"Her name is Ava Blair," Inspector Guma pronounced pointedly. "She is single, twenty-eight... from New York," he added after the name elicited zip reaction from the man seated opposite. "A decidedly comely young lady: five-six, one-twenty," he emphasized with a touch of waggish smile and cocked brow.

Adam East leaned forward, deposited a dash of bottled water into his three-fingers of Scotch. He took a deep swallow then settled back in his chair, hands clasped, elbows on the arm rests. Adam and Guma were sharing a corner table in the smokiest, noisiest bar in Aden. Adam commented, "Hmm, Ava Blair... Nope, name's not familiar." He shook his head, continued, "I may have heard it mentioned somewhere... I'm not certain," he shrugged. "But why are you telling me this, Inspector Guma?"

"Please, Adam. Simply Guma. You and I have been acquainted for how long? Almost two years, I believe," he answered his own question. "And I trust you must concur, we have each accommodated one another's interests in a congenial and often... profitable manner." He offered that smile again. "Many would characterize us as being friends."

Adam East opened his hands, lifted his brow, in a gesture of tacit agreement.

"Ah, yes, brilliant," Inspector Guma said, flashing his white teeth and then pulling his chair closer. He leaned his forearms on the table. "And now, Adam, my friend, I have a favor I must ask."

Uh-oh. What's it gonna be? Adam wondered. He always knew payback was inevitable. He was surprised it had taken this long. He only prayed it wouldn't be something that could jeopardize the tenuous trust he had cultivated with his al-Qaeda associates here in Aden. Because, in truth, he was kinda' fond of the Inspector. He reminded Adam of that other Inspector: Clouseau, except Guma sported a natural tan and a British accent. From day one, when Adam had first sailed into the Port of Aden, Guma had looked the other way as long as Adam's activities stayed within the unwritten parameters of the Inspector's personal interpretation of Yemeni law. Inspector Guma was dutiful but also practical and, despite appearances, far from being the bumbling, 'Pink Panther' detective. Illegal contraband, petty theft, motor-vehicle infractions... these things he often let slip to keep the peace with his fellow officers and the criminal element. But he did draw a line.

Inspector Guma continued in hushed tones, "This young lady, Ava Blair, has kicked a hornet's nest, as it were." Guma smoothed his thin, perfectly-groomed mustache with his thumb and finger. "She is a freelance journalist, here in Yemen on her own. A plucky individual I must say. She has been in Aden but a fortnight and has managed to raise the ire of Ali Khan and, undoubtedly, that of Mr. Khan's superiors; that requires considerable brash and bottle."

Hmm, his brand new pal, Guma, was baiting him, Adam decided. Because Adam knew, that the Inspector knew, that these guys were al-Qaeda and that Adam was playing footsie with them. "That could be unhealthy," he commented, hoping to dissemble with a bit of insouciance.

"Indeed. It has already proved to be so," Guma countered dourly, and asked, "You know that little wanker, Zalmay?" Adam nodded, then, following the dramatic pause, Guma announced, "He had his throat sliced to the spine by Ava Blair last night."

The Inspector paused again, fixed Adam with a probing gaze. But with nothing more than a blasé downturn at the corners of his mouth, and then a lingering draw of whisky, Adam East revealed exactly... nada.

And, in fact, there was nothing to reveal. Sure, Adam knew Zalmay. Who in hell didn't? A ubiquitous hustler, a snitch. Immediately upon Adam's arrival in Aden, the little shit had glued himself to Adam and tried selling him grubby bits of rumor, lies and half-truths. Adam had scraped Zalmay from the bottom of his boot within days. Now he was dead... and probably better off, Adam figured. But it was difficult to envisage some boney-assed babe from the States turning Zalmay into a PEZ dispenser. He said, "I guess Miss Blair doesn't think the pen is always mightier than the sword, huh?" Adam put his glass back on the table. "Do you have her in custody?"

"No, not yet," Guma answered, lightly whisking the lapel of his bespoke white uniform with his fingertips. "When responding to the anonymous tip, my arrival was adequately conspicuous; Miss Blair was able to make good her getaway from the Blue Heron Hotel."

"Hmph, what's the problem, Guma? Not enough evidence? Or do you have a thing for this dame?" Adam smiled to make certain the Inspector understood he was yanking his chain.

"Incorrect on both counts, Mr. East. Though I must confess, having 'a thing' for Miss Blair would be an easy path to tread."

The Inspector took a sip from his sweating glass of gin and tonic. He made a discreet gesture with his chin toward the Sailors Club bartender, said, "You see that honest-looking chap behind the bar? He will testify he served several drinks to Zalmay and Ava Blair at this very table last night, and that he saw them leave together. The desk clerk at the Blue Heron is another helpful citizen." A look of distaste distorted Guma's upper lip. "He will swear Zalmay and Miss Blair arrived at the hotel and took a room on an otherwise vacant floor, and that no other person entered the hotel that night. And then, of course, there is the murder weapon. I have no doubt Ava Blair's fingerprints are quite conspicuous on the knife handle."

Adam had been contemplating the arms of his chair with small thumb-strokes while Guma related the facts. Now he responded, "Well don't call me Sherlock, Inspector, but I'd hafta' say in this case it is elementary: The lady did it." He spread his hands to say, That's it, case closed. He said, "So is that the favor? My amazing powers of deduction?"

The Inspector continued to deflect Adam's facetious remarks. He stated, "Ava Blair came to see me upon her arrival in Aden. She is following dirty money: New York crime proceeds financing Somalia piracy operations here in the Gulf. I tried to warn her of the situation over here. I told her that my assistance would be extremely restricted. But she is a determined young lady. She has put together a paper trail and I believe she was homing in on the Aden participants. I do not require my deerstalker cap to deduce that Ava Blair did not murder our poor friend Zalmay."

"Guma," Adam began, seemingly relaxed as an old t-shirt, "I can't think where I fit in to all this crap. It's got nothin' to do with me." He'd been fiddling a lazy finger on the rim of his glass. Now he casually raised it to his lips.  

Adam was tap-dancing on a tightrope. The Inspector was aware of Adam's association with Ali Khan and the al-Qaeda smuggling activities. Adam was not directly involved in piracy per se, but he did ply the same waters for criminal purposes. What could Guma expect of him? Hmm, anything, Adam answered his own question. Because Inspector Guma could have his visa and charter permit yanked in a twitch of his mustache; two twitches and Adam would find himself rotting in the Aden hoosegow.

Inspector Guma of the Aden constabulary fastened Adam East with stiff, determined eyes. He said, "I want you to abduct Ava Blair."