Ava retreated to her cabin and did not emerge during the return trip.

In the late evening, after mooring in the Inner Harbor, Adam tapped on her door offering dinner. She declined. He did not persist.

She spent a fitful night catching snippets of sleep between wrestling matches with her pillow. She cursed her wound-up libido. Why in hell had she engaged Adam East in sexual activity? And how unfair was it that he turns out to be the best lover imaginable? He beat the heck outta any of the cowboys in her fantasies; he could out-ride and out-shoot all of them. He'd instilled in her a greedy appreciation for the property of girth. Damn him! Now she had to suffer the enormous aching emptiness that remained.

But the crazy part: She couldn't believe any of that was even a concern when her very life was in peril. Not to mention the frickin' murder rap hanging over her head. The only positive Ava could dredge up out of this hopeless muck of a mess was the fact that it didn't appear Adam was a direct threat to her life... yet.

Early the following morning, Ava heard Adam start up the Zodiac and motor into shore. She took the opportunity to get out of the sleeping cabin and prepare herself some breakfast.

After cleaning up, and checking the coast was clear, she also took the opportunity to search for the knapsack. Though in all likelihood Adam was on his way to deliver it to his al-Qaeda buddies.

She did not find the knapsack.

She did find a laundry sack stowed in the engine compartment. And it did contain gold... but only a single ingot. Ava was certain there was more, judging by the manner in which the bald guy, and then Adam, had hefted the knapsack. Hmm, she thought, maybe this single bar is Adam's cut?  Overly generous, even taking the risk factor into account.

Ava removed the gold from the bag, backed out of the engine compartment and into the salon. She stood upright, moved the bar deliberately from one hand to the other, turning it over, marveling at the incredible weight and strange cool feel of the deep yellow metal. She fancied if she squeezed, her fingers would leave imprints. She had read somewhere that simply holding or seeing a great deal of money caused the human brain to emit a certain hormone. She was a believer.

When she heard the tender approaching, Ava hastily returned the ingot to its place in the engine compartment, replaced the hatch, and darted about making certain everything was back in order. She scooted into her cabin, closing the door behind her.

Presently, Adam rapped on her door. "Ava? Can we talk? Will you please come out?"

"What more is there to say?" Ava said quietly after edging the door open an inch. They were practically eye-to-eye.

"Please, come into the salon, I have a proposition." He held her for two heartbeats with earnest eyes, then turned and entered the salon. Two more beats and Ava followed.

There was a bundle of clothing neatly piled on the table.

Adam said, "If you had relatively unrestricted access to Aden, exactly how would you go about 'proving your innocence, exposing the guilty'"?

This sudden tack caught Ava completely off guard. What was he getting at? Adam was well aware the police and his al-Qaeda pals were still on the lookout for her. How could she possibly roam around undetected in Aden? It hadn't worked the first time.

He allowed her time to think. While she dreamed up a plausible strategy, she stalled with the obvious question, "How could I have unrestricted access to Aden? I was concealed in my niqab and abaya yet you clearly had no trouble tracking me down."

"It was the shoes," Adam intoned, as if it should've been obvious to her all along.

"The shoes?"

"Uh-huh, the shoes. Those sparkly red sandals of yours. Guma noticed them the first time you two met. You're damned lucky the guys that framed you probably weren't as observant."

"Inspector Guma? Ah-hah!" Ava pronounced triumphantly, and happily. "So you are working with the police."

Adam shut his eyes as though he were in pain. He said, "I told you, I am not working with the police. As I said, I heard a fellow New Yorker was in a jam and I decided to lend a hand."

"But the police told you where to find me?" Ava desperately wanted it to be a fact that Adam East was not an al-Qaeda crony; that he was working undercover or something; that he was fighting for truth, justice and... well, whatever.

"No, not the police. Not officially, anyway." Adam released a long sigh of resignation. "I got it on the QT, from Guma."

Adam explained Inspector Guma's situation: That under certain circumstances he was willing to look the other way when it came to some crimes, including smuggling; that he doubted Ava's guilt but was unable to prove her innocence; that if she were spotted in Yemen she'd be arrested and held over for a trial that could have but one outcome; that Guma had requested Adam abduct her; and, that she was not supposed to learn anything about Guma's... shenanigans.

"Well, are you working undercover for some other law enforcement or military agency?" Ava asked, hope fading faster than a Winter tan.

"No. I am not with the CIA, MI6, Navy Seals, PTA, or any other hairy-assed gang. Guma and I swap nefarious favors on occasion, that's all, that's it. I'm only me, Adam East, a sailor."

"A sailor working with al-Qaeda," Ava added in disappointment and not hiding the note of total disgust.

"Listen, this isn't about me for chrissake! This is about you. I'm trying to help. Option number one: We sail outta here to the Mediterranean. I'll drop you off in Italy, France or Spain, give you some cash; you should be able to somehow finagle your way home from there."

"And have a murder charge haunting me the rest of my life? No thank you! And don't forget, I came to Yemen to nail Badaki and expose his American backers, not run from them. I'm getting the story. I'm not going home to become the oldest cutest barista on the block! What's behind door number two?"

Ava's determination did not falter as Adam held her stare. She saw his reservations harden into a decision. He turned and collected the pile of clothing from the salon table. There was a pair of small, well-worn chukka boots on the bottom. He placed the bundle in her arms. He said, "They're second-hand, but clean. They're traditional male robes and pakol cap along with a keffiyeh scarf to conceal your face. I picked them up at a street kiosk. You even have a couple of pockets. Stuff your hair up and lose the swing in your ass and nobody should take notice."

"Swing? Wha'd'ya mean, swing?"

"Shut, up, you. You know precisely what I'm talking about. Let's just say, you don't talk like a turnip and you certainly don't walk like a turnip."

"Aww, how sweet. So you don't think I'm a turnip. That must be about the nicest compliment I've ever received."

"Yeah, yeah. Now seriously, Ava, what's your plan when you get to town? You know you can't badger those witnesses –the bartender and the hotel desk-clerk. They've undoubtedly got their marching orders from Badaki; they can't change their story, even if they wanted to."

"Yes, I'm not surprised. But no worries, I have a contact at the Yemen Observer," she lied. "He should be able to provide some help. I'll give him a call on your SAT-phone before we head in."

Ava had no idea whether Aaron Abel could, or would, assist her. But she had to bluff her way through this; she needed to convince Adam she had a feasible plan, otherwise he was liable to insist on door number one. She sat on the salon banquette, put the clothes aside and began to pull on the chukkas.

"Who's this Abel dude? Did he help you out when you were on the run?"

Ava detected a jealous edge in Adam's voice. She found it singularly gratifying... his ego could use a prick or two. And she made no effort to re-inflate it; shoveled yet more onto the BS pile: "No, no. I didn't want to compromise Aaron's safety. I thought the police or al-Qaeda may have been aware of our... relationship. But Aaron put no hint of that in his article; a signal to me, no doubt. I'm betting it's safe."

"Relationship? Precisely what is your... relationship with this mook?" Adam raked back his rebellious comma of hair.

Ava ignored the question, standing up, saying, "Hey, awesome! They fit perfectly; just my size. How'd you know?" She performed a little jig, thinking, Adam East has a simply scrumptious knack for providing the perfect fit.

"A lucky number seven guess. Now, what about this guy?"

Ava stopped, placed her fists at the top of her hips, stated, "In the first place, Aaron Abel is no 'mook'. He happens to be a respected writer, and a law-abiding citizen, I might add. And in the second place, though it's none of your business, my relationship with Aaron is professional... for the most part. But we journalists are a close-knit bunch; we're like family, in case you didn't know."

"Yeah fine, I'll make a note." Adam made a 'whatever' motion with his hands. "But listen, if I agree to take you ashore I want your promise you'll say nothing to this Abel dude about me. And, you'll return to Vendetta each evening. Deal?"

"Why, Sailor, that is ever so precious. Will you miss me that much?" Ava did her best Scarlett O'Hara impersonation. She felt that making light of their pseudo-romantic relationship was her best defense, and offense.

"Don't flatter yourself, Missy. Inspector Guma holds me responsible for keeping you outta sight. During the day you'll easily blend into the crowds, especially with all those protesters tramping about. At night it'd be more difficult to maintain anonymity. The cops, or worse, Badaki's men, may take notice. Oh, and by the way, we can't use the SAT-phone for any of this. It belongs to my associates and they monitor its use. I have trouble enough covering off communications with Guma."

As Adam detailed the location and timing of the drop-offs and pick-ups, Ava couldn't help wishing she and Adam were a team working toward a common goal. What a formidable couple they could be. Adam East was a strong, intelligent, resourceful man. And that was only the half of it. He also had heart-ripping good looks: those almond-shaped green eyes; the sun-seared taut body; his naughty black hair; and in the shagging category? well, that was beyond description for a lady. Yes, they'd be a dynamic duo on several counts.

Too bad.

Wishing did not make it so. The truth was, Adam East was a friggin' crook, a two-bit opportunist, working with some of the vilest scum on Earth...'associates,' as he put it. And despite her sexual attraction to him, Ava would have no compunction whatsoever when it came to taking him down along with the rest of Aden's al-Qaeda scourge. And maybe, just maybe, Aaron Abel was the man who could help her do just that.