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For the beat of a bird's wing, it seemed that all was not lost. The old woman, the amir's
mother, had relented and led our beloved to our prison. Disguising Gabriella's body and that
of the princess with the ugly black robes all women of their kind wear, they led us and our
love back to the stern of the boat, where we would escape in his boat.
And then, disaster. The amir and his accomplice met us, weapons in hand, and forced us to
return to the hot little room, this time throwing Antony inside with us.
Not only was our situation desperate, it was also mortifying. There was no toilet in that room
nor water to wash with or even to drink. Our fragrance was pungent, our throat parched, and
our morale very low.
'It'll be okay," Mike/Antony told us quietly. "I was able to phone a friend and give him the
name of this boat. They'll be looking for us. Probably the cops know and are on their way
now."
Mariam, the Saudi woman, was not comforted. "My uncle will buy them off. They will not
find us," she said in English.
'If it was just us, I'd say you were right," he replied. "But Abdul Mohammed, his little buddy,
is a terrorist who likes blowing up national monuments."
'We know," she said. "He intends to blow us up with one."
'Yeah, well, when the police hear about that, your uncle is going to have a little more
explaining to do than he's used to," he said confidently.
Meanwhile, we made the best of our situation by continuing to get reacquainted, once more
embracing and kissing, whispering endearments and mutual reassurances. But it had been a
long day and I laid my head on his shoulder, despite the heat, to sleep. The last thing I was
aware of before I slept was Mariam creeping over to claim his other shoulder. Neither of us
had the heart to turn her away.
A noise awoke me. By Antony's wristwatch, I saw that hours had passed well into the night,
yet the boat's motors continued, if anything more energetically than ever, speeding us forward
as if the oars in the galley had been quadrupled.
Antony also stirred. "They're in hovercraft mode, now," he said after opening and closing his
mouth and trying to wet his lips with his tongue. His voice was harsh and rasped with thirst.
"With everyone else tied up, we'll be covering a lot of river very quickly. But don't worry.
The boat Leda's on is a hovercraft, too."
I thought for a moment that the change in speed was what had awakened me, but, no, the door
to our prison opened and the terrorist Antony knew as Abdul Mohammed stood framed in it, a
bottle in his hand.
'You must be thirsty," he said in a voice dripping with false sympathy. "I've brought you a
drink. Take care, ladies, to drink yours first. Once Michael has tasted this, he may forget all
manners and refuse to share. How long has it been, Michael? Twenty years did you say? No
need to deprive yourself any longer. You will have no time to reacquire the habit."
Mike growled something about Abdul Mohammed in a pharaonic relationship with his
mother, but the coward, still holding us at gunpoint, set the bottle down near enough that we
could smell the contents but not close enough for Mike to grab it to use as a weapon. Then the
villain withdrew, closing the door behind him, although it seemed that the tail of his shadow
slipped back inside the room before the light vanished again.
'He's right," Mike told us with some difficulty. "Ladies first."
We could not refuse, for we were far too thirsty. I fetched the bottle and drank a long draught
of the sweet red wine within, then passed it to Mariam. She shook her head. "It is forbidden."
'Surely your gods will forgive you," I said. "You cannot survive with nothing to drink."
'Booze is actually dehydrating," Mike said in his American voice, then in the tones of my
Antony. "But it's wet."
I giggled, the drink having an instant and strong effect on me. I had had no food or water for
many hours and the liquor quickly infused my entire being. "How funny! You are arguing
with yourself, my love."
Mariam changed her mind and grabbed the bottle from me, drinking, sputtering a little, and
going back for a second drink.
'When we're found, they'll say we were too drunk to realize we weren't out of harm's way
when the place wherever it is exploded," Mike continued. Mariam lowered the bottle,
burped, and extended it toward him. He reached for it but suddenly it flew from her hand,
clattering to the floor and spinning across the room, spraying the liquid left within it across
our legs and feet.
I distinctly heard a noise as if something was lapping the spilled liquid, but it was
overpowered by Antony's groan as he threw himself onto his belly and tried to lick the wine
from my pant legs and shoes.
Mariam withdrew, perhaps in disgust, but I wished only that I had the power to change the
wine to water and gather it back into the bottle for the benefit of us all, but especially so that
my poor tormented lover could slake his thirst.
When he gave up trying to suck the liquid from the carpet, he returned to rest beside me
again.
'Don't worry," I told him, still feeling gay and giddy from the drink. "Your friends are coming,
remember?"
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