"I'm game for anything, unless it involves writing," Arianna answered. With her right arm in a sling, the fiberglass cast on her wrist was still a bit awkward to deal with but the pain had lessened each of the days since the fall. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'll pack for you," he said with a wry smile.

"Pack?"

"Trust me?"

"Always," she smiled.

Just over an hour later, they were in the car on the motorway headed North.

The morning weather forecast on BBC1 had been for a beautiful warm, sunny day. After breakfast, he'd prepared a picnic lunch and stowed their bags in the boot of the car. She found a book of maps in the glovebox and finally puzzled out that they were headed toward Windsor.

Window shopping past an interesting assortment of small shops, Julian explained that he wanted to see the newly finished restorations in the parts of the castle devastated by fire over five years ago. When they joined a group of American tourists for the 11am tour of the castle, Arianna kept having the oddest feelings that she'd been there before. Stronger than deja-vu, it was as if some unknown force was pulling her toward something at the far end of the place.

The feeling grew even stronger when they finally reached St. George's Chapel. There, one of the special guides took over and told them the history of the Order of the Garter, England's oldest surviving order of knighthood. The first official knights were commissioned by King Edward III in 1348 in an attempt to recreate Arthur's 'Round Table'. The motto 'honi soit qui mal y pense' translated to 'Evil be to he who evil thinks.' Displayed above the quire stalls were the flags, helmets, banners and swords of each of the 24 currently standing knights, plus the sovereign and other select members of the royal family. On the back wall of the stalls were plaques and crests tracing the heraldry of the knights over the past 650 years.

When the group dispersed and Arianna wandered toward the chapel bookstore the strange feeling just wouldn't go away, it was beginning to make her feel uneasy. Julian spoke quietly with the guide who nodded his head and disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a wide smile on his face. She rejoined them in the quire and Julian whispered "I have a surprise for you."

As the other tourists departed, the guide took down the velvet ropes and led them in for a closer look at the back wall of the oldest stall. Julian pointed out a wooden plaque, painted with a coat of arms divided vertically. On one side was a gold rampant lion, on the other, a Celtic knot, both against a deep burgundy background. The name underneath read Sampson. "Another one of my dark secret revealed," he whispered in her ear.

The guide then pointed to an enamelled crest showing a shield of alternating blue and silver triangular wedges below a red cap with fur trimmed brim. "Sir Guy de Bryen," he said to them smiling. "Sometime around 1640, his descendant, Stephen Bryant, went to America." She felt a cold shiver run down her spine at the mention of that name. In a box of papers she'd found in the attic after a car crash had killed her parents, was some uncompleted geneological research of her grandmother's maiden name. It traced back to Plymouth, Mass where Stephen Bryant wed Abigail Shaw in the year 1643. She turned to look at Julian with a look of surprise and delight on her face as the guide silently departed.

He shrugged, "I had a hunch, and when he checked the computer, your name cross referenced here with Bryant. There's alot more of MacDuff, in Scotland of course."

"And if I remember my pilgrim history correctly, there were Sampsons on the Mayflower."

"Well, we'd better forget about that - secret identities, remember?" he grinned.

They found a bench in a quiet spot on the riverside and enjoyed a late afternoon picnic dinner of hard cooked egg and tomato sandwiches and cold chicken, with fruit and cheese for desert. As a group of the queen's swans joined them to beg for scraps Julian pulled an extra loaf of bread from the picnic hamper and handed it to her.

"I remembered the raccoon and thought you might enjoy feeding them."

He was right, she adored feeding all sorts of animals. And to be able to hand feed these majestic birds was a particular thrill. They seemed to understand when the bread was all gone and turned to swim off in the other direction.

It had been a glorious day and Arianna was a bit tired as he pushed a button on the car CD player. She closed her eyes and put her head back enjoying the soft instrumental music that filled the car as the countryside passed by on their way back South. Before the second CD finished, they pulled into the carpark beneath a tall building in London.

Julian's Cabal flat was on the corner of the tenth floor. Large windows on two sides of the sitting room afforded a beautiful view overlooking the Chelsea harbour marina. After giving her a quick tour around the flat, he took her bag to the bedroom leaving his own behind. She laughed to herself and picked up his bag to follow him down the hallway.

"I thought with your wrist, I'd better sleep on the couch," he said, taking the duffle away from her as soon as he saw her come into the room.

He'd been treating her like something fragile for the past week and a half. "Julian, put it down and stop fussing. I'll try not to hit you with cast, I promise."

"That's not what....." He must have seen in her expression he wasn't going to win this one so stopped and just said, "Well, we'll see."

Later, as he set the teapot down onto the coffee table while she stood at the window watching the harbour lights, he asked, "Is it bothering you? We probably did too much today."

She hadn't even realised she was rubbing her hand around the edges of the cast until he mentioned it. "Just throbbing a bit. Not too bad."

He tried to convince her to take a couple of the pain killers the doctor had prescribed. She hated taking them because they made her drowsy but finally relented. They sat together on the couch listening to the CD player, and in about half an hour, after a nice cup of tea, she could barely keep her eyes open.

"I think it's bedtime," she yawned.

He turned off the music and picked up a Terry Prachet book titled 'Good Omens' from the desk. "You go ahead, I'm just going to read a few minutes," he said as he sat back down on the sofa.

Not quite being able to picture the beige fibreglass cast with her white silk sleeping gown she decided on his long sleeve pyjama top instead, with the right sleeve unrolled, it covered her wrist completely. Crawling into the king size bed she quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Much later, she woke to the sound of a dull thud somewhere in the flat. The other half of the bed was still empty and cold as she rolled over to read 4am on the bedside clock.

Not bothering with a robe or slippers, she went out into the living room to find him still sitting on the L shaped sofa. His head was slumped forward at an uncomfortable angle and the book was on the floor by his feet. She smiled and shook her head thinking sometimes he was just too stubborn for his own good. Quietly moving behind him, she lightly touched his hair, not wanting to startle him. When he stirred awake, she whispered "Come to bed Julian." He was too tired to do anything but obey.

In the morning, she was happy to see that she woke up in the same position she'd gone to sleep, on her right side with the cast hidden under her pillow. But the way he had his back to her and looked like he was clinging to the far side of the bed made her wonder if she might have hit him in the night after all. Starting to reach out to touch him, she changed her mind and got out of bed carefully to let him sleep.

Surprised that the 'early riser' was sleeping so late; she was up, bathed and dressed before the aroma of the mug of Earl Grey she put on the bedside table finally woke him.

"Good morning," she smiled.

"Umm, is it already?" he asked as he looked up at her blearily and stretched.

"Not for much longer, it's already after 11. She lightly kissed his cheek and went to the kitchen to find something for brunch.

His hair was fresh from the shower damp and slightly curly when he came into the kitchen and presented her with a soft bundle wrapped in tissue paper. "I'd almost forgotten I bought you a present at the airport."

She opened the purple tissue to find a small stuffed bear made of the most exquisite printed fabric. "Oh Julian, he's adorable!" she gasped, clumsily trying to hug him with one arm.

"You'll have to decide on a name for him."

Thinking for only a few seconds she answered, "That's an easy choice --- Byron."

"Byron? You could hear me when you were unconscious at the hospital?"

She nodded, "It was like floating in nothingness until I heard your voice. At first I couldn't make out the words but the sound was something familiar to hold onto, it helped me find my way back."

"Thank you Julian." She kissed him lightly.

"I like surprising you."

"You do, more often than you know." Noticing the embroidered tag on the bear she asked, "Is this a Liberty print?"

"Yes it is, actually, why?."

"A friend told me about that store once, but the only other time I was in London was too short to do any shopping."

"Well, we'll have to see what we can do to remedy that, feel like a shopping trip today?"

"How could I possibly say no?"

They spent most of the afternoon exploring the shops and boutiques of Regent Street, ending up at Harrods in Knightsbridge. Returning to the flat after a late dinner at a Thai restaurant, they sorted through the assortment of purchases. In a Scottish woolens shop, she'd found a MacDuff tartan kilted skirt and a dark green wool ruana cape. He'd found a new mystery novel and a handfull of new CD titles at Tower Records. She asked him to unwrap the new Clannad CD and then slipped it into the player while he poured them each a drink.

When the CD ended, he looked weary as she quietly asked, "You didn't sleep very well last night, did you? Did I hit you in the night?"

He laughed, "No, you never moved, I was just afraid I'd roll over onto your arm or something without realising it."

She stood up and held a hand out to him, "If you did, I think I could find a way of making you move. Don't worry about it, Julian, I won't break."

Just as they were going toward the bedroom, the telephone rang. He let out a sigh and went to answer. When she saw him sit down and take out a paper and pen she figured it may be a business call and went on to get ready for bed. Brushing her hair, she heard the phone ring a second time so turned off the light and crawled into the big bed alone, again. She was still awake, when Julian finally came in about an hour later. When she moved over to curl up next to his left side, she could feel a tenseness in him that hadn't been there before.

"Who was that on the phone?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing."

"Tell me. Please?"

"It was that meddlesome psychiatrist the Cabal sends after us whenever they get an incident report. I told her you were sleeping."

"You mean Wilimena? I sort of liked her."

"Well, we've had our differences through the years." She could feel there was more to it than that but he wasn't going to reveal anything else right now. Kissing her lightly he said "Go to sleep," and settled his arm around her shoulders.

* * *

He was on the white tiled platform of an underground train station. In the harsh flourescent light, she could make out the sign on the wall reading 'Union Station platform 3-4'. With his hands deep in his trenchcoat pockets and walking slowly as if favoring his right side, he moved along the platform toward a tall blonde woman in a black dress and white scarf. Arianna could see from the look on his face, he was in a lot of pain. As she watched them, they spoke for some minutes, then came together in a tearful but very passionate kiss. When they embraced, there was a sudden sound of gunshots. The woman fell into his arms and as they slowly sunk to the floor, his cry of "NO!" echoed off the walls of the tunnel.

She bolted awake as his arms wrapped tightly around her, nearly squeezing the breath out of her. His body was shaking with sobs. Finally managing to get one hand free she pushed against his shoulder pleading, "Julian, wake up - you're hurting me, wake up!" When he opened his eyes, the anguish in his expression frightened her. As he slowly came out of the nightmare, he held her so closely she could feel his heart racing.

"Are you alright?" she asked when he seemed to calm down a little, but he didn't answer. Long minutes passed before he was able to think clearly.

When he finally spoke, all he said was "I need a drink."

"Stay there, I'll get it for you." He was sitting up against the headboard rubbing his forehead when she returned from the living room with a double Scotch. He downed the drink in one gulp as she climbed back into bed and sat close next to him.

"Who was that Julian?" she finally whispered.

Running his hand down across his mouth he sighed heavily. "Alex, Alexis Miller. We were partners when I was on loan to another agency, a long time ago. She was a lamplighter, she used to bring defectors in, double agents. We were bringing a scientist across from East Germany to the States, she was transport, I was backup. She disappeared when he was killed at the train station. I looked for her for two years, everywhere we'd ever been, or thought about."

"But in the dream, the train station was Los Angeles, not Germany, and you were there when she was shot."

"No, the last time I saw her was at the train station at Furstenwald, back in 1990."

"You don't remember what we saw in the nightmare?"

"No, I don't," he shuddered.

"It looked like you were injured, you were favoring your right side. There's an entry in your medical file of a gunshot wound in Los Angeles, 1995, do you remember that?"

"No, that's part the dark mystery in my past I tried to warn you about. There's a span of almost a year that's just blank."

She put her arm around him and leaned her head against his shoulder . "Whatever happened to you in that time, it doesn't matter Julian, nothing else matters now."

He ran his hand through his hair and hugged her tighter against his side as they settled back down into the bed. For two years, he'd been trying to remember any part of the missing year with no luck, *why did it have to come back now?* In early hours just before sunrise, they both fell into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

* * *

For the second day in London, they had breakfast at almost noon. Though not much help with the washing up, at least she was able to put the dishes away after he dried them.

"I can get tickets to a concert tonight if you'd like."

"I'd love to, what sort of concert?"

"Baroque and chamber music at Festival Hall, it's a little more casual atmosphere than the theatre. We could go across the river late this afternoon and have an early dinner before the concert."

"That would be lovely."

"I need to check in and make a phone call, would you mind?" he asked.

"Not at all, I'll go take a nice long bath."

* * *

When she was gone, he opened the laptop computer and dialed Cabal headquarters. Checking his medical/psych report, it confirmed the 1995 gunshot wound she'd mentioned. But the entry (Level 5 debriefing) left him cold. That level was only used in the rarest of circumstances, and meant the memories may be lost forever. Report XC-1 was locked - all but top level access denied. His only hope of finding out any of the truth was....Alistaire. He'd not seen his only relative since Mother's funeral, but there'd been a notation in Arianna's dossier that Alistaire had requested Julian be assigned as her liaison. He must know something about the last few years. The current operative detail reports listed his present location as Hong Kong. Disconnecting the modem and redialing the overseas number he waited.

"Alistaire, it's Julian.......yes it has been a long time........well, I need your help. Your security clearance gives you access to file XC-1, yes?.........I understand that, and I don't expect you to - I just need a yes or a no answer one question, can you do that much for me?........ Is Alex dead?...... no, no I can't remember anything of that assignment, or most of that year...Please tell me.................... yes, I'm still here....... thank you ........... Alistaire?.............. Thank you for this assignment........... yes, yes she is,............. we will."

When she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a thick terry robe and drying her hair with a towel, he was sitting at the desk staring off into space. She saw a haunted look in his eyes when he put the phone down and turned to face her. "Julian, what is it?"

He slowly stood and went to the bar for a drink, then moved toward the bedroom. As she sat on the arm of the couch watching him, he softly murmered, "The nightmare was real," before disappearing into the bathroom. Stunned and just a little frightened at learning of yet another woman he'd lost, she came a little closer to understanding the cold unfeeling exterior he'd had when they first met. Whatever was buried in that time span he couldn't remember had to have hurt him very deeply. She just sat there until she heard the shower running, then had a stiff drink herself, and went to dress for the concert.

* * *

Moving like a zombie as he undressed and stepped into the shower. His whole being was numb with shock, both from the news that Alex was dead, and from the thought that he'd forgotten about her until the nightmare. When they'd worked together years ago, she was so good at assuming alternate personalities it was spooky - sometimes he didn't know who he was with. It had taken a long time to find the real woman behind those many faces, and he'd waited far too long to tell her how he felt about her. When the time had finally seemed right, his plans for a romantic weekend in Paris after their mission had ended in disaster. As the scalding spray of the water finally started to break through the numbing haze, he thought about Arianna, and vowed not to make that mistake again.

* * *

Her black crepe pantsuit with the gold flecked shell was easy enough to manage one handed, there were no back zippers or small buttons to be fastened. The gold lame lining made the turned back cuffs of the jacket sleeves just long enough to cover most of her wrist but the grey canvas sling just would not do. As she stood looking out over the harbour debating whether to try and go without it, Julian came out of the bedroom. Her pulse quickened to see him much more relaxed than before, and looking very sexy in a dark suit and charcoal grey crew neck shirt.

"Maybe this will help" he said, as she noticed a large black and gold silk scarf he was holding in his hand. Laying it flat on the coffee table, with a few carefully placed folds, he fashioned a cowl draped loop she could use to support the arm for a night out.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, as he adjusted the length and tied it at the back of her neck..

"I picked it up at Harrod's when you weren't looking," he smiled. "Shall we go?" He held her long black trench coat open for her and settled it onto her shoulders.

Royal Festival Hall was abuzz with eager concertgoers as they made their way to the private box seats he had arranged. At precisely 8 o'clock, the Mozart Festival Orchestra filed on stage for the 'Splendour of Baroque' concert to begin.

The music was incredible, it was as if someone had known all of her favourite baroque composers and selected their best works. The first half of the programme ended with Handel's Water Music Suite. Much of the audience went to the lobby for the intermission.

"I think your first night out deserves something special, I'll be right back," he said, and disappeared through the velvet curtains at the back of the box. A few minutes later, he returned with two flutes of champagne and a dish of strawberries.

"This is lovely", shd murmered as the second half began with two selections of Bach.

Handel's Music for the Royal Fireworks was the closing selection and earned a standing ovation from the entire audience. As they followed the crowd out of the hall, Julian turned and led her over to walk along the wide promenade bordering the South side of the Thames. Across the river, from St.Paul's lighted at one end to Big Ben and the Parliament House floodlit at the other, the city looked magical. Leaning on the rail next to one of the intertwined fish lamp posts she sighed.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, stopping next to her with his arm around her shoulders.

"That I've never been quite so happy."

"Being here?"

"Being anywhere, with you." She slipped her arm out of the scarf sling and put both arms around his chest as they kissed.

"Lets go home," he smiled.

* * *

Waking up from the best night either of them had slept in almost two weeks, Julian got up quietly and went to make a breakfast tray to surprise her. Tea, buttered cinnamon toast, orange wedges and a small velvet drawstring pouch were neatly arranged on the white lacquerware tray as he carried it back to the bedroom. His planned surprise fizzled a bit when he came back to an empty bed. As he put the tray carefully down on the dresser, he saw her standing at the balcony railing with the comforter wrapped around her body like a cocoon. The sun was just coming up and the sky was streaked with the most beautiful shades of red, purple, gold, pink and blue.

Coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around her he whispered "Good morning," as he kissed her bare shoulder.

"Ummmm, it sure is," she purred.

"I made some breakfast if you're hungry." When she slowly turned around in his arms, he saw the purple colour of the sky reflected in her eyes and a playful smile on her lips.

"What did you have in mind?" she teased.

"Well, unless you want to be ravished in front of the whole of Chelsea harbour, I suggest you come back inside before we take this any further."

* * *

By the time their attention turned back to the breakfast tray, the tea needed reheating and the toast was only fit for bird food. As she munched a juicy orange wedge, he picked up the small velvet pouch.

"These are for you."

He opened the drawstring and dumped out a most exquisite pair of pierced earrings. Obviously antiques, they were post backed ovals about three quarters of an inch long made of delicate gold filagree and granulation work. Suspended from a loop at the bottom was a single, baroque shaped, irridescent black pearl. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognised them from the library portrait of his mother and the two boys.

"They were Grandmother's, I want you to have them. Will you wear them tonight?"

"Of course I will. Wait, where are we going tonight?"

"The Royal Opera House, I finagled tickets to Madame Butterfly." He lightly kissed her surprised smile and went to the kitchen with the cold teapot.

When she heard the phone ring, she decided to pop in for a quick shower.

As she was trying to blow-dry her hair, he tapped on the bathroom door, oore loose end to tie off. It's a little over an hour's drive. There are plenty of little shops, the colleges and the Museum."

"Sounds lovely, I'll be ready before you are." She put her hand against his chest and lightly kissed him on the way back to the bedroom.

He showered while she was deciding what to wear. Colleges and a museum sounded like a day for the tweed blazer. With brown pants and a dark red pullover the outfit was complete. Her jacket pocket might be a passable substitute for the ugly grey sling, at least for the morning anyway.

On the drive up from London, Julian started, "So, now that you know some of my past, tell me something about yours."

"There isn't much to tell really, what do you want to know?"

"How did you come to meet Alistaire X?"

"Well, after Hamilton was killed I felt like I had no one left in the world. He'd been like family after my parents died."

"What happened to them?" he asked.

"An auto accident, their car was pushed off a bridge and they couldn't get out. They both drowned." He felt a cold chill when she mentioned drowning, the nightmare of finding his brother's body had haunted him for years afterward.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I came to London for a weekend to visit a friend, Mercy Lonejack, and Alistaire was staying with her. You never did tell me how you and he were related."

"Our fathers were cousins, don't try and change the subject."

"When Mercy introduced me to Alistaire, I learned that all the years I thought I was working for Hamilton, I was really working for the Cabal. He asked if I would help with the surveillance on an organisation back in New York and here I am. You know the rest."

"I owe him for arranging my assignment as your liaison," he said softly.

"So do I," she whispered.

"How did you come by your mechanical talents?" he asked.

"I think from my grandfather. Whenever I wasn't in school, I was with my grandparents, either touring museums with grandmother, or tinkering in the workshop with grandfather. He used to let me take small appliances and things apart, provided I put them back together again. Usually all they needed was a good cleaning so in the process of taking them apart it usually repaired them as well."

"Interesting." *How about your cognitive talents?* She heard his second question even though he hadn't spoken it.

"Wow, I didn't realise you could do that," she gasped, rubbing her forehead and shaking her head slightly to try and clear the strange tingly feeling.

"I wasn't sure how far the connection had come back since your fall. I'm sorry, I should have asked you first. Did it hurt you?"

"No, but it feels,..... peculiar. Lets wait awhile before any more experiments okay?"

"Agreed."

"I don't know where that ability comes from. As a kid, I used to have dreams that sometimes came true, but never anything like the connection to your mind. It's a little frightening sometimes."

"I know the feeling, no-one has ever been able to read me like you can."

They turned onto Trumpington Street and found a space in the carpark across from the Fitzwilliam Museum. "Can you amuse yourself for about an hour? I just have one errand nearby," he asked as they got out of the car.

"Of course, take as long as you need, I'll be in the museum."

"Well, it's a big place to search - what say we meet in the Octagon gallery, at oh, half twelve?"

"I'll be there." She carefully looked right and left, then right again before crossing the street toward the main entrance of the large stone building.

Her first destination was the textiles gallery. She'd always admired the intricate band samplers of the 17th and 18th century and the Fitzwilliam had one of the largest and best collections currently on display. In the study room, case after case held samplers of all sorts, each more vividly coloured and elaborately worked than the one previous. After awhile, the myriad of patterns was a bit overwhelming.

Looking for a place to sit down, she wandered into the Oriental gallery. The simplicity of design created a welcome peacefulness as she found a bench opposite a carved wooden screen. The two screen sections were hinged in the center to open like a book. Against the gilt paint background floated three lotus flowers on a pond of silvery blue. As she stared at the flowers, her mind drifted back to Julian and Mei-Ling, and the first of his nightmares they'd shared. Closing her eyes, she could feel his arms around her, almost as if he were there with her.

* * *

As Julian once again walked through the gates of King's College, he was thinking how much his life had changed since university days. Back then, he'd looked forward to the excitement of new assignments and the opportunities to travel all over the world. As a boy, he'd lived for his grandfather's embellished tales of far away places and dangerous missions. Now, twenty odd years later, he'd seen what those places and missions were really like, and the novelty had worn off.

Some things never changed, just as he remembered it, the college library was deserted in the morning. As the mysterious phone call this morning had promised, the elderly woman behind the desk was expecting him. "Good morning Mr. Sampson," she greeted him.

"How do you know my name?" he asked suspiciously.

"That's not important, we both know why you're here." She reached behind the counter and handed him a sealed letter size envelope. When he turned it over to look at the back, she vanished. As Julian looked down the aisles of book stacks for her, a tall man with wire rimmed glasses came out from the library office.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"The librarian, did you see where she went?" Julian asked him. The man took off his glasses and scratched his head, looking puzzled.

"I assure you, I'm the only librarian here, who do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, it doesn't matter." The clock on the wall read 11:15 and his errand was already over.

Taking the envelope and leaving the library, he walked slowly through the quadrangle to a stone bench in a quite alcove. Breaking the seal, he found a photocopy of Report XC-1, page 16. A young student wandered past as his eyes reached the end of the page and the words 'as a result of Committee ordered termination - 1995'. At least he had an answer to part of his questions. The Committee had killed Alex, tried to kill him, and the events of the blank year in his memory had led to the severing of all interagency agreements.

From his coat pocket, he took out a gold lighter and turned it over in his hand. Alex had used it to light his cigarette on the train the night before Furstenwald. He hadn't smoked in years but somehow always found it in his coat pocket. Lighting the top corner of the page he dropped it onto the stones and watched as it burned. It was time to put the past to rest once and for all. Crushing the ash with his foot, he set the lighter down on the stone bench and walked away.

* * *

Still sitting in the Oriental gallery, Arianna opened her eyes and gasped to see Julian standing directly in front of her. She reached out to touch him to be sure he wasn't a figment of her imagination.

"My errand finished early." He took hold of the hand she reached toward him and gently pulled her to her feet.

"How did you know where I'd be?"

"I didn't, somehow I just knew you were here."

Something had changed on his errand. He seemed almost distracted, as if wanting to be elsewhere. She could feel the restless tension in him, and made up an excuse to go home.

"I'm a bit tired, mind if we head back to London?" she asked him.

"You know me too well, " he smiled, "thanks."

He was unusually quiet and broody on the drive back to town. The feelings she sensed in him were conflicting, anger, passion, revenge, and sadness.

"I need to take a walk," he said as they got out of the car back at his flat around 2pm. She could tell from his tone that he meant alone.

"I'll take a nap and be ready for the theatre when you get back."

"That's a good idea." He turned and was gone quickly.

The further he walked, the less sense it all made. How had the fake librarian known him? Who could have given her the copy of that report page? What was in the rest of the report? Most of all, did any of it really matter anymore? At the last question he stopped dead in his tracks and looked around to see where he was.

He'd walked as far as the busy shopping district. Something in the jewelry store window caught his eye and he went in. Coming out about twenty minutes later, he tucked the small Florentine wrapped box with a red bow into his trenchcoat pocket. Somehow, the purchase had helped him to calm down and focus on what really mattered now.

When he got back to the flat she was standing at the windows watching the sunset. He smiled wistfully when he saw her in the slinky black dress that he remembered from the Embassy party dinner.

"I'll be ready in half an hour," he promised, throwing his coat onto the sofa and heading for the shower.

She sat down on the sofa and picked up the London Times crossword. Julian had started it this morning but there was still over half of it empty. Puzzling the answer to one of the long blanks, she reached to the coffee table where he'd left his green marblized fountain pen. Left-handed, her printing was a bit sloppy but readable. As she entered the last few letters to complete the puzzle, Julian came out of the bedroom. Even with her back toward him, she could sense a new feeling of calm in him since this afternoon.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She stood and turned to see him standing there, wearing a black three piece suit and crisp white shirt. A gold watch chain draped across the front of his waistcoat. The dark red of his silk tie in contrast with those green eyes made Ann's nickname of tall, dark and mysteriously handsome a gross understatement.

She could tell from his smile, it was going to be a wonderful evening.

Next Chapter: One night in Bangkok

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