A girl's gotta do what she's gotta do.

Nonetheless, Julie did experience a few pangs of guilt as she crept around the campsite gathering her things. But she figured Flynn would understand. He would do the same in her place... hmph, he had done the same.

She tip-toed barefoot until she was certain she was out of ear-shot before she donned her abaya, niqab and sandals. Once dressed, she stood frozen for two full minutes listening for any sound from Flynn. Not a stir.

Julie had always fancied that during the culmination of the sex act, males inject females with –besides the obvious– a dose of their vitality; the Samson effect, as it were. Julie did feel invigorated. And watching Flynn plummet into a near state of coma after delivering her best, Julie had more than a reason to believe his reserve of vitality had been sucked dry. So the theory was holding. By the time Flynn woke, guessed her intentions, and broke camp, Julie would be halfway to long gone.

The plan was to sneak into Veerona, make a pit stop to gather the necessary supplies and then make for The Djinn's stronghold, find out what he knew about Saddiq. This was the fastest, most direct approach. Everybody said The Djinn was aware of everything that goes on in the province... time to find out.

Julie knew that Flynn remained bound by duty and rules of engagement. She also knew that by the time the coalition authorities unraveled the BlackSky tangle, Saddiq could be dead. She had to act immediately, follow her instincts. Sure, confronting The Djinn was a dicey proposition; dicier than a Yahtzee tournament. But it was her only option. And an option with a bonus: Julie yearned for the chance to come face-to-face with the living myth.

Forty minutes later she was crouched, gathering her breath, behind an old well on the outskirts of Veerona, not far from the Little Eden at the rear of her and Jiddah's home.

The village was a silver still-life, arranged like a ghost town under the bright moonlight. She observed for several minutes and detected no movement, nothing seemed amiss. Flynn was probably wrong; she'd wager nobody in Veerona lay in wait. But there was nothing wrong with caution.

Julie left her cover and made a headlong dash to the stable. She flattened her back against the rear wall. Caesar whickered softly; there was no other sound.

She crept along the wall and peered round the corner into the stalls. Cleo, Tony, Iras and Caesar appeared pretty chill. She would ride Cleo to The Djinn's stronghold, take Caesar along to tote gear and provisions –she had no idea how long she'd be away.

Julie listened, and scoured the vicinity with cautious eyes. Still nothing. She headed for the house.

Looking ahead as she tip-toed down the pathway that led to the rear patio, Julie became aware of inexplicable disarray.

She stopped, stared dumbly, confounded, as though she were witnessing a freak occurrence of nature: water running uphill or the sun setting in the east.

But it was neither quirk of nature nor act of God that had Julie awestruck.

Crushing belief slowly overtook her as she clumped heavy-footed through the chaos that had been her and Jack McNeill's pride and joy.

Someone, or something, had dug up and ripped apart her garden, her father's carefully cultivated fruit trees... and her beloved wormwood plants. Broken and crushed branches, stems, leaves, roots, vegetables and fruits were strewn helter-skelter. It looked as if a herd of spooked camels had stampeded through. Total shambles.

Julie knelt and retrieved a few of the silver-colored wormwood leaves –they represented years of pain-staking work– held them numbly a few seconds and then let them fall back to earth.

In a state of dismay she entered her home, no longer taking precaution. She slumped onto a kitchen chair.

After a time Julie raised her head and surveyed the kitchen and living room... nothing out of place. Who could have wreaked the havoc on her Little Eden? And why?

She stood, zombie-like, and reached far back into one of the kitchen cupboards. When she pulled out her arm she was holding the black bottle of absinthe.

She retrieved a glass tumbler and emptied what remained of the bottle into it. She held the glass up, stared at the last of her emerald muse. She lifted her veil, raised the glass to her lips and knocked it back –screw the sugar-water. She closed her eyes tightly, gave her head a shake and exhaled the fumes.

The jolt from the absinthe focused Julie's internal devastation and shock into a flawless clarity of purpose.

She placed the glass on the counter-top and exited via the front door.

She marched directly to Mohammed Khan's residence. She rapped on the door. No answer. She banged on the door. No answer. Banged again. A bleary-eyed Mohammed opened it a crack.

"Who did it, Mohammed?" Julie demanded, speaking Pashto. "Who destroyed my gardens? Was it BlackSky men?"

He pushed open the door wider and fumbled with his pakol head wear.

"Please enter, Dahab. We will discuss this thing. I know it is a tragedy for you." He extended a hand but Julie recoiled, raised a palm.

She said, "No, I have no time for discussion. Tell me it was BlackSky who perpetrated this cowardly act. I will contend with their despicable hides."

Mohammed sighed, steepled his hands under his chin, looked heavenward a moment and then held Julie with resolute eyes. He stated, "We did this thing, Dahab, the men of Veerona. It was Allah's will, communicated to us by a messenger of The Djinn."

"The Djinn? The men of Veerona?" she repeated his words incredulously. "You destroyed my gardens? My work? Veerona's salvation?" Julie clutched the air between them. "Why, Mohammed? Why would you condone such treachery? Why?"

"Not treachery. It was a necessary act. You will not be Veerona's salvation, Dahab. The people of Veerona, the people of Afghanistan will free themselves and their country of birth. The poppy feeds us, clothes us, provides our shelter, and buys our weapons." He extended an index finger to emphasize his next statement, "Mister Jack understood this reality, Dahab. What do you think is the source of your abundance here?"

"What are you saying? That is a lie!" Julie shot back. "My father established a trust fund that provides for me, and for the village."

"Yes, Dahab," Mohammed said, nodding his head, "and Mister Jack used the poppy to supply that fund. And now it is The Djinn who replenishes our fund, with the poppy."

"I... I don't believe you," Julie said, the words betraying her foundering resolve. "It's impossible. My father would not be involved in that illegal business."

"Illegal to whom, Dahab? The oppressors? Mister Jack knew the poppy was our only power on the path to self-determination and freedom."

Julie looked at him helplessly, slowly shaking her head. She said, "And what of Saddiq? Has the 'power of the poppy' won his freedom? Has The Djinn set him free?"

"Saddiq's fate lies in the hands of Allah, Dahab. If it be Allah's will, Saddiq will return to us. If not..." He gave a little shrug.

Julie eyed Mohammed critically but said nothing. She turned away in departure. Mohammed stopped her, saying, "Dahab, you will leave Veerona. It is The Djinn's wish."

She lowered her head and closed her eyes, steeled herself. Keeping her back to Mohammed she answered stonily, biting off the words, "I will leave Veerona when I choose, and not until I choose. For now I am only concerned with Saddiq's safe return. I believe it is Allah's will that I do this for Saddiq." With that Julie squared her shoulders, held her chin high and headed back to her place.

She got her things together and departed by the front door. She took the long way round to the stable to avoid the carnage that had been her devotion.

"Don't you worry, Cleo. We'll be just fine. That old Djinn doesn't frighten us, does he?" Julie said as she arranged the bridle over Cleo's head. "We don't need anybody's help. We'll find Saddiq and everything will be all right again." The words caught in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to exorcise the vision of her ruined garden. She succeeded. Trouble was, it was replaced by that one of Flynn, alone, striding away from Veerona into the saffron sunset; a harbinger of another precious loss?

Julie held Cleo's bridle in both hands for a while, resting her forehead on her snout. Then she gave her a peck on the side of her muzzle and said, "Oh c'mon, Cleo, enough of your foolish sentimentality, we've got work to do."

Julie hurriedly finished saddling Cleo then packed the gear onto Caesar. She collected both sets of reins, mounted up and headed north at an easy trot, frequently checking over her shoulder to see if anybody was following. Not a soul.

At about 3:30 a.m. Flynn's internal alarm jangled noisily.

The instant before he opened his eyes he knew something was amiss.

He sat up abruptly, scanning the campsite. He called out in a loud whisper, "Julie! Julie!" Silence. He leapt to his feet, grabbed his sidearm, scrambled through the bushes to the path and then sprinted barefoot to the pond. "Julie!" he called out in the direction of her favorite rock. More silence.

Flynn stood motionless a few seconds looking across to the empty spot where he and Julie had made love just hours before. Unfamiliar sensations crept up on him. They were foreboding and panic, threatening to invade his spine. He scoffed and they dispersed. He shook his head in wonder. Julie McNeil was introducing him to a raft of new sensations and emotions.

He jogged back to the campsite, a plan percolating on the way.

Flynn jumped into his clothes and broke camp in a flurry, chucked everything into the back of the Humvee and then mounted up.

When he engaged the ignition the engine coughed twice and then the starter issued that dreaded sick-cat yowl, whining for more juice from the battery.

"C'mon, goddammit! Not now for fucksake," Flynn growled.

The gods took pity on him. After one more cough the engine lit up. It backfired once and then smoothed into a reassuring rumble. Flynn slammed her into reverse and mowed his way back onto the trail to Veerona.

Ten minutes later he maneuvered the Humvee into the thicket, a half mile outside of Veerona where he'd taken refuge the night Saddiq shot holes through Julie's abaya.

He left the Humvee idling –no sense tempting fate– and then slid into the old irrigation ditch that led to the gully that ran near the back of Julie's place. He prayed against all odds that Julie was safe at home. But he doubted it. In all likelihood she was on her way to The Djinn's hideout. And if she had stopped off in Veerona, chances were she was being tailed. Merde, he thought massaging the back of his neck, how in hell did that little fox sneak out of camp without waking me? I must be losing it.

Flynn kept his head low, ran the length of the ditch and then the gully. It snaked behind the poppy shed and then veered east, ending at the back edge of Julie's property. When he reached that point, Flynn leopard-crawled up the bank and surveyed –as best he could in the predawn darkness– the stable, the paddock and the rest of Julie's property. He detected no movement whatsoever; it was as still and quiet as a graveyard. He pulled himself out of the gully and bee-lined it for the stable.

Cleo and Caesar were gone. Caesar's saddle hadn't been moved. Flynn knew what that meant: Julie was on her way to The Djinn. He had to catch her, or beat her to The Djinn's hideout. He wondered whether the local rats on Kurtz's payroll had their own horses. He hoped not, 'cause they'd have one helluva time trailing her otherwise.

Flynn blasted recklessly toward the house, damn the torpedoes... and traitors. If they had been around they weren't any longer.

A dozen strides and he froze; stricken by the scene that lay before him.

It was like someone had swung through with a goddamned wrecking ball. The gardens, the orchard, the lean-to and distillation apparatus had all been razed. The senseless atrocity of it cast a lurch of disbelief into his core, and it gelled to dread when Flynn thought of Julie's broken heart.

He tore the rest of the distance to the house, burst through the door expecting the worst.

But he was greeted by nothing but order, and dead silence.

Flynn checked all the rooms. There was no evidence of a struggle or intrusion. The only things out of place were the empty absinthe bottle and a tumbler sitting on the kitchen counter.

He raised the glass to his nose, drew deeply on the licorice fumes. He detected the faint imprint of lips on the rim. He covered them with his own for a moment, and then downed the dregs. "Julie," Flynn whispered with that soft 'J' she loved.

Before returning to the Humvee, Flynn checked for e-mails from Sammy. It was lucky he had.

Samhal was taking the next bus to Bamma. He had picked up scuttlebutt that all BlackSky operatives in Kandahar had been ordered to Bamma –just five miles north-east of The Djinn's stronghold. Samhal and Flynn both knew this meant Kurtz was preparing an all-out offensive against The Djinn. Flynn knew Kurtz was relying on Julie, or himself, to pinpoint the location, because Kurtz only knew the hideout was 'somewhere near Bamma'. Whether or not Julie had been followed, Kurtz would have scouts deployed, covering a wide area. By this afternoon Julie would be in the eye of a shit storm. Flynn banged off a brief reply and reminded Samhal of the hideout's exact location.

The majestic solitude and serenity of the Afghanistan desert was all that greeted Julie when she dismounted Cleo, scrabbled up the bank of the arroyo and peered west at the mountains that sheltered The Djinn.

The shadow of the complacent mountains had swallowed half the plain by the time she'd come upon the derelict Soviet tank.

She scanned the surrounding terrain. The arroyo provided the only substantial cover for miles in all directions. As far as her eyes could see there were only rocks, dry brush, dust and the undulating waves of heat mirage. She had grown to love the beauty of this landscape but in the past two weeks her perception had undergone a transformation. Now she found herself regarding the solitude and serenity as deceptive impersonators of loneliness and malevolence.

She wondered if she'd been naïve. Maybe she'd been living in La-La Land thinking she could change hundreds of years of tradition in a country... hmph, even in one village. Or adopt, and adapt to, the true values and precepts of their traditions and customs. And her father? Had she idealized him? Had he sheltered her from the raw truth? Everything that had been so black or white was now awash in countless shades of grey.

Flynn Montague had started it. He had rocked her world. He was the first person ever to have shaken her absolutes. He was supposed to be a thoughtless jerk. Instead, he'd made her fall –in a mad tailspin– for the sensitive, principled, knowledgeable man that he was. And without even trying he had changed the way she perceived her life: past, present and future.

But, speaking of the present, Julie hoped Flynn wouldn't freak out too much about her unilateral escapade because this was definitely one absolute that was immutable: it was up to her to find Saddiq and secure his freedom. She realized if she pulled it off it would make the parting of the Red Sea look like a parlor trick. She didn't really believe she could do it; but she felt she could do it, so she had to try. And she hoped Flynn wouldn't interfere. But she knew he was probably well on his way to try and stop her. She had to get a move on.

"Cleo, Caesar," Julie declared resolutely, "time to pay our respects to the mysterious Djinn."

She scooted down the bank, grabbed Caesar's and Cleo's reins and swung up into the saddle. Then she added with a dollop of chagrin, "And let's hope he's more hospitable than some people suggest... Hah!" she yelled and bumped the heels of her boots against Cleo's flanks. Cleo responded enthusiastically, bunching her powerful haunches and launching them up the bank and onto the flats.

The shadows cast from the distant mountains had flooded the wadi by the time Flynn jammed the Humvee to a stop in a cloud of dust on its west bank overlooking the old Soviet tank.

He hopped out and skidded down the incline into the dried-out riverbed.

Signs of their overnighter from three days' previous were still visible, and Flynn could see the fresh signs Julie, Cleo and Caesar had made. He climbed out of the wadi and squinted across the flat-lands.

Flynn stared intently at every bush and shadow and dust devil between him and the vigilant mountains, willing them to be Julie. He was hopelessly desperate to see her, though he held a vivid image of her in his mind's eye. He could see her bright expressive golden eyes, her teasing grin; hear that wonderful breathless catch in her voice that belied her amazing self-confidence, and he could feel those honey-sweet soft kisses that she offered up so generously. Flynn could see and feel it all distinctly. But he was burning to substantiate his imagination with reality.

The outlook was bleak; Julie had vanished into the mountains.

Flynn headed for the Humvee. At least the trail was marked. Hmm, puzzling, he thought. Nobody had followed him out of Veerona and he could see no evidence that anybody had trailed Julie either. He'd been certain that Kurtz would put a tail on them. Was it possible the bastard already knew the location of The Djinn's hideout and was in Bamma, right now, preparing the ambush? One way or another, Flynn could see this thing getting bloody messy... literally.

When he went to the rear of the idling Humvee to get a jerry-can of fuel to replenish the tank, Flynn spotted something peculiar.

An oversized hand-print was plastered on the rear bumper. It was a coagulation of talcum-like desert dust and some kind of goo. He dabbed a finger into it. Axle grease? He measured his hand against it. The print was much larger. WTF? he asked himself. Maybe Jiddah's cousin, Abdul? But Abdul worked on the vehicle a while ago, and I haven't noticed till now?

"Ohh, merde," Flynn cried. He dropped to the ground, shimmied himself under the vehicle.

When he emerged he had a GPS tracking device and fresh grease on his hands. He made a rapid circular pace, head down, rewinding events. He stopped, scoured the surrounding horizon, thinking bitterly: That son-of-a-bitch Bradley planted this thing when we were in Kurtz's office. All that stupid anti-tracking I did and BlackSky knew exactly where I was all along. He shook his head ruefully and yelled at the silent desert, "Shit!" He flung the GPS and it shattered into insignificant pieces against the armor of the derelict tank.

Nothing for it now but to crash the party straight through the front door, get Julie the hell out of there before BlackSky initiated any action. Flynn did not allow himself any thought of what Julie may already have suffered.

"I must have an audience with The Djinn," Julie implored in Pashto to the backs of the two stone-like figures guarding her. No response. She tried again, "Excuse me. Excuse me, I'm speaking to you." Still no response. "I'm looking for the boy from Veerona... Saddiq. Do either of you gentlemen know Saddiq?" No reaction whatsoever. These geezers probably have their hearing-aids turned off, Julie thought scornfully. She'd been trying to get a response for over two hours. Her patience was growing thinner than the material of her abaya.

She had the luxury of impatience. At first she'd been fearful. But it didn't appear these mooks meant to kill her... so far anyway. That could be good news; but it could also be very bad news. Julie tried not to dwell on the terrifying implications of the latter.

She had ridden straight into the pass leading up to The Djinn's complex of caves.

The instant the massive entrance to the main cavern came into view she'd been surrounded and detained. They'd led Cleo and Caesar away, tied Julie's hands behind her back and brought her inside without a word. They'd deposited her into this dark alcove –one candle, near spent– and there she'd remained. Snafu! Julie summed it up to herself. She could really use a shot of absinthe about now. Or better yet, one of Flynn's corn-dog quips.

She sighed loudly in frustration and then took another bash at getting some attention, more forcefully this time, "Excuse me, sirs, my candle is going out." She added in English, "And these frickin' rocks are killing my ass! What does a girl have to do to get a cushion or something?" One of the guards looked over his shoulder and pressed an index finger to his lips. Progress?

Julie's brilliant plan was delivering as much pop as a damp firecracker. It was unfortunate she hadn't been able to convince Flynn to come to the stronghold, she ruminated. Sure The Djinn wanted both of them out of Afghanistan, but at least he'd be willing to discuss things, man-to-man, with Flynn. And besides, she missed him.

She'd known the guy for only a couple of weeks but the hours apart now seemed an eternity. She'd give a pot of gold to hear him say her name with that French-Canadian soft 'J' of his, see that disarming smile, or be held in the warmth and security of his arms. She'd even grown accustomed to his rough edges. Julie decided they didn't need any smoothing whatsoever; they were a big box of all right.

Yes, if Flynn were here he'd be able to negotiate with The Djinn, find out who was holding Saddiq, and where. Her, The Djinn promptly tied up and shuffled off for a time-out... infuriating, paternalistic behavior. Pffft! some demigod he turned out to be. Maybe she'd given The Djinn more credit than he was due.

Julie squirmed angrily and fought against her restraints. They were loosely tied. She reckoned given enough time she might be able to get out of them. But she stopped abruptly.

Julie slowly raised her head and peered between the two guards.

The Djinn, unmistakable in his ghost-white robes and Shemagh head-dress, was stationed in the shadows near the far wall of the cavern passageway, staring at her. Only his eyes were visible, and they just barely in the dim light.

In spite of the situation, Julie again experienced that peculiar pull, that odd attraction to this man... or myth. It was irrational, and perplexing. He averted his eyes and gestured to one of the guards who hurried to his side. They traded hushed whispers.

All of sudden Julie found herself dwelling on those implications of why they had chosen to keep her alive.

Oh, poop! She had fantasized about being captured and ravaged by a Bedouin bandit. But in reality Julie wouldn't be caught live in that fantasy. Or was this another cruel twist of fate? No, please, she silently beseeched the gods. The strange draw she felt toward The Djinn was real, but it was definitely not sexual. The thought of it repulsed her and terrified her in equal measure.

The Djinn had brought a hurricane lamp and a three-legged stool. The guard took them and stood at the edge of Julie's alcove. He said, "The Djinn offers these gifts. If you give your word to remain here," he indicated the alcove, "and be silent, you may have these gifts and your bonds will be removed. We will bring refreshments. Do you agree?" He proffered the stool and lamp.

"Yes, I do," Julie answered immediately, "but, please tell me..."

He cut her off, "And be silent?" He cocked his head, withdrew the offerings.

She nodded passively.

Julie returned The Djinn's disquieting gaze as the guard untied her hands, set down the stool and lantern and departed.

The Djinn lowered his chin –as if he were suffering fatigue, or regret– turned away and faded into the darkness.

Julie could not read him; she had no idea what it all meant; what The Djinn had in store for her. She was left with a sinking feeling in her chest, as though her heart were circling the drain.

The Djinn said, "I pray to Allah that you have come to collect Dahab and your payment of gold, Captain Montague." He spoke as if each word was an enormous effort. He continued, "That you will inform me, you and Dahab are departing Afghanistan. I pray this because your lives are in danger, it is imperative you leave immediately."

Flynn had hammered across the plain and maneuvered the Humvee as far up the mountain pass as possible. He'd killed the ignition –no choice, he had to take his chances with the crappy battery– exited the vehicle, removed his sidearm, tossing it on the front seat in a show of good faith.

The lookouts had appeared instantly and hustled him up the pass and into the cave. He'd spotted Caesar and Cleo in the corral, getting along fine with The Djinn's herd.

He was presented to The Djinn, seated cross-legged where they had last met. But this time The Djinn was alone and he appeared smaller to Flynn, somehow deflated.

Flynn was seated opposite, arms hooked round bent knees. A thick candle and a canteen sat on the carpet between him and The Djinn. Flynn hadn't seen Julie but was greatly relieved to have it confirmed she was here, and that she was alive.

He asked, "And are you the source of the danger to our lives, Djinn?"

"We shall see. First I must know what your intentions are, Captain Montague."

Without hesitation Flynn stated, "I intend to protect Julie McNeill; that's priority one. In addition, I have some noose ends to tie up with BlackSky; after which, I will take up residence in Veerona."

"So you defy my wishes." The Djinn's voice flared briefly, but dimmed into sullen acceptance as he continued, "This is foolhardy, Captain Montague. Tell me why you risk your life, as well as Dahab's."

It remained a puzzle to Flynn why The Djinn was so concerned with his presence in Veerona; especially since he would no longer be with BlackSky. And Julie? Why was The Djinn so bloody determined to see her out of the country? Since Flynn couldn't make sense of it, he reasoned he might as well stick with the truth. He said, "I'm going up against BlackSky because they may be holding Saddiq. Besides, they're traitors and criminals. And I'm remaining in Veerona because I'm in love with Julie McNeill." He grabbed the canteen and took a long swig.

Strange, Flynn thought, I'm in love? It suddenly struck him that never in his life had he felt the compulsion, nor desire, to say those words. But just now they'd rolled off his tongue as natural as breathing. He must declare himself to Julie; he hoped it wasn't too late.

The Djinn did not respond but his eyes appeared to brighten and he seemed to be weighing Flynn's words thoughtfully. So Flynn went on to warn him about BlackSky massing in Bamma and the GPS that had been planted on the Humvee. He told him about Saddiq's abduction; that he was almost certain it was BlackSky, aided by a few locals. He ended by telling The Djinn Julie had come to the hideout of her own volition in hopes of obtaining assistance in securing Saddiq's release.

The Djinn remained silent for a full minute. His head was lowered and he massaged his temples. Finally, he spoke, "Flynn, what I am about to reveal to you must remain a secret. It is a secret you must keep. It is a secret you cannot divulge to Dahab. It could mean her life as well as yours. Will you swear, soldier-to-soldier, man-to-man, to keep the secret as long as Dahab remains in Afghanistan?"

Whatever this big secret was, if it helped protect Julie from danger then swearing was a no-brainer. Flynn said, "Yes, I swear."

The Djinn scrutinized Flynn critically and then began his story:

"First let me assure you we are well aware of the BlackSky intentions to raid our stronghold. We paid their Bamma quislings the customary thirty pieces of silver for this information. And, it was only a matter of time. Whether you or Dahab or the traitors from Bamma led them to us is of no consequence. It is Allah's providence: this confrontation will come to pass; after tomorrow BlackSky will no longer exist.

"As for the boy, Saddiq? Yes, BlackSky has him and has used him as a pawn in this game. And make no mistake: he is a pawn, Flynn; his life is meaningless. Many lives will be forfeited, and transformed, before Afghanistan is free, free of the Taliban, free of the coalition, free of the venal government."

The Djinn went on to tell Flynn that his men were preparing to escape into the west, over the mountains. Yes, they would relish a set-piece battle with BlackSky, but when the air attack from the coalition forces was unleashed, no one would survive.

"The coalition forces?" Flynn said incredulously.

The Djinn nodded and raised his palm. He told Flynn that he had highly-placed friends in the coalition-backed Afghanistan government. They had told him that the coalition top brass was looking to rid themselves of Kurtz and BlackSky. They too were aware of the illegal activities that included arms and drug dealing, extortion, torture and murder. The Djinn said he had instructed his government contacts to reveal the location of his stronghold to the coalition and inform them of the impending confrontation with BlackSky. He knew the coalition would take the opportunity to destroy both bothersome groups. The Djinn ended by quoting Shakespeare, "'Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war'."

Flynn allowed that thought to sink in for a minute, and then he said, "Let me get this straight. You're setting yourself up as bait to get the coalition forces to wipe out your competition in the drug trade: BlackSky... who was contracted by the coalition in the first place. And the Afghanistan government –that was put in place by the coalition forces– is assisting you. And you're using proceeds from opium sales to fight the Taliban, and the coalition, and the corrupt government."

"Yes, Captain Montague, that is correct. In Afghanistan few things are as they first appear. Friend and foe; reality and myth; Heaven and Hell; life and death... you will discover quite well there is trifling difference."

"Sweet jeezus. That is one helluva secret, Djinn. But why are you telling me this? And why mustn't Julie McNeill know?" Flynn took another drink, trying to wash down the confusion.

When he'd envisioned Julie riding into the eye of a shit storm, Flynn had no idea how effed-up the situation would actually get. If The Djinn was telling the truth –and Flynn had no reason to believe otherwise– then all hell would rain down upon them when the coalition came in. He had to get Julie, take care of business, and then get the fuck out of this whacked-out place.

"That was not the secret, Captain," The Djinn said drily.

He retrieved the candle between them and raised it to eye-level, it guttered briefly. With his free hand The Djinn slowly unraveled his Shemagh head-wear, and removed it.

"Jack McNeill!" Flynn blurted.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. But there was no mistaking the gold-colored eyes, fair freckled skin, and red hair. The Djinn was Julie's father! Oh my good God, Julie, was Flynn's first coherent thought. Then questions, answers and more questions inundated Flynn's boggled mind. He was struck speechless except for, "Jack McNeill?"

The Djinn –Jack McNeill– answered this and the unspoken questions. "Yes, Flynn, I was Jack McNeill. Miraculously, he was thrown clear in the explosion that killed Julie's and Jiddah's mothers. It was Allah's will.

"My old Mujahedeen comrades tossed one of the Taliban bombers into the fiery wreckage and took Jack McNeill across the eastern border where he was born again as The Djinn. I returned to protect and free the people of this province. Someday The Djinn will free all of Afghanistan."

Flynn noted Jack McNeill was speaking of himself in the third person. It was apparent he believed his Jack McNeill self was gone and he was occupying The Djinn persona only temporarily... at the whim of Allah? The poor bugger's sanity must've taken a serious hit from the IED explosion; he's bloody-well daft, Flynn told himself. But he questioned nonetheless, "But why have you hidden yourself from your daughter? Julie worships you, she's alone."

The Djinn put down the candle and began to replace his Shemagh.

Flynn detected shadows of sadness clouding his golden eyes. But by the time his Shemagh was secured they were clear, and decisive. The Djinn said, "The one called Dahab will leave this place. She is khariji, she disrupts village life. I have protected her from the fundamentalists in Veerona but that will soon change: I will no longer be able to watch over her. And if Dahab were to see The Djinn she would believe her father can return. This will not come to pass, Jack McNeill is gone. But I ask you this, Flynn Montague: Without her father, is Dahab alone in this world?"

There was no hesitation in Flynn's response, "As long as I draw breath Julie McNeill need never be alone, sir. I pledge this, unconditionally."

"That is what I believed to be the truth, Flynn. I have many sources, and unlimited resources. I know your life narrative as well as any man can know another's. And I have observed you here in Afghanistan. You are the only one who can take Dahab from this land. For her safety and happiness I request you do this, in all haste. BlackSky will arrive tomorrow. The coalition onslaught will follow closely."

Flynn assured The Djinn he would slay dragons to protect Julie. But he tap-danced around an actual promise to take her out of Afghanistan. He had already told Julie he was staying, and she certainly had no intention of leaving. And if the coalition meant to eliminate BlackSky, he might not be around to keep any promise.

The Djinn appeared satisfied, but it was hard to tell. He ordered Flynn to be taken to Julie's alcove, and allowed privacy.

Julie felt as though they'd been separated for months.

She sprang into Flynn's arms and wrapped hers tightly round his neck. She pushed his cap off his head and kissed him ravenously. For minutes they traded breathless devotions and adolescent-like vows between long, hungry kisses.

Julie buried her face in the Buff round his neck and breathed in his scent. It was warm and musky, like ripe mangoes. She loved it. And she couldn't help notice that Flynn was acting extraordinarily affectionate. He was holding her lovingly and protectively, like he thought she was going to break, or evaporate. He'd probably seen Little Eden. She was grateful for his empathy, it helped.

Finally, once they'd emerged from that private world of lovers, Julie righted the stool and sat. Flynn knelt at her knees holding both her hands while he told her about BlackSky gearing-up nearby in Bamma; the GPS device on the underside of the Humvee; his meeting with The Djinn; the crosses and double-crosses; and the impending confrontation with BlackSky and the coalition. Flynn said nothing about The Djinn's true identity but he did tell Julie that The Djinn warned him to leave this place before BlackSky and the coalition forces arrived.

Most of this was of scant interest to Julie. She was becoming inured to the trickery and betrayals of the war in Afghanistan. The senseless destruction of her wormwood plants had been the final straw. She was focused solely on immediate concerns now, the things she could latch onto, the things she was sure of: her love of Flynn Montague, and her responsibility to Saddiq. So it was Flynn's final statement that had captured her attention. She protested, "But, Flynn, we can't leave. Not till we find Saddiq and free him from Kurtz." She sat upright and searched his eyes. She frowned accusingly, "Right?"

He didn't immediately respond and Julie got the impression Flynn was mentally arranging a row of negative ducks. She folded her arms across her chest, cocked her head and repeated more assertively, "Right?"

Flynn exhaled, bowed his head and his shoulders relaxed, then he looked her in the eye again. "Roger that," he capitulated. "But we won't be getting any help from The Djinn. He and his crew are making an exit-stage-rear to whatever in hell lies on the other side of these mountains. Tomorrow, when the coalition bombards the stronghold, their bombs will be doing nothing but makin' gravel."

"Hmm, I expected more from The Djinn," Julie reflected, but then continued confidently, "Anyway, what's our strategy?" She had not even a sliver of doubt that they'd get Saddiq away from Kurtz and safely back to Veerona. And for some strange reason she still believed The Djinn would be somehow assisting them. And then once Saddiq's safety was no longer a concern, Julie would figure out something that could work for Flynn and her.

"Strategy?" Flynn said, almost chuckling. "My strategy is to kill them before they kill us." He shrugged, shook his head. "No, seriously, all we can do is wait and see what Kurtz does. We don't know if he'll even have Saddiq with him. He only used him, and me, to find the exact location of this hideout. His aim is to liquidate The Djinn, steal his gold and take control of the opium trade. When he finds out The Djinn has escaped he's gonna be some pissed.

"So, I'm not sure what I'm gonna do. I'll have to play it by ear, improvise. Whatever it is, it's gotta be done before the coalition strike; nobody's surviving that."

"Okay," Julie said. "But surely you'll be able to reason with Kurtz. He's a wanker, but he does appear to be a semi-intelligent man."

Flynn drew in his brow, studied Julie's eyes for a moment. He said, "Yeah, right, I'm gonna reason with Kurtz." He took hold of her hands again. "Listen, Julie. I don't suppose there's any way I could convince you to take Cleo and head back to Veerona before the nit hits the grit?"

In answer, Julie angled her head sideways, pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

"No, I didn't think so," Flynn said, duly chastised. "But listen, Julie." He placed a hand on her knee. "This is serious shit. There won't be a silver medal presented following this event. But this is what I do, I've got this. So if you're staying you've got to do as I say."

They both thought about that for a few ticks, and then Julie tipped from her chair and flung her arms round Flynn's neck and squeezed desperately. She wept a few tears of trust and love into his Buff.

Presently, Julie pulled away and with head canted down said, "Um, while we're on the subject, Flynn. I want to apologize for that Delilah move I pulled last night. It was kind of sneaky. I feel a bit guilty."

Flynn lifted her chin. He said, "It was, and you are. But that's okay, 'cause now we're even on the sneaky file." He kissed her. "And by-the-way, anytime you feel inclined to pull that trick again, please, be my guest." He smiled and then took his turn, saying, "To keep the record straight, I've got an apology of my own. You were spot-on about Veerona and The Djinn not being in cahoots with the Taliban. I am sorry I didn't trust your judgment."

Julie flung her arms round his neck again, returned his kiss with a big box-full of her own.

Still, she couldn't ignore the niggling sliver of doubt that had insinuated itself into the pith of her confidence due to that 'silver medal' comment of Flynn's. Kinda scary.