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media's spotlight. Overnight Elizabeth went from being just one more hungry New York lawyer out to make her mark on the world to being hounded around the clock by journalists and well wishers alike. Even people whom she hardly spoke to at her law firm and those that she had absolutely no use for found it necessary to go out of their way to offer their regrets over her plight at having a husband who was being held captive. That the two were estranged and hadn't spoken to each other since finishing their previous year's tax return did not seem to matter to anyone.

Needless to say, this unsolicited attention made it all but impossible for Elizabeth to carry on anything resembling a normal life. Recognizing the disruption that her presence was causing, the senior partners decided that it would be best for all parties concerned if Elizabeth took a leave of absence until the crisis in Syria was resolved. Though each of her superiors went out of their way to make sure that they conveyed their sincere regret over the situation and that this absence would in no way affect her standing in the firm, Elizabeth was shrewd enough to appreciate that her stock in the company had taken a big hit. In a fit of anger reinforced by three glasses of a delightful merlot, Elizabeth bemoaned her fate to Karen. "I can't even walk out of this building without being pounced on by every reporter and nutcase in the city."

Feeling besieged on all sides, Karen found it necessary to step in and serve as a buffer between Elizabeth and the rest of the world while doing her best to comfort her when she was willing to accept that gesture. This, of course, meant that her own work suffered. Between tiptoeing about the apartment in an effort to provide her partner as wide a berth as possible while fending off the media and screening all incoming calls at the same time, ¦Karen found little time to devote to her clients. Though she did

her best to keep up with that part of her life on-line or over the Phone, Elizabeth's situation proved to be too distracting, too disruptive to Karen's ability to concentrate on the daily ups and 186

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downs of a market that also became hypervolatile anytime the Middle East blew up.

Not everyone attempting to pierce the protective barrier that Karen had erected was a journalistic leech looking for an exclusive interview. Some of the most persistent and annoying efforts to contact Elizabeth and console her came from her own family. All felt it was more than their self-appointed duty to do so. They saw in this crisis an opportunity to set aside their differences and renew their ties with a member of the family who had become the proverbial black sheep for leaving her husband, whom everyone adored, for a woman. Leading the pack whose mission was to bring Elizabeth back into the fold with some degree of respectability, and without compromising her stance over Elizabeth's separation from Ken, was Elizabeth's mother. While she could ignore her sister and other members of her extended family, Elizabeth found it impossible to deny her mother the opportunity that she insisted upon availing herself of. Not even Karen, using every ploy she had at her command, could deflect Abigail Stanton.

When the phone rang, Karen did not hesitate. In a flash, she threw down the magazine she had been leafing through and snatched up the remote receiver. By now she had learned to check the number on the small caller-ID window before pressing the talk button. If she didn't recognize the number, she didn't even bother answering.

When she saw that the caller was Abigail, Karen's heart sank.

That woman always managed to irritate Karen no end by speaking to her with a chilly tone that would bring a hyena to tears. The conversations between Karen and Abigail never varied. As soon as Karen had clicked the on button of the remote, Abigail's haughty tone would blare out. "Karen, is my daughter there?" even though Abigail already knew she was.

Karen did her best to hide her ire by responding with the most sickly sweet reply that she could manage. "I'm not sure,

^PBF;

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}Ars. Stanton. Do give me a moment and I will check." This allowed Karen to place the old bitch on hold while she put aside whatever it was that she had been doing, roused herself in a most leisurely manner, and wandered about the small apartment in search of Elizabeth.

At the moment Elizabeth was lying on her bed amid crumpled sheets, curled up and clutching an oversized stuffed panda bear Karen had given her shortly after they met. The only light in the room came from the flickering images of the television that sat tucked away in a corner wall unit. The sound was muted, as it was most of the time these days. Though both would have loved to do so, neither woman could escape their small yet supporting role in the current media event. So* it behooved them to keep track of what was going on outside the fragile shell that they had erected about them. Their need to keep track of the latest events did not mean that they needed to put up with the nonstop babble, which talking heads on the twenty-four-hour news shows felt obliged to generate. Thus the silent images.

When Karen entered the room she immediately went to the side of the bed and eased herself down against Elizabeth's back.

With a tenderness that expressed both her love and a deep caring, Karen laid her hand upon the distressed woman's shoulder as she glanced at the screen. Being run at the moment was footage of an earlier press conference with the now-familiar image of the mother of Specialist Four David Davis. Standing behind her as he pleaded unabashedly to a distant dictator was the Reverend Lucas Brown. The Reverend Brown was a prominent leader in the African-American community and son of a noted civil rights leader who always seemed to be at the right place at the right time, especially if there was a TV news camera around. He had both hands securely planted upon the shoulders of Davis's mother as he spoke to the reporters for her. As Karen studied the screen she could not but help wonder if the Reverend Brown

^ere hanging on to the bereaved mother in an effort to console 188

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her or if his true intent was to aim the poor woman toward the camera that promised to present the most flattering image of him as he stood there, tending to a sister of color in her time of greatest need.

Distracted by her cynicism. Karen almost forgot that Abigail was on the line waiting to speak to her precious baby girl. With a gentle nudge Karen shook Elizabeth. "Liz, your mother is on the phone."

At first Elizabeth did not answer. When she did, her response had nothing to do with what Karen had said. "How do you think she does it?'

Unsure of whether Elizabeth was talking about the Davis woman or her own mother, Karen paused before venturing forth with a question that would cover all possibilities. "How so?"

Absorbed by her own disjointed and confused thoughts Elizabeth was slow to respond. When she finally did, her voice had a low, almost wistful tone to it. "How do you suppose she manages to go out in public like that and allow herself to express her fears or most heartfelt passions? How can any woman be so forthcoming, so open about her deepest, darkest fears, without being embarrassed?"

Karen was astute enough to appreciate that Elizabeth's internal plight went deeper than a simple inability to express sentiments.

Since the crisis had erupted she had refused to share any of her feelings or thoughts with anyone, not even her chosen partner.

This left Karen in a strange place, unsure of how best to deal with a situation that refused to go away. It was not that Elizabeth's response to the crisis was out of line with circumstances that she faced. If anything Karen was surprised that the woman was holding up as well as she was. Instead, Karen's apprehensions concerned other, more long-term issues. The broker found that she was unable to put aside a nagging fear that her relationship was being endangered by a man she had never met, a situation over which she had no control, and a culture that tolerated her, but gave her no firm ground upon which to stand.

r

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As troubling as this was to her, with each passing day Karen found that another issue was beginning to rear its ugly head.

Though she tried to suppress thoughts that she had initially discounted as being selfish and uncalled-for, Karen was far too involved in her own career not to wonder what all of this would cost her professionally. She had no doubt that her inability to keep pace with her most pressing business affairs, coupled with her now very public relationship with Elizabeth, would come back to haunt her. Even in the cosmopolitan and very liberal landscape of New York City, people expect those charged with handling their money and business affairs to be discreet and on the conservative side. Rock stars, writers, and artists could be flamboyant.

Brokers could not. Though, no one had said as much, Karen was beginning to wonder if her unflinching loyalty to Elizabeth would spell disaster for her further down the road when she was out of the limelight. She had already seen what happened when her superiors and influential clients came to the conclusion that an associate had become too much of a liability' due to some personal indiscretions or unwanted notoriety.

Reaching up, Elizabeth took Karen's hand and squeezed it, breaking the momentary and very troubling train of thought that Karen had been entertaining. With a shake of her head, she cleared away those thoughts. "Abigail is on the phone, Liz."

Just the mention of her mother's name was enough to send Elizabeth's already depressed spirits even lower. "Tell her I'm not here." '

"Hon, you know she'll know I'm lying. You haven't left this apartment in days, and thanks to the media, she knows it."

"Then tell her I'm asleep."

"She'll insist that I wake you."

Angered as much by Karen's insistence as she was by the Prospect of having to endure her mother's effort to insert herself into her life again, Elizabeth pulled away from Karen, threw her teet over the side of the bed, and sat up. "Damn her! Damn you!

¦™id damn that Boy Scout I married!"

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Miffed by Elizabeth's response, Karen stood up and glared at the back of her friend. She made no effort to hide the displeasure she felt as she pivoted about on her heels and stormed out of the room, calling out over her shoulder before she slammed the door,

"Your mother is waiting."

In a final yet futile fit, Elizabeth drew her arms against her sides, clenched her fists and shook them as she repeatedly muttered,

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Then, after a moment's pause she managed regain her composer. Using the same measured discipline she employed when dealing with an annoying client, she collected herself as she reached for the phone on the nightstand. By the time she had it to her ear Elizabeth was able to greet her mother with a sweet if insincere "Hello, Mom. How nice of you to call."

Damascus

07:10 LOCAL (03:10 ZULU)

For the first time since being brought to this place, Ken Aveno woke up of his own accord and not to the sound of his tormentors entering the barren cell to haul him away to the room where the enlisted men of RT Kilo were still being beaten before his eyes. At first this unexpected respite from the nonstop horrors to which he had been exposed worried Aveno. Picking himself up off the floor the young officer found himself wondering if he had missed something, if somehow dLiring his brief if fitful sleep his sorry state of affairs had somehow changed. The first thing that came to mind was that their ordeal was over. Though he had absolutely nothing to base this supposition upon, Aveno found himself becoming excited by the notion that the Syrians had given in to diplomatic pressures and in preparation for their release had ceased their relentless torture.

As often happens to prisoners who have been beaten and deprived of even the most basic human needs such as food, water, and sleep, Aveno's distraught mind was unable to linger upon this w

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bright ray of hope for very long. In a flash, a sound from outside his cell swept away his budding optimism and yanked him back to the harsh reality of his circumstances. In place of elation, fear once more gripped him. No longer able to muster the determination needed to resist this ever-present foe, Aveno instinctively drew away from the door as he vainly sought refuge in the corner of his dank, cold cell.

That a professional soldier of his caliber could be reduced to such a state by mere sounds no longer bothered him. Colored berets, catchy mottoes, and the best training in the world made a difference, but could not change the simple fact that Ken Aveno and the other survivors of RT Kilo were flesh and blood. Once the thin veneer is worn away, there is nothing left to protect the mind and body. Even worse than the actual punishment itself was the mind's ability to dwell upon the unknown, to seize upon every unexpected action, every new sound, and turn it into a threat. At times like this, a soldier need something more than simple courage to keep going, something that Aveno no longer had.

With each passing second the noise on the other side of the door drew nearer and became more distinct, causing Aveno to strain with all his might to press himself deeper into the corner of his cell. In the midst of this futile effort to escape this unseen menace, he made no effort to fight the panic that had taken hold.

Like a wounded animal, he continued to push and press himself into a corner that would not yield. The pride in his past achievements a'nd the rank that he had once .counted on to sustain him during times of crisis were gone. Just like the approaching sound

°n the other side of the door, Aveno could not escape the fact that he had thrown it away again and again each and every time a member of RT Kilo was tortured in his presence and his only conscious thought was to silently thank God again and again that he was not the one being beaten.

Damascus

07:15 LOCAL (03:15 ZULU)

While his lieutenant was giving way to his fears on the floor above him, Salvador Mendez was busy exploring a world that he was seeing for the first time. It did not matter to him that the Syrian guards took every opportunity they could to inflict as much pain upon him as they could while removing his blindfold and manacles.