Julian was sitting at the desk in his library when Arianna came downstairs. She'd heard the telephone ring while she was drying her hair a few minutes ago. After she put the tea kettle onto the stove she went to the doorway to see what he wanted for lunch and found him with the phone held to his ear, staring blankly off into space. She spoke to him but he didn't respond, and the expression on his face worried her.

Not wanting to interrupt the phone call, but deeply concerned, she closed her eyes and tried to read his thoughts. The sensation she got back from his mind felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in her face before she fell into a spinning vortex. When she heard him whimper softly she broke free from the whirling images and opened her eyes. Moving closer to the desk, she could see that his hands were shaking and his breathing laboured. She lightly touched his shoulder and he jumped, greatly startled, then turned to face her, putting the phone down slowly.

"What happened?" he asked, blinking dazedly.

"That's what I was going to ask you, are you all right?"

"Yes, no, I don't know, it feels ... peculiar."

"Who was on the phone?" He looked at the telephone receiver still clutched in his left hand, then replaced it on the cradle and looked back at her.

"I don't know."

"Julian you've been on the phone for the last five minutes, you must have talked to someone."

"I picked up the receiver, and then - I really don't know, there are bits and pieces, like a nightmare you can't remember, but none of it makes any sense."

"Come have some food, maybe you'll feel better." Still somewhat dazed, he followed her out to the living room and sat on one of the stools at the pass through counter while she poured him a mug of hot tea. It had been early this morning when he'd gotten home, but lack of sleep couldn't explain the strange feelings he had now.

"The pieces don't fit," he mumbled as she sliced a small loaf of cranberry-orange nut bread and put a dish in front of him.

"What can you remember?"

"A young man with shoulder length dark hair, an older man in a dark suit, and an unconscious girl with long blonde hair."

"Anything else?"

"An empty hospital, and a white room. I felt wet, and cold. There was a gunshot, and shattered glass. None of it makes any sense."

"Can a person be hypnotised over the phone?" she asked.

He scowled and then shook his head. "No, hypnosis is visually dependent."

"Could something have triggered more old memories?"

"I don't know." He took a sip of the tea. "I'm almost afraid to find out."

* * *

Julian clicked on the light and grabbed the telephone before it could ring a second time. Arianna murmured softly and snuggled closer against his back, still sound asleep.

"Hello?" he whispered, glancing at the clock that read 1am. Suddenly, everything was a blur of swirling images, like falling uncontrollably through a whirlpool. He tried to grab hold of something to stop his descent but his hands reached into nothingness, then suddenly all was darkness.

"Hello Oliver." A man's voice startled him, close but unseen. Julian opened his eyes and blinked, raising his head to look around and see a young man dressed in a dark suit sitting in a chrome chair, his long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Who are you? Where am I?"
"It's time to answer *my* questions now."
"I see."

Arianna heard voices and squinted against the brightness of the room she seemed to be observing, walls, floor, ceiling, every inch stark white. Julian was laid out on the floor as if he'd been thrown there, and the other man, who looked vaguely familiar, was sitting in a chair sneering at him.

"I want to know the truth."
"About what?" Julian managed to sit up, still uncomfortably on the floor.
"About you."
"There is no truth."

Suddenly the scene changed and he was being held by both arms and hit with forceful water from a fire hose. Struggling against his captors, he coughed when the blast of water hit him in the face and his head slashed back, hitting the tiled wall behind him. Minutes later, as the stars cleared from his vision, he'd been thrown into what looked like a meatlocker and his wet clothes felt freezing cold. When he tried to wrap his arms around his body to keep warm his left hand touched something soft and everything shattered, dissolving into darkness once more.

"Julian?" He felt her hand on his arm and looked down at the phone in his hand. "Are you all right? What the hell was that?"

"It happened again." He put down the phone and sat back against the headboard, running both hands through his hair and shaking his head to try and throw off the peculiar feeling. Far worse than a sense of deja vu, somehow he knew he'd been through all of this before.

"I know, I saw it too this time."

"I don't know what's going on."

"The man in the white room, he called you Oliver, could they be memories from your missing year, when you worked for the Committee?" She laid one hand against his chest and could feel his heart racing as he tried to calm down.

"They have to be, but nothing makes any sense. I don't recognise him at all."

"He looks vaguely familiar, but I can't remember where I could possibly have seen him, unless it was in one of the dreams we've shared."

"No, I can remember the dreams. I can't figure how the telephone could be involved, but each time it's happened, I've ended up with a phone in my hand."

"Well, let's try to get back to sleep, maybe in the morning it'll make more sense."

"I doubt it," he mumbled, turning off the light and settling back into the bed, pulling her close against his side for comfort.

* * *

The phone rang again at 6am. Arianna rolled over and glared at it before reaching to answer. She could see light from under the bathroom door and heard the shower running, Julian must have woken early.

"Hello?" There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then a loud click. She shrugged and reached over to replace the receiver as he hurried out of the bath, trying to tie the belt of his robe without catching the towel in the knot.

"Don't answer it," he said loudly.

"I already did, there was nobody there." She smiled when he sat down on the edge of the bed looking somewhat relieved.

"That's good." He bent down to kiss her, then with his finger wiped off the drops of water his wet hair had left on her face. "Good morning. Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you."

She watched him towelling his hair, and thought how cute it looked when it was damp and slightly curly. The rumpled casual style would look good on him, but then again, anything would. She'd never known anyone who always looked as perfectly put together as Julian.

"I was thinking you should put a tap on that phone line, perhaps we can trace the origin of these mystery calls," he suggested, peeking out from under the towel.

"Good idea, I'll get my toolkit."

"I'll make breakfast and bring it back here. Or would you rather eat downstairs? I suppose it's really not breakfast in bed if you've already gotten up, is it."

"Downstairs is fine, and don't worry, I'll still count it toward your two weeks. Maybe today I'll start your pillow." He'd used a fortnight of breakfast in bed as a bribe to ask her to work a needlepoint pillow kit they'd found on their last assignment. The project wasn't overly difficult, just much larger than anything she'd tackled since learning to stitch as part of their undercover assignment.

Putting a tap on the house phone line took all of five minutes. She'd already been playing around with a new software program that could automatically log and track the location of incoming calls, even very short ones. All that was left to do was clip modular connectors onto a short piece of phone cable and re-route the phone in Julian's library through the computer. When she went back out to the kitchen, he was carefully measuring a cup of milk into a mixing bowl.

"What are you making?"

"You'll see. Are you finished already?"

"Yup, just don't answer until the second or third ring and the computer will log all incoming numbers with their locations. It's an upgrade of the program I used on Dawson's computer in Paris last year. Do I have time for a shower before whatever that is will be ready?"

"You can have...," he looked thoughtfully at his watch, "twenty minutes."

When she'd gone upstairs, he reached into the cabinet for the nutmeg and ginger. The pieces of the nightmare, hallucination, whatever it was, just didn't fit. If they were memories from his missing year, that meant it had something to do with the Committee and that worried him more than anything else. He thought he'd seen the last of them that night in Bangkok, but now it was coming back to haunt him once again. He held the cantaloupe against the cutting board and sliced it in half with a bit more force than actually needed. He wasn't really thinking about it, but somehow chopping the melons into wedges did relieve some of his anxiety.

Arianna took a quick shower and was dressed in less than 10 minutes. When she'd been working for Hamilton he'd started each day at 8am. Not being a morning person, she'd managed to perfect the art of dressing quickly in favour of an extra half hour of sleep. Julian had been an early riser when they'd first met, but since their time in London, he'd mellowed, now usually sleeping 'til at least 8, if not 9am.

A wonderful spicy yet sweet aroma greeted her on her way down the stairs. Julian was using a spatula to turn over the first pieces of French toast on the griddle when she came up behind him. "That smells wonderful." When she reached past him to steal a bite of melon off the cutting board he slapped her hand lightly.

"You're early. Go sit down on the sofa and I'll serve you."

"Yes sir," she giggled.

He'd laid out the glass top coffee table with woven placemats and all the trimmings. Butter, marmalade and two kinds of jellies, as well as both powdered and granulated sugar were neatly arranged in small dishes. There was even a spray of pink honeysuckle from the vine outside resting in a crystal bud vase. Large glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice sat next to the tea cups at each place setting. She could see from the bits of pulp he'd left it the way she liked it this time, he preferred it strained.

"Just a few more minutes," he smiled, bringing her a dish of melon. He'd taken matching wedges of both Honeydew and Cantaloupe, cut the meat into bite sized pieces, then alternated the pieces atop the outer skin of the wedge creating a lovely zebra stripe of peach and pale green.

"You've been busy."

"The tea should be ready, it's Troika, one of the blends I brought back. Would you mind pouring out while I get the rest?"

"Not at all," she laughed, reaching to remove the padded cosy from the teapot.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the gold chain wrapped around the top of the teapot lid. Suspended from the chain was a miniature of one of the Imperial Russian Faberge eggs. Translucent lilac and slate blue enamel filled the petal shapes above and below an engraved gold band dividing the top from the bottom of the egg. The chain was long enough to slip over her head without unclasping and with it around her neck she could still pick it up to look at.

"Oh Julian, it's beautiful, thank you." She looked up to see him watching her, and smiling. Having no doubt she would like it, he'd still waited to see her find it before going back to the kitchen.

By the time she had their cups fixed the way each of them liked it, he returned with plates of thick fluffy French toast and crisp bacon strips. "There you are, have I forgotten anything?" he asked.

"Not that I can think of, this is much more than I'd expected."

"Well, enjoy it today, tomorrow might be back to bagels and muffins. I'd forgotten how much washing up cooking entails."

* * *

The first call logged by the computer after breakfast was a telemarketer offering subscriptions to some magazine. When Julian had gotten angry and demanded to know how they'd found his unlisted number, the man had admitted that they used a computer dialler that just began at a given phone number and kept ringing each number after that in succession.

"Let me answer the next call." Arianna smiled when he hung up the phone and sat down heavily on the sofa next to where she was working.

"What are you doing?"

"Starting your pillow. Want to help?"

"That depends on what with." He looked at her sceptically.

"The canvas needs to be tacked onto these wooden stretcher bars. Can you put them together while I go try to find more thumbtacks?"

"I think I can manage that. If you can't find your tacks, there might be some in the top right drawer of the desk, in a small brass box with German writing, unless you found them the other day."

"The other day you said the left top drawer."

"So I did, sorry."

While she went off on her search, he fitted together the ends of the wooden strips, realising after the third corner was tight that they were pairs of different length. Pulling them back apart, he laid them flat on the coffee table first to be sure he had them arranged properly before starting again.

Arianna checked her black floral quilted stitching bag, and also the longer zippered case that was made to fit a scroll frame. Even after emptying the box of things Julian's friend Leslie had sent over from the Royal School of Needlework she couldn't find the small plastic container of flat headed thumbtacks. Finally giving up, she went down to the library to look for the ones in his desk.

She'd resorted to using the stapler on his surprise piece, but this one would need the tacks. The phone rang just as she found the small brass box. She waited for the second ring, then cautiously picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" She relaxed when she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

"Arianna, it's Dawson. Boy am I glad you answered the phone."

"Where are you, and what's wrong Joe?"

"I'm still in Paris, but we've lost contact with our doctor friend in Thailand. Something's happened down there. The sanatorium is empty and there's signs of quite a struggle. Were there any other residents when you and Julian were there?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. I caught a glimpse of a man when I went down to breakfast and Chris mentioned something about his companion. I think she was in a coma or something, but I never saw her."

"Well, that's not much to go on, but it's more than we knew before, thanks anyway. How's Julian?"

"He's good, want to talk to him? He's helping me start a piece of needlepoint right now."

"No thanks, I'll call back as soon as we know anything. Just tell him to stay out of trouble, and the same goes for you."

"I will, thanks Joe." She hung up the phone and took the box of tacks back to the living room where he was laying the rectangular wooden frame on top of the piece of white canvas.

He looked up to see her stop short with a puzzled expression on her face. "Another crank call?"

"No, it was Joe. They've lost contact with Baw and Christine at the sanatorium in Bangkok. Now I know where I've seen that man in the white room. It was there!"

"What do you mean, I didn't see anyone else when we spent the night with them."

"I'm surprised you even remember much from that night."

"I don't, except that you saved my life." He'd been severely beaten by three Committee henchmen before she'd managed to distract them. When they'd reached the private sanatorium he was barely conscious.

"That next morning, when I went down to get you some breakfast, there was a young man sitting with them in the kitchen. When he saw me, he disappeared into the other room. I remember now, Baw said he was skittish around strangers. Later on, Christine said something about his having a companion who'd been in a coma for the past few years. He was the man interrogating you in that dream, nightmare, or whatever it was last night."

"I wish I could remember who the bloody hell he is." He ran his hand through his hair, the way he always did when frustrated. "You know more about my missing year than I do, can you remember anything else from that locked file?"

She sat down and sighed, most of what she'd read in the secret report of his debriefing hadn't made much sense to her, but she knew he was better off not remembering it all. The memories of losing Alex had rattled him so much that night in London she didn't want him to have to go through that again. Deleting the file had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now it looked as if she was going to have to tell him the rest anyway.

"You were on loan to the Committee, working in Los Angeles, assigned to protect a girl named Sydney. She had some special talents with virtual reality. I don't know much about that, I've always avoided VR games since the night I played Myst and got trapped in the fireplace. Anyway, the report stated that in the end the Committee turned against Sydney and tried to kill her, you saved her but sometime later while trying to escape, she went into VR and passed out. It mentioned somebody named Duncan, and a man who was Syd's Keeper. Does this ring any bells?"

"No." With his elbow on the back of the sofa, he rested his chin on his hand and unconsciously rubbed a finger across his top lip.

"The last bit of the report said you got separated at the airport and the Committee assassins followed you instead of the three others. The rest was Dr. Klaus' false report of you trying to kill yourself at the bridge but we both know that wasn't how it really happened."

"Hold on." He stood up and paced the floor, again running a hand through his hair. "The night I remembered the incident at bridge, the memory began at an airport. There was a tall man in a dark suit, a younger man, and a blonde girl strapped into a wheelchair. They went down the jetway just before I spotted the two that had been following us."

"Could they be the ones those men that jumped you in Bangkok were trying to find?"

"It's possible, but there's no way to prove that now. I don't see how any of this could tie in with the strange phone calls."

"Do you remember anything about Sydney, or what she could do with the VR?"

"No." She could sense how upset this whole business was making him.

"Joe didn't know about anyone else living there, that's why he called, to ask if we'd seen anybody. He said he'd call back when they learn more, I guess all we can do now is wait." In hopes of distracting him from worrying about it all day, she opened the box of thumbtacks and put it down on the coffee table. Centring the canvas over the frame and putting a tack in one corner she asked, "Can you hold this tight for me while I tack it in place? Please?"

* * *

Duncan picked up the phone and started to dial the number again but stopped before hitting the last digit and hung up. The two attempts he'd made had been less than successful, and the last time a woman had answered. The only thing he had accomplished was to find out that his paranoia wasn't playing tricks on him. When he'd seen the woman and the injured stranger leaving their hideout a few months ago it wasn't a ghost, it was indeed Oliver Sampson.

He'd asked about them after the two strangers had left, and Dr. Baw had given him this phone number, saying they were friends and could be trusted if anything ever happened. The only comfort he had going for him now was knowing that this time, the trouble wasn't his fault. The armed guerrillas that broke into the doc's house in the middle of the night hadn't been looking for Sydney, and luckily had found what they wanted in the drug cabinet on the first floor. He didn't know what had happened to the doctor and his wife Christine. When he'd finally crept downstairs after seeing the truck drive off there had been no sign of them. He'd opened the emergency envelope they'd given him after Syd's death and found money and the name of a small hotel.

Sydney had passed away two months ago. When she'd stopped breathing on her own they'd tried the respirator, but she'd gone rapidly downhill without ever regaining consciousness. At first Duncan had felt no reason to go on living, but Chris had convinced him that only he could keep Syd's memory alive. He'd been helping out at the clinic ever since.

Finding himself suddenly alone in a strange land, he'd called the number to find out who was at the other end. He'd never expected to find Oliver still alive, and after all these years didn't dare just call back and say 'Hi, remember me?'. Now the big problem remained that wherever Oliver was, he wasn't alone, and somehow, whoever was with him had broken the connection each time Dunc had tried to take him into VR. He had to find some way to communicate with the brooding Englishman. Oliver had risked his own life to save them, and Syd had grown fond of him. Duncan felt a duty to let him know Syd was gone, besides he wanted to go home and would need help to get back to LA. He had to try again, no matter who answered.

* * *

After helping tack the canvas onto the frame Julian had sorted the wool strands into piles for her and even made neat braided bundles of the extra white and gold that would be used for the background. When she'd started the actual stitching, he'd had to move to the other side of the sofa to get out of range of her needle. They were both quite startled when the phone rang at 2pm. Ari put down her stitching but Julian was up first and grabbed the receiver on the third ring.

"Yes?.... Joe, I'm glad it's you. ....... No, no, nothing's wrong .... Oh glad to hear it. ...... No, she does the stitching, I just kibitz. .... Okay, I'll tell her, thanks Joe."

"They've found Baw and Chris, and they're okay. The guerrillas took what drugs they wanted and used them as hostages to get out of the city, but then tossed them out of the truck in the jungle. What the mercs didn't realise was that it happened to be near the village of one of the Hill Tribes Baw had grown up with. They're relocating to London." He picked up his book and sat back down.

"That's good, Christine liked it there."

"I must have missed quite a lot in the short time we were there. How did you get to know them so well?"

"Oh, we just chatted a bit while I was waiting for Baw to see how many pieces you were broken into, and then again while making breakfast the next morning."

Two chapters of his Discworld novel, and a big section of her Tudor rose design later, another call. "My turn," Arianna said, going to answer it. "Hello?...... Yes, can you hold on just a moment please?" She put her hand over the phone and whispered to Julian, "Go pick up the extension in the library, it's him, he's asking to speak to Oliver."

"All right, but you stay on the line here as well, I don't trust whoever he is."

"Hello?" This time, the descent wasn't quite as rapid and Julian was able to grab hold of something, it was Arianna's foot. She landed on top of him when they finally hit the bottom of the vortex. When she rolled off of him, he struggled to sit up and found himself tightly encased in a straight jacket.

"Oh no, no, not this again," he groaned.

"Where are we?" she asked him, having trouble getting herself turned over now that her wrists were bound behind her back with duct tape.

"I'm hoping in VR? I really hate getting out of these things."

"Getting out? Of a straight jacket? You mean you've done it before?" She looked at him in disbelief, he was trussed up so tight even Houdini wouldn't have been able to break free.

"Actually yes, but it involved dislocating my shoulder in the process. I wonder if an injury in VR remains when you come out of it." He began inching his way across the floor toward one of the white walls as she remembered the entry in his medical report about surgery and 6 months of physical therapy rehab on his right shoulder.

"Wait, I can still move my fingers, if you can get close enough, perhaps I can loosen the buckles before you hurt yourself again. Try to roll over this way."

They were both panting for breath by the time they'd rolled toward each other, then inched along to achieve a position back to back where she could reach the buckle on the leather strap fastening his arms.

"Now I know how a caterpillar feels," he laughed.

"Hold still, I think I've got it." Once he felt the tension loosen, he rolled over onto his knees and pulled the jacket off over his head, then reached to unwrap the tape binding her wrists and ankles.

She looked around the white room as he helped her to her feet. "I wonder where our host is."

"He's right here." They both turned when they heard the voice behind them. "Hello Oliver, I see you brought a friend. I'm sorry about this but I had to find out whose side you're on now." Julian stepped protectively in front of Arianna and confronted the young man they both recognised from the previous adventures in wonderland.

"Duncan is it?"

"Yeah. Who's she?"

"This is Arianna." Julian answered before she could open her mouth.

"What happened after we got separated at the airport? I never thought I'd see you again, I thought you were dead all these years."

Julian shrugged, "Apparently I very nearly was. It's a long story, the short version is I don't remember anything about that last year of working for the Committee. And Oliver was a cover, the name's Julian actually."

"What, like you just forgot?"

"I think 'he was debriefed' would be a more accurate explanation." Arianna could feel that Julian had his guard up, the cold unfeeling exterior mask that most people saw of him. She wasn't sure why, but she seemed to sense Duncan meant no harm, and actually needed their help.

"Who are you, his new Keeper?" Duncan asked her.

"She's my partner," Julian answered.

The young man shrugged and brushed his long hair back away from his face. "That's cool. But if you don't remember being Oliver then you don't remember Sydney and me either. Am I right?"

"I remember being Oliver a long time ago, just not whatever happened in Los Angeles. There are some scattered memory flashes but most of that year is lost. I know the Committee turned on Sydney and tried to kill us all. I take it you got to safety when they followed me?"

"Yeah, we did. The Keeper set us up at a safe house in Hong Kong for awhile, then moved us here when Syd needed more care than I could handle."

"Is she...?" Julian was afraid to ask. He could see the answer on Duncan's face.

"Two months ago, she never came out of the VR."

"I'm sorry. Why did you call me now?"

"I want to come home and had nowhere else to turn. Some guys with big guns broke into our hideout and took away the only people I knew. Dr. Baw had given me this phone number and said I could trust the two of you if something ever went wrong. I didn't know who I was calling the first time."

"I'm fairly certain the trouble with the Committee is over. Baw and Chris are safe, and we can arrange things to bring you home. Just sit tight for a bit, we'll be in touch. You have my word." Julian offered his hand to Duncan, to shake on the agreement. When their hands touched, everything shattered into blackness.

Arianna put down the phone and grabbed the edge of the sofa to catch her balance. Her knees felt a bit wobbly as she walked to the library. "Are you okay?" she asked. Julian was sitting with his head against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Yes," he ran his hand through his hair then let both arms hang down toward the floor, making loose fists with his hands. She sensed he could still feel the pulled muscles in his shoulders from the straight jacket when he looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You saw?"

She nodded, "I saw. What's the location shown in the log?" He swivelled the chair around to check the computer screen.

"Bangkok, he's at the hotel the company uses."

"That should make it easier to bring him in, shouldn't it?"

He sighed, "I hope so, I just don't know whether to try it on our own, or send a lamplighter, an agent that specialises in transport." Turning the chair back around, he bumped his leg on the side of the desk and winced. The puncture wound on his thigh wasn't awfully deep, but it was still a bit sore.

"I really think sending someone would be a better choice. You're not at 100% and I'm not thrilled with the thought of going back to Bangkok, once was enough."

He nodded agreement. "I'll call the Quartermaster to see who's available, and try to explain."

* * *

"That looks much better tonight, does it still burn?" The knife wound on his thigh had been deeper than it looked but the hydrogen peroxide solution had pulled the infection out of it over the last couple of days. She covered it with a fresh jumbo size Band-Aid, then put the tin back into the medicine chest while he pulled on his pyjama bottoms, she was still 'borrowing' the tops.

"Not anymore," he smiled, "you're a great nurse."

"Well, I've had a lot of practice since I met you." They crawled into bed and snuggled close.

"I forgot to tell you, Cathy Leonard rang, she's the lamplighter they sent to Bangkok. Duncan is safely back in Los Angeles. She's even found him a loft space in her building, I think she may fancy him a bit."

"That's good, he seemed so alone." She shuddered slightly at the memory of their little trip into virtual reality and hoped it wouldn't ever happen again. Once was more than enough.

"What would you like for breakfast tomorrow?" he asked, lightly rubbing his fingers along her arm. "We still haven't tried the other Russian tea I brought back."

The word Russian made her think of the pins in his desk. "Why did Gervase suggest you go to Vladivostock alone?"

"You really don't want to know, trust me." He could tell that wasn't going to put her off as her fingertip traced a Cyrillic R on his chest.

"Did he think I'd be in your way?"

"No, it's not that. You wouldn't have been in the way."

"Was it because I can't speak Russian?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"No reason, just curiosity." He looked at her suspiciously and waited. "All right, when I was looking for more tacks I found your box of ID badges, and the two collar pins. I didn't mean to pry, honestly."

He laughed. "You remember I once said I'd had many identities?"

"Uh-hmm."

"Well, you've seen Oliver, someday you might bump into Uriele, though I rather hope not, he's a bit tedious."

"Oh really?" She could see the twinkle in his eyes.

"It was a long time ago. After three months pretending to be an auditor for the KGB, he snapped and had to be carted off in a straight jacket."

"Did he," she smiled.

"Yes. And you know the strangest part of it all? Somehow he managed to escape. The good news is that they never found him. They were quite busy trying to locate some documents that went missing at around the same time."

"Well, that is good news. And I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore, now that the Soviet Union is all shattered. "

His wry smile gave him an almost impish look when he kissed her and whispered. "Actually the papers suddenly re-surfaced, quite recently in fact."

Next Chapter: A Special Blend