Brian joined him, eager to help if he could. 'Christ, I feel awful.' He stared at the lifeless limb, full of remorse. 'Take one of mine off ... I deserve it.' Brian urged his nephew to take the Stormer from him.

But Rhun's hand was occupied with the dead remains of his arm, until the defunct member gripped hold of Brian's throat. 'Thanks, man, if you insist.'

Rhun left his severed body part to strangle his uncle, and took possession of Brian's weapon to do as he'd suggested.

'Aw, shit!' Brian watched one arm go flying off yonder, whilst the other struggled to release the fingers of Rhun's renegade limb from around his neck. 'You complete bastard!' Brian choked out the words, unable to believe Rhun had actually done it.

'I'll take mine back now, if it's all the same to you.'

Rhun willed the stray part back to whence it belonged, and it let go of Brian as it was sucked back to join its elbow.

'Thank God,' uttered Brian as he witnessed Rhun wiggling the fingers of his reinstated arm, which had instantly mended as good as new.

As this was threatening to turn into a scene from a Monty Python film, Tory knocked Brian out with a blast from her Stormer to put an end to the shenanigans. 'Great!' She scolded her boy who she considered was acting like one today. 'Now how am I supposed to know if it was the effect of the Stormer that put his lights out, or the shock of being dismembered?'

'I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist.' Rhun supressed his amusement, retrieving Brian's arm and returning it to its rightful socket on his uncle's body. He stood up and tried to appease his mother. 'Look, why don't you test it out on me?' Both hands upturned, Rhun raised his brow to invite her response.

A second later, he joined Brian in an unconscious state.

Around about six hours later Rhun came to, but Brian did not show signs of life until closer to ten hours had elapsed. Either way this proved the Stormers did have some effect on their kind, enough to give Rhiannon ample time to escape Doc should she be forced into such a predicament.

All memory of Watarrka would be erased from Rhiannon's memory. Rhun claimed this was a simple hypnotic procedure. He would plant a new identity in her head, so that not even Rhiannon would doubt the alias she'd assumed. Her mission would be set foremost in her mind, but with any luck the proper clothing would prevent Doc from making skin contact with her.

Even if he did, he would be unable to discern for whom she was working. This memory wash would also suspend the recollection of her father's murder at the hands of her target, preventing Rhiannon from any action she might otherwise contemplate upon making Doc's acquaintance.

Rhiannon found the notion of having her mind tampered with in such a manner a little disturbing. But as Rhun would be close by her every step of the way, and as he swore he could restore her memory to its former order within seconds, she agreed to place herself in her brother's hands.

Confirmation of Rhiannon's mission reached Ray through the grapevine on the day scheduled for the attempt. He'd not had the chance to apologise for their little run-in a few days back, and his conscience was starting to get the better of him.

I didn't mean to say that I find her unattractive, he mused as he soldered. She's just a bit young for me, that's all. Then Ray realised he'd joined a whole bunch of wires to the wrong multicore. 'Goddamnit!' He attempted to rip the mistake apart with his bare hands, and only partially succeeded, which made him all the more agitated. 'I don't care what I said, or what she thinks of me! Why should I? It's not like she can get killed or anything? I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen?'

Visions of Rhiannon being drugged, tortured and beaten in the same way as he had been made Ray's blood run cold and the hairs of his body stand on end.

What if Doc charmed her into doing something against her will, like he did everybody else?

'Don't do this to me, Lord. If I fall for this girl, I'll have to stay fallen, and you know I'm not very good at that.'

He'd often passed his quiet moments thinking about Tory, but lately her image had been replaced by that of the beauty who'd made an appearance on Floyd's birthday.

'I can't hide anything from her.' He gripped his forehead with both hands to endure the thought. 'She knows what I'm thinking all the time, what I'm feeling!'

Yet, having dwelt on this worry a moment, Ray considered that such an ability also added a whole new dimension to the concept of making love.

'Well, when you put it that way.' He pondered the notion with a smile. 'Oh jeez!' It dawned on him that Rhiannon was due to depart for her rendezvous with destiny. He scampered out from underneath the Goddess and made haste to Floyd's quarters on the uppermost level of the cavern farthest from him.

Halfway up the stairs in the cavern of abodes, Ray discovered just how unfit he was.

'Hey, Ray.' Rhun gave him a slap on the back on his way past him. 'You really should come to training ... do yourself a favour.'

Using the iron railing to launch himself, Ray managed to grab hold of Rhun's shirt. 'Has Rhiannon left yet?' he inquired between gasps for breath.

'No,' Rhun answered. And before he had a chance to say more, Ray had taken off up the stairs ahead of him.

Typical that he'd pick now to figure out he's in love with her.

Rhun chuckled, finding it amusing. Best be there, then, to explain. He gave chase, scaling two stairs at a time.

Practically everyone was gathered in Floyd's computer room playing with gadgets and reviewing the details of the plan.

'Rhiannon?' Ray inquired of Nick over the babble.

Nick pointed to the observatory, and Ray was away.

'Oi, you can't go in there.' The protest came too late, and Nick wasn't fast enough to beat Ray to the door.

Rhun prevented Nick from continuing the chase further, motioning him to stay put.

Inside the large, dim chamber Ray's pace slowed.

The woman of his dreams was seated with Floyd, listening to last-minute instructions. Ray thought it a sin, the way she filled the white leather catsuit she wore. Her outfit was complete with matching boots and gloves. Her long, fair hair was bound in a loose bun, leaving long, wispy curls to dance round her face. Dark sunglasses shrouded her eyes from view, as her red painted lips sucked on a cigarette.

Hold on. Rhiannon doesn't smoke?

'Out.' Floyd pointed to the door, most annoyed that he'd been interrupted.

'I have to speak with her.' Ray charged forward determined to do exactly that, but Floyd intercepted.

'Not now.'

'Yes, now.' Ray tried to barge his way through, but Floyd held him off long enough for Rhun to secure him in a headlock.

'Who is this then?' The golden-haired beauty dipped her sunglasses to inquire.

'Sorry?' Ray stopped struggling against his captor.

'Rhiannon, it's me.'

She looked him up and down, seemingly delighted to make his acquaintance. 'Well, to my deep regret, you must have me confused with somebody else.'

Ray was dumbfounded. It wasn't just Rhiannon's looks that had changed. Her whole demeanour absolutely oozed confidence, money, and sex appeal.

'What have you done to her?' His mood darkened as he turned to Floyd. 'You're not sending her to Doc like that!' Rhun started dragging him toward the door, and Ray went kicking and swearing. 'It'll be like a lamb to the slaughter!'

Rhun gave the order that locked the door between them and the observatory before he let his captive go.

'Chill out will you ... the situation is under control.'

Pulling his shirt into shape and pushing his glasses back up on his nose, Ray turned around to demand some answers. 'Why doesn't she recognise me?'

Rhun was poised, ready to topple Ray, for he looked as if he might explode at any second. 'We found it necessary to erase certain details of her life from her conscious memory, so that Doc cannot acquire knowledge of our whereabouts from her in the same fashion he located you through my mother.'

'You sick bastards! You're no better than the damn CIA!'

He took a swing at Rhun, but a blast from a Stormer stunned him and Rhun caught him up before he hit the floor.

'Might be best for him to sleep through this.' Tory put the weapon down, motioning for Rhun to put Ray on the sofa.

The vague throbbing sensation in his head was gradually broken up by muffled echoes of chattering voices. Hazy shadows formed into people as he dared to open his eyes into a squint. Where was he? The communications room.

What the hell was he doing here? Rhiannon!

Ray found himself seated bolt upright, eyes wide open and head swimming from the sudden movement.

Most of the regular gang were gathered around Floyd's monitors, while Floyd gave instructions into a phone. 'Okay, that's it. Now replace the crystals, just as I showed you.'

Everyone was paused, breathless, waiting for confirmation that the given task had been completed.

'What's happening?' Ray snuck up from behind and gave everyone quite a fright.

'Jesus, Ray.' Tory whacked his shoulder. 'What are you doing awake already?' She knew she should have set the Stormer on a higher amplitude.

'Why was I knocked out in the first place?' He thought this was a more apt question. 'Where is she?'

More interested in the welfare of her children than Ray, Tory hushed him to silence and her eyes returned to the blank monitor screen.

'Good lad.' Floyd gave a sigh of relief, as did everyone. 'You should be right to hook up ... I'll advise when we have audiovisual.'

'Tory.' Ray grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her aside.

'Alright, damn it.' She cursed his persistence in a whisper. 'Doc is on a flight from London to Paris.

Rhiannon, who is in first class with him, has a fibre optics microcamera and a minute high-gain microphone built into the watch she is wearing. These are connected to a tiny transmitter hidden in her suit.

Right now, Floyd is speaking with Rhun, who is concealed in the nose carriage bay directly beneath her, where the plane's radio and electronics ranks are located. By changing the crystals in the planes third back-up transmitter, he'll -'

'Change the frequency of the transmission.' Ray comprehended their plan. By doing this, not even the pilots of the aircraft would realise someone else was utilising their satellite link-up to communicate. It was just like using a completely different channel.

A cheer drew Tory back to the monitors, where an image of Doc had appeared.

'So, Miss Devereux, what takes you to France?' His voice came through as clear as a bell.

'Business and pleasure,' Rhiannon informed him.

'My father asked me to take a look at an estate down Monaco way, after I visit a friend of mine in Paris who just got engaged.'

'He's found her already.' Nick was most impressed that all was going to plan.

'Like a bee to the honey pot.' Floyd grinned.

'Confirm visual and audio feed ... sit tight, I'm out.'

Floyd hung up the phone, most annoyed to observe that Doc already had his laptop out and online. He had hoped they'd catch Doc punching his code-key into the computer on film. 'I sure hope Rhiannon psyched the code out of him, because we sure as hell missed it.'

After some polite and rather aimless chitchat, Rhiannon brought the conversation round to his computer. 'That is a rather impressive little PC you've got there. I surf the net myself, though I find the virtual-net far more appealing.'

'Yes, good!' Floyd thought her approach subtle enough to avoid suspicion.

'I'm very glad to hear you say that, since I own shares in Cybercom.' Doc boasted in a shy fashion.

'Really!' She sounded most impressed. 'We must swap addresses then. Perhaps we could arrange to meet in cyber-space somewhere?' She pulled an electronic notebook from her bag that was the size of a make-up compact. With the press of a button, it ejected a card with all her relevant net information on it. Floyd had arranged this data specifically to suit their purpose.

'A handy little gadget.' Doc looked the card over, breaking into a grin of approval. 'The Chameleon, hey?'

'An appropriate handle if I do say so myself.'

Rhiannon jested. 'I can never decide on the right cyber-image you see, so I just keep changing it.' Her fingers sat poised ready to type. 'So, by what handle do you travel?'

With a look of regret that he was not so well-equipped as she, Doc reached inside his jacket and produced a card.

'Oh my god!' she announced upon viewing it, overwhelmed and somewhat embarrassed. 'I knew I recognised you ... you're Doc Alexander of the International Crisis Agency.' She played up her surprise.

'Please, you must forgive my ignorance, I don't really follow politics. But I know you've helped a great many countries in need.'

He waved off her adulation. 'That's my job, I -'

'Sorry to disturb you, sir ...' Doc was interrupted by one of his associates. 'The pilot of the plane is asking to meet you.'

Doc frowned, obviously thinking the request trivial.

'It won't take a second.' His associate insisted rather adamantly.

Doc stood, closing his laptop and placing it in his vacated seat. 'Excuse I.' He headed off towards the cockpit.

His associate retrieved the laptop to take it with them. 'Madam.' He nodded to her and followed his patron up the aisle.

This disturbed Floyd, hence he hit speed dial on the phone to speak with Rhun. 'They're onto us.' He hung up.

'Now what!' Ray began to panic as they lost visuals.

Floyd shrugged. 'We wait.'

Upon entering the compartment that separated first-class from the cockpit, Doc confronted his security team that was stationed there. 'This had better be good.'

His righthand man, Stanley Brennon, closed the door and handed Doc his computer. 'Our scanner tells us that your lady friend is wearing a transmitter.'

'Don't be ridiculous! Where the hell do you think she's hiding it? They don't make transmitters that small.'

'It's been switched off,' the man behind the scanner advised.