"Thank you for your cooperation."

Noel collected her things and hurried down the pier toward the departure lounge. What could you put in a piece of jewelry that would compromise security?

One moment she was thinking about the brooch. In the next, she was unable to think at all. Just before she reached the waiting area, her brain went muzzy.

Chaos Missing her footing, she would have ended up on the carpet, except that a short, balding man in a tweed sports coat caught her arm. " " Are you all right, Miss? "

"Yes," she managed. "Thanks." Standing very still, Noel sucked in a deep breath. Then, with every ounce of concentration she could muster, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other as she made her way through the doorway toward one of the bucket seats along the wall.

Eyes squeeqxd tight, she sat with her chin in her hands, waiting for the attack to go away. She'd thought-no, she'd hoped-but here it was again.

Damn. She hated this. Hated the feeling of. . chaos.

She'd be okay for hours. A whole day, even. Physically and mentally. She'd tell herself she was finally getting better. Then-slam-bang-it was as if someone had switched on a high-powered broadcast signal and her mind was a satellite receiver.

Noel grimaced. It wasn't a broadcast exactly. There was only one distinguishable word that jumped out of the background noise when the attacks were at their worst.

Chaos

Sometimes she caught the vague suggestion of images But mostly there wassimply the crackling of static. Static that flickered along her brainsynapses like the flickering and bursts of sound from a TV set when thestation wasn't quite tuned in. Static that made it almost impossible tothink.

i qSii . v wii0ation to Abby. She didn't want to hear a scary diagnosis.But that hadn't prevented her from sneaking into her friend's study andthumbing through a bunch of medical books. Her throat had clogged when she'dcome to the material on seizures.

According to the literature, abnormal brain wave patterns and epileptic episodes could be precipitated in a heretofore normal individual by a blow to the head.

However, the symptoms described in the medical texts weren't quite what shewas experiencing. She wasn't having grand mal seizures. At least, nobodyhad found her unconscious and twitching on the floor. And she couldn't callthese episodes petit mal, either. That was where you went into a sort oftrance and snapped out of it in a few seronds.

As far as she could tell, the books didn't cover anything like what washappening to her. Which might be reassuring-if she wanted to believe she wasdoing this to herself. Maybe it woccld all go away if she could hole up insome English country village and relax.

Sitting perfectly still, she silently willed the attack to subside. Onething was becoming all too clear: stress was part of the problem. If shecould only get herself to relax , she'd feel better.

Gradually the strategy worked, and she sighed with relief. All she neededwas to get away. Still, if she didn't feel better by the time she got home,she could go back to the doctor. The man in the tweed jacket kept glancingacross the aisle at her. Sitting up straighter, Noel smiled at him and triedto look as if she were just fine.

Twenty minutes later, the flight began to board.

'h. q tqrr rqvELING On a passport that named him as Frank Jackson, owner ofa small printing business in nauuaqaqvnu, iqraiyiaiiu, waiqcuun;ullSplCuOllSly OlITside the departure lounge until Noel disappeared downthe jetway. Then he, too, boarded, taking his seat eighteen rows behind heron the double-ai sled plane. He'd planned the seating arrangement so that hewouldn't be too close but could still keep an eye on her during the tlight.

After a few noncommittal responses, he managed to discourage any further attempts at conversation on the part of the couple next to him. Instead he bought the earphones the flight attendant offered and pretended to be engrossed in the music program. Sounds from the sixties. The Beatles, The Who, and the Rolling Stones. Funny how the cutting edge in pop music faded to nostalgia Not that he was really paying attention to the music. He could see only the top of Noel's head, but he felt her presence like the heat from a forest fire.

How would she react to him? With a wry grimace, Jason answered his own question: she wouldn't. Because Frank Jackson resembled Jason 7qacharias about as much as a sloppy joe did a gyro sandwich. A heavy disguise on a seven-hour transatlantic flight was a drag, so he'd kept things simple. Contact lenses to lighten his eyes, heavily rimmq gjqqq and lightweight padding around his waist and across his chest to give the appearance of twenty extra pounds. The somewhat sloppy effect was enhanced by the way he'd combed his hair and by the shambling gait he affected when he walked-and at present, by his low slouch in the seat. qutwardly he looked relaxed. Inwardly he'd given up trying to untie the knots clenching his stomach.

He'd spent the past few years conjuring up scenarios and making contingency plans, and they hadn't included lying to the Sovereign about his background or his day-to-day handling of assignments. It was too risky. The man was too good a judge of motives.

It had been bad enough when he'd only been gambling with his own life. Now the stakes had doubled.

He silently cursed the ancient Greek goddesses of fate, who were probably having a good laugh at his expense right now. In the past few months, he'd told himself he was prepared for anything. Then Noel had walked into the middle of the most dangerous game of his checkered career.

He closed his eyes, picturing her sitting innocent and unaware in the rows ahead of him. " He'd known the first time he'd taken her out all those years ago how easy it would be to get her into trouble.

The memory of their first kiss came rushing back to him, as sharp and sweet and dangerous as ever. Smoothtalking Jason Zacharias had started out to seduce naive little Noel Emery. But when he wrapped his arms around her and covered her soft lips with his, the balance of power had shifted subtly. She made his knees week and his hands tremble.

Back then he'd told himself he was doing Noel Emery a favor by running away from her. He'd even convinced himself that he didn't neqd-didn't want-a nice girl like her. After the passion wore off; she'd be boring. And she'd try to make him shape up. Marry her. Get a job so he could support a family.

He'd done a lot of running away since he'd skipped his senior year of high school and enlisted in the marines. But fate had a strange way of weaving you back into the pattern you'd tried to escape.

A shudder careened through his body. What if he had to make a choice? His life or hers? The success of the operation or her life?

"Are you all right?" The voice of the woman next to him filtered though his distress.

With a curt nod he got up and made his way to the bathrooms. He longed to splash cold water on his face, but it would mess up the makeup that lightened his skin color. Instead he stood with his head bowed and his hands rigid on the metal sink, trying to think himself out of this mess. He struggled for the necessary mental discipline , but it eluded him. Dqep in his soul he knew the only way he could avoid the awful trade-offs was if he was very lucky-and if he played things exactly right.

JASON FORCED HIMSELF to eat SOme of the reheated chicken dinner. By the time the flight attendants turned down the lights for the feature video presentation, he was feeling strangely calm. In the dim light, he stood up, stretched and glanced at Noel. Like most of the passengers , she was watching the movie, and he knew from previewing the flick that an engrossing sequence was coming up.

Ambling up the aisle toward the back of the aircraft, he waited his turn, then stepped into one of the toilet compartments. After locking the door, he got out the tiny transmitter he was carrying and held it up in front of the mirror. The casing looked like an extra button for the raincoat Noel had purchased for the trip. It was timed to activate after the plane landed.

When he stepped into the aisle again, the miniature gadget was in the palm of his hand. Instead of heading directly back to his row, Jason made his way slowly up the other side of the plane, halting as he neared Noel's seat. As he'd hoped, she appeared to be absorbed in the movie. In addition, the flight had hit a bit of rough air, which was also to his advantage. As he drew even with the passengers in back of Noel, the seat belt sign flashed on. All he had to do was wait for another lurch of the cabin. Then he pretended to stumble, dropping his glasses case in the process.

"Damn," he murmured, knesling down on the floor beside the seats. When the woman to his right glanced in his direction, he smiled sheepishly and pointed toward the case.

Waiting until she'd returned her attention to the action on the screen, Jason pushed the eyeglass case farther along the floor until it was next to Noel's Ieathel pocketbook. As he retrieved his property, he slid the button deep into the side poqket of the purse. He was betting she wouldn't even find it. If she did, she'd probably assume it was an extra from the raincoat that had somehow gotten misplaoed.

Ar six qN 'rl-q IrtoqG, one hundred and sixty travel weary passengers exited down the jetway at Gatwick, collected their luggage and piled it onto the carts provided As they took the moving sidewalk from the satellite terminal to the brightly lit immigration-and-customs processing area, Jason stayed well behind Noel.

She was wearing black slacks and a long-sleeved, jade green cotton shirt, so it wasn't difficult to keep her in sight.

He was about ten minutes from having his passport inspected when he sensed that something was wrong. Most of the passengers were being checked through after a few routine questions about their reasons for visiting the British Isles and the length of their stay. But the blue-uniformed woman interviewing Noel was taking longer. As he watched with growing concern, she motioned to a supervisor.

The expression on Noel's face told him that she was worried. His own mouth suddenly dry, Jason edged forward , trying to hear the exchange. When the man in front vf him turned and scowled, he sighed and stepped back into line Tbere was nothing he could do but wait and hope for the best. But he wasn't surprised when another official appeared and the two of them escorted Noel off toward a doorway on the other side of the barrier.

Ttq RooM W. 4s SqLL and cold and smelled vaguely of disinfertant. Like the rest of the intake area, it was also brightly lit. There was nothing welcoming or cheerful, however, about the harsh fluorescent glow.

Noel guessed that the guard who closed the door and seated her in a metal clair was about her age. She didn't like the way he moved back toward the door so she couldn't bolt.

Another man who looked to be in his fifties was sitting behind a desk. He had gray hair, a neatly trimmed mustache, and a military bearing that made Noel think of a character actor playing the part of a distinguished Britisb colonel. The name tag on his uniform jacket said Welby. She'd already noted that the younger one was called Fenton.

Noel clenched her fingers in her lap while Welby looked through some papers on the desk and the passport that had been taken away from her. She watched his liands and his eyes wlqile she pq her back against the vertical slats of the metal chair.

If only her brain were working better. But the combination of jet lag and the recent concussion made her head feel as if it were oozing molasses instead of processing thoughts.

Why was she being singled out again? It was as if she were wearing some kind of sign on her back that read I'm Planning To Bomb Number 10 Downing Street Blood pounded in Noel's ears as she waited for Welby to speak. Finally the silence became intolerable. "You can't just hold me here without anyexplanation," she blurted."We simply want to clear up a few points. Miss Noel Emery, is it? ""Yes."A polite enough beginning, but then, the British were notoriously polite.

"Isn't my passport in order?"

He opened the navy blue booklet once again, looked at Noel's picture and ran his thumb over the raised seal. Then he asked where she lived, and she gave the address he could see very well for himself.

"Thank you very much."

They went back through the questions she'd already answered in the immigration hall.

"This passport was issued only two days ago. It's quite unusual to be

traveling on such a recent document."

"That's not illegal." "

" Quite so "

The silenoe lengthened again, and she felt compelled to explain further. " "

I only decided to make this trip at the beginning of the week, so I went down to the State Dq partment and had things expedited. "

"This is emergency travel, then?"

"No, not an emergency. I was asked to do a favor for my uncle's widow."

"Would you mind giving us the details?"Noel skipped the robbery and started with the simple fact of her uncle'sdeath, Flora Marconi's notification about the will, and her subsequent call.Digging into her purse, she got out the address Flora had given her. "I'msupposed to meet her as soon as I get into London. Or call if there are anyproblems." She handeri him a copy of the information she'd been given.

"Well, that's simple enough to verify. We'll get this cleared up straightaway." Welby gave the paper to Fenton , who opened the door and passed it tosomeone in the hall.

My God, Noel thought, the other guard was still lurking outside. But really,she assured herself, there was nothing to worry about. Welby was right: thefacts were easily verifiable. She'd be out of here and on her way in acouple of minutes.

Fenton was gone longer than she'd expected. Instead of sitting and staringat the man on the other side of the desk, she dug out the paperback novelshe'd brought along and tried to concentrate on the words. They swam infront of her eyes, and it didn't help knowing that Welby was sitting acrossthe desk watching her. Still she kept her head bent, grimly stariqg at theprint.

When the door opened again, they both looked up expectantly

"That address is for a furnished town house in South Kensington."

Yes, that was where Flora had said she lived.

"The previous tenant moved out last week, and the pI'operty is still to let."

Fenton delivered the message impassively, but the words brought a sick feeling to the pit of Noel's stomach.

With fingers that had turned clammy, she accepted the paper again and scanned the address. " " Are you sure you have the right house? There must be some mistake. "

"No mistake, miss. I verified the address through the computer system at theCentral London Estate Agent registry. When the property came up unoccupied,I rang up the city police department and requested a visual check. They hada car in the area and were able to report back immediately."

Noel swallowed around the lump that had materialized in her throat. "Did youcheck the phone number?" she asked.

"Certainly. When I identifieq myself, the woman who answered hung up: '

"We can ring up again from here," Welby offered helpfully.

"Yes." With shaky fingers, Noel tried to follow his dialing instructions.It took two tries before she got anything to happen. Then she didn't knowhow to interpret the double sets of honking noises. "Is it ringing?" sheasked, handing the phone to Welby. "Or is that a busy signal?"

He listened. "It's ringing."

She waited tensely through ten or fifteen repetitions.

"Well, it does seem as if we have a problem," Welby said as she gave up and put down the phone.

Noel couldn't meet his eyes. She had a problem, all right. But why? What was going on?

"I think you'd better give us a full account of your contact with this Flora Marconi," Welby said. "it's just what I told you: '

"You might explain why you neglected to mention that your uncle was shot to death."