"Sir, I presume this young lad may be mute, or possibly cannot speak English or Arabic. But we gather he wishes to see you."

Ava had made it all the way to the threshold of Aaron Abel's office door without uttering a single word. She had repeatedly and vigorously pointed at Aaron's by-line photo to get past the Observer's security, reception, and now Aaron Abel's personal assistant. At each road block she was greeted by the palms of men's hands, shaking heads and words of denied entry issued in Arabic.

But Ava had persisted, and eventually had worn them all down.

"That is fine, Ghazi, thank you," Aaron Abel said. "I will see what the lad wants."

Aaron gestured for Ava to enter. She took a step inside, and then took the liberty of closing the door behind her once Ghazi had departed.

Aaron Abel's brow furrowed speculatively and he switched to English to say, "Please, young lady, have a seat, introduce yourself, tell me what I can do for you."

Ava was taken aback. She asked worriedly, "Uhh, first off, may I inquire how you knew I was female, and why you presumed I speak English?" She hoped her shabby-chic disguise wasn't that ineffective. Though, luckily, Aaron Abel was the first to have given any hint at all of that being the case.

"I must confess it was your remarkable eyes." Aaron Abel combed an eyebrow with his fingernail. "I have not seen an Arab male with eyes that color and shaped so beautifully. And, it was a guess... presuming the English." He smiled warmly, little wrinkles forming at the corners of his intelligent, dark eyes.

His English was exceptional, though he did have a delicious Mid-Eastern accent. Aaron Abel evoked vivid images of Omar Sharif –specifically, his initial scene in "Lawrence of Arabia". Fortunately, Ava was accustomed to her flights of film fancy and was perfectly able to dual process. She removed her keffiyeh scarf and thrust out her arm.

They shook hands as Ava declared, "I'm a freelance journalist. My name is..."

"Yes... Ava Blair. Excuse me for interrupting. But please, allow me another presumption?" He canted his head and extended his left arm, briefly held her hand in both of his before releasing her. She sat down and he continued, "You are the sole suspect in the Zalmay murder investigation. You are innocent and have come seeking my assistance because you have nowhere else to turn."

"Well, um, yes, as a matter of fact. You've summed it up quite nicely. Either you've been reading my mail or you have amazing powers of presumption."

"On the contrary... I assure you, I have made many incorrect presumptions in my life, and possibly some poor choices along the way." Aaron Abel released a sigh behind an ironic smile as he reclaimed the seat behind his modest desk.

"Are you suggesting talking with me may be a poor choice, Mr. Abel?" Ava pictured her faint hope circling the drain. She made a move to stand.

Aaron stopped her with a courteous lift of his hand. He said, "I made a choice a long time ago to become a journalist and return to Yemen to practice my trade. These may have been among my poor choices, only Allah knows. But they have been made. And so, I am anxious to speak with you, work with you, and assist you... assuming I am able." He offered her a contrite grin for the lame pun but then pinched together his brow and asked, "But I must ask... why have you presumed it is safe to come to me for assistance?"

Ava's gut was telling her that her decision to seek out Aaron Abel had been a good one. And it was not only his comely looks and alluring manner influencing her intuition. Ava had also picked up good vibes emanating from the core nature of this man, even more so now that they'd met face-to-face. But simply reading the article he'd written, and examining his by-line photo, had given her the impression that this was a man of integrity and purpose, someone she could grow to admire. She answered, "As you can well assume, Mr. Abel, my options were limited. When I read the news item you wrote about the case I got a... well, a hunch that you might be willing to help."

"Miss Blair, your hunch was correct. I know why you have come to Aden, and we both know who framed you for the murder of Zalmay. As a matter of fact, Inspector Guma has made a similar assumption. The trouble is, we are operating within a corrupt and dysfunctional system. Badaki has influence and resources that afford him impunity. The on-going political unrest in this country may shift those sands, but for the present, Badaki is most untouchable."

"You make it appear hopeless." Ava lowered her head for two clock ticks before resuming eye contact with Aaron. She continued, "Mr. Abel I must confess to you that I am not an experienced world-affairs journalist. I suppose I'm swimming in waters way over my head. Can you tell me, is there nothing we can do?"

"When you are innocent, and you are on the side of right, there is always something that can be done... something that must be done, Miss Blair."

Aaron Abel rose and extended his hand across his desk. Ava followed suit. As they sealed the deal in handshake, Aaron said, "No doubt you have ideas for next steps... Ava. I have some of my own. Let us begin."

Aaron arranged to have a closed office set up for Ava, with strict instructions that 'he' not be disturbed. He established an account for her that provided access to the Observer's intranet as well as the Internet.

Ava set about researching everything available on Badaki and the al-Qaeda faction in Aden. She needed to replace the notes –hard-copy and digital– that had been pilfered along with her other stuff.

Later in the morning, Aaron produced a mug of fresh coffee. He tiptoed into the office with an index finger pressed to his lips, placed the coffee on the corner of Ava's desk and departed without a word.

A delicious bouquet of French-vanilla began to infuse the small room. Ava lifted the cup, with great interest, and spent the next two minutes examining its hand-painted illustration. It was a vintage souvenir mug from the 1953 Marilyn Monroe film, "Niagara". Huh, Ava thought, how intriguing. I'll bet there's a saucy tale attached to this memento amore. I must remember to ask Aaron.

Saucy story aside, the caffeine powered Ava through lunch.

The afternoon was waning when Aaron next tapped on her door. He edged it ajar, said, "Miss Blair? We neglected to pause for lunch. May I be so bold to suggest we repair to Chez Moi? I am capable of preparing a satisfactory repast. It will be humble, but it will be nutritious, I assure you. And, I have a home computer with full access; you can continue your work there."