"Humph," Julian grunted as he hit the enter key with more force than usual.

"Something wrong?" she asked. He'd said he was just going to check the morning e-mail when he disappeared into the library twenty minutes ago. When the tea was ready, she'd come looking for him.

"That depends upon how much you know about needlework." He sighed and manoeuvred the cursor arrow to click on the print command button. Seconds later the laser printer spit out six pages of information on their new assignment.

He dropped them on the desk in front of her and gratefully accepted the mug of Earl Grey. "Someone decided we were the best 'couple' for this gig. It appears, two high ranking MI-5 officials have recently resigned their posts and gone into the embroidery field. One is working for a magazine and the other representing a thread manufacturer. In a fortnight they'll both be in Pennsylvania for a festival and we're to go in undercover to try and find out what they're really up to, if anything."

"What's the cover?"

"The festival has a merchandise mall where shops from all over the country set up booths to sell supplies, and small designers offer their new patterns. We're to share a booth with a shop from Maryland, unfortunately the couple that runs the shop doesn't know it's only a cover. They've been told we own a small shop in England."

"Oh wonderful, I know a little, but nowhere near enough to pull that off, and two weeks isn't much time for study. I'd better find somewhere around here that has supplies and perhaps check the library."

"I know someone at the Royal School of Needlework, perhaps they can send some reference books." Arianna had woken up this morning feeling somewhat petulant, now she stiffened slightly wondering just how many more ladyfriends there really were in Julian's past. He sensed her feelings and stood up to come around the desk and put his arms around her, softly kissing the side of her neck.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," he smiled, "besides Leslie is an old friend from university, he's not my type."

"I'm just a bit irritable this morning. I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Let's take breakfast out onto the deck and look through the information they've given us." While she took their tea mugs outside, he gathered up the pages and a notepad, then selected the grey marbleised fountain pen from the wooden box in the centre of the desk.

The morning was sunny and warm, the first break in what had been over a week of solid rainstorms. Arianna put her head back to enjoy the feel of the sun on her face, thinking perhaps she was just suffering from cabin fever as a squirrel scampered across the lawn to peer cautiously at the people invading his outdoor space. He ran off happy when she tossed him a piece of coffeecake.

"There's a list of what could be called local shops here, the closest one is over an hour away. It appears needlework is a dying industry in this country, that's unfortunate." Julian was checking the shop addresses against the tri-state map he'd unfolded onto the table.

"Well, people probably don't have as much time to spend on it these days. I remember my grandmother would sit and stitch for hours but who can find the time now?"

"Speaking of time, let me go ring Leslie now, he should be at the school this time of day. I'll be right back."

Arianna sighed and looked at the listing of 'local' shops. Only two listed in New York, another in Chadd's Ford Pennsylvania, two in Connecticut and one in Rhode Island. She heard a strange chirp behind her, and smiled to see her furry friend back for another treat. The squirrel scampered away a moment later when Julian stepped back through the sliding doors.

"Well that was a stroke of luck." He sat down at the table with a satisfied grin.

"What was?" she asked.

"Leslie is here, in the States, on a combination buying trip and holiday. He's in Massachusetts today and plans to spend the weekend in Connecticut. He's invited us to drive up and join him and he'll take us to what he considers the best shop in the area to learn about fibres, fabrics, and such."

"Good, that will probably be easier than trying to learn it all from books. When do we leave?"

"He gave me the name of a little bed and breakfast near Glastonbury, it's about a two hour trip. Let's drive up this afternoon and have a nice dinner before he arrives."

"Sounds promising," she murmured.

* * *

With the relaxing combination of a monotonous highway and the soft new age instrumental music Julian had put into the car's CD player, Arianna dosed off before they were even out of New York State. He'd suspected she was tired, she'd not been sleeping well since they were trapped in the elevator and a particularly violent thunderstorm had swept through the area last night. Perhaps a change of scenery would make for a pleasant change.

"Ari, wake up, we're here." He gently touched her arm so as not to startle her too much. She blinked blearily awake and saw that they were parked in front of a large white Victorian house. The sign over the door read 'The Scottish Thistle, Proprietor Mrs. Emiline Bridges'.

"How, how long have I been asleep?" She stretched and rubbed her eyes.

"Since half an hour outside Hastings. Feeling any better?"

"A bit yes, but now my neck is stiff."

"I was afraid of that, it looked like an uncomfortable angle but I didn't want to wake you. Let's go see what they have available for accommodations shall we?"

The reception desk was in one corner of a large living room arranged around an enormous stone fireplace. A silver tray of sherry and shortbread was set out on the coffee table between a sofa, loveseat and assortment of stuffed chairs. The whole room was filled with the spicy aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg coming from a pot of warm mulled cider set on another table with tea biscuits.

"Good afternoon, are you Mr. Leslie's friends?" A short, heavy set woman with grey-blonde hair greeted them with a warm friendly smile.

"Yes we are. Is he here already?" Julian asked, as they set their bags down and went over to the desk.

"No, he won't be arriving until very late tonight but he rang and asked me to prepare a room for you. We have a lovely double on the second floor." She suddenly noticed Arianna wore a ring on her left hand but Julian didn't and stammered, "uhm, ah, un..unless you'd prefer single rooms?"

"The double is perfect," Ari answered, smiling back at Julian's amused grin. The woman seemed a bit flustered but quickly recovered from her minor case of embarrassment.

"I always look forward to Mr. Leslie's visits, it's fun to have a fellow needleworker come to stay. Do you stitch also dear?" She closed her guest registration book and returned it to the shelf behind the desk, then pulled a key out of the mail slot marked 4.

"No, but I'm hoping to learn. That's why we're here. Perhaps you could help him teach me?"

"Oh I'd be thrilled to. And I have plenty of scrap projects that you can try with. I'll be down here stitching after dinner later. I'm rambling again aren't I, here let me show you to your room."

The double she led them to was actually large room at the top of the stairs overpowered by a queen size bed. The wallpaper was a blue and white landscape which on closer inspection Julian recognised as Georgian scenes of England, like the ones you see on blue and white porcelain dishes in antique stores. White gauze curtains hung at the many windows surrounding the room and the stuffed chairs beside the writing desk were slip covered with blue chintz.

"The tub takes some time to fill, but we have plenty of hot water, just wait for it to get warm before closing the drain. I'll leave you to get settled now. Oh, I'm just so excited to have someone willing to learn needlework in the house."

"Looks like you've made her day," Julian chuckled as he put his bag onto the bed and unzipped its cover to take out the laptop. Arianna smiled to herself as she dropped her bag into one of the chairs and went to the room's private bath to splash some cold water on her face.

The bathroom came as a surprise to her. She'd expected something small with older plumbing but what she found was a large and spacious modern bath with one of those reproduction antique claw-foot tubs. Though fairly narrow, it was extremely long and decidedly deeper than your standard hotel bathtub, she could see why it would take a long time to fill and looked forward to a long soak later.

When she came back into the bedroom feeling somewhat refreshed, Julian was sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through brochures of local attractions. "Did you find a Thai restaurant yet?" she asked, cringing at the sarcastic tone that unintentionally crept into her voice.

He looked up at her with the eyes of a puppy who's just been scolded and answered softly, "Actually I was looking for something Italian, I thought you'd prefer pasta."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today." She sighed and flopped down on the bed across from him. His smile and the look in his eyes told her he understood.

"You haven't been sleeping well this last week. There's been a thunderstorm nearly every night." He neatly refolded the brochures, then stood up and held a hand out to her. "Let's go have a nice dinner before your stitchery class begins."

After a plate of angel-hair pasta prima vera and nearly half the basket of hot Italian bread with butter, Arianna felt quite a bit better. They decided to skip dessert, but back at the inn their hostess had just cut a pan of hot gingerbread into squares and insisted they try some with her special lemon creme sauce. After they'd finished the heavenly creation, she cleared the dishes and pulled an enormous plastic storage box out from under the sofa.

"This is my needlepoint stash. There's another for knitting and crochet, and two more for counted cross-stitch. I thought this might be easier to begin with. What is your favourite colour dear?"

Arianna thought for a moment and shrugged, glancing at Julian before deciding "Slate blue or mint green?" she asked. "I've never really thought about it."

"Well, let's see what I have in here. Ooh this might cover both of those colours." She picked up a small package and handed it to Ari while she continued to rummage through the box. Inside the packet was a photo of a small pincushion with an intricate geometric pattern in shades of celadon green, and periwinkle blue. "Do you like that?" she asked.

"It's lovely, but is it a beginner's project. I don't have much experience."

"That will actually be a good learning piece. It's small enough to not be overwhelming and it has an interesting variety of stitches. If you like it, it's yours."

"Please let us repay you for it." Julian offered, looking over Arianna's shoulder at the package.

"No, no, it's my pleasure, I have more projects in these boxes than I can possibly work in my lifetime, I'm glad to find a good home for some of them. Here, I've found a kit that matches that one but in different colours, you can both learn if you'd like."

Ari looked at Julian with a mischievous grin as he answered, "Thank you no, I'd prefer to just watch. Besides it would probably be difficult to teach someone left handed."

*Chicken* Arianna thought at him, he just smiled and settled back comfortably in one of the stuffed chairs.

"Well that is a point, I'll work on this kit then, and you can have that one. Open the packet and see what is inside." She continued to rummage in her box until she found a small pair of silver scissors.

Arianna undid the ziplock bag and between the folded cardboard cover she found a piece of canvas about five inches square, the edges neatly bound with cloth tape, a square the same size of pale blue velveteen, and a bundle of assorted wool strands all cut about eighteen inches long. An index card fell to the floor at her feet. Bending forward to retrieve it, she found a needle was pinned through the card and there was a series of holes punched along one side.

"First, we need to separate the colours. Fold the strands in half and loop them through the holes in the white card like this, it will make it easier to identify them later."

Arianna carefully pulled the strands apart, sorting both the blues and the greens into groups of light, medium and dark, then neatly put them onto the punched card as instructed. "This is tapestry wool, sometimes needlepoint is worked with embroidery cotton or Persian wool. I'm sure you'll see all the different threads when Mr. Leslie takes you shopping tomorrow. There, see the small mark on your canvas, that matches to this point on this drawing." Arianna unfolded her drawing and started to panic. It looked like a topographical map of the Appalachian mountains.

"These charts are a little too detailed, but they do show every stitch of the piece," her teacher explained. "Just take it step by step and you won't have any trouble at all. We'll start at the bottom right corner with the outside border, it's just plain cross stitch, the same as you'd use if you were sewing on a button. Take two strands of the background colour and thread your needle, here I'll show you a trick for that. Fold about an inch of the end over the needle and squeeze it tightly between your thumb and pointer finger, then work the needle's eye down over the squeezed section, see how easy it is?"

Arianna tried it and was pleasantly surprised. "Good, now make sure the ends of the strands are even, and just smooth out the length before we start."

"Do I tie a knot in the end?"

"No, we never tie knots. Well, almost never. The ends will be hidden under your work. When you're first starting a piece, you can tie a knot and keep it on the front, then cut it off later but I usually just take my thread down from the front and leave a small tail that I can pull through after it is secured. We'll be working from the bottom right corner toward the left so I'd go down about an inch to the left of the mark on your canvas and work over the thread as you go."

"If you ladies don't mind, I have some work to do on the computer." Julian got up and lightly touched the side of Arianna's cheek with the back of his fingers. "I'll see you later," he winked.

"Goodnight, I'll try not to keep her up too late," their hostess smiled, happily working on her piece.

Arianna took another look at the instruction pages after she'd taken a few tentative stitches and suddenly they made much more sense. The back page showed all the stitches used with numbered step-by-step working details. The large page that had looked like a map was actually a graphic representation of each stitch to show correct placement on the canvas. She supposed it was a map, in a way.

"Is this correct?" she handed her little piece over for inspection.

"That's very good, just try not to pull quite so tightly." Arianna tried again and could see the difference immediately. After a few more stitches, she was more comfortable with how hard to pull the stitches so that the canvas was properly covered by the wool thread. "When you feel confident with that stitch, we can try the next row inside. It's basically that same stitch but with two more steps. See on the pattern it's called rice stitch."

Two rows later, Arianna heard the clock in the hallway strike for the first time. She'd been so engrossed in the new project up until then she'd tuned everything else out, but now it seemed to be striking a long time. She glanced at her watch and saw that is was midnight. "How did it get to be so late?" she asked, "It seems like we just started."

Her teacher laughed, "That happens often. I'm always telling myself I'll just do one more stitch, or I'll just finish one more thread, or one more section, and often before I know it, it's one or two in the morning. You've done very well for your first lesson. I bet you'll have that finished by tomorrow evening."

"Well, I'd better get some sleep now or I won't be much good in the morning. Thank you for the lesson, I really enjoyed it."

"Breakfast is anytime from eight until ten but if you want to sleep later don't worry about it. The dining room is just through those glass doors, come down anytime you're ready. Do you and the gentleman drink coffee? or would you prefer tea."

"Tea would be wonderful thanks. We'll see you in the morning."

Arianna went upstairs feeling triumphant and found Julian still dressed, sitting up in bed, sound asleep with all the room lights still on. The laptop computer had switched itself into idle mode so she shut it down before getting ready for bed. She'd already turned off the overhead light, crawled across the soft bed, and started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt before he woke up and looked at her blearily.

"Sorry I'm so late, we got a bit carried away," she whispered, tracing her fingers along his chin.

He kissed her fingers and murmured, "I can't wait to see what you've done. Leslie sent an e-mail, he's been delayed and won't be here until lunchtime tomorrow, we can sleep in if you want." He looked around to see what she'd done with the laptop, then got up to help her fold back the bedspread and turn down the covers.

"That sounds great. I'm tired, but it feels like a good tired if that makes any sense at all."

He laughed and picked up his toiletries case, heading for the bathroom. "I won't pretend to understand what you just said, but I think I can understand the feeling, hopefully you'll sleep better tonight."

* * *

"Good morning," Julian whispered when he felt her stir against his side.

"Umm, what time is it?" She stretched lazily and snuggled closer to his warmth.

He reached to the bedside table for his gold tank watch and fastened the brown leather strap around his wrist. "It's just past half nine."

"I slept wonderfully last night," she said, dreamily.

"I remember," he teased, brushing her hair back off her forehead. "Do you want to go back to sleep? Or go downstairs for some breakfast, I think I can smell bacon, and coffee."

"Mrs. Bridges asked if we'd prefer tea and I said yes." Arianna sat up slowly and raised her arms up over her head then leaned forward to reach her clasped hands down to her feet, stretching her back. As Julian lightly rubbed his hand up and down her arched back he was pleased to feel that she was much more rested and in a better mood than yesterday.

They were dressed and downstairs by a quarter after ten. Mrs. Bridges insisted that they were not too late for breakfast and poured them each glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice before bustling out to the kitchen. Returning with a pot of tea and a dish of banana nut bread, she asked how they would like their eggs.

"Well done scrambled please," Arianna answered.

"Poached if it's not too much trouble," Julian asked. She said it was no trouble at all, smiled and disappeared again while Arianna poured the tea into their cups.

Julian took a sip and grinned at her over the gold rim of the white bone china cup. "Leslie had good taste of inns - it's Earl Grey."

"What is Leslie like?" she asked, adding sugar to her cup.

"Well, I haven't seen him in years, but he was quite a character when we were at school. He seemed to be the quiet studious type but anytime there was a fracas, generally he'd started it. He was a master at setting up pranks and then sitting back to let someone else take the blame. Even when he admitted his guilt, half the time no one believed him owing to his reputation. He went on to work for the Home office for several years."

"How did he get interested in needlework?"

"His wife had always been an avid stitcher. They had an auto accident about ten years ago and he was injured. He spent several years in a wheelchair and for some time it was touch and go whether he'd walk again. During one of his particularly deep bouts of depression, she gave him a canvas and some wools and taught him to stitch. The next thing we knew, he was taking classes, reading anything he could get his hands on, and visiting all the museums that kept textiles. Within a few years, he'd become an expert in all forms of canvaswork and started working with the Royal School of Needlework at Hampton Court."

"Does he know about the Cabal?"

"Not exactly. He knows our work is secret, I didn't tell him much, just that we have to be able to masquerade as owners of a shop in only a fortnight. His past government work has taught him not to ask questions."

"It should be an interesting afternoon," she smiled. Mrs. Bridges returned from the kitchen with plates of bacon, eggs, sausage, hash brown potatoes and grilled tomato.

"I remembered what Mr. Leslie always says is a proper English breakfast," she said proudly when she saw the smile on Julian's face, then she took the teapot back to the kitchen to be refilled.

After breakfast, Arianna went back to work on her new project while they waited for Julian's friend to arrive. He sat on the couch next to her, just out of range of her needle when the threads were at their longest, and picked up a book from the coffee table. "What type of work is that?" he asked, turning to the table of contents.

"She said it was canvaswork, or needlepoint I think. Why?"

"I thought I'd look it up in here." He lifted the book for her to see the cover, it was 'The DMC complete book of Needlework'. "There's a large section of canvaswork stitches, which one are you doing now?"

"It says smyrna cross on the pattern."

"Ah, here it is, an x with a plus sign on top?"

"That's it. See?" She proudly showed him the row of neat little squares she'd just completed.

"This is quite interesting, it's written here that these same stitches can be worked on many different types of backgrounds, from that heavy canvas to very fine linens. They're the same stitches, the fibre and grounds are really what change the degree of fineness in the work."

"That's what Mrs. Bridges said last night. She said if I started with this piece it would give me the basics of many other types of needlework." He continued browsing through the thick book while she worked industriously on the project. By the time Leslie drove up, her pincushion top was nearly completed.

* * *

They went out onto the front porch to meet him. When he awkwardly climbed out of the car and straightened up Arianna saw that he was a bit shorter than Julian but still quite tall, with a head of unruly blonde hair that gave him the appearance of a scarecrow. He reached to the back seat for his travel bag and a black nylon briefcase bulging at every seam then came up to the porch, limping slightly.

"Ah Julian, good to see you again. How long has it been old chum?" Dropping his bags on the ground he shook hands and pulled Julian into a big hug.

"Longer than either of us care to admit I'm afraid. I'd like you to meet Arianna. Arianna, this is the infamous Leslie."

"A pleasure to meet you milady," he bowed flamboyantly and kissed her hand. "Anyone that can domesticate the roving Julian is to be greatly admired."

Arianna looked at Julian with raised eyebrows, trying not to giggle as Leslie straightened up. "It's nice to meet you as well, I think."

"And where is our wonderful hostess Mrs. Bridges?" he asked.

"I'm right here luv." She came out of the front door drying her hands on a towel. Leslie swept her into big hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She blushed slightly, loving every minute of it. "It's so good to see you again, I always look forward to your visits. And tonight we can all stitch together."

"All? Julian have you finally learned how to thread a needle?"

"No Les, I'll leave that to you. Mrs. Bridges taught Arianna last night."

"That's fabulous. Let me just stow my gear and we can be off on our expedition. I promised the shop owner we'd be there this afternoon, it's only about a ten minute drive. She's putting together a sample box for you, sort of a reference library."

'The Harebell' was a lovely shop in an expensive part of town but at first glance it seemed rather overwhelming. The front section held rack after rack of hand-painted needlepoint canvasses with the rainbow colour wools hanging from pegs along each wall. Another section at the back had a large cutting table and shelves of fabrics on bolts in many different colours. Further toward the back were wire stands of patterns and books. The owner of the shop put down the telephone and came over to greet Leslie, then hurriedly led them to the classroom area at the back of the shop.

"I've put together an assortment of things for you to play with. We had some scrap fabrics and leftover bits and pieces. Sorry to have to leave you stranded but I'm in the middle of something just now, if you need anything else, let Karen know, she's at the register." She handed a large box to Leslie and left them alone.

"Well, let's see what we have here." Leslie opened the box flaps and began to unpack the contents.

Two hours later, they'd covered the basic types of fibres from cottons to wools, DMC, Anchor, Madeira, and Appleton's. Both Arianna and Julian could tell the difference between floss, flower thread, and perle cotton. They could recognise the look and feel of silk and knew that Au Ver au Soie and Soie d'Alger were different names for the same seven stranded French silk, where Soie Crystal came with 12 strands to a fibre.

Arianna had taped fabric swatches onto notebook pages with scribbled notes beside each of the pieces. She was still having trouble telling the difference between Jobelan and Lugana, but could recognise linen by the slubs and variation of thread thickness. The variety of thread counts amazed her, from the very coarse Cork linen with 19 threads per inch, down to the superfine Kingston at 50 threads per inch. She rather liked the look of Edinburgh and wanted to find something to try working with it. Leslie mentioned that most projects on linen were stitched over two threads so the Edinburgh would actually result in 18 stitches per inch.

They went out into the shop to look at the leaflets and one of the first things she spotted was a pattern for a William Morris design. A floral geometric, worked in a single colour of floss as a bookmark, Leslie agreed that it would be a good piece to experiment with the 36 count linen so she purchased the leaflet together with two skeins of coral colour floss. When they left the shop at closing time, both of them felt exhausted, they'd learned so many new terms it was like a new language.

Over dinner at the Thai restaurant, Leslie and Julian reminisced over their antics at school. When Arianna returned from the ladies room they were recounting one of Leslie's pranks involving a melon and the anatomy of a statue atop the fountain at the dean's residence that had nearly gotten them both sent down. Arianna listened attentively but secretly wished she could start her new project.

"You're dying to get to work on that bookmark aren't you?" Julian asked her between courses. She smiled sheepishly and nodded.

Leslie laughed out loud and said, "Oh good, another addict created. Look out Julian, before you know it, everywhere the two of you go, you'll find the Thai places and she'll find the stitchery shops."

As soon as they were back at the inn, the stitching group assembled in front of the fireplace. Not wanting to be left out, Julian found a crossword in the daily paper and joined them. Leslie's bulging briefcase was stuffed with several works in progress, tonight he drew out a large piece that was an adaptation of one of the Cluny tapestries showing the lady and the unicorn. Arianna thought he seemed sad looking at the piece that was a little less than half completed.

"I've been working on this one for two years," he shrugged. "It keeps getting pushed aside for other things."

Mrs. Bridges let Arianna borrow a wooden frame and some brass thumbtacks to help hold her small piece of linen flat to make the stitching easier, and showed her the easiest method of separating the six strands of embroidery floss into the two strands she needed to work with. Before long, her bookmark was well under way.

"I'm very proud of my new student." She beamed when Leslie looked at the progress she was making. After the novelty of varied stitches in the canvaswork pincushion, Arianna actually found ordinary cross stitch to be a bit boring, but counting accurately was a challenge and she enjoyed watching the pattern develop row by row.

"You've done very well in a short time. A fortnight should be more than enough time for the two of you to be ready for the festival. British shops tend to carry mostly kits that are pre-packaged by the manufacturers, so if you get stumped, just beg off by saying you only carry something in a kit." He glanced over at Julian and chuckled, "It's barely eleven o'clock and I think the old boy is ready for bed."

Arianna giggled softly. "It has been a tiring day, this is a whole new world for him." She carefully packed her new project into the floral quilted carry-all Julian had bought her at the needlework shop and said goodnight to them before going over to wake him up and take him to bed.

* * *

Sunday afternoon, after loading their travel bags and the box of goodies from the needlework shop into the car, they said goodbye to Mrs. Bridges. She insisted that Arianna keep in touch and that they both come back to visit again. Just as they were leaving, Leslie presented Arianna with a gold box tied with a blue ribbon. Inside was a pair of gold handled embroidery scissors with a black leather sheath protecting extremely sharp points.

"They're a commemorative edition, the Gingher company celebrated it's 50th anniversary last year and had them specially made as a promotion." She held them in her hand and noticed 1947-1997 was etched on one of the fine silver blades.

"They're lovely, thank you."

"All stitchers should have a good pair of needlework scissors, they're like a badge of honour." Leslie walked them to the car, hugged them both and promised to e-mail some tips and other reference materials when he got home on Monday.

The afternoon traffic was light and they were making good time. Hastings was only about another hour away. Arianna had tried stitching in the car but it was too difficult so she'd been reading the DMC complete book of needlework Mrs. Bridges had insisted she take with her. A chapter on tapestries reminded her of the lady and unicorn piece from last night. "Does Leslie's wife still stitch?" she asked.

"Uhm, she passed away two years ago. I didn't know until yesterday. That piece he was working on last night was one that she started."

"I thought he seemed sad when he looked at the canvas. It must be painful for him to work on it."

"Yes, I imagine it is."

* * *

"Any more information on the assignment?" she asked when he closed the lid of the computer and put it into it's carrying case. Her bags were packed and waiting by the back door and she was just rechecking the contents of the box of supplies.

"Possibly, they've narrowed the suspects down to just one. The one that was working for the thread company has gone back to MI-5. We at least have a profile of the man working with the magazine. His name is Graham Russell, here's the photo. He's heavily involved with promoting a new design software that's linked into the Internet. They've set things up so we'll be in the booth that shares the back wall with the magazine company exhibit. The modem cables will be easily accessible and a copy of the software will be waiting for us when we get to Pennsylvania. Have you packed everything you wanted?"

"I hope so, Leslie sent us so much stuff it was hard to decide what to bring. Did you find the colour card for the new Needlepoint silk?"

"It's in the bag with the Waterlilies and Wildflowers samples." Arianna smiled to herself. She had to admit she was surprised that instead of just helping her study all the reference books and thread cards that had arrived over the past week and a half, he'd actually learned to identify one thread from another and even knew that DMC #310 was black. The other night she'd missed one row of the chart on her second bookmark, making the design lopsided, and then had trouble finding the error. Julian had offered to help and spotted the mistake immediately, and he had a good eye for matching colours.

* * *

The Spirit of Cross Stitch festival officially opened on Friday morning at 10am, with set up for the merchandise mall vendors beginning Thursday at noon. Barring any unforeseen delays, they should arrive by 10:30am.

When they got closer to Pennsylvania, Arianna once again reviewed the envelope of cover information that had arrived via Fed Ex last week. They were to be Arianna and Julian Smythe, new owners of The Linen Cottage, a small shop in the Cotswolds.

Registration and check-in at both the hotel and the festival office went smoothly, everything had been efficiently pre-arranged. There was a message waiting for them stating that several cases of assorted supplies and displays had been delivered to the exhibit hall, accounting had arranged to purchase the remaining stock of a local shop that was going out of business. They were to share exhibit space with Carl and Lynda, the couple that owned Windermere Needleworks and Carl would have a copy of the design software for Ari to play with.

As promised, their booth space backed up to the one set up by the magazine, and she found the modem connection buried under only 3 packing cases but there was no sign of their boothmates. Not sure where to start with the set-up, Julian unpacked a white wire display grid while Arianna checked the line and installed a branch wire she could use to tap into the magazine's phone line.

"Need a hand with that?" she asked, noticing him run his hand through his hair for the third time in just a few minutes and sensing his frustration.

"I can't find any instructions for the blasted thing." There were four wire grid panels of varying sizes and a plastic bag full of U shape plastic clips but no indication of what the rack should look like when assembled.

"Let's try another box first."

"So sorry we're late." The older couple arrived about half an hour later, out of breath and looking slightly scattered. "We got lost on the New Jersey Turnpike. Hi, I'm Lynda, this is my husband Carl, you must be the Smythes." She shook hands with them both as her husband put down a large black carrying case.

"Yes, Arianna and Julian. We were just having a spot of trouble with this...thing. Perhaps when you get settled you could instruct us how to assemble it?" Julian asked.

Lydia laughed, "Even Carl has trouble with those, and we've been doing this show for the past seven years."

* * *

Six hours later, the forty foot booth was nicely arranged. Lynda had loaned them some framed models to hang along the back wall and they'd used the wire grid rack as a divider between the two sections with silks hanging on one side and wools on the other. Everyone was exhausted and hungry by the time Carl gave Arianna the computer disk and they parted company for the night.

"What does it look like?" Julian asked as he offered her the last fried wonton from the container of carry out food. Sitting cross legged on the bed with the laptop computer, she'd already loaded the software and was checking the readme files.

"No thanks. It looks like a simple enough program, for making charted designs. You draw a picture on the graph, then assign symbols to each colour and print it as a chart. I don't see how that can be anything top secret or suspicious."

"The latest information we had was that a list of undercover operative names was stolen from the office when he left MI-5, could the information be hidden in the design and passed on somehow?"

"It's possible. Hopefully something will turn up tomorrow when I can see what type of designs he's uploading to the net."

The next day turned into a blur. Thousands of avid stitchers were lined up at the door before 9am. When the doors opened at 10, it was like a feeding frenzy of hungry piranha. They'd hardly had a minute of free time for the first few hours but by lunchtime the shoppers had thinned out so it was possible for Carl and Julian to pop out to grab a quick bite to eat, they promised to bring back something for Lynda and Ari.

"What is your shop like?" Lynda asked when they were momentarily alone.

"Oh, it's very small. We're really just beginning." Not too big a lie, Arianna thought as she was rummaging in her project bag to try to find something to distract the conversation.

"Do you carry the Mirabelia charts?" Arianna tried to remember whether those were the series of angels, or the fairies, or the elegantly dressed ladies but finally decided to take use the easy way out that Leslie had suggested.

"We have mostly kits."

"Oh, I'd heard that about English shops." Thankfully for Arianna, more customers began wandering into the booth and kept them both quite busy until the men returned with sandwiches and canned sodas. The afternoon resumed the frantic pace of the morning and by the end of the day they had made over $2000. Once everything was secured for the night, the four of them enjoyed a quick dinner at a local restaurant that advertised a 200+ item salad bar before calling it an early night and returning to the hotel.

As Julian came out of the bathroom towelling his hair after a long, hot shower he could tell she needed a break and asked, "Any luck?"

"I've gone over this design for the last two hours and can't find anything unusual about it. Are they sure this is where we're supposed to be looking?" Arianna rubbed her tired eyes then stretched her arms behind her back.

"Research keeps insisting that it must be in there." He pushed up the sleeves of his terry robe and put his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to look at the computer screen. The colour picture drawn onto the graph was a pastoral landscape of a meadow with sheep and a small cottage in the distance. "You're tense," his fingers gently kneaded the sides of her neck and shoulders while he peered at the screen.

"I'm frustrated," she answered, moaning softly and leaning back into the wonderful feeling of his warm hands.

"That section under the lamb, is it all the same shade of green?"

"The colour key shows it is."

"Then why is there an odd symbol in next to its foot?" She looked closer at the chart. Every square in the green section was filled with the symbol F except one that was an E instead.

"Your eyes are sharper than mine, I missed that."

"You've probably just been staring at it too long. There's another here in this cloud." He pointed to a square marked with an S mixed into a section filled with 8's. "Is there anyway to take out the majority of symbols and leave the odd ones?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe if I change the symbols it will make the odd ones easier to find." She clicked on the symbols menu and one by one converted the major alpha and numeric symbols to dots, dashes and other punctuation marks before returning to the main chart. "Let's see what it looks like now." As the picture re-drew, the same scene filled the screen but with a scattering of alphabet letters randomly arranged through the landscape. She felt Julian's grip on her shoulders tighten as she copied the letters of the first name from the chart onto a notepad.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. "Has this one already been loaded to the net?"

"No, I set up a delayed relay on the line yesterday. When he uploaded this pattern today, it only went as far as our computer but it reported back to him that it was successfully loaded. If he tries to check it, it will connect back onto a mirror site here on the laptop."

"That cheeky blighter, now I see why Les knew enough not to ask questions about 'our' work. I should have realised, the way Mrs. Bridges called him 'Mr. Leslie', and he was so conveniently here in the states to help us. We have to warn him that his cover may have been blown. Can you alter the original pattern?"

"Sure, whose names would you like to substitute?" She looked up at his wry grin.

* * *

The last day of the festival, as the vendors were tearing down their exhibits, two men in dark suits arrived at the booth behind them to discreetly escort Graham Russell from the building. No-one but Arianna and Julian noticed the bulges under their coats where they carried their FBI service revolvers. His life was in considerable jeopardy since the buyers of his stolen information learned that John Little, Robert Huntington and Will Scathlock were not actual undercover operatives.

Their morning communiqué from headquarters reported that the U.S. State department had agreed to have him kept in protective custody until the MI-5 officials arrived to extradite him back to England. The ops on the stolen list whose covers had been compromised had already been successfully relocated and the incident would be handled quietly.

Lynda and Carl had wanted to purchase the leftover stock that hadn't been sold during the festival so all that was left to pack were the projects Arianna had purchased for herself. One of the designers at the festival had specialised in coats of arms and she'd found the charts for both Sampson and MacDuff. Together they'd chosen the threads and fabric to work the two shields as a single framed piece that she couldn't wait to start. Julian had found a needlepoint kit for a pillow cover and sheepishly asked her if she'd stitch it for him. It was an adaptation of a stained glass window from St. George's chapel at Windsor, with a Tudor rose surrounded by the motto of the Knights of the Garter. She'd almost said yes instantly but on second thought had let him offer a fortnight of breakfast in bed as a bribe before agreeing.

"I wonder what accounting will do with the money we made this weekend." Arianna smiled as she put the deposit receipt into the envelope with their field reports to be sent back to headquarters. "They got a good return for their investment of supplies, more than double their money in profit. We should get a commission don't you think?"

He zipped his travel case closed and looked up at her laughing, "You know, originally I didn't believe we could have pulled this off."

She put her arms around him and kissed him lightly, "We couldn't have if you hadn't helped so much. Most men don't want anything to do with what they consider women's work."

"Most men don't work with the right women," he murmured, smiling. "We need to be going, it's a long drive home and I need to stop at the grocers for the fixings of breakfast in bed for tomorrow morning."