Noel gulped. "You know about that?"

Welby nodded.

"I see. Is that why you hauled me in here in the first , place? What does customs have to do with a Baltimore murder?"

"We received a tip linking an American traveling under the name of Noel Emery from Baltimore to London with an international smuggling operation. That triggered a check of your recent activities."

"Smuggling! That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Check my luggage."

"We intend to. Every inch of it. And your person, as well."

A strip search? Noel cringed. To mask her alarm, she drew herself up straighter. " " I am an American citizen.

You can't do this to me. " But even as the protest tumbled from her lips, she realized the weakness of her position Last year she'd taken a course in international law. qen an American citizen got into trouble overseas, she was subject to the laws and regulations of the host country The only lucky thing was that she wasn't facing some power-drunk Third World functionary who'd throw her in a cell and keep her whereabouts to himself while he gleefully contemplated bribery and ransom.

"We have probable cause to detain you," Welby said in the calmly rational voice that was driving her crazy. " " I want to speak to the American embassy. "

"After the search. Perhaps we'll find nothing, and you can continue with your holiday-no harm done." His tone of voice didn't support the conclusion.

"Perhaps I'll sue you for false arrest," Noel shot back, the defiance in her voice belying the sick feeling in her midsection.

"This isn't an arrest. No charges have been filed. You're simply being detained for questioning. We'll know soon enough whether anything more is in order."

"Wait. You say you're acting on a tip. Where did it come from? "

"We're not at liberty to divulge that information," Welby said.

Fenton moved in closer behind Noel as if he expected her to run.

The older man stood up. "Come along, then, miss."

"Where.. where are you taking me?" Noel couldn't keep her voice from rising in panic at the end of the question. " " To another facility. "

"But-you can't-" Noel stopped abruptly, knowing that if she tried to say anything else, she'd break down. And she was determined to hold on to that much of her dignity.

Welby draped Noel's coat over her shoulders. When Fenton opened the door, she saw her luggage piled in the hall. The same red-and-blue bag that had given her problems at BWI. And the almost-matching suitcase that she'd borrowed from Abby. She stared at the bags. Was it just a coincidence that she'd been stopped at the start of the trip, too? Or had some sort of warning been issued about her in Baltimore, as well? If that was true, why had they let her leave?

Then an even more sinister thought struck her. What if "Flora" had set her up? But why? " " It will be better for you if you cooperate, " Welby said.

"There's nothing more I can tell you."

Fenton kept a firm grip on her arm. The other man picked up the luggage. The mismatched quartet took a side door that opened onto a parking area for official vehicles.

The sky was overcast, and rain spattered on the blacktop Fenton hurried Noel along to a small blue Vauxhall and ushered her into the back seat. There was a mesh barner between the front and back of the car. The lock clicked as Fenton closed the door and went to stow the luggage in the back. Noel stared at the driver, momentarily confused that he was on the wrong side of the car.

Fenton joined them, and they backed out of the parking place. Noel cringed against the cold plastic seat and watched the rain-streaked airport buildings slide past. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.

But it was.

They merged with a stream of exit traffic onto a six lane highway. It could have been the Baltimore beltway at morning rush hour, except that the vehicles were moving in the wrong direction.

After several miles, they turned onto a secondary road to somewhere called East Grinstead. The lanes were narrow by American standards, and the scenery became more and more rural. For long stretches there was nothing but green fields full of grazing sheep. Noel had assumed her jailers were taking her into the city. Instead, they were heading toward the middle of nowhere. Why?

About a mile past a little village, Noel heard a loud popping sound. Almost at once, the car began to sway. Cursing, the driver slowed and maneuvered toward the shoulder.

"Blowout?" Fenton asked, giving Noel a quick look before turning his attention back to the driver." " Fraid so. " The man brought the car to a bouncing halt, making Noelsuddenly dizzy. She closed her eyes and gripped the hand rest.

"I'll have a look, then."

Noel opened her eyes again to see Fenton had unstrapped his seat belt. He

was reaching for the door handle when a large white vehicle with a flashing light on top pulled up behind them. "Hold on a bit, mate. Looks as if we're in luck. A service lorry's stopping."

As a compact but muscular man wearing gray overalls and a visor cap

approached the car, the driver rolled down the window. "Glad you were behind us." " " Avin' a spot o' trouble, I see. " The newcomer leaned his balding head toward the window.

"Blowout."

"Well, I'm just the chap to put things right." A large hand came up toward

the driver's neck. There was a hissing noise, and the man slumped forward over the steering wheel.

Noel screamed and shrank back against the seat. Fenton grabbed frantically at the door handle. But he never got out of the car. Another hiss, and he joined his companion. Then the hand shifted toward Noel, and all she could see was an ugly little pistol flattened against the palm.

Chapter Four.

Noel stared uncomprehendingly as the man's hard expression evaporated.

"Just in the nick of time! Did those bloody coppers mess you about?" he

asked.

She gaperl at him.

"Come on, love. We're getting outa here while the getting's good: '

Still she shrank away. "

" You shot them. "

"They're just grabbing a snooze." The lorry driver had up his little weapon."Tranquilizer gun."Noel tried to make sense of what was happening. A few moments ago she'd been in the custody of the customs sqrvice. Now her guards were out cold.

"You-you're rescuing me?" , "Right. I'm here to make sure nothing happens to you: As he spoke, he unlocked the back door of the car.

When Noel hesitated, he gestured impatiently. "Come on, then ."Noel didn't want to get any closer to him. But she hadn't liked beinghustled away from the airport, either, or being locked in the back of thecar. Stepping out on the shoulder of the road, she steadied herself with a hand against the door and looked uncertainly from her res cuer to his truck." " Why are you doing this? How do you even know who I am? ""Well, love, we had a man at customs lookin' out for you. He got on the horn as soon as they took you out of the building." " " Why? " she repeated. He smiled disarmingly. "The stuffed shirts are a bit dim when it comes to what you can bring into the country But my employer has a proposition that could make you a very wealthy woman, if you'll just give us a few hours of your time."

"" Your employer? Who is that? ""Mr. Montgomery. He's very anxious to meet you and have a look at the information you're carrying."

"Information I'm carrying?"

"You're a cagey one, you are."

Noel's head was spinning. " " The man you work for arranges to have customs

agents tranquilized? "

"Better than arguing with them over a technicality."

"But-"

"I can answer your questions on the road. Let me get your kit from the boot." Reaching inside the car, he pulled the key from the ignition. Then he sauntered around to the rear, opened the trunk and took out Noel's luggage.

In growing alarm, Noel scanned the rolling green countryside and the stretch of road. In the far distance was a vehicle, and she could see a church spire. But the only living things in the immediate vicinity were a straggly flock of black-faced sheep. At least the customs service would have a record of her being detained and taken away. If she went off with this man, she could disappear without a trace.

Noel swallowed, feeling as if she'd stepped from real life into a James Bond film. She remembered what happqed to so many of the women in those movies. They ended up dead.

"Wait a minute. I haven't agreed to anything," she protested. "Who is this Mr. Montgomery? And what's his business?"

"I told you, I'll explain on the way." He was beginqq ning to sound impatient. "Come on. Before somebody k figures out you've gone missing."

What if she refused to go along with his plans?

The truck driver set the luggage on the ground. When he leaned over to unlock the rear door of his vehicle, she saw an oddly shaped implement sticking out of one of his caver all pockets. It had a leather shaft and a bulbous end like a microphone. A blackjack. She remembered it from when a battered wife had brought one into Laura's offioe It wasn't the kind of hardware an honest man carried Looking wildly around for a weapon of her own, she snatched up the red-and-blue carryall by the handle, stepped back to give herself more room, and swung the heavy bag as hard as she could. When she let it fly, it smacked the truck driver hard in the back of the neck, and he pitched forward through the open doors of thq lorry. qroing, she sprinted toward the low stone wall that bounded the closest pasture. She hadn't been very active q she'd gotten out of the hospital, and in moments q she was panting and her chest felt as if it were on fire. An q'y string of curses behind her sent her hurtling over the wall.

Black faoed sheep and lambs scattered, bleating am ' qsly, as Noel came down, her feet sinking into the damp grass. Blood was roaring in her ears, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Behind her, she heard the screech of brakes. The motorist was stopping to find out what had happened, which might give her more time. She didn't think about what she was going to do if she got away. She just ran, her breath coming in knife-sharp gasps, her shoes caked with mud and her side aching. " " Noel, stop! "

She faltered for a moment. The voice sounded American , not like the truck driver. But who knew what accent was his real one?

She didn't dare risk a glance behind her. As she broke through a little grove of trees, she heard someone crashing through the underbrush, gaining on her. She turned and ran for another stone wall a few hundred feet away. Even as she ran, she could feel the remains of her strength ebbing away and a drumming dizziness seeping into her brain.

Chaos Oh, no. No! It was happening again.

But she wouldn't let it get her. She wouldn't!

Gritting her teeth, she forced her mind to focus and lqr legs to keep working. The stone wall shimmered before her like a mirage in the desert. She was almost there. Just a few more steps. She could make it. With every ounce of determination she possessed, she lunged forward. Her hands connected with hard stone, and she vaulted aveq' the ledge. Her legs fleqced as she anticipated another levq1 field. Instead her feet came down on loose stones at the verge of a hill that dropped to a basin below. There was no way to stop her forward momentum. With a scream, she felt herself toppling over the edge.

She hit the bottom with a dull thud and lay motionless , gasping for breath. After a few moments, it registered that she had landed on a pile of leaves and hay that had cushioned her fall.

Pushing herself to her feet, she stood swaying.

"Noel!"

In the next moment, a large male figure was crashing down the side of the hill. Quickly. Recklessly.

Panic rising in her throat, she tried to run. Before she took more than a few shaky steps, large hands clamped down on her shoulders.

A gasp tore from her lips.

Caught. After all that.

"Sweetheart, I'm not going to hurt you: '

She tried to twist away, pounding at his hands and then at his broad chest and shoulders as he turned her around.

"Noel. Stop. it's all right. It's Jason "

The familiar timbre and rhythm of his voice, as much as the urgent grip of his large hands on her arms, gentled her. Yet she was still dazed and unable to process what was happening.

She forgot to breathe as she stared at him, her fingers clenching the gray sweater that covered his torso, her eyes searching his face.

It had been so long.

Or had it? on?

"Jas "