patter for visitors. It was one of the ways they had received valuable support. And though it always sounded pessimistic to the doctor he understood why they tried to take advantage of western guilt and largesse.

"It's far worse in the south, in Somalia proper," murmured his father as they got back in the truck for the short drive back to the medical centre. "This here has improved so much over the last few years and yet, by world standards, conditions are still primitive." He looked thoughtful. "If it hadn't been so dangerous in Mogadishu we might have moved there already. Their problems are far worse than here."

"Is that what you're planning to do then?" Daniel asked.

"Well, it's really up to our organisation. They're looking at becoming involved there now that things have settled down a bit. But we won't leave here unless there are replacements. It might be that we spend a bit of time to help them set up. We'll have to wait and see."

Before starting the engine, his father just sat in the parked truck staring blankly at the windscreen, deep in thought. "She's a lovely girl Dan. Are you serious about her?" The question and associated probing look was totally unexpected. Daniel was thrown. He stuttered a couple of times before taking a deep breath.

"Boy that was out of left field."

"Well?" his father had turned to face him and maintained a steady gaze.

The younger man's face broke into a broad grin. "She is beautiful isn't she?" Then with a little less certainty and a slightly strained croaky voice he reflected. "It's just that... I'm beginning to think that I might be bad news for her. Almost everything I've done has brought her into greater harm." Even as he said it Daniel's voice tightened. "We should get back. I don't know what I was thinking. It's dangerous for her to be there by herself."

Richard started the truck. "You forget...she's not alone."

Daniel had forgotten his father's earlier assurances and because of that he hardly considered Ellen's being there qualifying as some sort of protection. But Ellen's presence is not what his father meant.

It only took a minute to complete the short traverse from the refuge to the clinic. And as the truck shuddered to a halt the doctor observed, "And it doesn't look like we're alone either." He pointed to a white van near the corner. "It's been following us."

Daniel looked anxiously at the van and then father and son piled out the truck and ran into the building.

Inside there were two dark Somalis standing near the entrance to the lounge room. Daniel came to a sudden halt as he saw them. His immediate qualms were alleviated when the closer of the two embraced his father, and then the other did likewise. 'So this was the security,' thought Daniel. Naomi and Ellen were sitting in the lounge with some of the girls who helped out. There were glasses and a large jug of cool drink.

"Hissein, this is Daniel, my son." He introduced the second, stockier man to Daniel. As Daniel shook the man's hand his father indicated the first man. "And this is Abu." A curt nod and vigorous handshake accompanied his greeting. The younger, taller Abu had a scar on his cheek and scarring on his right arm. Both men were muscular and of similar dark skin shade.

The two Somalis had been chatting to the nurses and some of the aides when father and son had arrived. Ellen shared how the two men had told of their conversion.

All moved to the kitchen dining area and sat around the large dining table for more refreshments as Richard explained how he had come to know Hissein and Abu. With little elaboration Richard explained that they were reformed pirates. He summarised the story for Daniel's benefit. After both of them had been wounded in a failed raid, Richard had treated them and provided a care they had not experienced before.

Seeing what Doctor Rick did for the oppressed and rejected children and hearing of his faith, they had both been converted.

Daniel felt elation as he heard the men praise his father. They spoke of the rescuing of orphans and how they had assisted in many other ways after finding out about his passion to help the downtrodden.

Often they would travel to the dangerous south of the country or across the border into Ethiopia ready to rescue orphans in need.

The Somali men asked about the incident at the market. Apparently, Rashid had told them earlier of the foreigners who had tried to abduct the doctor. Daniel filled them in with an abbreviated version of his story. All the technical information was implied. He didn't see the need to go into detail. It was enough to say that he had information that desperate people were after. And people he knew could be in danger. He explained that he was trying to convince Dr Treloar to leave North Africa, but that his efforts, up till now, were unsuccessful.

Talk about danger suddenly reminded him. What about the van? Was it still there? It was a peculiar afterthought, as if the shock of the two strangers in the house had banished it to some less accessible recess in his mind, only to surface as he spoke of the troubles they had experienced.

A clatter of the door and scuffing feet heralded Rashid's entrance to the room.

"Doctor Rick, a van is outside the centre." Both Richard and Daniel went to the kitchen window. It was still there; the same white van! Looking closer the vehicle appeared to be empty. Like an orchestrated move, the two looked at each other anxiously, wondering what to do, when a sharp rap sounded at the door. Humorously, father and son then jumped in unison.

Hissein and Abu took defensive positions near the doorway when they sensed the tension in their friend. Another series of heavy raps followed before a gruff voice called out, "Mr Treloar, I need to speak with you."

"What do you want?" Richard and Daniel replied almost simultaneously.

"I need to talk to Daniel Treloar... It's State Department business."

"Identify yourself," the doctor demanded loudly.

"My name's Devon O'Neill. I'm with the State Department." He spoke deliberately and firmly.

"Push your ID under the door," directed Daniel.

"I'm not going to do that." The reply was almost a rebuke. "I'll tell you what; I'll hold my papers up to the window." They heard a brushing of feet in the dirt as he moved away. All four men hustled into the other room.

At the kitchen window a small booklet rose and was pressed against the pane. The open pages showed a picture of a tanned face with short, dark hair. The man was probably in his early thirties, looking quite athletic, and not like your average bureaucrat. His papers looked genuine.

Daniel gave his father a nod and called for the man to meet them at the door. He asked Naomi and Ellen to go to the lounge while they checked out their visitor. The girls moved off compliantly as the older Treloar and Daniel went to the door, with Hissein and Abu close behind.

Still wary, the doctor opened the door marginally and spoke, "I'm Doctor Richard Treloar. What do you want to speak with my son?"

"Mr Treloar, I've been sent by our government to guarantee that your son is safe and that he gets back home as soon as possible. This is not a safe place for him to be."

Daniel's father scrutinised the man at the door briefly. He appeared unarmed but, nevertheless, quite capable of looking after himself if things became physical. He jerked his head to his two Somali friends to retreat into the other room and then opened the door.

The government agent walked inside cautiously and followed the two men into the kitchen. His whole manner was alert and he sat down with practised vigilance with his back to the wall and a view of the door and window.

"So, what can we do for you Mr O'Neill?" Daniel started.

"Call me Devon. As I said, I'm here to help you."

"Have you been following us?"

He looked at Daniel. A little smile crept onto his face. "You could say that. I was asked to keep an eye on you. Then this morning I was told that I should bring you back. They were concerned about the level of communications chatter."

"You look different from the guy I thought was following us yesterday."

Devon smiled. He knew they were referring to his young colleague, Ray, who seemed to think it was necessary to go native when tailing. He said nothing.

At that moment Naomi and Ellen entered the kitchen. Brief introductions ensued and then a discussion was held regarding the threat, real or perceived, to their safety. Richard insisted he would be safe with his Somali friends. Devon gave no indication whether he understood what the doctor alluded to. He was just as determined to convince them to leave. If not all, then at least Daniel and Naomi, who, he had been informed, were 'a package'.

After much haggling, Daniel yielded to his incessant appeals and negotiated their departure in two days' time. This was not particularly to Devon's plan but he had battled to get them to leave without the doctor, so he relented.

He informed them that he had been instructed to monitor them and assist their evacuation in any way possible. He would drive them to Berbera where a waiting transport plane would ferry them to a US base in Kuwait. From there they would return to the States. In the meantime, he asked them to let him know if they were planning any excursions so he could keep an eye on them.

It dawned on them that he was a cagey operator when he concluded his case with the comment; "You know, nominally Hargeisa is relatively peaceful, but if international terrorists make a move on you, even ex-pirate protectors will have their work cut out for them. By the way, you should probably invite them back in. They might feel a bit excluded out there."

The two Somalis were invited back in and greeted Devon with wry smiles as if they'd heard everything that had been said.

Having been persuaded to stay for the evening meal, Devon got to know those in his safekeeping better. Joel arrived just prior to the meal and the large table was quite crowded with the eight people seated around.

They consumed local vegetables, goat meat and fruits for dessert washed down with Ellen's personalised ginger beer. Rich coffee concluded the satisfying meal and vigorous conversation had them all laughing and enjoying the warmth of sharing personal stories. Though notably, the government agent kept his anecdotes to purely facile stories of local life.

Chapter 13

At Richard's insistence his son and travelling companion became mission guests for the night. Naomi stayed in a spare room at Ellen and Joel's residence and likewise Daniel stayed with his father.

On his way to bed Daniel noticed that John Stockton's notebook had been left on a sideboard. He picked it up and took it for some bedtime reading.

Soon after, lying in bed, he was totally engrossed in the personal commentary of Naomi's father. The first portion of the text was made up of observations about his faith and preparations for his fateful trip into Somalia. Some thoughts caught Daniel's attention and he reread them.

...Had a new insight into faith today. The idea that 'faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen' was reinforced by a passage from 2Cor4 – 'So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal'. It's a paradox; to fix my eyes on something unseen... to focus on the invisible eternal. I know an unknowable, I see an unseeable... Your Spirit Lord stirs within me an awareness of something more real than this physical universe.

It's something to remember as we finalise our packing for the journey. We've had some warnings that Mogadishu is becoming unstable again. But if we have to wait till peace is guaranteed we may never go. There are UN peacekeepers there, so it should be safe.

Daniel sighed. He had heard of the civil war in Somalia in the early 1990s. The notes had suggestions of pathos as it described his path into the storm of war. Here was a man anticipating eternity, not aware that it would be his reality sooner than he could know. He paged through the transitory revelations of Stockton's appreciation of the human condition as he took on board the task of providing humanitarian aid while sharing the gospel at every opportunity.

Because Daniel was so tired he paged to the end of the notebook. The last pages were tragic.

The shooting is getting closer. It's all been worth it. I still remember sitting in the church. I was struck dumb with his opening words: 'You may not realise it, but God has brought you here for a purpose.' He then proceeded to speak about two ways people go. One way is selfish, self-gratifying and evil and leads to destruction. You have to turn away from that path if you want life. The other Way is Jesus. It's narrow; you can't take anything with you. If you love riches leave your money otherwise rich people won't fit through. If you're proud, leave your pride, your ego—God opposes the proud... you can't get through, but he gives grace to the humble. He said to cast your worries on Jesus, leave them at the cross.

The Jesus way is truth and it leads to life. All you have to do is choose.

He said many more things describing the contrasts between a way that seems 'right to man' and The Way. But I remember choosing the narrow way that night, with tears in my eyes.

Gayle and I were married a few months later and after two years at Bible College, I brought my girls to Kenya. Naomi if you ever read this I pray that faith finds you rejoicing that ultimately we stored up treasure in heaven. Hope to write more soon...

Daniel had moist eyes as he read the last hastily written phrase. He recalled his own less spectacular entry through the narrow gate. Only now did he consider how everything seemed to make more sense. An eternal purpose put life into perspective. It was weird how, now, he understood John Stockton and his own father. Their lives weren't about gaining the world, they were choosing life.

He closed the notepad and slipped it into a pocket of his computer bag. He lay down in bed, wondering whether Naomi had had a chance to read her father's last message to her.

Then, he breathed a prayer of thankfulness that God had been patient with him. He also resolved that this talking to God would have to become a more sustained habit if he was going to be really serious about faith.

That was his last thought before a wave of weariness overtook him and he sank into the contented sleep of the forgiven.

***

Booming thuds invaded his mind as he attempted to rationalise the noises into his dreaming. The avalanche of sound finally penetrated into his consciousness and his eyelids sprung open. His father was just bursting through the doorway and flooding the room with a brightness that made him squint involuntarily. Behind him staggered Joel, his nose bloodied and his right eye closing from an angry looking welt.

"Get up!" yelled his dad. "They've taken Naomi."

A leaden churn twisted in his stomach. "Who? ... Where?" His sleep inhibited response was almost incoherent as he dragged himself to a standing position.

"Whoever was after you... whoever was incited to want your process; looks like they've made their move."

Daniel threw some clothes on as Joel sat on the bed and groaned.

"Are you all right?" Daniel paused, arms through his pullover. "What happened?"

Joel looked groggily up at the young man. "I heard some noise, like thumping; and I thought I heard a muffled cry; and so I walked out of our bedroom... It felt like he hit me with a sledge hammer."

Just then a call from outside the room indicated Ellen had arrived. "Joel, are you all right?"

He got up and staggered unsteadily to the door. Her gasp was quickly lost in the hustle of an efficient triage nurse. While leading him to the first aid kit she asked, "Is anyone else hurt?"

"No, but they've taken Naomi," was his fading reply.

"Oh, no!..." The rest of the conversation was lost behind closed doors.

"I've got to go after them," Daniel stated with a determined edge as he tied his shoe laces. His father, who was standing at the door, gave an agitated reply.

"Daniel, wait till we've contacted Devon. This is what he does."

"I've got to go."

"Just give Devon a call. He'll know what to do." Richard was almost pleading.

"You contact Devon," he barked hotly. "Tell him I've gone after them."

"But you've no idea where they've gone," his father reasoned as he followed Daniel to the door.

He turned. "I've a pretty good idea. They'll want to get out of here as soon as possible. And, there's only one road to Berbera." He looked into Richard's face and saw his own angst reflected back. "Can I take the truck?" he asked, grabbing the keys from the shelf.

The doctor clenched his jaw and gave a curt nod. He knew there was nothing he could say to stop his son. In a moment of clear thinking he grabbed his backpack which contained his travel documents and money.

Even as he vaulted off the veranda toward the four wheel drive his father tried another tack. "What about I call Hissein and Abu to go with you?"

"No time... thanks Dad," Daniel waved hastily as he got into the car and gunned the engine. Just as he was searching for reverse gear the passenger door flew open and Rashid clambered onto the seat. His eyes were wide open. "I see van. I come warn. I hear Miss Naomi scream. I help."

Daniel was in no mood to argue. The tyres spun and the truck lurched back before he stomped on the brakes and slammed into first gear in one motion causing it to skid and slide sideways.

Under his breath he was cursing himself. The words 'idiot, idiot, idiot' jarred within him. How could he blithely entangle Naomi in his web of intrigue? Rashid's cries were clashing with the chaos of his thoughts.

Eventually, interminably to Rashid though only a matter of seconds, his shouts penetrated. The vehicle shuddered to a halt.

"Mister Daneel, that way... they go that way." He pointed to the left when Daniel was halfway through turning right.

"Why would they go that way?" he demanded.

"They not go through city."

Daniel hauled the wheel around and accelerated the way Rashid indicated. "You'll have to show me," he instructed loudly. Rashid just nodded. Then he pointed left again. Daniel had a sinking feeling because this was the opposite direction to what, he was sure, he should be heading.

"You sure?" he almost yelled, His chest felt tight with anxiety and his head throbbed. Rashid just nodded vigorously.

Within sixty seconds or so the Somali youth gestured for a right turn and Daniel had them careering around at a dangerous speed.

Suddenly the dirt road gave way to a broader paved surface. It was the Hargeisa version of a main perimeter route. They hurtled along the broad bypass for about two miles before turning off the tarmac down an unpaved road on the right. This felt better to Daniel. At least they were heading back toward the city to link to the Berbera road.

It was about two miles along this road that they came across Road Number 1, on the outskirts of Hargeisa. This was the main road to Berbera and their high speed departure had avoided the traffic muddle of the central city.

It suddenly occurred to Daniel that he had no idea how close he was to the van they were chasing.

"Rashid, how far behind are we?"

The boy looked confused. Daniel tried again. "How long ago did they take Miss Naomi?"

That drew an immediate reaction. "Many minutes... I see them go... I put clothes on... I run to Mr Joel's... I see him go to Doctor Rick's house... then you come out after..."

Daniel was rapidly estimating the duration of the actions that Rashid had described as taking maybe fifteen to twenty minutes. Especially since the time of the attack on Joel meant he'd been incapacitated for a few minutes; added to the time from Joel's arrival in his room till when he left in the truck, could have been as much as ten minutes.

And what was he going to do if he caught up with them? He had no weapons, and he probably didn't have the stomach to use them anyway. Even as his heart ached he furiously petitioned God. All sorts of pacts crossed his mind, but ultimately he begged for Naomi's safety. He prayed for wisdom, for some deliverance from the calamity he had somehow managed to precipitate.

Apart from an occasional truck, the road was nearly deserted. Still in the very early hours of the morning, the black, moonless night provided stark contrast to the wash of his headlights, the distant pinpoint of tail lights and even the unnoticed spray of stars above.

The four wheel drive was heaving over ruts in the road and juddering over corrugations on the decaying surface. His tenacious grip prevented the wheel being wrenched away by the demanding road. His constant battle was to avoid pot holes or slewing sideways off the shoulder of the sandy road. Many miles had been negotiated before Daniel felt he was getting into a rhythm with the road.

Then, unexpectedly, there was a whine as the engine was urged up a short, steep grade, before a cough and jerking stagger shook the car to a standstill.

Daniel stared blankly at Rashid before vainly trying the starter. He wanted to lash out. How could they be stranded out here when Naomi's life was in danger? He thumped the steering wheel after another failed whinge from the starter motor.

Again, it was Rashid who brought some sanity to his frantic foray. He sat there pointing stoically at the fuel gauge. Empty... empty! How mindless, how incompetent was his rescue attempt. His head leant against the steering wheel, disconsolate. The ache of helplessness welling up in nauseating constrictions of his stomach and teaming up with the dull pressure in his head made him misery personified.

Rashid, however, was scrambling into the back of the truck. He retrieved a five gallon jerry can of fuel, lugging it along the ground to the gas intake. He had a silly grin on his face as Daniel tumbled out, shamefaced, to take on the refuelling.

It took precious minutes to decant the gas into the tank. He was despairing of catching up to the kidnappers, aware that more gas would have to be bought at the next depot.

The remainder of the journey to Berbera was a blur of rattling, bone shaking vibrations in their wild race against time. A hasty fuel stop, shadows of small settlements, piercing lights of oncoming trucks, blasts of dust and gravel from the lumbering beasts rushing past, were all hazy silhouettes in Daniel's charge for redemption. How could he right this wrong? His mind in turmoil, he felt as if part of him had been ripped out of his side. Was it merely guilt, or had his love for Naomi finally crystallised in this cruel realisation—that this love which drew him to her, had led her into jeopardy at the same time, and may ultimately destroy her!

A salmon pink dawn went unnoticed as Daniel barrelled down the last stretch of the main road before drifting into a left hand turn and tearing up the two mile long airport road and around a sweeping bend. The barrier near the terminal entry was manned and he was given a brief lecture about his reckless approach to the gate before he was allowed to pass.

Rashid gripped the car door as they swung violently right towards the terminus. It took only a minute of vigilant scanning to determine that the van Rashid had described was not there. A second pass up and back confirmed that the van was not to be found.

Pulling up as near to the main entrance as possible he leapt out of the car, instructing the boy to wait for his return.

Irritably, he barged into the white plaster and sandstone building and confronted the desk clerk.

"Have some men and a girl come in or boarded a plane recently," he burst out brusquely.

The man at the desk slowly raised his eyes. Phlegmatically, he examined the rude interruption to his newspaper break.

"What is it you want sir?" he asked placidly in refined English, obviously hardened to unruly or demanding passengers. His icy calm, dark eyed stare unnerved Daniel. He steadied himself and tried to be as dispassionate as possible.

"I'm wondering if you can help me. I am looking for two or three men and a young woman. They may have come in in the last two hours."

The clerk gave a tight smile. He prided his ability to cow the irascible clientele.

"You could check the Departure Room sir, but I doubt if they are here. Our only flight for the day leaves in three and a half hours."

Daniel thanked him and withdrew as casually as he could. He inspected the large waiting area. Rows of hard cinema like seats were neatly arranged across the space. A few sleeping backpackers were lying prone on several at a time. Another few were reading. Some were playing cards. In all there were about twenty five, mostly young, travellers. Their arrival suggested that they wanted to guarantee they didn't miss their flight and get stranded for another day in this backwater.

There was no sign of Naomi. A second's stunned hesitation, suddenly morphed into purposeful striding. Berbera was a port. There must be a ship! He desperately hoped he hadn't missed it.

***

Before the attack, Naomi had been writing notes in a diary about what she'd heard about her father and about the first few pages she'd read earlier from his notebook before putting it down to join in on their evening socialisation. Her notes referred to the things he had done in setting up the Somali mission and the precarious path he walked daily just keeping out of trouble.

Later, she read her Bible, struggling to keep her eyes open. Barely had she turned the light off when sleep devoured her.

An hour later the small residence was silent when two men crept up to the door. Access was not inhibited by locks of any sort. They padded softly into the house, bypassed the first room and cracked open the door of the second. A beam of torchlight about the room confirmed their prey. A quick nod and they hustled inside, grabbed the sleeping girl and dragged her out of bed.

Shocked out of her sleep, Naomi at first struggled as if in some encumbering nightmare. Then she squealed in protest. Rough hands restrained her arms and clamped down on her mouth. She bit and yelled. A swatting fist knocked her senseless as they hauled her out of the room. Joel, blearily emerging from his room, got belted with fist and torch simultaneously. The crashing blow caught him flush on the cheek and glanced off his nose sending him crumbling to the floor.

In a well-planned manoeuvre, the van roared up just outside as the two kidnappers wrestled the rapidly reviving captive. A cry of alarm from the house was just audible as the van accelerated away. Another swipe at Naomi's head caught her a glancing blow and had her slumping forward. A vicious sneer from the driver, told of the victorious mood inside the vehicle.

"That'll keep her quiet," he chortled harshly. But it was a ruse from Naomi who was not about to be the helpless victim. She launched herself to the open window and screamed and wailed, gesticulating wildly as they neared the orphanage.

A sharp prick in her thigh stopped her short. Looking down, confused, she saw the hypodermic. Fog filled her mind as the drug seeped through her system. The wooziness palled into a black cloud of unconsciousness.

***

As the mind numbing shroud of drug induced oblivion lifted, Naomi tried to take in her surroundings. Opposite where she lay was a narrow bunk covered in a grey blanket. It was the same as the bed she was on. A small table was beside the bed. The metallic rounded window, the economic features of the room and, mostly, the pervasive salty tang told her she was in a ship's cabin.

Almost fully awake and becoming more alert, she staggered to the door. The handle moved but the door remained securely shut. She shivered, more from insecurity than cold, feeling vulnerable because she was still in her pyjamas. Then, making her way with steadier steps to the squarish porthole, Naomi squinted to peer through the hazy glass.

Alongside the ship was a broad docking area littered with loosely arranged groups of containers. Toward the other end there were some warehouses and beyond them, tanks for refuelling. At least two roads crossed the intervening water to the shore and she supposed that another at the far end also connected with the shore.

She sat on the bed wondering. How was it that she could be brought on board without the authorities questioning. Naomi had no knowledge of the box carried on board, in which she had been stowed; no idea of money changing hands to expedite any formalities and of the cursory nature of vessel examination after its initial arrival.

The cabin had a small bathroom attached. Her examination of it and the cabin itself revealed a distinct lack of anything but the basic furniture. It may as well have been a prison cell for all the amenity it offered.

Sitting back down and wrapping a blanket around herself she audibly berated herself; because only now she decided to pray.

The puncture area from the hypodermic was tender and her head throbbed from the after effects of the tranquiliser and a couple of whacks to the head.

It was a struggle to believe and hope and she mumbled desperate pleas for deliverance and strength. Between snatches of coherent prayer a storm of doubts invaded her mind. To what end were all these trials? If she were to die what was the greater purpose? Was she ready to die?

***

Daniel had driven furiously to the docks only to discover that each of the entry points had a check point. Rashid suggested that they speak to a truck driver that was heading onto the docks and hitch a lift. When Daniel remarked that he made it sound like an easy thing to do, Rashid assured him that it would involve an exchange of money for services rendered; a bribe.

They waited about fifteen minutes at the eastern entry point when two trucks turned up. Daniel and Rashid approached the second driver and after a brief haggling over what was a fair price they parted with a stack of notes. Daniel climbed up and sat with the driver in the truck cabin. Passing the entry gate was a mere formality and he wondered whether he could have just as easily driven himself onto the dock.

Travelling the five hundred yards onto the dock allowed him a brief moment to survey the vessels moored along the length of the pier. Two large cargo ships were at the near end while a mixture of small and medium sized ships were tied up parallel to the remaining length of pier. The truck carried its container to the receiving station.

Daniel slipped out of the cabin and stared at the ships. He had no idea which one she was on. Should he just start searching on the larger vessels? How could he avoid detection while checking out all the cabins and possible concealments?

Even as he was skirting the building to get a better view of the largest freighter a feeling of despair welled within him. There was no way he could examine them all and his only hope was to, somehow, board unseen, find and release Naomi and escape before they knew what was happening. That would be impossible if he had to wander through every ship opening every door.

A touch behind him made him jump with fright. A quick glance behind showed a broadly grinning boy very amused at his reaction. Rashid moved his fingers to his mouth.

"Daneel, I go to speak to the man." He pointed to one of the shipping offices. "He say they on that shi-ip." He stood pointing to the very large freighter backed to its mooring. It had a drive on ramp that allowed it to ferry numerous vans and trucks.

Daniel was somewhat doubtful and inquisitive at the same time. "How did you get here? How did you find out?"

"The truck." He pointed to the one Daniel bribed himself onto. Rashid could have said 'of course' and it wouldn't have added any more clarity to the obvious answer. He'd hitched a ride behind the prime mover.

Daniel pulled a face to indicate how dull-witted he felt.

"Okay, how do you know it's that ship?"

"I say friend come to go on a shi-ip but not know the one. He say people go today are on that shi-ip." Again he said the word as two syllables and pointed.

Daniel placed his hand on Rashid's head and looked him in the eyes, "Thank you," he whispered.

"You wait here and I'll see what I can find." Saying it sounded so simple but his mind was battling furiously trying to formulate some plan. As he scanned the surrounds he noted that three trucks were lining up to drive onto the vessel. Without hesitating he walked purposefully along the fringe of containers, placed less haphazardly than they first appeared. He studied the codes on each as if he were looking for something in particular; all the while making his way aligned to the queue position of the vehicles. He walked to the back of the line, hidden from the rear view mirrors. Scampering behind the last truck he crawled underneath the second trailer, panicking when he heard the diesel cough into life.

The vehicle was shaking as he hoisted himself up onto the front half of the articulated transport. Daniel then managed to shimmy behind a taut canvas tarpaulin.

In the dimness he could make out his surroundings. Stacked underneath were numerous pallets with tightly strapped cardboard boxes covered in indecipherable script. By forcing his arms and legs away from his body he managed to create a reasonable space.

The whole trailer vibrated as the engine roared and the driver put it into first gear. The jolting gear change almost made him lose his purchase on the edge of the tray. The throaty growl of the engines rose in pitch as the truck mounted the ramp and the ramp metal grated on the concrete pier.

It suddenly darkened even more and multiple motors echoed inside the immense hull. From his obscured position he had no idea what was happening. The throbbing diesels resonated all about him as the truck eased to a stop.

One by one the engines shut down. His ride was the last. Silence...eerie, momentary, hollow, silence, finally shattered by a slamming door, then others and shouts of greeting. Daniel waited fretfully.

When things had quietened down he lowered himself to his knees and squeezed out from under the tarpaulin.

Inside the huge storage hold he discovered that the cargo was mainly containers, with just five trucks using the roll on roll off facility for the purpose it was initially designed. A multi trailer rig pulled by a small tractor was parked to the side next to a mobile crane. Three rows of containers extended all the way to the end of the metal chasm near the middle of the freighter. The ship had obviously been adapted to move containers as well, rather than transporting just rolling stock.

Furtively, Daniel moved from behind the truck to a metal stairway. It led to a mezzanine area with further storage for individual pallets. His intention was to get to the cabins toward the bow. Noiselessly, he climbed the steps and then quickly darted between several piles of goods as three sailors walked past. Their conversation, though totally foreign to Daniel, sounded subdued and routine. One stood nearby and operated a control panel that resulted in the ramp being slowly raised to close off the rear door. Another could be seen through the floor mesh securing chocks behind the truck wheels. The third was out of sight but his voice indicated that he was near the lifting ramp. Daniel imagined there was some way to fasten the door so that it was locked in position.

Only then did a wave of panic rise within him. They were preparing to leave! In the distance he heard the anchor being hauled in. The ship hummed to life as its large engines were revved up.

Daniel could do nothing. He was trapped until the men had finished their tasks. A clunking sound signalled that the rear was shut. His crouching position became increasingly uncomfortable as he waited. Eventually the other two stomped up the metal steps and the three exited the way they came in.

Carefully, he moved forward. Daniel could see corridors on either side of the mezzanine heading toward the bow. The nearer one was the exit the three sailors had taken. He chose the farther one, hoping that, if he was seen, no one would stop to question him.

Creeping warily along the metal grid, Daniel's heart skipped a beat as the ship began to move. Though gradual, the increasing speed was bad news for any intended escape. Every minute meant a hundred yards farther out to sea. And once the ship left the main channel to the port its speed would more than double.

The corridor skirted more bulk cargo holds amidships—where on board cranes were positioned to lower and raise containers— and emerged some distance along the ship. Toward the bow Daniel could see the elevated decks of the crew quarters, amenities and probably any passenger quarters. Beyond that, right toward the bow, he guessed, were the wheelhouse, navigation and communications centres.

He clambered up steps and turned into the first doorway. He walked into the dining area. A couple sets of eyes looked up and then down, back to consuming a meal. Assumed to be just one of the passengers, he supposed, so he sat down and considered his next move.

He didn't know if the ship's crew or captain were aware of the kidnapping so he didn't know if he could trust them. His plan evolved as he noticed two more crew wander in. He would wait in a corner and watch to see if he could recognise any other passengers. Following them to their cabin would be the next task.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

After half an hour he had second thoughts. They were now a fair distance out to sea and no one other than obvious crew had come in. Daniel decided that if nothing happened in the next five minutes he would hazard a search of the sleeping quarters.

One of the galley crew came and looked at him suspiciously. There was a moment when he was running explanations for his presence through his mind, but the cook called him back into the galley.

There was no hesitation to see what would happen. He didn't want to be there if anything did. Daniel slowly got up and strolled out.

At the first door he paused and listened for a moment. No sounds were discernible. He strolled to the next door and was about to listen when the galley hand entered the corridor carrying a tray. That was incentive enough to hasten toward the other end.

About three quarter of the way along he heard the man knock on a cabin. He turned and watched. A blond man appeared at the door and accepted the tray. The man had to have been the same tall, Germanic, blond man that he and Rashid had spotted trying to abduct his father; the same one Ellen had seen.

Daniel was too slow to turn from the hallway as the man gave a quick look in his direction. He tried to casually walk away along the corridor, but a guttural shout from behind caused him to dart out the door; his feet thudded on the metal decking, past some common rooms, past the dining area and kitchen and into the communications hub of the ship. He stopped. A driving urge to get as far away as possible diverted him right down steeply inclined stairs. His mind screamed at him to think. Criminals run. Escapees run. Stowaways run. Stop running!

Reining in his desire to rush, he mimicked an ambling sailor. Stepping through a doorway, he froze. All his effort was focussed on restraining his breathing. The darkened room had glowing radar screens, several banks of dials and a number of computers and screens. He sat down at a vacant console in a row of three, away from the others, and put his head down. His heart was thumping madly. He gazed steadfastly ahead, pretending to be involved in some task.

A minute went by. It seemed like an age. Another minute; Daniel was starting to convince himself that he'd misconstrued the situation. Maybe the shout had nothing to do with him.

In the dim light he made out one other man typing at a computer, and at the far end someone was monitoring some dials and talking into miked headphones. A set of headphones he noticed next to the computer were quickly placed on his head. There was some muttering in the stair well. He lowered his head again. Beads of perspiration collected on his forehead. To the side he saw a jacket hanging on a wall hook near to where he sat. Quickly he reached across and grabbed it. Despite the warmth in the room, a change of appearance seemed the better option.

Daniel had barely regained his seat, wearing the dark, tight fitting jacket, when footsteps clunked down the stairs. He imagined he could feel eyes boring into the back of his head. There was some more muttering; then something about 'working our way to the back' expressed with a slight German accent. This was followed by their slow departure out the opposite doorway and an additional insistence, 'I'm sure it was Treloar.'

Several minutes later, when it was clear that the two searchers had gone, Daniel dispensed with the headphones and stuffy, constricting jacket, rose quietly from his seat and retraced his steps up the stairs. His shirt was soaked with sweat.

Adjacent to the entry to the dining room was a chart of the ship's layout. He studied the various decks. Apart from the multiple decks near the bow of the freighter most of the ship was used for container cargo, both in the hold and on the upper deck. He looked with interest at the diagram. A laundry was two levels below where he was. It was an opportunity to dress to merge with the crew.

A wave of emotion flooded through him as concern for Naomi's well-being stirred the pit of his stomach. Was she in the room he'd seen the German thug exit? What had they done to her?

Preoccupied by his fears for his beautiful friend, Daniel almost stumbled onto the belligerent searchers. Going down the steps he heard voices and the telling foreign accent of his pursuers ascending to the landing below.

Instantly he about turned and strode, three steps at a time, back up and quickly to the door next to the dining room. It turned out to be the kitchen with adjoining food storage areas.

A growling voice accosted him. "Passengers are not allowed in the galley."

"Oh sorry, I must have made a wrong turn." Daniel looked around to locate the source of the voice then put on his best befuddled, simpleton face. He wanted to delay his inevitable expulsion for as long as possible. "I say, so this is where all the great food is prepared. It's quite impressive." The grizzly faced cook he had discovered behind a door labelled 'Coolroom' was slightly assuaged by the compliment of his kitchen. 'Though how anyone could be impressed by the basic, serviceable kitchen was a stretch', thought Daniel.

"Yes, it is a good galley, but, I'm sorry, you must leave." The cook spoke with quite a strong Scandinavian accent. There was a loud clatter from the adjoining scullery and his head disappeared behind the open cool room door again. "Jonick, be careful! You'll have to wash that again."

Daniel took the opportunity to get out of there. By the time the cook had closed the door behind him the intruder had left and a squinty, pouty expression indicated his puzzlement.

Retracing his recent attempt down the stairs, Daniel was more circumspect about remaining alert. He would be no help to Naomi if he were caught as well.

Two levels down Daniel became confused and wandered erratically before backtracking to the stairs. There he saw immediately the passage to the left that he should have taken. The stairwell had taken a dogleg to the right and he had been disoriented because the map showed the laundry directly ahead of the stairs.

Upon entering Daniel saw only one person that was actually doing laundry. Methodically he checked the nearest drying machines and found two filled with clothes that had finished their cycle.

Surreptitiously, he checked for items to 'borrow'. He found a black tee shirt that seemed adequate and stood behind the end machine, near the doorway, to put it on. A little snugger than he was accustomed to, the shirt actually produced the guise of a healthy deckhand. It made him sweat all the more though, since he'd just put it over his looser fitting white tee shirt. After rummaging through both tubs he came across a woollen beanie. Wearing these items did make Daniel appear quite different from the person his adversaries were searching for. Nevertheless he was still wary and skulked about this lower deck trying to get clear in his mind what he intended to do.

Even though he wasn't actually captive, he was virtually a prisoner aboard the ship. There was nowhere else he could go. If he freed Naomi, somehow he would have to send a mayday to inform authorities about the kidnapping. He would also have to find a place to hide.

It occurred to him that the truck he had hitched a ride on might provide the best opportunity of concealment. He was sure he could manoeuver the cardboard boxes sufficiently to make room for them both. Maybe if he snuck some food and water into the trailer they could remain hidden for a couple of days.

Daniel felt more confident now that he had a plan of sorts. He would secrete some foodstuffs away for them. He would send a mayday from the communications room, since his phone had no reception. And then he would visit the passenger quarters and watch for an opportunity to free her.

His current thought was to set off the fire alarm and wait nearby with a cudgel of some kind, quickly incapacitate Naomi's minders and escape with her to the truck. It sounded uncomplicated to Daniel in his desperation. A little careful consideration would have highlighted numerous holes in the plan.

Chapter 14

Devon Collins was shattered. He had only just convinced himself that his mission would soon be over; that Daniel Treloar and Naomi Stockton would soon be off his hands. That's when he got the phone call from Richard Treloar. A kidnapping! And worse than that, it was someone who was under his protection. Washington would not be pleased. Even as he made the call to his superior the back of his neck prickled in anticipation. It was becoming a debacle and a stain on his reputation.

After describing the events and what he had expected to occur, he then outlined the facts of the abduction as he knew them. His boss didn't rant, he just spoke coldly, efficiently; he was all about solutions to the problem.

As the agent on the ground Devon was expected to make recommendations. He had carefully detailed a series of strategies. Devon outlined his preferred plan. Surprisingly, resources were made available, and additional manpower was placed at his disposal. He was to report in at regular intervals and both air and sea units were being mobilised.

***

Back at the port of Berbera, after the cargo vessel had departed, Rashid had made his way back to the four wheel drive. Cautiously, he drove some back streets to park close to the town centre. Eventually he found a storekeeper who didn't abuse him or shoo him away. He was able to use the phone and talk to Doctor Rick. The doctor told him to stay where he was and Hissein and Abu would find him.

Only a short time later the two ex-pirates arrived and thanked the storekeeper, resisting politely an invitation to be blessed by his hospitality. Hissein explained that they would enjoy tea with him once they had completed an urgent task. The unspoken threatening nature of their cause was clearly evident to the shop keeper. He noted their earnest manner and wished them 'the strength of Allah'.

They took the boy back to the car he and Daniel had travelled in. Rashid excitedly replayed the events from the preceding night. Then he told them how he'd become very agitated as he watched the ship leave with Daniel on board. Hissein and Abu listened solemnly. In separate cars they retraced the half mile back the way the boy had driven. Hissein and Rashid drove in the doctor's car and returned to the dockyards. Rashid pointed to the office and also where the ship had been berthed. Scanning the port facility as they parked near the gate, they could just make out the departing freighter.

Following a short discussion with Abu, the two men took Rashid with them to a previous haunt about a mile north west from the dockyards; on the northern coastal fringe of the city. It was there they met some past 'associates' and became reacquainted with their violent former lives.

Hurriedly, preparations were made; other members of the band were contacted. A cause that was for the renowned Dr Rick and was also both a just and risky cause, galvanised the group more than an illicit raid would have.

***

Meanwhile, on the ship, Daniel was gathering his supplies. Having taken a photo of the ship layout on his phone, navigating the various decks of the bridge castle was made easier. He snuck into the crew gymnasium and took some water bottles from the fridge. Depositing these on the truck was his first priority.

Daniel stealthily traversed the mezzanine to avoid alerting two crewmen who were examining the cargo hold. Comments from the two English speaking drivers about chucks on wheels not being secured and the advantages of short haul voyages in generally calm seas, was all he heard before the men ascended the steps opposite. Daniel dropped silently and pressed his body flat on the rusty metal sheeting, desperate to not be detected. The reverberation of their movement droned through his body as he squeezed against the lip of steel around the hold cavity.

Their exit was accompanied by a quickly fading guffaw at some nautical witticism. Daniel rose, pinching his clammy shirt from his body.

He was convinced now, that he had to act quickly before he was discovered. Somehow he had to free Naomi and make his way to the transport trailer without being discovered. If they could hide for a few hours it might give any would-be-rescuers a chance to find them and release them. His hope was that Rashid had passed on his troubling situation.

After placing the water bottles beneath the tarpaulin, where he intended to hide, Daniel checked his phone for the route to the communications centre. To his surprise his phone informed him that a network was available. Surely it was protected by a password. Incredibly, the communication capability was made available to all on board once port was left behind.

Daniel immediately selected his father's contact number. He waited for several ringtones before his father answered.

"Daniel, is that you?"

"Yes. Listen Dad, I haven't got Naomi yet," he almost hissed. "I'm about to try and get her. We're going to hide in one of three trucks in the hold."

"I don't understand."

He clenched his teeth in annoyance at himself. "I'm on a ship...they took Naomi to a ship."

"Why don't you just wait? She might be safer if they don't know you're on board." The words were quietly spoken but they had a crushing impact on Daniel.

His father had exposed a fatal flaw in his plan. He now faced an awful dilemma. He still wanted to rush in and rescue Naomi; to save her, to shield her from harm. But he knew his father was right. His presence would only imperil Naomi even more. Hurting her or threatening her would be their path to getting what they wanted from him.

It was a few seconds before Daniel could reply. "I see what you mean. Look, let me know what's happening. I'll try and stay hidden until help arrives."

"All right, stay safe," his father said huskily as he breathed a prayer for safety. "Bye."

"Bye," murmured the younger Treloar, but the connection was already broken. He shivered from the chill of his sweat soaked clothing.

A scrape on an elevated walkway made him look up. His eyes locked on to the stocky kidnapper. The dark eyed man hollered his recognition of Daniel.

"There he is!"

The open cargo hold offered little cover for him. Unable to escape up to the mezzanine because of his pursuer, Daniel charged toward a hatch on the right side toward the bow of the ship.

Even as he opened it he could hear the clanging of boots coming down the metal steps. Closing the hatch, he climbed and slid his way down a ladder. Then he frantically edged his way along the dimly lit passageway. It was a maintenance access route through the bowels of the vessel. He felt the thrum of the engine room below and smelled the oily fumes mixed with the stuffy, stale air. Ducking overhead pipes and overstepping joins in the superstructure, he desperately looked for an exit. The longer he remained in the constricted passage the less chance he had of knowing where he would end up.

Daniel stopped briefly. Was that the sound of someone following? He couldn't be sure. Maybe he could hide and let the thug pass by. The thought of waiting helplessly in the shadows, refraining from sound or movement was too frightening.

So, resuming his headlong rush he soon came to another hatch. Next to it was a ladder up to other levels. By now he guessed he was approaching the bridge castle which towered above the containers stacked on the top deck.

On the spur of the moment he opted to hastily climb the ladder. Two rungs at a time to begin with, then, as his legs began to ache, he went step by step. Having ascended through two levels, Daniel left the ladder at the third landing. Blowing hard from the exertion, he rounded the corner into a passage and met head on with the tall blond German.

The shock of the abrupt encounter was almost immediately followed by a staggering blow to his solar plexus. A wheeze of air vented with a grunt of pain as Daniel collapsed, totally winded.

Initially, Daniel felt as if he would suffocate; he couldn't fill his lungs. His diaphragm was in spasm and panic surged through him. He gave a raspy rattle like someone with an obstructed airway.

Barely conscious, Daniel felt rough hands grasp him and haul him upright. The straightening of his body into the vertical untangled the seizure of his lungs and a howling gasp filled his breathless body. Several more coughing, panting breaths were needed before he could face his captors.

Daniel's arms were pinned by the stocky abductor as he faced the leering German.

"You see Marty," he said with his husky accent, "he is a marshmallow," he poked Daniel in the chest.

"What do we do with him Carl?" was the nasally response.

"We take him back to our rooms." It was a flat, matter of fact reply.

"What if someone sees him? The captain will expect to be compensated for another off-the-books passenger."

"We tell them he had too much to drink."

Daniel looked into his face in bewilderment and saw the cruel glimmer in Carl's eyes. That was the last thing Daniel saw before a fist smashed into the side of his face and a curtain of blackness descended on his world.

The two kidnappers supported Daniel on either side and dragged him to a stairwell. They heaved him up one level and then up to the next level and toward their cabins. Only once did they have to perform the charade of friends returning their inebriated friend to his room.

"A little too much vodka, I think," chuckled Carl to three crewmen as they walked past. One paused and glanced at the welt on Daniel's face.

"Is he all right?"

"Oh, yes, sure; he had a bit of a fall, that's all," the big man blustered. "We'll put a cold face cloth on it. He'll be fine once he sobers up."

The men moved on, not unaccustomed to the occasional bingeing passenger or shipmate.

Unlocking the single cabin their other 'guest' was in, Carl opened the door and Marty carelessly lowered Daniel to the floor so that he dropped the last eighteen inches.

"Some company," the shorter man snorted callously looking at Naomi's distraught face.

Directly, as the door closed, Naomi was on her knees checking out Daniel's condition. She gently turned him over onto his side on the charcoal, utilitarian carpet. Her hands went to his face and tenderly brushed his sandy hair off his forehead. She grimaced with sympathy as she examined the angry swelling and bruising just below his left ear.

Naomi quickly got up and wet some toilet paper, using it to bathe and cool Daniel's face. He moaned at the touch of the cold, wet wad of paper. She breathed soothing words of comfort as he slowly gained consciousness. His eyelids fluttered. He growled a groan of pain and annoyance as he finally became aware that things had not gone so well.

With an effort he opened his eyes to determine his situation. The first thing that came into focus was Naomi's face hovering over him. Her reddish tinged, blonde hair splayed to frame her face and backlit by the porthole, created an unreal effect, as if she were somehow haloed.

"Naomi," he croaked drily

"Shh," she placed a finger on his lips, and then added quietly, "I'll get you a drink."

She grabbed the plastic cup that had come with her meal and filled it with water. Daniel tried to sit up, but his head spun and a stab of pain seared across his brow. Naomi moved deftly to support him before he crumpled sideways. With her arm around his shoulders she steadily raised him to a sitting position and placed the cup to his lips.

He sipped slowly till it was all gone. His eyes dwelt on the pyjama clad girl. She squirmed a little under his gaze and self-consciously grabbed the top button of her flannel top.

"Dan, are you okay?"

He nodded. "What about you? How have they treated you?" His eyes were full of concern.

"Better than you, by the looks; they anaesthetised me but apart from that I'm okay."

Daniel lowered his head and shook it slowly. "I'm so sorry that you're caught up in my mess. This was meant to be a rescue... and now it's so much worse."

"What do you mean?" She had supposed that he had been kidnapped too.

Unwilling to explain how things could get worse, he rationalised how to minimise any threat to her.

"I mean, I'll just give them what they want on the guarantee of your safety."

The implication of what he was saying sank in and she nodded slowly. Then she clarified her question.

"No, I meant what do you mean, 'rescue'? Weren't you kidnapped?"

Daniel looked at her sheepishly. "I snuck on board. I was going to release you and escape." He pulled a face that was part chagrin and part reaction to the stabbing pain he endured. He continued, "Except the boat left before I got to do anything, and left me with nowhere to go, literally."

Naomi saw the paroxysms of pain registering on Daniel's face and insisted that he get in the other bed and try and get some sleep. She assisted him as he wobbled his way to the bunk and dropped down onto it. She dabbed the wet paper on his injury. Daniel clenched his teeth in response to the severe throbbing.

He looked into the concern filled face. His voice grated, "Where's God now?"

Naomi angled her head inquiringly, thinking he was voicing his scepticism. She refrained from preaching at him. It was understandable for Daniel to bolster his aversion to faith and display his resentment when everything looked hopeless. Naomi closed her eyes and gave a small sad shake of the head.

Daniel reached for her hand. "No, I didn't mean it like that. Not in a... disparaging way. I was being ironical. You see, the other night I changed sides. But it seems like maybe I'm not Christian material."

"Why do you say that?" Naomi was totally attuned to what he was saying now.

"Well, for one, I don't feel any different and, two, things have just got worse since I made the decision."

Naomi had a knowing grin. "The change is on the inside. Sometimes people sense it straight away, but usually you gradually become aware of it."

"So, is this some sort of test?"

"Well, let me put it this way. There's no promise that the Christian life will be easy or protected, but God did promise to be with us. So to answer your question—'Where is God now; God is here with us now. You saying what you just said makes me even more convinced that He is."

Daniel looked baffled. "How can you be so sure?"

She smiled. "God keeps his promises. Besides, if someone confesses their faith, that's pretty clear evidence that God is at work. I always think of that thief that became a believer. He was on a cross next to Jesus and he confessed his recognition of Him. Jesus promised the man life but things didn't miraculously improve for him. He died a painful death. The thing is, God was with him, and he received eternal life."

"So, what you're saying is, it makes no difference to what happens to you?" Daniel sounded a little dejected as if the hope he had was only a state of mind.

Naomi came back quite forcefully. "I didn't say that. God can and has intervened in the lives of Christians through history. It's just that it's His call, not ours."

Daniel nodded. "I guess you're right. He wouldn't be God if He did what we told him to do."

Naomi added, "Our pastor says, 'He guides our present and secures our future.' He was talking about how David described being led through 'the valley of the shadow of death', but his aim was to 'dwell in the house of the Lord forever'."

Daniel tried to sit up then shuddered momentarily as another jabbing pain lanced across his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a plea to be released from the torturous ache. Naomi caressed his face. "Lie down and rest," she insisted.

He managed a half smile, "Yes nurse."

"You know, everyone is Christian material, if they surrender to God. And it sounds like that's what you did." Naomi said it more for herself than to counter his doubts. She knew for certain that her heart yearned for him. His actions in risking his own safety for her had clinched it. She desperately hoped that his faith was real.

Conversation dwindled as the exhaustion of the night's pursuit assailed Daniel. Naomi watched him as he sank into an uneasy sleep. She rested in the other bunk and weighed his words. Perhaps it was a sign of their hopeless situation that he wanted answers about faith.

Marty, the junior of the two kidnappers, brought in meals. Naomi protested as he roughly woke Daniel. After shaking him and hauling him into a sitting position, Marty moved over to Naomi and grasped a handful of her hair, pulling her head back.

He addressed Daniel. "You better do what Carl says or you might not see this pretty girl again." Marty's other hand slid across her face.

"That's enough Marty!" Carl snapped from the doorway. He held a gun in his hand. "I'm sure Mr Treloar will be cooperative." He approached Naomi and nudged Marty toward the door. Menacingly, he held the gun near Naomi's head as he spoke to Daniel. "We will leave at the next port, with the girl. Then you may contact your friends and bring us the documents; I'm sure you know which documents don't you?"

Daniel nodded.

"That's excellent. And if you bring them without telling anyone, then no one will get hurt." He grunted a short laugh as if using such a cliché was somehow amusing.

Carl used the barrel of the gun to point at the plates with food. "Eat. You will need your strength." He glared at Daniel and Naomi in turn and then left the room. A click indicated the relocking of the door.

Naomi shivered uncontrollably. The shock of feeling the cold metal of the gun against her temple and the disturbing callousness of their captors had unnerved her. She wrapped the grey blanket tightly around herself trying to calm down, but the more she tried the shakier she became.

Daniel eased up into a sitting position on the bed. From there he took three unsteady paces and sat next to Naomi. Without saying a word he hugged her firmly. She placed her head on his shoulder and wept quietly. The contact, the warmth, the mutuality of the trauma, became a palliative for their battered spirits.

Sometime later Daniel was stroking her hair, almost unaware that she had relaxed in his arms. Naomi gazed up into his face, "We should eat," she murmured with a sigh. He looked down, kissed her forehead softly.

"Uh, huh," he answered hoarsely. Reluctantly untangling his arms from her, he rose and retrieved the two plates from the small table. Each plate had several club sandwiches. Hardly sumptuous fare but gratefully demolished by the hostage and her would-be rescuer.

When they were finished, Daniel looked at Naomi. "So what you're saying is that even if I don't feel it; even if I think nothing's changed, because I believe Jesus is who He said He is, and that He died so I could live, I'm a Christian... it's a fact?"

"Exactly, if you believe, then it's a fact." She gave a relieved smile.

"I guess we should be praying, or something, then."

"I haven't stopped, but if you like we can pray together."

The next couple of minutes Naomi committed their safety into the Lord's hand. She asked for qualities of perseverance and faith. She prayed for their captors. She thanked God for his grace toward Daniel. Daniel haltingly added his thanks and asked for deliverance.

Their circumstances hadn't changed but their mood had. You can incarcerate humans but you can't easily take their minds captive without their consent. In some way Daniel and Naomi had encountered the truth that God is ultimately in control, even if it doesn't feel like it.

At the conclusion of their prayers Daniel pulled a tight lipped, edgy smile, "What do we do now?"

"We wait. Sometimes it's the hardest thing to do. I mean if a clear path opens up we should go for it, but waiting and trusting is usually recommended."

"What happened to 'the Lord helps those who help themselves?"

Naomi brushed a hair from her face and studied the man that had radically stirred her affections so that she no longer had any certainty about what she should do.

"I don't think that's biblical. There are a number of stories of people who acted believing that what they were doing was God's will, and things didn't turn out too well." She tugged the blanket snugly around herself. "Now that we've prayed we should trust that God will lead us out of this. Or at worst, make us content with what happens."

Naomi could see that Daniel wasn't really keen just waiting. Being passive and compliant wasn't his nature. He stalked around the cabin testing doors and the porthole latch. He felt for his phone. It was gone. He found a paper cup and they shared some water before he flopped on the bed and exhaled noisily.

"It all seems so fatalistic, just waiting."

"Let me put it this way. When it comes time to act, it will be clear what we should do. That's what I believe anyway." Naomi's tone revealed her tiredness and diminishing confidence.

The darkness outside deepened. With little persuasion, Daniel agreed to turn out the light and try and get some sleep. His injuries and the tension of a long day inevitably took their toll and Daniel was soon in a fitful slumber.

Occasionally he would wake and listen to Naomi's regular breathing, acutely aware that his actions had brought her here into this perilous situation. He vowed to himself that somehow he would free her from this threat to her life. The cold, hard fact occurred to him that if he died trying to release Naomi, they would have no reason to hold her any longer. Whether that guaranteed her safety was another question. 'These goons might just as easily kill her as let her go,' he thought.

Amidst Daniel's fourth and most substantial sleep episode, a heavy clunk against the hull awakened Naomi. At first she characterised the sound as part of her dream, but several successive thuds shook the shards of drowsiness away.

Her initial thought was to rouse Daniel. His settled, peaceful stupor made her resist the impulse. She went to the porthole to see what was going on. Almost blindingly, a stream of tracer bullets arced across the bow of the ship.

Blackness immediately followed the glare. Just as her eyes were becoming accustomed to dimness she heard numerous feet running along the deck. Another scintillating streak of tracers flared past their porthole and over the deck. Yelling ensued and the concussion of several gun blasts boomed through the ship.

Daniel leapt from his bed in fright, "What was that?" he croaked as he swayed unsteadily.

"It sounded like shots. There's another boat shooting at us." Naomi indicated outside where she was looking. He went to the window but could see nothing.

Muffled voices out in the corridor drew nearer. Their door was tested with a rattle of the handle. They heard the next door flung open. The alarmed sailor bawled out, "Pirates! Stay in your cabins. Got it? Stay in your cabin." Daniel envisaged the occupants in the adjacent cabin nodding compliantly, but that wasn't the case.

Once the sailor warning passengers had passed to the other side of the accommodation area, a couple of gruff comments preceded their door opening and the light switched on.

"Isn't that charming," growled the German as Naomi, frightened by the sudden intrusion, drew close to Daniel and he enfolded his arms about her protectively.

Carl held his pistol and waved it casually as he talked, "We are just joining you to make sure those pirates don't take our hostages, hostage," he sneered with a malevolent grin at his own cleverness.

"Yeah, we wouldn't want you falling into their hands would we?" whined Marty with a wicked sneer. He walked closer leering at the cowering girl.

"Shut up Marty, and check the corridor... see if you can find out what's happening."

The shorter subordinate scowled at his boss but remained silent. He cracked open the door and peered down the hallway. The noise of distant activity penetrated the room. He turned and eased the door shut.

"It doesn't look good Carl, looks like they're rounding up all the passengers. What do we do?"

"Shut up and let me think," he snarled.

After a moment's consideration he spoke. "Maybe if we keep the door locked they'll think no one is here." He placed the key in the door and engaged the lock. Then Carl sat on the edge of Naomi's bunk and examined his automatic pistol. A quick release of the magazine to ensure it was fully loaded and he then reinserted it with a snap.

"I hope I don't have to use it, but it pays to be prepared." He looked up to the door as the ruckus in the hall got louder.

Broken English shouts, by what sounded like Somali pirates, came from the room before theirs. From the yelled instructions it sounded like they were all being herded into the dining room. Stomping sounds and loud shouts were quite intimidating to hear. Daniel drew Naomi even closer as if shielding her from the terror about them.

The thumping footsteps abruptly stopped outside their cabin. The handle was pulled to no avail. A fist banged on the door. "Open!" came the loud command. A few seconds of silence passed before the demand was repeated more aggressively.

Carl glared at Marty, who had shuffled slightly. He vigorously, though silently, shushed him with a finger pressed to pursed lips.

Several more seconds passed and then the steps progressed to the next cabin. Sounds from next door suggested that Carl and Marty's room was being searched. Their noiseless vigil continued for a number of minutes while the rowdy pirate horde systematically searched the remainder of the rooms.

Carl and Marty were visibly relaxing when the trooping of feet returned.

The bashing of the door resumed and the shouting became more demanding, "You must open or we shoot!" Several further crunches against the door using some implement had the four occupants retreating to the far wall. The gun was slipped away as they waited.

An ear splitting explosion destroyed the lock and the door swung open. Somalis tumbled through each brandishing old soviet and US weapons.

It wasn't until Hissein and Abu filed in at the end of the queue that the tension in Daniel and Naomi's embrace eased.

"Take them," instructed Hissein to his fellow pirates.

Carl, almost instantly, detected the mutual relief of his captives; a half smile, a squeeze of a hand and the readiness to venture into a violent unknown.

His reaction was also almost immediate. He sprang across to their prisoners grasping his gun from his belt at his back and thrust it against Naomi's neck. At the same time he used his other hand to thump Daniel's skull against the bulkhead. As Daniel's body slumped onto the floor, Naomi screamed and Carl's guttural shout made everyone freeze, "Nobody move or I will kill her!"

He sneered at Hissein who still held a machine pistol in his hand. "The good doctor would not like it if your rescue effort ended in their deaths...no?"

Hissein and Abu looked appalled at the idea. As Hissein gritted his teeth and shook his head, Abu used his arm to draw back their co-conspirators.

"I don't expect to see you again; otherwise I may have to hurt your friends." Carl grated menacingly. Marty hovered behind his boss, still fearful of the Somalis but emboldened by Carl's counter attack.

Even as Carl threatened them Daniel eyed him from the floor, looking for an opportunity. The Somalis began to withdraw from the room and the tall German waved his gun at them. Dragging Naomi with him as he stepped toward the door, Carl was unaware that Daniel was still conscious.

With a scissor motion of his legs entangling with Carl's, Daniel tripped him and brought him crashing to the floor. Frantically, he launched himself on top of his fallen foe coming between him and Naomi just as Carl raised his weapon. The gun fired when Daniel rolled across him trying to secure it. He grasped the gun hand and smashed it to the floor with all his strength. The pirate rescuers poured back into the cabin. Two scuffled with Marty forcing him to the ground. Daniel ceased his struggling, feeling exuberant and light headed as other Somalis piled onto Carl, subduing him by sheer weight of numbers.

Daniel became aware of a searing pain in his side. Looking down he saw his shirt staining dark. Sticky, seeping blood soaked onto the floor.

In a surreal fog he imagined watching himself die. His sight dimmed. Sounds filled his mind. Naomi crying, words shouted in Amharic, pounding feet and throbbing engines. It all faded as the curtain of unconsciousness was drawn across his mind.

Chapter 15

Dazzling light made it difficult to open his eyes. Daniel heard the muttering of a quiet conversation above a very faint vibration that was more sensed than heard. Gradually he averted the direct light and looked to the side.

The first face he saw was Naomi. She smiled. Seeing her safe, he couldn't help grinning back. The bruises on his face made him wince. She slipped her fingers between his and clasped his hand.

"Just take it easy," she whispered. Her right hand caressed his face. "You've been bashed and battered a bit lately, haven't you?"

His eyes moistened as he was moved by her tenderness. Naomi leaned over and kissed Daniel's forehead.

His left hand curled around behind her head and brought her lips to his. The soft gentle contact was in contrast to the riot of emotions churning through him. Whether it was seeing her face, knowing she was safe, or the effects of their first kiss with shared intimacy, he didn't know; but the emotion overflowed into words.

As their lips parted and he glimpsed the sparkle in Naomi's eyes, he spoke, "I love you." The words were throaty and faint. Naomi gave a contented smile and kissed him more firmly. He drank in the soft, musty perfume of soap and his curiosity was aroused.

They separated and he noticed she wore grey overalls with sleeve cuffs rolled up. Glancing around, he could see that he was in a bed in some sort of medical ward. His left arm had an intravenous drip attached.

"Where are we?"

Just as he said it there was movement at the doorway and a medico walked in.

"Ah, Mr Treloar, you're awake." He turned to Naomi. "Excuse me Miss Stockdale. Let me see if we can check the patient." Naomi moved away while the doctor peeled back the blanket on the opposite side of the bed and lifted the left side of Daniel's hospital gown. He examined the bandage on his side but didn't touch it.

"Daniel, isn't it?" Daniel nodded in assent. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Riley, Chief Medical Officer aboard this ship. Daniel, you lost a fair amount of blood but there seems to be no organ damage. We gave you something to let you sleep a while so you've been aboard almost two days now. The wound should heal well. There's no leakage, but try not to move it too much."

He smiled a perfunctory smile and asked, "Any questions?"

Daniel shook his head, "No...and thank you doctor."

"You're welcome." Riley turned, smiled a warm smile at Naomi. "He's all yours," he said and left.

Daniel looked at Naomi. He was completely mystified about his circumstances.

"What happened?"

She sat down next to his bed and took his hand and clasped it between both of hers.

"What do you remember and I'll try and fill you in on the rest?"

His eyes wandered to the ceiling and his face was disfigured in a pained visage of concentration.

"Er, I remember Hissein and Abu and some of their Somali friends came in. They had guns. Um... there was shooting... no... I can't remember what happened. Is that when I got shot?"

Naomi increased the pressure of her hands on his, and feelings of tenderness welled up within her. She recalled for him the crazy, heroic antics that had gotten him shot.

"Well, somehow you decided it was a good idea to trip up and jump on our German friend, who was holding a gun at the time. That's how you got shot. But it gave Abu and Hissein enough time to grab them. Anyway, it wasn't long after that that this ship; a US destroyer, came alongside and boarded." She omitted telling him how she fought to staunch the flow of blood from his side.

She said the captain of the freighter thought he was being rescued from the pirates, but Devon had contacted the navy and told them what was happening. So the boarding party took Carl and Marty prisoner and the Somalis returned to their boat."

"That was their boat?"

She nodded. "Apparently... Hissein said it was like old times. It seems our friends used to dabble in a bit of piracy. He said that in the last few years naval patrols, like this ship, have made it too dangerous. Hissein and Abu gave it up when they met your dad."

Daniel smiled at the thought that he and Naomi had gone to save his dad and His dad's friends ended up saving them.

"So we're on a US navy ship?"

"Uh, huh; we'll be stopping in Djibouti in a few hours."

"That's not that far from Berbera, so we're almost back where we started. Are we allowed to go back to Hargeisia?"

"It seems we're going straight back to the US. The captain told me that they were instructed to bring us back for our own safety."

"What about my dad?"

"They think he'll be safe now that our kidnappers have been caught."

Daniel was impressed by how much information Naomi had.

"Boy, how come you know all this?"

She smiled sweetly. "I was invited to the captain's table last night and he's a very chatty man."

Daniel nodded sagely. He could imagine the captain enjoying the company of a beautiful girl—a pleasant distraction from the drudge of his tour of duty.

He glanced around the room once more before looking at Naomi.

"Do you suppose they'll let me get up?"

She gave a negative response straight away. "Uh, uh, no; the captain said they would transfer you on a stretcher to the US base at the airport and fly us out on a US plane."

"They have a US base there?" He looked doubtful.

"Yep." Naomi looked pleased that she had all the answers. "It's a US naval base at the airport! I know; I thought it was weird too." She added the last sentence in response to his puzzled expression.

It wasn't too long, after small talk about feeling clean again and the thankfulness of not having to go around in her pyjamas, that meals were brought in for both of them.

"So, this is dinner I take it?" he asked Naomi as she steadied the tray while he tried to sit up. A grimace attested to the soreness of his wound.

She ignored his query and cupped her hand against his cheek. "You really have been beaten up over the last few months haven't you?"

He gave a wry grin, "It's the rough company I keep; always getting me into trouble."

"Yeah, right." Naomi gave his nose a tweak.

"Ow!" he flinched and the sympathetic ache in the rest of his face contributed with the recoil.

"Oops, sorry," purred his tormentor as she brushed the back of her hand on the undamaged cheek to soothe his feelings.

She saw his watery eyes and placed her face against his.

"I'm sorry Daniel. I really did hurt you didn't I?" she whispered.

"It's okay. I deserved it," he said, mollified by her nearness.

The meal was interspersed with 'what now' wonderings and because of the interesting, diverse topics, they ate slowly. That suited Daniel, who had trouble making his jaw chew without twinges of pain. Questions were raised: what about their packs and Daniel's computer? Would Naomi go back? How soon should they convene a Board of Trustees—something both of them thought essential considering the sum of money involved? And what were Daniel's plans?

Most of the talk considered the possibilities and petered out before any firm resolutions were made.

When their plates were collected they were instructed to prepare for disembarking. This basically meant that Daniel should just lay there and Naomi went to her room and collected the rucksack that was provided for her. In it were a number of 'necessities' provided by female members of the crew and her laundered flannelette pyjamas.

It wasn't long before the ship berthed in the substantial docks of Djibouti Port. The city, though quite small by international standards, was larger than Berbera and far more modern than both Berbera and Hargeisia.

An ambulance from the naval base arrived and they soon had Daniel transferred to the vehicle. Naomi, by choice, rode in the back with him and an accompanying medic.

The navy man gave them a running commentary as they drove the approximate ten kilometres to the base. The ambulance followed Rue de Geneve past swimming pools and luxury hotels and then wound its way through the suburbs until they latched onto the main thoroughfare to the airport.

At the gate, the ambulance turned away from the international terminal entry and kept going around the airport. Daniel was wheeled on a gurney into the command centre, feeling particularly self-conscious of the stares from the service men. Inside, Naomi and Daniel were given coffees and made as comfortable as possible in a lounge area.

A young man wearing a suit walked in. He had with him two backpacks and a computer bag.

"Good evening, my name is Ray Furlow. I'm with the state department. Devon O'Neill asked me to bring you these."

Daniel grinned. "Ah, the man following us in Somali costume. Good to meet you Ray." He struggled to rise on the stretcher to shake his hand.

"No, don't get up." Ray dropped the bags and moved swiftly to shake Daniel's hand. "I hear you took a slug; very impressive."

Daniel wasn't sure what was impressive about being hit by a bullet, but he chose to not contest the assertion rather than score an intellectual or sarcastic point. This was in contrast to his usual pedantic responses.

"Well, hello."

All three heads turned as one to see the Base Commander enter. After introducing himself as Commander Wallace and shaking their hands vigorously, he observed, "So you're the couple we've mobilised half the base for. Welcome to our base."

"Sorry for all the trouble we've caused," Daniel offered apologetically.

"No, no, don't get me wrong. We enjoy a bit of excitement occasionally; breaks the monotony."

He diverted his attention to acknowledge Ray and then addressed Naomi and Daniel.

"I know it's late but we've been instructed to deliver you stateside as soon as possible. We have a new P-8 Poseidon flying you out in about an hour. I don't know why you're so important, but we've never seen one of those aircraft out this way before, so we'll make sure we look after you. Do you want something to eat?"

"No thanks," replied Daniel.

"Thanks very much Commander, but we ate on the ship shortly before we were transferred," Naomi elaborated politely.

The commander smiled at Naomi. "I'll send in one of my men. Let him know if you need anything. We'll move you into the plane in about forty minutes. You might want to use the facilities before you leave." He indicated in the direction of the bathroom signs.

"Nice meeting you, Miss Stockdale isn't it?" he shook her hand again as he looked at her appreciatively. "And Mr Treloar," he shook Daniel's hand. "You're a lucky man." He smiled and gave a wink and then marched off.

He was in a hurry. There was a new Poseidon to inspect.

Naomi had a speculative, open mouth, guarded, half smile as she witnessed Daniel's Cheshire cat grin—a grin that was aimed at her and in response to the Commander's comment.

"We're a couple," he submitted with mild celebration.

Naomi rolled her eyes.

A few minutes later a naval medical officer, introducing himself as Lieutenant Smith, joined them. He checked Daniel's blood pressure and other vital signs before replacing the saline bag. He then examined the bandages over his wound, observing how lucky he had been. The bullet had passed through on his left side missing the colon and causing minor damage to femoral nerves. The entry and exit points were quite close given that the shot had almost missed. Daniel replied that he would have been luckier if it had missed.

Just before they moved off, Lieutenant Smith administered a pain killer via the drip, explaining that the movement would be very uncomfortable otherwise. When Daniel suggested that he had managed so far, the medic countered with a knowing smile, "It's not your first dose Mr Treloar. Managing the pain is almost as important as making sure your wound is repaired and allowed to heal."

When Daniel sought to thank him for his care he surprised both of them by announcing that he would be attending to him on the flight. The Lieutenant went on to say that medical supervision was normal when transporting gunshot victims but especially important this time because his assignment to Daniel had come straight from Washington.

***

The P-8 Poseidon had state of the art electronic detection systems and was also geared for anti-submarine warfare. The plane they were in had been diverted from a 'shakedown' flight, which was designed to familiarise its crew and iron out any bugs in equipment or performance.

Its pilot and crew acted a little overawed with their task of transporting Naomi and Daniel first to Germany and then to the States. This was due to a rumour that Daniel and Naomi were highly valued agents of the secret service—why else would they be diverted to Djibouti to pick up passengers? What added credence to the rumour, was seeing Daniel with a gunshot wound and being accompanied by a very attractive girl. It matched every spy movie ending they knew.

Commander Wallace did little to quash the rumour if, indeed, he didn't believe it himself, because he sent two F-15s to escort the Poseidon as far as the Mediterranean. To have two fighters go to the limit of their range for anything but a high level, top secret mission was implausible to the airmen. So every effort was made to make the journey as relaxing as possible for their two passengers.

By the time the flight was approaching Suez, Daniel was dozing, mostly due to the mild sedative Smith had introduced into his system. Naomi was given the opportunity of watching the F-15s rock their wings as they turned back to base. Daniel partially opened his eyes to observe two of the crew entertaining Naomi with the sight of the fighters' departure.

He was taken aback by the feelings of jealousy he had at seeing the airmen chatting with Naomi. They were obviously enamoured by the lovely girl surrounded by an air of mystery. It was evident in the way they were showing off and trying to impress her with their knowledge and banter.

Some four hours later Daniel's moan drew Lieutenant Smith to his side. "Does it hurt?" he asked succinctly. It was an unnecessary enquiry as Daniel's eyelids pressing tightly together said it eloquently. Another syringe of morphine was inserted into the plug of the tube and then duly noted on his chart by the doctor. Naomi sat next to him and distracted him with reminiscences of their eventful history until the medication slowly alleviated his pain.

A voice from the cockpit informed them that they would be landing soon in Germany. Daniel was still firmly secured but the others had to strap in. It was a short refuelling stop so everyone remained on board or around the plane. The pilot arranged for replenishment of snacks and drinks and checked on his passengers.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted to chat to them but nothing pertinent to 'the mission' was mentioned. There was clearly a perceived aura about the intelligence community that had them guard their words.

Dawn was just breaking when they set off once more. A short stop at Mildenhall in the UK was fuel insurance, as they anticipated headwinds that would make a direct flight from Germany 'touch and go'.

Toward the end of the seven hour trip from England to Washington, Naomi was sound asleep in her seat. Daniel looked at her and mused about how his life had altered since the first time he had seen her at Aunt Marcie's. It hadn't taken long for him to become smitten by her.

She was understated, genuine and, the thing that surprised Daniel most was, there was a profound spiritual dimension to Naomi. It was this insightful aspect about her that had awakened his awareness of a spiritual reality. He had a new belief system. It provided not only a moral structure to the world, but also a divine purpose to the universe.

***

Daniel was delivered to a Washington hospital and a secret service agent escorted Naomi back to Boston. It took a while for Daniel to be transferred to Boston, so in the intervening time he contacted his father to bring him up to date on what had happened, and to let him know of his conversion.

He also continued to digest his reading of CS Lewis, recognising that the author himself claimed only his perspective of Christianity. This led Daniel to retrace his reading through John's gospel and then study the book of Romans. He couldn't help seeing some more parallels between the arguments constructed by St Paul and Lewis.

It was a week later that Daniel got a helicopter ambulance transport to Boston. His recovery had progressed sufficiently for doctors to sanction the move.

On arrival he had seen one of the attending physicians and had just settled into bed for a snooze when Gavin, Max and Erin paid him a visit. There were handshakes from the guys and a peck on the cheek from Erin.

Their first goal was to hear the 'whole story'. What was the trip like? What was Somaliland like? How did he get shot? Daniel was quite vague about the whole kidnapping incident and details were scant. He explained that visiting his father had changed his life in a number of ways. Haltingly, he tried to express the hope that Somali refugees were given by people like his dad. And how he had a sort of awakening to what was really important in life. None of them really understood that he was talking about faith. The conversation got a bit awkward when he suggested that he might be devoting most of his time with the trust once it was set up.

As they fumbled around for things to say he asked about the company. According to Gavin not a lot had happened at Wafer Chip Research in the two weeks he had been away. Minor setbacks with substrates and loss of structure with carbon accretion had them considering some different strategies.

Max divulged that he had done a fair bit of sightseeing in California since the new owners of their proprietary licenced chip had shown considerable expertise in developing the existing process. It had become almost problem free and his consultations with them had been intermittent.

Erin asked about Naomi and they all became mindful that his addled attempt to skim over her part in their adventure was caused by Daniel's desire to conceal his strong feelings for the girl. He couldn't disguise his affection though, when Naomi also arrived for a visit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you've already got visitors," she said when she saw them all.

"No, it's fine; come in... the more the merrier," Daniel answered enthusiastically.

Naomi gave a short nod and mouthed 'hello' to Daniel's colleagues and then went and hugged him, feeling three pairs of eyes drilling into the back of her head.

"It's good to see you. How've you been feeling?" Her remarks sounded awkward and stilted because of the presence of people she didn't know.

"Getting better every day," he replied jovially.

There was a tongue-tied moment when Naomi laboured to construct her next question. Erin, seeing her distress, interceded. "Naomi, perhaps you can tell us a bit more about your trip. Daniel's kept us in the dark about most of it. Oh by the way, this is Gavin, this is Max, and you probably don't remember me."

"Erin," interrupted Naomi. She went on, "It's good to meet Daniel's friends. So what do you want to know?"

"What was Dubai like?" began Erin.

Soon they were all sitting around the bed as Naomi and Daniel related most of their misdirected rescue mission. They held their attention as they described the wealth of Dubai in contrast with the poverty of Somaliland. Information about the land his father worked in, the customs and the people they met, held Daniel's colleagues spellbound.

As a group they seemed to bond as they laughed about Daniel's paranoia and the comical agent tailing them.

The drama of the kidnapping, the fourth attempt and Naomi's second incidence as a victim had them all dismayed that such things could happen. Because Daniel refused to speak of it, Naomi outlined how the shooting occurred and suggested that his action brought the whole episode to a close with minimum casualties. His slighted retort about being expendable brought a chorus of pity and a faux patronising caress on his cheek from Naomi.

The visit ended soon after with a nurse instructing them that they would need to leave so the patient could get his rest. It was a particular disappointment to Daniel who relished the escape from the boredom of his convalescence. Naomi accepted an invitation to join his workmates for dinner and added to his feeling of deprivation.

Not long after they left he was visited by two FBI agents. Daniel suspected collusion with the nurse, rather than coincidence, that they turned up so soon after the others had gone. After he inspected their IDs they confirmed, with an apology, that their request had terminated his friends' visit.

They told him the meeting would be short and to the point. The investigation had garnered relatively little. Both sets of kidnappers, who were now in custody, had been organised by the same person; a man going by the name of Will. They didn't know a surname. He was still at large.

Their questions began: Did he know of a person called Will who might be involved? No.

Had he met any of the kidnappers before? No, but he hadn't really seen the first three groups.

Did he know what they were after? Yes, it wasn't money it was secrets.

Why did they target Naomi? She is a close friend.

Could she have been involved? No.

Did he know anyone else who could be providing intelligence about him?

When this last question was asked it was clear to Daniel that the FBI suspected Naomi as a source and being implicated in some way.

"Why do you suspect Naomi?" he asked.

Agent Bennet, the shorter of the two responded. "All these events happened soon after you met Miss Stockdale. Although a victim of two kidnappings, she was unharmed in both."

"Aren't you forgetting that she was responsible for the capture of the first kidnappers? And what motive would she possibly have? She turned her back on a rich inheritance, so it can't be money."

The other agent justified their approach. "At the moment we suspect everyone connected with you. Is there anyone else who could be informing on you?"

Daniel smiled, "As a matter of fact, I have my suspicions about the law firm Haversack and Neesham. Not only were they nearby on the first two attempts, I believe they have been keeping a file on me."

"Keeping a file on someone is not a crime, Mr Treloar."

"Maybe not, but aiding and abetting a crime by the provision of personal details probably is."

"Do you have any evidence of that?" asked Bennet

"Let's say, I have my sources."

"You realise that investigating a law firm is not an easy thing for us to do; not without some hard evidence."

Daniel sat back on his bed and took a deep breath. A heavy weariness had overtaken him. He had been occupied with visitors all afternoon and, added to the morning helicopter flight, his limited stamina had departed.

"We should go," stated the other agent.

In reply Daniel raised his head. "Can I suggest a hypothetical to you?"

"Go ahead," answered Bennet.

"If I gave you a memory stick with details of surveillance of myself, and correspondence soliciting details about my movements and people close to me; would that be sufficient to launch an investigation?"

"That may be enough to begin a covert investigation and maybe monitoring communications. We'd have to talk to our boss, but we've used less."

"You would have to accept my word that it came from a computer at the law office."

They nodded.

"Another thing; the source would have to remain anonymous." His stipulations were sounding less and less hypothetical as he went.

The two agents looked at each other. That would make their task more difficult.

"It's still a possibility," declared Bennet.

Daniel studied them thoughtfully. "Come back tomorrow and I'll tell you whether it's hypothetical or not."

They weren't pleased but they understood this was about sharing confidences and some permission was being sought. The agents excused themselves with a commitment to return early the next day. Both were already planning research about the intended subjects for their scrutiny.

Soon after they left, Daniel made a call to Naomi. She was at a nearby restaurant with Erin, Gavin and Max and having a good time. He explained to her his FBI encounter and requested she contact Stacey to get her permission to pass on the memory stick. Daniel stressed that it would be anonymous but he knew that little deduction would be necessary to determine who the likely source was. He emphasised that Stacey should feel no obligation to agree to hand over the data.

Naomi answered that she understood and would get back to him when she could. Before ending the call she passed on that Erin said he should be asleep, and then he heard the two girls giggle.

About two hours later Daniel was awoken by a persistent annoying sound. It took a minute for him to identify the sound as his ring tone. His phone showed three missed calls; all were from Naomi.

He shook himself awake before calling.

"Hi,ee" came her sing-song adaptation of the greeting.

"Hi Naomi, are you still at dinner?"

"No, I got home about half an hour ago."

"What did you find out?"

"Stacey said to go for it. She hadn't realised the file was so damning."

"So, I'll hand over the memory stick tomorrow." Daniel outlined what he would do just to confirm there was no misunderstanding.

Naomi sounded cheery. "That's right. Stacey said if someone accuses her, she can always remind them that police attended a suspected break in."

"Let's hope it doesn't get to that. Maybe the FBI will get all the evidence they need through their investigation."

There was a brief lull in the call and then Naomi spoke, "Anyway, I'm sorry I'm still keeping you awake. I'll let you go to sleep. Catch you soon."

Daniel wanted to declare his love to Naomi afresh, then and there, but he feared sounding maudlin. "Naomi," he began strongly.

"Yes?"

"Er, thanks for the visit today. I really appreciated it." Even that sounded corny to Daniel.

"My pleasure...goodnight Daniel."

"Goodnight."

***

Agent Bennet and his partner, whom he called Mick, were true to their word and intruded Daniel's breakfasting before eight the next morning. It took a moment's rifling through his computer bag before he located the USB stick. With minimal fuss they accepted the data and left.

Chapter 16

Daniel was discharged from hospital two weeks after being admitted. With the week in Washington, he'd been out of circulation for three weeks. During that time numerous visitors had turned up. He'd contacted Earl to find out how things were with Ginny. Earl had communicated with their father and had lots of questions for Daniel, which were asked before he had a chance to ask about their well-being. News of his escapade had been bandied about so Daniel set straight a few details. He wasn't a spy. They weren't kidnapped by pirates. He and Naomi weren't married, but, yes, he had been shot.

Earl informed him that Ginny had an operation which had removed a non-malignant cyst and a full recovery was expected. They were 'on top of the moon'. Daniel suggested that the idiom was 'over the moon' but his brother didn't care. Earl spoke of their delight to hear of his conversion, explaining that Naomi and Ginny had regular electronic communications.

Earl was saying; how was it that he hadn't proposed to Naomi yet, at the exact time she had walked in for one of her several visits. He remembered looking at her as he was on the phone, trying to greet her with a lump in his throat and a keen desire to formulate an irresistible proposal.

Of course the moment passed but the thought lingered on in his mind. Somehow he would find the courage to ask Naomi to be his wife.

***

Back at work, life regained some level of normalcy. As the carbon lattice processes developed, so did government intervention. The whole complex was now fenced off and provided with a security gatehouse. They now occupied both levels of the building. Only people with a pass could enter.

Erin was still in charge of a group modifying the 3-D chip with layered silicon circuits, and her investigations were looking very promising. Daniel suggested that since this was the only commercially viable new development they were doing, perhaps a few more resources needed to be directed toward Erin's investigations.

Max complained to Daniel that Gavin had put passwords on all the files and was more manic than ever about security. He said he didn't trust the government scientists and was sectoring access to drives and keeping backups in a safe. Daniel just laughed. He commented that they wouldn't get wind of the new developments with Gavin on the job.

The conversation did cause Daniel to review their agreement. Although the licensing of their nanotube matrices was now government property, they were still developing and extending the processes. Daniel spoke with Arnold to find out if they could get a government contract on the advancements since the original compensation wouldn't continue to cover development of the process. Otherwise they may as well transfer the research to a government facility.

Arnold agreed. Proprietary control of the process was one thing and they had been generously paid for that, but it made no sense to be expected to continue to spend time and energy without monetary return. He admitted there had been some flaws in their thinking to accept the compensation package without question.

Arnold mentioned that Harrison was keen to draft a patent for the process after being involved with the last one. Daniel reminded him that now that the Government had acquired it there was no point. They could patent it, but they wouldn't because it was secret. Arnold grunted at his own lapse in clear thinking.

"Harrison should have known that. He's our science law expert. Oh well, maybe I'll involve him in the contract drafting for research done on this carbon nanotube circuit extension to the 3 D chip."

"Fine, come around sometime next week when I've got back into the swing of things."

Daniel passed the call onto Marnie who was keeping his appointments schedule; a change recently instigated because of the success of their circuit processes and the number of industry inquiries that had generated.

Thursday, his second day back, had him wondering how long he'd stick to his job. Was it all or nothing or was there some middle ground. He wished he could talk with his father about the pros and cons of becoming a volunteer for humanitarian causes.

After a hard day, Daniel realised that it would be the first night he would be eating at home since he came out of hospital. He'd had take-out two nights and he was thinking about doing some grocery shopping when Gavin called. Gavin and Ruthie invited him to dinner for that night. He accepted.

It was his first chance of getting to know Ruthie, apart from the casual passing 'hi' or giving a wave. Ruthie said the discussions around the meal table would be restricted to non-work topics, so Gavin and Daniel struggled for some time. Ruthie raised the subject of his recent travels and they had convivial, sometimes spirited, discussions about third world countries, foreign aid, charity workers and church missions. Although he confessed that he knew little about it, in general, Daniel maintained that what he had witnessed was invaluable, lifesaving and the provision of hope. Near the end of the evening he astonished himself by admitting to Christian leanings. A stance that didn't bring the ridicule he expected.

On the third day of his return the two FBI men appeared in his office.

"Welcome to Wafer Chip Research gentlemen," began Daniel when Marnie showed them in, "What can I do for you?"

Fingering his visitor pass McKillen opened with, "This place is like getting into Fort Knox." Before Daniel could respond with more than a grin at the irony, agent Bennet spoke, "We thought we might bring you up to date and find out if you can tell us anything new."

"Okay, I'll try and help if I can, but honestly, apart from what I gave you, I haven't seen or heard anything new. Remember, I've just come out of hospital a few days ago."

The two pulled up some seats from the wall at Daniel's invitation and drew them near his desk.

"Agent McKillen will tell you what we've achieved so far."

Daniel switched focus to the other agent, who had previously been referred to as Mick, and decided that maybe he was in training and this briefing exercise was part of his accumulating experience.

Mick, using a note book, commenced his spiel, "Using data from the USB stick, we had enough material to raid the premises. Upon questioning, and confronted with the evidence, both lawyers claimed they were only fulfilling a client's request for information. Their case has gone to the law ethical review board, since it can't be established that they committed a crime, but they did disseminate details about one client to another client.

We alleged that they also received moneys purportedly to assist criminal elements to gain secret information by coercion. Haversack and Neesham denied the allegation and said they would defend it in court. We put it to them that if they cooperated with us it might not get to court.

Bennet watched patiently as his partner continued the tedious recount of events.

"When asked, Garth Haversack said they had no knowledge about the origin of the emails that sought their assistance. The pre-payment of thirty thousand dollars showed the client's good faith and reliability. It was only after the kidnapping right in front of their offices that they realised the client had criminal tendencies.

Joel Reagan, a junior solicitor for the firm, said they didn't link the previous two attacks to the details they provided until the kidnapping."

Bennet interjected at that point. "It all sounds ridiculous and incompetent doesn't it? And yet being incompetent is not a crime. Of course we suspect they hoped they'd get more money before things got out of hand. Go on Mick." He gestured to the younger man to proceed.

"To avoid answering charges in court, Haversack and Neesham gave permission to track communications between their contact and themselves. This led to the capture of a criminal middleman, one known to provide muscle for hire. Going by the alias 'Will', by his own admission, this man hired all the offenders involved in abductions and attempted abductions in Boston, Somaliland and Ayr in Scotland (those men have not been found yet)."

The senior FBI man smiled, "As you can see we've been busy."

Bennet continued, "To wrap it up, this 'Will'—a well-known 'fixer' to police—was told to create the impression he represented Russian clients, but in fact he was on the payroll of someone else. Whoever instructed Will was very careful. Typed instructions and cash payments delivered by US Mail. Whoever it is may still be after that process for microscopic circuits."

Daniel smiled. They had been very meticulous with their investigation. "I'm not sure if I can help you. So you think there's someone else?"

"We're certain," replied Bennet. "Our analysts tell us that all indications are that someone is being funded by a large corporation to commit industrial espionage. So what we're—" he broke off mid-sentence as Erin came in. She was almost skipping. She looked around, "Sorry, I didn't realise you had... people in..." She ended the sentence clumsily and then proceeded to share her news. "Dan, the series of NT transistors have been going for an hour now; no problems!"

"Congratulations Erin, er, Erin these are FBI agents Bennet and McKillen." She nodded a half-hearted hello having her excitement doused by the presence of strangers. Daniel tried to mend the situation. "I'll be there in a few minutes, but that's great news; well done."

The door closed after Erin left and while Mick was still staring at the door his thoughts miles away, Bennet regrouped. "We want to know if anyone has requested access to your data, or this facility or has approached any of your scientists."

Daniel shook his head. "Not that I know of; as you have seen, security is pretty tight."

Following a few leading questions about the integrity of his team—which Daniel lambasted as illogical and irrelevant, given that at any time all of them could have sold off the data they were now so protective of—Bennet gave him a contact number and they went their way.

Daniel spent the rest of the afternoon with Erin and her team reading the data, checking the readouts and celebrating the progress they had made. He was excited for them but inside he felt hollow, as if compared to the sacrificial life his father had in Somaliland—changing lives—this work was trivial.

Prior to leaving for home, Daniel called Reuben for some advice. Next he called Naomi and asked her out that night. She, unhappily, declined the invitation.

"I'm sorry Dan. I'm temping till late tonight, and even if I was home now I'm so tired I'd be no company at all."

He felt deflated for a second then regrouped, "What about tomorrow night; that restaurant at the docks?"

"Won't Saturday be too busy?"

He was stymied for another moment. Saturday; he'd lost track what day it was. But he was desperate. "I'll book a table there, or ... somewhere."

He listened for a response. She cleared her throat slightly, "Is it formal or casual?"

Daniel laughed, "Boy, you ask the tough ones, don't you. What about same as last time. I'll try and dress up a bit."

"It's a deal," she said, and there was amusement in her voice.

Naomi sorted out the time and then cut short the call claiming that she had to get back to work.

Daniel experienced a warm, fuzzy feeling as he pocketed his phone. Everything was right with the world. As he walked to his car he wanted to whistle or sing a Disney tune. Maybe he should skip or dance with the first person he met. 'So this is what it's like,' he thought.

On the drive to his home Daniel remembered that, he could no longer procrastinate, shopping was a definite necessity. He had no food to speak of so he couldn't postpone it.

Shopping was usually a drudge, but his heart was lightened by the recurring thoughts of Naomi, so that the mundane chore passed quickly. His cheerful mood had him buying things at a whim and he arrived home with far more than was normal or practical for a single man who regularly ate out.

The evening was spent eating and reading. His eating involved preparing a chicken Caesar salad, consuming about a third of it and storing the remainder in the refrigerator; the reading was Marcie's Lewis book and Romans. Daniel wondered at the tiredness he endured that night. He put it down to his first few days out of hospital. Of course, he was out of condition! He resolved to get up early and go for a run.

But resolutions come and go. He slept in. Daniel opted for a lazy breakfast and then substituted a quiet walk up alongside the river for the run. He mulled over the big questions. How and when would he ask for Naomi's hand in marriage? He plotted several schemes before he decided on one. He was particularly pleased with himself. It would be romantic and memorable.

As dates go, Saturday night had all the ingredients for a spectacular success. Though not the big night, it was an important lead up. It was a mild night; almost a full moon and he was dressed in new cargo pants and neat shirt and jacket. Nervously greeting Naomi, in her flared black dress, he took her hand and walked her to his Porsche. The Italian restaurant had been successfully booked and he had secured a table next to the windows with a bay view.

It was a busy night in the dock district and they parked a little distance away. Getting there was dreamlike for Daniel, strolling along the harbour walk, hand in hand, admiring the boats and the lights.

Inside the restaurant they were led to their seats.

"I didn't do this very well last time," Daniel said huskily.

"Neither of us did." She gave her hair a nervous twirl. "But we've been through a lot together since then."

He nodded, gathered his courage, and plunged on, "I should have said how beautiful you looked—just as you look now."

She put her hand on his. "Don't Daniel. No regrets; let's just enjoy the night..." she added coyly, "...and you did compliment me if I remember."

Daniel picked up her left hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. Then he slowly brought her fingers to his lips, all the while he was comparing the diameter of her ring finger with his. He smiled after kissing her hand. 'Second knuckle of my little finger,' he concluded to himself and filed it away for future reference.

The meal was a banquet of small portions of pasta treats and they chatted about where things were heading now that they were back. Daniel suggested that they form a board of trustees to use people who had more experience with financing charitable causes. Naomi agreed wholeheartedly, saying that she felt entirely unqualified for the task. And it had to be addressed soon as Marcie had already 'liquidated some of her assets' she quoted the old woman's words miming the quotation marks with her fingers.

They brainstormed names of possible board members, but both struggled to go beyond Marcie and a church acquaintance of Naomi who was already involved with an international charity.

When that topic evaporated, Daniel mentioned the visit by the FBI.

"They came to my place too!" enthused Naomi. "You wouldn't believe it; they asked questions as if you were involved!" A few diners turned to look after hearing her excited squeal.

"Oops," she giggled attractively.

"For goodness sake," Daniel couldn't believe his ears. "I got shot; and what about all the other things that happened to me!" More diners peered at them after his louder than intended outburst.

Naomi giggled again. "We had better be careful or they'll kick us out." Then she sniggered, "I can understand it of course, you seem to me to be very suspicious."

Daniel grinned. "Do you want to hear something funny?"

She nodded and leaned closer. "They suspected you too... told me all the trouble started after I met you." He laughed heartily when he saw her mock scandalised reaction.

She leaned forward and shushed him as she silently shook with laughter at the amused expressions of those about them.

Daniel picked up her hand affectionately. Naomi gained control and wiped away a tear with the back of her other wrist as she tried to rationalise how she could possibly have kidnapped herself.

"Don't overthink it," Daniel advised, still smiling, they suspect everyone and assume everyone is guilty."

"They said that they had found one of the main organisers," she proffered.

"Uh, huh, though apparently he was just a middle man. The brains, or the boss, behind the whole thing is still out there somewhere."

"The men they caught didn't tell them anything? She looked quizzically at him.

"Agent Bennet seems to think they didn't know. And there were no Russians. That was just a hoax to confound any investigation. Whoever is doing all this probably already has a buyer who is bankrolling his attempt to steal the process."

The evening was almost spent. Most of the patrons were leaving since the live music show had finished. They had talked about many things—his work, her work, their recent encounters with danger, what Daniel had understood about faith—and all the while they had gravitated closer together, both emotionally and physically. During the show they had sat next to each other sipping coffees and sharing opinions about the music.

"We should go," Naomi suddenly announced as she saw the owner standing at the door farewelling guests.

Daniel took her hand and they sauntered out, answering the owner's enquiry with a comment that they had a lovely night.

In the cool night air the couple paused and looked toward the boats.

The harbour was particularly picturesque in the moonlight and they wandered hand in hand the long way, along a pavement bordering the water.

"Would you take me to church tomorrow?" Naomi turned and looked at him inquisitively.

Taken by her lovely upturned face framed by her blonde locks, and a glistening in her eyes, his reply was husky. "Love to." His arms enveloped her and they drew together in a soft, tender kiss.

"Love you," he whispered as they parted. She embraced him firmly and rested her head on his shoulder as they looked over the water.

A parting brush of her lips against his signalled her intentions. "Come on, I won't get up for church if we don't leave soon." She led him by the hand as he reluctantly let the intimate mood pass.

The journey to her place was a blur. He had declared his love twice now. He was planning to ask her to wed; and she was yet to reciprocate any verbal heartfelt affections. He started having doubts. Was it too soon?

They'd turned off at Medford for Naomi's place when she spoke. "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah... fine, why?"

"It's just... you haven't said a thing since we left the city."

He was trying to fabricate an excuse when it occurred to him that neither of them had spoken.

"Nor have you."

"No, I guess not. I was thinking."

"What about?"

She hesitated, "There's something weird about us being linked to Marcie. You know I learnt from my great uncle that she knew my dad. I knew she was friends with my mom but... " She petered out as if other ideas had materialised.

"I never did ask how your meeting went, did I?" he observed.

"No," she answered vaguely. "He said some things that I didn't quite get; as though there was a secret." Her train of thought switched unpredictably.

"What were you thinking?"

He took a deep breath. This was dangerous territory. How honest should a relationship be?

"I was thinking about you and... how much I like you." He'd talked himself into a cul-de-sac. Was he now going to ask how she felt about him? Was he that needy? He left it at that.

The words repeated in his head, an embarrassing refrain. Every wordless second was excruciating.

Naomi broke the stalemate. "I think about you too..." She touched his cheek with the back of her hand, "...probably too much." She took her hand away. Her breath quickened. "I really care about you, but... let's not rush things." Daniel felt an ache; anticipating some exit excuse. Naomi spoke slowly choosing her words judiciously. "Our... relationship has been anything but normal. Maybe you could court me a little bit. See if you can cope with boring me instead of 'kidnapped me', 'travelling me' or 'holidaying me'."

A warm inner glow spread through Daniel as he drove up her driveway. He didn't have to panic. She wasn't dumping him. He pulled up and gave her a cheesy grin, "Naomi, will you go out with me?" She gave him a punch on the arm, then a gentle kiss.

"If you pick me up at ten fifteen we should make the eleven o'clock service easily." She opened the car door and he moved to walk her up the porch. "Stay there," she instructed cheerily,

"It's late." He watched her let herself in, gave a wave and drove home.

Chapter 17

As far as new experiences go, church was one of the most nerve-wracking Daniel had endured. Of course Naomi was beautiful, the drive there bonding—they were a couple—and the weather was majestic for fall. What was daunting for him was meeting people. There were door welcomers, the pastor who had an eye for newcomers and the many friends who greeted Naomi with smiles, raised eyebrows and quiet asides. And that was just getting to their seats.

Daniel was comforted that Naomi was close alongside throughout the singing and preaching, both of which were a culture shock for an avowed atheist/agnostic, whatever he had been.

Remarkably, he listened to the message attentively and it resonated with his limited reading and experiences. It related St Paul's missionary journey and was titled, 'it's not easy being...' The key points Daniel remembered were that the Christian life was real and purposeful, putting life into context; Christians have challenges and problems, particularly in terms of opposition to faith but also they are not spared from bad circumstances; and, that all things pale into insignificance compared to the excellent knowledge of God and His Son Jesus.

Daniel was thinking that he would read more of the life of Paul as the service ended. Post sermon greetings were even more painful as various friends gathered around them. He heard names—Tom, Jeff, Amy, Errol (call me EJ), Louise—answered questions about his job, where he lived and, in a more detailed conversation, the misfortunes of his trip to Somaliland.

Naomi rescued him with an arm hooked in his and took him for some coffee where he met interested stares and more questions from her circle of girlfriends.

On the way home Naomi explained that it was an unfortunate, but perhaps necessary, initiation for church attendance to run the gauntlet of introductions. At her suggestion they drove to his place and she offered to make him some lunch. His leftover Caesar salad was an unexpected bonus so she opted for a simple grilled cheese sandwich to complement what was an already tasty dish.

From his place they had a walk along the waterway, arm in arm, talking about how the trust could help refugees in northeast Africa, sharing thoughts about the morning's sermon and whether the police would ever catch whoever it was that was trying to steal the fullerene technology.

Later, they drove back to her place and caught up with Marcie, letting her know that they wanted her on a board of trustees. She mentioned that she had given her lawyers the sack and wondered if Daniel would recommend his lawyers. Something Daniel was pleased to do. That was the cue for suggesting that Reuben might come on board as a trustee. Daniel promised to ask him first chance he got.

***

The next week went slowly. Routine tasks in the lab were only broken up by Arnold and Harrison coming around to write up the 3-D silicon layered chip extension contract for the west coast manufacturer. Following a short tour of the facility, Daniel answered some of Harrison's questions. Since he had a science background his queries were cogent and pertinent to the contract, though Daniel informed him that a dossier of technical specifications was Erin's realm and her responsibility. The contract need only offer a modified process, citing the research that had been done, referring to the improved performance data supplied by Erin's team.

Harrison understood completely, however his intellectual curiosity prompted him to probe for information. Was this similar to the fullerene process for their quantum computer? What did they use to enhance conductivity? How were the structures controlled? Daniel remembers looking over his shoulder furtively, getting close to the lawyer, holding his fingers to his lips and whispering, "Top secret, can't tell you a thing," and Harrison shaking his head as if to say 'and you run this company'?

Arnold promised that they would come regularly for a few weeks so they could create an appended patent to add to the original and include it in the contract outline.

His social life suffered due to Naomi being rostered most evenings that week. There were some lengthy phone conversations during her breaks and it was clear (if anyone had been listening) that their greetings and quiet exchanges revealed a growing intimacy.

***

The following weeks were much the same. A few nuggets of valuable time with Naomi; dates to the movies, a football game and a few meals. He was becoming a regular at church and one of the pastors had visited him in an effort to integrate and involve him in something more substantial. For the first time he was getting to know new friends outside of his occupation or university environments.

The grind and repetition of endless testing proved to be almost humdrum. Only another visit from the FBI and regular visits from Arnold and Harrison provided any variation from the endless trials of attempts to link sandwiched graphene with carbon nanotubes.

***

On the sixth week after he'd left hospital, Daniel made a monumental decision. He went to a jewellery store and showed them the dimensions of the ring he wanted—second knuckle, little finger. He selected a beautiful, moderately priced diamond setting.

Then he paid Marcie a visit and had a tête-à-tête about a delicate matter. He wished to propose to Naomi. Marcie cried and hugged, and cried and hugged. She was delighted. He was sure as he left he heard her say to herself, "and about time too."

Three days later, on a Saturday, he picked up the ring. The weak winter sun filtered down through the high gossamer clouds and a chilly breeze whipped about him as he left the jewellery store.

He called Naomi and made a date for the evening. He'd booked a dinner cruise and for backup—if the weather was inclement—another restaurant not far from the Italian place they had nominated as their favourite for informal meals. The backup restaurant, on the end of a pier, had superb harbour views and was a bit more upmarket; but it would compare poorly with a romantic dinner cruise.

He hoped the cruise would provide the perfect setting for his proposal. Max, who had suggested the alternative, had given him the name of the manager. He had been instructed that he should ask for the manager and mention Max's name and his restaurant friend would treat them to the best service and the best views.

"It's who you know," Max quipped with a silly face. Daniel asked him, cheekily, if he knew the maître d on the cruise. Amazingly he did and he gave both contact numbers to Daniel.

The problem was, Daniel had left the names on his desk in his office and neither Max nor Gavin, who were boating in Sandy Bay, were answering their phones.

After a quick lunch, he resigned himself to doing the drive north all the way to work. Leaving at about two pm he still had adequate time to drive the thirty mile return trip, relax a bit and then get to Naomi's place by six.

Daniel wondered, as he drove, if anyone was in the laboratory. On occasions their expanded group of chemical and electronic engineers, some of whom had ties with government agencies, would come in on weekends to continue deposition processes or complete longitudinal performance studies. Because of that knowledge, Daniel wasn't surprised to see a collection of cars in the car park when he arrived. Often, before he met Naomi, his car would have been one of them.

Although it was a Saturday, security was still mandatory for the research establishment. He showed his security pass as a matter of course. The guard at the gate waved him through with a familiar welcome and Daniel jogged into the building aware that if someone spotted him he'd probably be dragged away to consult on some results. He couldn't afford to be delayed.

He snuck quickly into the office section. His door was the first on the right. As he opened the door Harrison jumped, startled by his sudden intrusion.

"What are you doing here today Harrison?" asked Daniel, mildly amused at the stunned look on his face.

"Um, just getting some data to support the claim to extend the contract parameters," he stumbled as he shuffled a pile of printouts. One fell to the floor. Daniel bent down and picked it up. A quick scan had his pulse increasing. It was fullerene deposition specifications.

"Which contract do you thin—" he began to quiz him. But as he looked up he saw a pistol aimed at his chest.

"Just sit down and you may live to tell about this!" he demanded with a foreboding snarl.

"You've got to be kidding," Daniel grumbled. "I've been bashed and shot, and now one of my lawyers pulls a gun on me!" It quickly dawned on him what was going on.

"It was you all the time wasn't it Harrison? You hired that guy, Will, to carry out your plans. You gave him Haversack and co to manipulate, and money to hire those goons."

Harrison stared coldly at Daniel. "Sit down and keep quiet or, so help me, I'll shoot you now. This thing won't make a sound." He waved the gun with the prominent silencer near his face.

"What do you hope to gain from this? You'll get caught," grated Daniel as he virtually collapsed into his seat.

Harrison gave an arrogant smile. "I will gain a cool two million; my client is waiting for delivery of this this afternoon." He held up the sheaf of papers. "As for getting caught; I have a flawless exit strategy." He shook the papers. "This means I can escape the mindless legal form-filling and endless regulations and details they paid me peanuts for." He held up the gun as if to shoot Daniel. Daniel cringed into his seat.

"I will kill you if you give me any trouble," the lawyer spoke without emotion as he pulled some data cable away from the wall. "Put your arms behind the chair," he ordered. As Daniel complied Harrison hissed, "No, through the arm rests!"

When Daniel reinserted his hands they were tied tightly together, cinching the skin and making him wince at the burning, constricting, plastic binding. Harrison then bound his feet together with a whole roll of adhesive tape. Cutting the blind cord with a pair of desk scissors he securely trussed Daniel's feet to the chair stem.

"Taking no chances hey," Daniel murmured from his ungainly position. His captor rose from the floor and grabbed his gun from the table. He had a steely, psychotic stare. Placing the barrel against Daniel's forehead Harrison clicked with his tongue and smiled malevolently as his victim instinctively recoiled.

There was something else. Daniel watched him looking around the room. Finally Harrison came to a decision. He cut some more cord and then he lifted Daniel's pullover and started stuffing it into his mouth. With as much woolly material rammed in as he could he used the cord to tie between Daniel's jaws and around his head.

A shove from his foot sent the hapless, serial victim toppling over onto his side. For good measure Harrison propelled the chair and bound body under the desk causing Daniel to strike his head on the back panel.

Groggy, head thumping and inordinately bundled into confined discomfort, Daniel heard his persecutor hastily make his escape. That gave him impetus to strain at the painful tethers that restricted his movement. There was little give in the bindings compressing his feet and mouth but Daniel was sure he could manoeuvre the data cables digging into his wrists and stretch by constant twisting of his hands.

Each twist of his hands served only to cut off his circulation and worsen the hurt. He attempted to use his tongue to push aside the woollen material jammed in his mouth but it refused to budge. By writhing with his body Daniel managed to make some scraping sounds and dull thuds though it wasn't sufficient to draw the attention of those in the lab, in the other wing of the building.

Daniel felt helpless and miserable. He had been powerless to stop Harrison from stealing secrets. The whole saga had come to this futile end. Yet again he had been subjugated and humiliated. His clogged mouth drooled saliva; his tucked calves were cramping and his head was pounding from the impact with the panel and the inverted position he was in.

Almost as an afterthought he prayed. Daniel prayed for deliverance. He prayed for justice, for patience and for faith.

Nevertheless, he was having doubts. What good was faith if there were no benefits? How real was a God who let you suffer? Then he remembered Paul and all he endured. It wasn't about God serving us; it was about us serving God. He didn't obey us; we should obey Him. The whole story of faith was about transcending the physical 'shadow' to apprehend the eternal reality.

Maybe it was the blood rushing to his head that gave him clarity of thought, or maybe it was just a revelation; but Daniel thought he got it. It was like that initial text that revisited him. 'What good is it...' no he preferred Naomi's version, 'What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul...'

Feeling a little more content mentally—maybe even spiritually—Daniel, all the same, kept struggling with his bindings.

Arching his back to place tension on the tape constraining his legs and tugging and twisting his hands trying to loosen the data cable, Daniel persisted and, initially, was hopeful of escaping his bindings.

After an hour, he believed that he was getting somewhere. After two hours, he wasn't so sure. After three hours, Daniel hung from the chair; his energy spent, totally despondent and wondering how long it would be till he was missed. His wrists were raw and his tongue was swollen from his efforts and nothing to show for them.

The phone in his pocket rang. It rang out once and no message. The second instance he heard a text tone. He imagined its contents: "Daniel, it's Naomi; where are you?"

It occurred to him then that had they shared mutual locations on their phones she wouldn't have to ask that question. He waited. The office phone rang several times, then nothing. The phone didn't ring again.

***

Fifteen minutes later the door burst open.

"There he is!" sounded the authoritative shout.

Hefty hands dragged him unceremoniously out from under the desk. A knife expertly severed the tape around his feet and his gag bindings.

Finally free of the sodden wool out of his mouth, he exercised his aching jaw. Daniel viewed a gathering of suited men in his office. "Are you all right?" one called as if he was deaf. The others watched as one of them hacked determinedly at the cable binding him to the chair. Daniel nodded.

Eventually he was freed from the vice like constriction of the cable. Several arms hoisted him upright and then quickly lowered his swooning body into the righted chair.

Daniel was at a loss to understand how they knew where to find him.

"How did you know..." he crackled to a familiar face. McKillen, signalled to an agent near the door to get a drink of water from the cooler outside the office. He then interpreted the question for the stricken scientist. "How did we know you were here?" Daniel nodded as he whispered a thank you and grasped the offered drink. He gulped a few mouthfuls into his parched throat almost choking in his haste.

"We received a call from Miss Stockdale saying you were late for an appointment and you weren't answering your phone. We tracked your phone and here we are."

Bennet came in. He was putting his phone away. "Just letting your girlfriend know that you're all right," he explained. "Now, you need to tell us what happened. Who did this?"

"Harrison Neills." His voice was still scratchy.

"Who's he?"

"He's one of our lawyers! Can you believe it?" A trace of bitterness was evident in his expression as he recalled the way he had been treated.

"Any idea where he's gone?"

His head move laterally, slowly. "I imagine he's delivered the process documents and is long gone by now. It's not a secret anymore."

Phone calls ensued. The Bureau and the Police Department were given Neills' details to try and intercept him.

Minutes later Naomi rushed in and as he rose to meet her she crushed him in a wordless, relieved embrace. Daniel was relishing the tenderness of her hug when Gavin and Max tumbled through the doorway.

"The guys in the lab rang us and told us what happened," blurted Max. "Are you okay?"

Naomi leaned back enough to await his response.

"A bit humiliated, but I'm not hurt." Even as he said it he had a quick look at his abraded wrists, red raw from the constant rubbing. He didn't mention the headache and the numbness he felt around his ankles.

Naomi called for a first aid kit. Gavin retrieved one almost immediately. Sitting him down, she started dressing the abrasions with ointment and bandages. Gavin grilled him.

"So, it was Neills all the time?"

"Yeah."

"He tied you up?" he asked in disbelief.

"He had a gun."

"What did he get?"

"Everything." An air of defeatism was conveyed by his glum tone.

"What; everything on that computer?" Gavin pointed to the offending machine.

"Yeah."

Gavin, sitting on the desk, leaned back, tilted his head and grinned. "I know you guys say I'm paranoid, but sometimes it pays off."

"What?" Daniel was intent on Gavin's account.

"I... sort of... fabricated a false data file on there." His eyebrows were raised and his smile broadened. "The real stuff is on a data drive in the safe." He was so pleased with himself he smacked a fist into his other hand elated by the success of his ploy.

"Will his buyer notice?" Max interjected.

"If they know anything at all about fullerenes and micro circuitry they will. I altered it completely... changed the inserted metallic... and the vacuum arc conditions are a fantasy."

"So instead of a rich boy on the run, he'll be a poor boy on the run," Daniel observed sardonically.

"He won't be popular with his buyer, given how much they've already spent," Max contributed.

"What do you think Max?" began Daniel, "You once used the word 'manic' about Gavin. Now that he's been vindicated, he'll be impossible." He indicated toward Gavin with his thumb.

Gavin exuded his exhilaration, absolutely beaming. "Vindicated, I like that word."

***

Eight thirty was too late for the cruise— they had missed it. It was late to be heading off to the restaurant from his place as well, but a phone call to the manager prepared the way for a delayed evening meal.

Earlier Daniel had been adamant that they keep their date, contrary to Naomi's medical opinion. So they had left his office at seven thirty and driven separate cars to his place. He had showered, dressed and readied himself. He reassured her over and over that he was well enough to go out.

They got to the venue despite Daniel blinking away a dizzy spell and trying to ignore his aching head.

A superb meal together was augmented by exquisite harbour views through the huge windows that flanked their table. They were still eating while most of the clientele were listening to a quartet. Daniel felt better as the night progressed and they conversed continuously.

To begin with, Naomi had the whole story about Harrison reprised by Daniel. The smattering of details she had extracted from the FBI men was supplemented by his retelling of some of what he'd gone through. Harrison's involvement instigating all the attacks led her to label the whole episode 'Harrissment'.

Then Daniel reminisced with Naomi about the past five months. They talked about first impressions, about past animosities and, Daniel with some reluctance, on their faith journeys.

"It's sort of weird though."

"What is?" Naomi was leaning close as they sipped coffee.

"The thing I resisted most, the faith my father and brother have, has infected me. And, in a sense, you're largely to blame." Daniel touched her hand. "You made me try and disprove a belief system, which now seems more rational to me than any alternative."

She shook her head. "You were searching for truth."

"I guess so."

"Well, those who seek will find. It's all about God's grace really."

"Mm," he mused as he looked earnestly into Naomi's eyes. Daniel felt himself melting as he tried to recite his eloquent, poetic proposal. His thoughts atrophied. He dwelt on her doe-like gaze and the resulting request was far from lyrical.

"Naomi will you marry me?" Daniel quavered.

Naomi blanched, and then she flushed red and smiled shyly.

"Yes." It was a quietly spoken word but her look conveyed a certitude that couldn't be mistaken.

Daniel leaned closer and kissed her lightly on the lips. The loving moment dissolved at his realisation that there was something he'd omitted to do and he sat back.

"Whoops," he remarked quirkily as he fumbled in his pocket. Extracting a black velvet ring box, he opened it and held it out to Naomi.

"For you."

Naomi's eyes glistened with emotion as she stared at the beautiful engagement ring. Daniel removed it from the box and slid it onto her finger. A small sigh of relief escaped his mouth as the ring nestled neatly in its place.

"It fits perfectly," she said with a measure of surprise.

He placed his little finger next to her ring finger. "It wasn't a fluke. I had a reference digit."

An early, unseasonal, light frozen flurry foreshortened a romantic harbour side ramble. The careful homeward drive through the gathering snowfall was occupied with suggestions for the wedding timeline and the ramifications for their future plans.

They were also excited with ideas for the trust. They could visit needy third world groups, including Daniel's father in Somaliland. They would emphasise self-help programs, promoting autonomous communities. They would facilitate medical work and education.

The whole enterprise fired them up with excitement. When they drew up to Naomi's door she suggested they pray and commit the trust and their future into the Lord's hand. After Naomi asked for wisdom and fulfilment in their relationship, Daniel followed her lead and asked that the trust would be effective in relieving poverty and suffering. He finished by thanking God for bringing them together. Daniel's amen prompted a fervent goodbye kiss from Naomi and a lingering caress as he brushed his hand on the side of her face.

A melancholic look swept across her face. "Is it over Dan? I don't know if I could cope with any more drama."

"I don't know. I suppose until they catch Harrison it won't be over."

"I've been having nightmares," she admitted tremulously.

He pulled her head into his shoulder. "Is there someone you can talk to at church? Maybe a psychologist or counsellor who will give you a chance to debrief?"

Naomi looked up at him with dewy eyes. "I don't know. I'll ask Mal," she said referring to the pastor. Maybe we should both get some counselling."

"Mm..." He knew his inner being had been mauled by the external physical beatings and mental tortures that threats of violence produced.

"I should go," she breathed as she snuggled into his neck. Then gathering herself, Naomi sat back and forced a smile. He affectionately ran a finger down her nose and touched her lips.

She hastened their protracted parting by stipulating a reunion. "See you at ten fifteen tomorrow," she glimpsed her watch, 'Ooh, today."

"Right, church," he made a clenched grin realising 'the engagement' might attract some attention from friends and the congregation in general.

She smiled aware of his reservations, "It won't be so bad." She kissed him once more softly and opened the car door. Daniel leapt out to see her up to the porch.

"I'm fine," she said as she waved him off. "No point in us both freezing." This time he wasn't to be deterred. He quickly escorted her to the door. She responded with a more fervent kiss, opened the door, waved her fingers and disappeared inside.

Chapter 18

As was her custom, Naomi went to breakfast at Marcie's that Sunday morning. It didn't take Marcie long to notice the prominent ring on her finger. Congratulatory hugs and a close inspection of the solitaire setting followed the predictable course of events.

When breakfast was finished and their regular weekly devotion was done, Marcie couldn't contain herself any longer.

"If you want to we can check out the attic. I have the wedding dress your mother wore when she got married... You don't have to wear it or anything, just have a look." She added the latter when she saw uncertainty in Naomi's face.

"No, I'd love to," Naomi asserted.

It was more an upper bedroom on the third level, beneath the steeply pitched roof but Marcie had used it for storage, so it had become 'the attic'. Everything drew Naomi's attention. There were paintings, old maps, bookshelves full of books and numerous artefacts from her ex-husband's Africa collection.

Locating a large trunk, Marcie had just opened it when the doorbell rang.

"I'll leave you to it for a bit. I'll go and see who that is. She dusted her hands off and returned downstairs while Naomi started burrowing into the trunk.

Beneath some formal gowns she found a beautiful white wedding dress wrapped in a plastic bag. It had a lace bodice and flared skirt portion with overlapping tulle hoops. She carefully withdrew the bag off the dress and held it against her. It seemed just her size. She desperately wanted to try it on. Placing the dress on the spread plastic, she searched in the trunk for a veil. She found it in a shoebox. It was attached to a delicate tiara. Having tried that on, Naomi placed the shoe box next to the dress and looked again in the trunk.

Below a cloth separating the wedding clothes she had removed, Naomi discovered some photo albums. Tantalised by the chance to look into her Aunt Marcie's past, she started turning pages. Naomi almost dropped the book on the third page. There, as clear as could be, was a photograph of Marcie wearing the wedding dress. On her arm, dressed in a suit, was her father. She was sure he was the same person who was depicted in the few photos she had. What did that mean? Marcie had said 'the wedding dress that your mother wore'! Was it her offhanded way of telling her?

Naomi was overcome by a stultifying paralysis. The implications ground into her psyche. Marcie, her mother; Daniel, her cousin! She finally gasped a breath to gain release from the choking stasis.

Grasping the album to her chest, Naomi fled downstairs; her mind was in turmoil. Secrets! How could there be so many secrets? How could she tell Daniel?

"Marcie! Marcie..." she wailed as she searched the hall and dining room. Her headlong rush into the lounge came to a sudden halt. Marcie was sitting in an armchair opposite Harrison, who had a handgun levelled at her.

"Come in, come in; the more the merrier." He trained the gun in her direction and glared at her with an insidious, repugnant leer.

"Sit!" he commanded angrily. Naomi watchfully eased into another armchair, dropping the album onto the floor. A flood of emotions overcame her; a crescendo of pent up fears and insecurities overwhelmed her and she sat catatonic.

"Exactly what I need; another hostage. You have done me a favour... Naomi, isn't it?" he pouted churlishly.

"Since your boyfriend has frustrated my plans by giving me garbage, it's only right I get a little revenge and some money at the same time."

He turned to Marcie. "You... will get a million dollars out of the bank tomorrow and give it to me. If you don't cooperate, this pretty little thing will suffer... horribly." There was something deranged about his mannerism. His jaw jutted and he momentarily froze with a wide eyed stare.

"You will both come with me now and tomorrow we will pick up the money. If you cooperate, I will leave you somewhere safe."

"What happens if we refuse to go with you?" Marcie scowled.

A loud phut, tearing of the carpet between them and the pungent smell from the detonation told of his gunshot.

Both women jumped.

"The next bullet goes through the girl's foot," he threatened. "Now, you're going into my van and we're going to drive to somewhere safe. Tomorrow you'll get my money and we'll all be sweet. So move!"

He herded Marcie and Naomi who was still in a disconnected, automaton state, ahead of him out the front door. Harrison was waving the pistol erratically and Marcie tried to shield her young companion from further anguish with her arms around her. In the van he chained his hostages in the back and ensured that he removed their mobile phones.

The van was like a metal cocoon and Naomi withdrew into herself even further, recoiling from the real world. Marcie tried to talk to her but it was as though she were suspended in another dimension. Her shackled wrists attached to metal ribbing alongside her held her up like a marionette.

***

Harrison drove west through steady snowfall for almost two hours, navigating narrow roads west of Northampton till he turned off into a sizeable holiday house nestled in the woods. Unhitching the chain from the side wall of the vehicle, he pulled on the links binding their hands and roughly led them indoors.

Inside, Harrison was quick to chain Marcie and Naomi together on two chairs.

"I know it's lacking in originality chaining you up like this, but this way I can relax a bit."

Marcie commented. "You know you'll get caught. People don't get away with kidnapping these days."

He brooded silently. She continued, "If you give yourself up I'm sure they'll be lenient on you."

Harrison ground his teeth.

"You don't get it do you? I've worked at three law firms now and none of those wealthy elite gave me anything but tedious contract drafting. No trials, no litigation and no financial recognition for what I do; just menial office work."

His phone rang. He walked away and talked in subdued tones, at length, with his back turned.

When Harrison came back he sat at the table and gloated.

"This is going to work."

***

Daniel arrived early at Naomi's place. He waited a few minutes in the car before mounting the steps and ringing the doorbell. It was only five past ten so he waited patiently. Five minutes of the doorbell then translated into pounding on the door with his fist and calling Naomi's name. He tried the door. It was locked.

Aunt Marcie's was his next option. Even as he walked the driveway he convinced himself that Naomi had come across earlier and lost track of the time. When no one answered the door Daniel felt a hollow ache in his stomach. He turned the handle and the door sprang open. Several shouts and repeated dashing between rooms and upstairs to no avail made him panicky.

He wanted to call 911 immediately but checked out both garages first; their cars were still there. Daniel reconsidered his first impulse and rang Bennet's number.

"Nev Bennet speaking."

"Agent Bennet, This is Daniel Treloar...Naomi and my aunt have gone."

"Okay, calm down. How do you know they've gone?"

"Their cars are still here—they live next to each other, Marcie and Naomi—but no one's around."

"Could they have gone for a walk?" The wearisome process of eliminating all the possibilities was exasperating Daniel.

"Bennet! I was meant to pick Naomi up at ten fifteen for church. I have been doing this for five or six weeks. No one answered the doors, their cars are still here and my Aunt Marcie's door was unlocked! Someone has taken them!" Daniel felt himself shaking and realised he'd been yelling into the phone.

The FBI man assured him that they would send a car straight away.

Daniel went back inside and found the photo album lying on the floor in the lounge. He paged through the album hoping for some clue, but all he found were photos of Marcie's past. Admittedly, he was perplexed by wedding photos of Marcie with an unidentified groom. It was like a record of some previous incarnation; a secret life she had lived long ago obscured by time.

Putting the book on the armchair, Daniel felt irritated by the incongruous placement of the seat. Dragging it back into an arc with the others he was distressed to see the bullet hole in the carpet. He was back on the phone in an instant.

"Bennet, it's me again. Someone fired a shot here. There's a bullet hole in the floor."

Daniel listened as he was assured that Bennet was on his way and was told, 'don't touch anything'. There was little consolation for him as he paced about the house searching for some clue as to where Marcie and Naomi had gone; looking but not touching.

Several cars arrived. The FBI team swarmed over the building looking for any signs that might indicate what had taken place. Mobile phones were found outside in the shrubs. The photo album was being examined and forensic scientists were retrieving the bullet from the floor.

Daniel restated all he knew of their plans to go to church and then waited for Bennet and McKillen to outline some course of action.

"It's Harrison; gotta be," concluded McKillen as they conferred after half an hour of the investigation.

"You're probably right," replied Bennet less certain. "We'll proceed on that assumption, anyway, until we learn more."

"What does he want?" demanded Daniel.

"What he's always wanted; money. And I guess we can expect some sort of ransom demand or even getting the old lady to get the money out herself," the younger man predicted.

"What are we going to do?" Daniel fretted impatiently.

Bennet gave him a pinch faced stare. "We..." said with emphasis, "don't do anything. You... will go about your business and Mack and I will set a trap for Harrison. He won't touch any money without us knowing about it." The FBI man paused for a second then continued, "It's less likely, but he may contact you for the real process papers, though I doubt if his buyer is still on board." Bennet made sure he had Daniel's full attention, so he drew a little closer. "If he contacts you, let us know immediately. No heroics!" He left unsaid his knowledge about kidnappings.

Daniel looked agape at the FBI man. "But—"

"No buts; this is our job. If we need you we'll call you."

McKinley quietly empathised with the young engineer, saying, in a quiet aside, how he knew how he felt; something Daniel doubted. He went on to say confidentially (what Bennet had strategically avoided), while his senior partner was busy on the phone, that kidnappings generally didn't end well because of the sort of desperate measures the offenders took. That's why they had to know all the details.

Mack's comment was counterproductive, however. Desperation now dominated his thoughts. His mind voided of all else, Daniel drove robot like, heedless of traffic about him.

Finding himself at his house without remembering the journey seemed miraculous. Impulsively, Daniel called Max and together they plotted their intervention strategy. Though not illegal, he'd been warned off by Bennet so their actions could be construed as obstructing the course of justice. Nevertheless they plotted.

A call to Arnold, suggesting he consider becoming a trustee and innocently expressing interest in the name of the bank in which the trust fund was deposited, provided some useful information.

Daniel and Max made some initial assumptions:

a) The branch would need to be big enough to have sizeable cash reserves

b) Marcie would be sent to withdraw the money

c) From their knowledge of Harrison; there would be some clandestine exit strategy

d) Naomi would probably remain unharmed until Harrison was sure he had the money

These assumptions were made after examining the possibilities. He would contact them and get a ransom, or the fullerene process data; a methodology fraught with risks and the added problem of transferring the money. Or he would get the money himself using Marcie.

The two plotters decided it was necessary to get their colleagues involved. It was important to stake out as many branches of the bank as possible. Everyone needed a phone and a picture of Aunt Marcie.

The rest of the Sunday was spent contacting friends and allocating bank branches to watch. Ground rules included the need to stay out of sight; especially from Harrison and any FBI agents who may be doing a similar thing, and being patient, as there were no guarantees that the withdrawal would be made on Monday.

Max organised a phone message group. He then ensured that the observation point Daniel and he chose was centrally placed and everyone knew that regular reports were to be made and sightings were to be communicated immediately.

It was an interminable evening and night for Daniel. He agonised over Marcie and Naomi's plight and read and prayed alternately until fatigue drew him into sleep.

***

From early on Monday all their sentinels were relatively bright and focused with the exception of Daniel, who had a wretched night. There was a mood of optimism and expectation. The snow had melted and a glimmer of sunshine lightened a cool windy day.

As the day wore on, however, the group morale deteriorated. Was this a fool's errand? What reason did they have to even suspect that Harrison planned to use Marcie, or even that Harrison was the culprit?

By lunch time most of the watchers had reckoned that the FBI weren't present; and if they were they were remarkably well hidden. This provoked a margin of disquiet in the text messages. If the FBI didn't think it was a valid tactic perhaps they were wasting their time.

At two fifteen a text appeared in bold capitals: 'SHE'S HERE – STATE STREET' Erin'.

Daniel rapidly replied, 'don't move, keep us informed we'll be there soon-not far away'.

It was only minutes until Max and Daniel arrived on Max's motor cycle. They pulled off the one way street into a side street and parked the bike there. Max stayed there ready to pursue if needed. Further up the road Erin was sheltering out of the wind in the doorway of another bank. Daniel approached still wearing the helmet he had on as a pillion passenger.

"She went in there about..." she checked her phone for the time, "...eight minutes ago. Since then those two cars turned up. I think they're FBI."

"Should've known," commented Daniel, "They probably alerted the banks to contact them."

"So what do we do when she comes out?" It was Erin trying to get a grasp of what her friend had in mind.

"We follow her. How did she arrive?"

"A van dropped her off and kept going up there." She pointed directly ahead.

Daniel and Erin watched as a couple of agents got out of the cars. Then one reversed into a side street, facing the wrong way while the other headed down Court Street. No doubt the area was crawling with agents.

Daniel turned his back to one of the agents as the man scanned the area.

"This is going to be tricky. We're going to have to stay behind the agents as they follow Marcie or we'll be recognised." He looked down at Erin. "Where's your car?"

She indicated the road to the left. "Up there. Of course if you need it, I'll have to drive the block. It's one way."

Daniel quickly typed a text into his phone.

"What are you doing?" Erin was trying to read it upside down.

"Just telling everyone to get into their cars; that way we'll be able to cover a larger area when they're back on the road."

She smiled at him. "You're getting good at this." Her phone beeped as he sent it. As she registered what it was she paused and then read it anyway.

Five minutes passed and Daniel sent another text letting everyone know that they were still waiting. He justified it to Erin saying that he'd want to know what was going on if he were out there. There was a sudden jab in his ribs.

"Look!" she exclaimed.

Daniel turned to see Aunt Marcie wearing a large floppy hat, emerge through the swinging doors of the bank. She was hefting a large briefcase with some difficulty. Marcie turned right down the road away from them. Careful scrutiny revealed several agents mobilising. A woman dragging a suitcase on wheels, a man with a backpack and another using a cell phone, all began to shuffle off at the same time in a similar direction.

Casually, Daniel and Erin wandered behind Bennet's team. The busy city sidewalks meant that the additional migration behind Marcie was not conspicuous. It was obvious Daniel's aunt was struggling with the briefcase of money. She waddled for about a hundred yards along the right side of the street and around the corner. All the followers increased their pace to keep her in sight.

Marcie entered a coffee shop and disappeared from view. The agent with the phone quickly trailed her in. Daniel worried when nothing happened for the next few minutes. He had just decided to make a move when she reappeared. Immediately the hackles on the back of his neck informed him there was something wrong.

"They've made a switch!" he hissed.

"What! How do you know?" Erin whispered as they crouched behind a car opposite the café.

"She's carrying the bag much easier." He turned to see her blue eyes looking up at him. "And Marcie never wears a hat; they're concealing her face." With an intense look on his face he spoke, "You follow her."

Without another word Daniel sent a text to all explaining his suspicions and saying he was checking the café while Erin was following the money.

As Erin left he called Bennet. Surprisingly he answered straight away.

"Keep out of this Treloar, I know you're trailing your aunt." His tone was firm.

"Listen Bennet, I think Marcie is still in Starbucks. They've made a switch." Daniel abruptly ended the call not wanting to waste time justifying his statement.

He quickly jogged across the road and went inside. Daniel swept the café with his eyes but saw no sign of Marcie or Harrison. His gazed fixed on the rest room. If there was a quick change required that would be the place. Max and Gavin came in just as he was heading toward the rest room.

"What are you doing?" asked Gavin.

"If they made a switch it would be in the restroom."

"And you're just going to walk in? What if Harrison's in there with a gun?" Gavin was beside himself, incredulous at Daniel's risky attitude.

"What do you suggest?" He said it as if there was no other way.

"We wait and jump him when he comes out... if he's there." He thought briefly, and then added, "If no one comes out after five minutes we rush in together."

The plan actually seemed good to Daniel, so they stationed themselves between the two restroom doors.

They had hardly set up when McKillen burst into the hallway and waved them out. Obediently the three re-entered the café area and saw it was being evacuated. Numerous agents were positioned either side of the door to the restrooms.

McKillen hauled them out to the street where Bennet was waiting, hands on hips and a scowl on his face.

"You don't give up do you?" A slight smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Well you were right. We have a woman in custody who was impersonating your aunt...working with Harrison obviously."

Two gun shots rang out, shattering the relative calm.

"Stay here!" yelled Bennet as he ran into the building clasping his gun. Minutes went by before an ambulance screamed onto the scene.

After a few more minutes, a bedraggled Aunt Marcie, draped in a table cloth was helped into the ambulance where she was examined and then lightly sedated.

Daniel had run over to the ambulance but was restrained by police who had cordoned off the area. He was eventually allowed to speak with her after McKillen had interviewed her.

She was distraught. "I couldn't help Dan. I don't know where he took us." Tears filled her eyes and she trembled from shock. Daniel attempted to pacify her with little success.

The paramedics, considering the trauma she had been through, insisted on taking her to hospital for observation.

Daniel was stranded there on the sidewalk wondering what had happened as the ambulance drove off.

Bennet came out. "He's dead." He said it with a resigned, tight lipped face.

Daniel stared incomprehensively at him.

The agent enlarged on his report. "Harrison is dead. He pulled a gun as he came out...they had no choice."

"So where's Naomi!" demanded Daniel.

"We're tracking the calls from his cell phone now. We should know in a few minutes. Your aunt had been tied with tape in the rest room, but I think she's okay. What about you? You should sit down and take a deep breath." The FBI man was attempting to soothe the highly agitated scientist with his steady, modulating voice.

"Why don't we take you guys down to the office while we locate Miss Stockton?"

Daniel expected them to get into cars and drive them but the Boston office was just a short walk down the main thoroughfare.

Inside they were given coffees and donuts while McKillen debriefed them about their knowledge of the location of the bank and what they proposed to do had they been confronted with the armed Harrison.

Erin came in as they brought the woman who impersonated Marcie through to an interview room. She had heard that she was a law secretary at Haversack and Neesham. Apparently the law office was Harrison's previous employer and was the reason he knew about them and their clientele.

Daniel, Max, Gavin and Erin had been at the FBI office for an hour when they were informed that two units had been sent to just this side of Pittsfield. Bennet didn't mention the ambulance which was being sent as a precaution. The three friends whiled the time away trying to placate Daniel who grumbled and sighed and paced disagreeably at the endless wait.

It was after five when the call finally came through. Bennet spoke for some time to the agents on the scene. When he finished he came across to Daniel.

"They've found Miss Stockton. She was found in the basement. I'm afraid—"

"What... she isn't—"

"No... no, she's alive. They've taken her to hospital. She's suffering severe shock. Other than that she was unharmed."

"What hospital?" Daniel was relieved and anxious at the same time.

"Same place as your aunt ... Massachusetts General..."

Daniel had fled through the door before Bennet had finished. Not even waiting for his friends, he set off on foot the half mile or so, along the city lit streets, to the hospital.

He still arrived before the ambulance. He paced about at reception, then he hovered annoyingly around the emergency desk and eventually he watched with others who gawked through the window at the busy ambulance admissions station.

The ambulance that eventually arrived with her on board was in no hurry at all. Carefully, the paramedics transferred her from the ambulance and wheeled her slowly away from view.

There was some altercation with the nurse at the desk who assured him that once his friend had been admitted and properly examined, he would be allowed to visit.

Max found him harassing the staff and dragged him off to a cafeteria in another building. Quelling his irritated friend with the rationale that the hospital staff sought Naomi's best interests; so shouldn't he do the same? The logic irked Daniel—of course he cared desperately— but he conceded to the idea forming in his mind that once again it was self-interest that dominated his thoughts. He wanted to be present, not for how he could assist, but for his own peace of mind; to be reassured that she was alive and well.

The coffee and the company did little to mollify his affliction, that of his helplessness. To divert his concern over Naomi's condition, Erin suggested they visit Marcie.

It took a little while to locate her and when they did they filed into her room, unsure of what to expect.

Marcie was sitting up, indomitable as usual. "They want me to stay overnight Daniel. Tell them I'm fine. I'm as strong as an ox."

Daniel wanted to add, 'as stubborn as a mule' to maintain the animal simile theme, but just consoled. "I'm sure they want what's best for you Aunt."

"But I'm fine," she protested." All I have is a few rashes from that awful tape." She showed her arms. She shook her head slowly, reflectively. "He wasn't quite right, was he?"

"Who Aunt?" Daniel asked unthinkingly, still preoccupied with Naomi.

"That Harrison, of course... there was a madness in his eyes... as if money could solve his problems."

Daniel didn't know what to say. Erin chimed in with queries about how they were treated and how they had coped.

Marcie gave a brief account of their nightmarish experience. She then addressed Daniel.

"Naomi is very fragile. She's been through more than any person should ever have to deal with. She'll need time to get over this." The way she looked at him, it was clear what was unsaid was more significant than what was said.

"I need to go and check to see how she is." His voice was broken and husky.

***

In her room a doctor was just finishing up when Daniel entered. She introduced herself as a psychiatric specialist. Explaining to Daniel that people who endured severe traumatic events sometimes withdrew into themselves for a time. She would need familiar faces and rest, and probably regular counselling to come to terms with her experiences.

"At the moment she's not responsive to the external environment—there's too much going on inside her head. Talk to her," she advised as she touched his arm encouragingly, "it may help." She left them alone then.

"Naomi..." His soft words had no reaction. A blank stare was all she offered. It was like she was in a coma and awake at the same time. He touched her arm, "Naomi..." She barely flinched at his touch.

Daniel spoke a few more words. He declared his affection for her, he held her hand, brushed her arm, touched her face, all to no avail. It was like that for an hour. Max and Erin joined him; Gavin had decided to go home.

Once the futility of communicating with her was apparent, both coaxed him to go to his place and rest. He would be able to visit again.

A chasm had formed which he couldn't span.

"I'll be there in a minute," he informed them. Alone with her, his hopes and imagination spurred him to a soft gentle kiss on her lips. There was no 'sleeping beauty' response, no miraculous awakening. Fears welled up inside. Would she stagnate in this limbo? He breathed a prayer as he left, turning one last time to see her glazed eyes, unseeing, unfeeling.

Chapter 19

Daniel arrived at eleven the next day and went to the desk to check if Naomi was still in the same room. After several minutes of viewing computer screens, the reception nurse made a call to the ward. She had a confused expression on her face before she regained her composure, looked up and smiled mechanically.

"I'm sorry sir; it seems Miss Stockton checked herself out last night."

"But yesterday she was spaced out. I couldn't talk with her; she didn't say anything."

"Well the ward sister said she was lucid and determined. When the doctor couldn't persuade her to stay overnight she signed her discharge."

Daniel was elated, but also slightly mystified. She hadn't called. Weren't they engaged now? Maybe she was just so relieved to be going home.

While he was there, Daniel dropped in on Marcie. She was in the process of being discharged as well so she enlisted him to take her home. Daniel was fine with that as it gave him another legitimate reason to be around to visit Naomi.

His patience was tested as his aunt fussed and fiddled with clothes one of her secretaries had delivered the previous night. Then she thought it necessary to personally thank all the staff who had cared for her.

'Goodness,' thought Daniel, as he imagined the lengthy event of clothes selection and gratitude showing should her stay in hospital exceed one night.

On the way Daniel sounded out Marcie regarding Naomi's recovery. Should she have left hospital? Why wouldn't she contact him? How soon should they start the counselling?

His aunt didn't respond until the barrage of questions ceased.

'Time will tell', she had answered simply.

After assisting Aunt Marcie into her place, Daniel went next door and pressed the doorbell. No one came to the door. He tried knocking. He called out twice. He studied the large house to see if there was any sign of movement and when there was none he retraced his steps to Marcie's house.

Marcie was surprised to see him back so soon. His concerns were communicated and then aunt and nephew attacked this new problem. Where was Naomi Stockton? They pooled resources. Her home phone rang out unanswered. She didn't have her cell phone. That had been hurled into the bushes days before.

Gaining access into Naomi's place using Marcie's key only raised questions. Drawers were left open and various items of clothing were strewn over the floor.

None of her friends or fellow nurses had heard from her. Daniel rang Bennet for advice. He had told Daniel, normally an adult wouldn't be considered missing until opportunities to check all friends and acquaintances had been exhausted. But in this case, considering her possible altered mental state, he would put out an alert bulletin to the police departments throughout the country. He would also follow up her movements from the hospital.

Daniel thanked him, realising he was probably operating outside his jurisdiction and providing help beyond his assigned duties. Systematically reviewing what they knew, it occurred to Daniel there were things they still had to check.

Yes, her car was gone. No, the church pastor had not seen or heard from her, but they would pray. Calls to the local hospitals provided nothing. She had just disappeared; and this time of her own volition, unstable as that may have been.

By noon on Wednesday Daniel was a mess. No news and little sleep had him staggering around his place unwashed and his condition unkempt. He tried reading, praying, even pleading on his knees.

Daniel mused about his faith. Was it a sham? He remembered some of those initial words; 'What good is it if a man gain the whole world and lose his own soul?' Well Harrison was a fitting example wasn't he? No, it wasn't just about money. He remembered now. It was about denying himself... it was about not putting anything in his life before following Jesus.

He had failed miserably.

***

A phone call had him showering and dressing and arriving at his aunt's within an hour. Marcie greeted him stoically as if any emotional involvement would render her ineffectual.

"Bennet called... said he tried to call you but there was nothing." Daniel pulled out his cell. It had no charge.

"Forgot to charge it," he muttered half to himself.

"Anyway, they tracked her to the airport. She bought a ticket to Hargeisia via Dubai...told the travel agent she had to get her father's notebook. Do you know what that's all about?" Marcie's lip trembled slightly as her indifferent veneer began to dissolve.

Daniel thumped his forehead, "I never told her!"

"What?" her edgy voice quailed.

"I brought the notebook back with me. It's in my computer bag."

Marcie cracked. "Oh Dan, what are we going to do?" She collapsed into an armchair and put her face in her hands. "I think she's lost touch with reality; just to go running off like that.

I think she's obsessing about unresolved things in her mind. To be put in danger over and over, after every time thinking you're safe, it must be torture for her."

He put his hand on Marcie's shoulder. He was really beginning to feel for the old lady.

"Don't worry. It will work out. I'll go and get her." He squeezed her shoulder.

She looked up at him with a determined expression, "I'm coming with you."

***

Their anxiety on the almost continuous, arduous journey was alleviated by a text from his father: 'Naomi has arrived battered and bruised spiritually and psychologically, but otherwise well. She seems to be letting hard work iron out the creases. She's been asking about her father's notebook. Do you know where it is?'

Daniel had sent a reply. With his inimitable bumbling style, he tried to explain how he had taken the booklet to read, placed it in his computer bag and then forgotten he had it. He added that they were on their way.

His father judiciously stated, "I'll let you tell her."

***

As the truck driven by Abu pulled up in the hospital yard, Richard Treloar stepped out the door to greet them. After hugging both son and half-sister he invited them indoors.

"Come inside. Naomi is doing some rounds. She doesn't know you're coming... thought it was best that way."

"How is she?" Daniel asked.

"Better, but still fairly wound up inside. Heaven knows what's going on in her mind." He sat them down and Ellen and Joel came in. Following further greetings, afternoon tea was prepared by the young doctor and his wife while Treloar senior went to retrieve Naomi.

When she came in there was an awkward moment as Daniel stood. Her eyes went to his and immediately she cowered against the doorframe. The horror of violent taunts and threats, of gunshots and bondage overwhelmed her thoughts. She trembled.

Daniel, seeing her fear and reaction to him, felt like a monster. He had been nothing but trouble for her. It was time to stop thinking of himself and care for someone else. The pain and loss welled up like a churning whirlpool in the pit of his stomach. His eyes moistened. He knew he should go. Let her feel secure doing something she had always wanted to do. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed inaudibly. "It's all over now... you don't have to worry anymore," he tried to console her.

Unable to constrain his emotions, he murmured, "I should go."

The phrase stirred something from the past. Somewhere, sometime he had said those words and there was emotional tumult within her. There was a tiny spark of a memory; then a flare of recognition in her eyes; she stared at him and then at her ring. Choices roiled through her mind and propelled her, running, into his arms.

She wept uncontrollably as he hugged her and caressed her hair. Naomi's face nestled into Daniel's neck as she whimpered and sniffled.

"I can't do this anymore," she sobbed.

"It's over, Naomi, it's over." He clutched her tight as he sensed the others in the room begin moving from their transfixed positions.

Marcie came around and joined in a group hug. When Naomi became aware of her presence she turned and embraced her.

"Aunt Marcie, I'm so sorry if I worried you—"

Then a landslide of thoughts rushed through her and her demeanour transformed. She grabbed her aunt's arm and led Marcie purposefully into the kitchen away from the others, as they shared bemused looks.

Naomi was quick to pounce with questions that were burning inside.

"What did you mean about it was my mother's wedding dress?" she whispered vehemently.

"That's right, your mother wore it." Marcie confirmed.

"Are you my mother?" Naomi asked apprehensively.

Marcie's eyes boggled. "Why...why do you ask that?" She sounded stunned.

"Because I saw a photo of you in it and you were marrying my dad!" There was hysteria in Naomi's voice.

"Oh...oh my poor dear!"

"Are you?"

"No... no, no, no... I should have told you long ago. I...I just didn't know how to explain it."

Naomi stared at her expectantly. Marcie cleared her throat and began.

"It's not a pretty story.

Your father and I met on the west coast. We had a fling. I went east and he followed me. He proposed. A week before the wedding I went back home to Santa Barbara and, amazingly, got converted. I thought it was the best thing. I told John about it after we were married and he went berserk. I had no idea he was the black sheep of the family. His father was a pastor," she added plainly. Naomi nodded. Marcie seemed to relive the ordeal in her mind. The far off, blank stare as she formulated her next words.

"He left me that day. When it was clear he wasn't coming back to me, I had the marriage annulled. To make a long story short; John knew my best friend Gayle and started going with her; partly to get back at me. Well, I invited Gayle, your mum, to hear a visiting evangelist and she became a Christian. You can guess the rest. In God's grace, your dad also responded and when they were married, Gayle borrowed the wedding dress."

Naomi seemed to slump. "So you're not my mom."

"No."

"And Daniel's not my cousin."

"Oh, sweetheart, no...I wouldn't have kept that from you."

"Well, why didn't you tell me you knew my dad?"

"I guess—I don't know—I guess I was ashamed. I didn't want to spoil your memory of him. And...in a way...I wanted to pretend you were my daughter."

Naomi looked at Marcie and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. She gave her a hug. In a way she had been her mother.

Daniel, who was standing at the door and had overheard the conversation, took Naomi's hand and led her back to the lounge. He sat her down and sat next to her. She snuggled against him as teas were passed around.

After their drinks and cakes, Daniel and Naomi left for a walk. For the benefit of Ellen, Joel and Abu, Marcie retold the story of Harrison's plot to enrich himself; at first by stealing commercial secrets and then by threatening Naomi and her own safety.

***

Daniel led Naomi to the truck and they sat in it while he searched through his computer bag.

"I owe you a huge apology," he said as he held the precious book up. "I packed it in my bag the night you were taken from here. She bit her lip and tears streamed down her cheeks. There's an important bit you should read. He opened the pages. Daniel chose the second last page because on the plane he had read the whole book and this part, he knew, would thrill her.

"Read it to me please," she murmured as her eyes brimmed with moisture. He began:

"There is shooting all around us. I'm not sure if we'll survive this. The apprehension I feel makes me rejoice in that life changing decision that the grace of God led me to. If anyone reads this let them know that writing down my conversion seems to be the most important thing in the world to me now. It was the most pivotal point in my life, and since I may soon be reunited with my beloved Gayle, how better to see the eternal than by glancing back at that narrow gate.

I guess my story, the really important bit, started when I chased a girl from the west coast over to the east. We had a failing relationship with a marriage of sorts. Then she got religion. That is how I expressed it at the time. That was Marcie Quentin. With my background, Dad being a pastor, I couldn't cope. Well I left her and went with Gayle, who was a friend of Marcie's. We got quite close, then she became a Christian. I believe Marcie had something to do with that. I was really angry and decided to go to the church they attended and heckle the preacher."

He turned the page as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"The shooting is getting closer. It's all been worth it. I still remember sitting in the church. I was struck dumb with his opening words: 'You may not realise it, but God has brought you here for a purpose.' He then proceeded to speak about two ways people go. One way is selfish, self-gratifying and evil and leads to destruction. You have to turn away from that path if you want life. The other Way is Jesus. It's narrow; you can't take anything with you. If you love riches leave your money otherwise rich people won't fit through. If you're proud, leave your pride, your ego- God opposes the proud... you can't get through, but he gives grace to the humble. He said to cast your worries on Jesus, leave them at the cross.

The Jesus way is truth and it leads to life. All you have to do is choose.

He said many more things describing the contrasts between a way that seems 'right to man' and The Way. But I remember choosing that night, with tears in my eyes.

Gayle and I were married a few months later and after two years at Bible College, I brought my girls to Kenya. Naomi if you ever read this I pray that faith finds you rejoicing that ultimately we stored up treasure in heaven. Hope to write more soon..."

Naomi looked up at him and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "I'd like to stay here a while."

"I'll stay with you." He handed the book to her.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" she spoke softly.

Daniel's eye's moistened as he responded with a tiny, negative shake of his head.

"I do love you Daniel Treloar."

"I love you too," he replied with throaty emotion.

They kissed.

She suddenly pulled away. "Come with me." There was joy in her expression. Outside the truck she took Daniel's hand and they walked to the orphanage, ignoring the fierce sun. Clusters of children drew to Naomi's side as they neared the stark buildings.

Amidst the babble of laughing, chattering Somali children she turned to him. "What do you think ...our first cause for the trust...a new orphanage?"

Daniel smiled.

###
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won't you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favourite retailer?

Thanks!

Anthony van

About the author:

What does a retired teacher do? Especially a teacher with a hyperactive imagination and ingrained work habits. Well this one writes. And being a Christian, each novel I have written necessarily is pieced together from a Christian perspective.

I have a broad range of interests which include science and technology, mathematics, travel, sports and the interrelationship of people. Much of what intrigues me about people is that some pursue truth with the determination of a bloodhound while others almost ignore existential ideas and while away their short time spent on earth being distracted by pleasures or possessions or power.

Other titles by Anthony Van

The Only Thing That Counts

Dying to Live

What Is the Lie

More Precious

1.The Everlasting Man – G K Chesterton, Hodder & Stoughton 1925

2.Mere Christianity – C S Lewis, William Collins and Sons 1952

3. Ps 55:22

4. Is 41:10

5. James4:7
