Leeteuk pointed to the console in front of her. “You know how to download the files, right?”

Sora shrugged, uncertain how much knowledge she will reveal. “Yes. So?”

“I need you to access these numbers, open the files and copy everything.”

Sora shifted uneasily. “Suppose the documents are protected?”

Leeteuk showed her the little black book, phone numbers and codes. “It’s important, Sora. Just do it for me, please. I don’t have time to explain things. You have at least an hour to work on it… maybe. ”

“An hour ‘til what?”

“Till the resistance sabotage the power plant. All electrical power in Kuwait will cease. So hurry.”

Ceasar stretch and sank to the floor near Sora’s feet. Leeteuk left, locking her and the dog inside the abandoned room.

Sora found a box of rewritable cd’s and settled at the console, jumped to the previous menu and scanned it. As her fingers flew across the keyboard typing Leeteuk’s access number, she told Ceasar, “It’s good I learned to type via-touc, not hunt-and-peck.”

Ceasar yawned, clearly unimpressed. Sora typed in the transfer protocol, copying only heaven know what. She was into somebody’s mainframe and the Gofer begun shuffling file after file, telling Sora when it’s time to insert another disk.

Every time the Gofer asked for a password, she key in the next code on the black notebook. It gave her access to the next file. And she hadn’t the foggiest idea what in the name of creation she was copying. It took 7 disks to copy everything and 7 more to make back-ups. According to the wall clock, she had thirty minutes. Staving off her own anxiety, she made her own copies, then sat his hacker little brother could have done this in his little office back in Anaiza. But then again, maybe the kid couldn’t if the international trunk lines weren’t working.

When she finished, she packed every set in separate boxes. Then she tried calling home. It was a futile effort. No matter what international code she dial, the line cropped up dead. “Dart!”

Then she wondered if she could call anywhere in Kuwait. Slapping her forehead for her own stupidity, she search room for a telephone directory. The city’s Yellow Pages gave her the number to the hangar.

Before she could get back seat and call Kang Industries, Kuwait, the lights went out. The computer screens -out. The subbasement turned into a tomb. Ceasar woofed. Sora stumbled on chairs and felt her way back to the dog. She collapsed onto the swivel chair, breathing hard, frustrated and angry. So much for bright ideas acted on too late!

Ceasar complained noisily until Leeteuk opened the door and shone a bright flashlight into the gloom. Sora grabbed Ceasar’s leash, Leeteuk’s black book and the disks, and hurried to him, anxious to get upstairs to the daylight.

In the soundproof basement, she hadn’t heard the explosions. On the ground floor, she heard plenty of the aftershocks and saw the effects. All the people in the embassy yards had rushed to the doors, trying to get inside. People inside were trying to get out.

It was bedlam. Harried staff members couldn’t deal with the sudden surge of fear incited by the power failure. People upstairs flooded downstairs. The crush bordered on a stampede. Leeteuk passed through the crowds, calming people, telling everyone it was the resistance working. He never let go of Sora;s hand.

She noticed Saudi women working alongside Saudi men at a frantic pace. None wore anything remotely resembling her abba. One haired female clerk regarded Sora with a longing look of envy. That floored sora. What could there possibly be about this getup that caused any woman to feel envy for it? She felt like anun, or worse, someone dresses for the final day of judgement.

Because she was dawdling, Leeteuk again noticed Sora’s unchecked curiosity. This time, he barked an Arabic order that made the dog heel and look alert.

Sora had had just about enough of Leeteuk’s behaviour. They were safe in the embassy. She started to protest, then the Saudi ambassador burst out of his office, a stream of assistants in his wake. The mood in the embassy shifted dramatically.

The ambassador shouted for the newly arrived delegation. His mottled face regained some of its color when Minister Jaleel stepped forward. Spouting his news, he urge the diplomats into his office. Leeteuk hurried off with the delegation, deserting Sora.

The lights surged as emergency generators kicked into overdrive. An audible sighed of relief swept the reception room. The air conditioner resumed circulating air and talking returned to its previous frantic pitch.

It took Sora several minutes to catch the gist of what had happened, which she gleaned from two businessmen who had cornered a frantic secretary and demanded an explanation. 

“Hussein has annexed Kuwait. From this day hence, Kuwait no longer exists. We have twenty-four hours to empty our embassy. As of dawn tomorrow, all Iraqi borders will be closed. No one will leave the occupied territory. No one without diplomatic status will be allowed to enter. All Kuwaiti citizens must surrender their documents and be issued official residence documents of Iraqi Province 19.”

This message spread like wildfire throughout the English speaking part of the throng. Sora quirked and eyebrow, reconsidering the run on somebody’s computer record she’d just made. Leeteuk must have known what was coming. Like any smart businessman, he was cutting his losses, salvaging what he could. She couldn’t blame him. In his situation, she’’d have done the same.

She wandered through the impossible crowd, as lost and disoriented as the next person. It amazed her that the Saudi’s have taken in so many people who aren’t their fellow countrymen.

A veritable United Nations was crammed within its protective walls. Every last soul had reached the point of panic, especially people with young families in tow.

“We are arranging for planes.” She listened as an aide soothed a very worried Australian. “We are trying very hard, please understand.”

“Surely something can be done more quickly,” the man argued.

“It takes time to make travel arrangements.”

“It’s been days. Yesterday, Hussein was withdrawing. Today, his annexing the country! How many lies do you expect us to swallow?”

“I am sorry you are upset. We are all upset. We are doing everything we can to evacuate all of you. Saudi commercial flights have been severely restricted. Kuwait Air has cease to operate. The airport suffered great damage. My government is trying to arrange for additional airplanes. There is nothing more I can do. You must wait your turn.”

But they just announced that this embassy must shut down within twenty-four hours. Where will we go? The soldiers are arresting anyone on the streets.”

Another man with a strong Canadian accent joined in, saying, “And shooting those who resist arrest like cattle.”

“Gentlemen,” the aide said patiently, “at this particular moment, all Kuwait citizens are being force to surrender their birth certificates pending reissue of Iraqi citizenship papers. Those of us, you included, safe here inside this embassy, stand a much better chance of retaining our integrity as well as our nationality than the Kuwait. There are fifty-three children and twenty-one pregnant Saudi women who must be evacuated first. We are doing the best we can.”

“Well, it is damn well not good enough.” The Canadian expressed the frustration of all the waiting masses. “This embassy could afford to buy dozens of airplanes.”

“No doubt Saudi Arabia can but all the planes it desires,” the aide snapped. “There are none for sale in Kuwait. Airplanes do us little good when every pilot with good sense has already departed the country. Best you start praying for buses.”

The young Saudi aide ended the discussion on that chilling note. His dishdasha fluttered around his ankles as he stalked away. Sora hastened after the young man, catching him at the bottom of a wide stairway. She tugged on his sleeve, stopping him on the first step.

“Excuse me,” Sora spoke quietly. “I just heard what you said to those gentlemen. I am a pilot and I have a plane, a DC-7, at the airport. It can carry one hundred and five adults. I might possibly have one other smaller jet that will safely transport ten.”

As the aide turned, his eyes widened in disbelief. By the expression on his face, he had just seen Lot’s wife, unsalted, gifted with the power of speech.

Sora brought her fingers up to move her abba aside. She wasn’t exposing any more than her forehead and her eyes, really. “While I cannot fly both planes at the same time, I know of two possibly three other pilots who could assist moving these people to Saudi Arabia.”

The man looked as if he was about to faint. “Aesfae, isaaeyaedea. Mae mea’ nea haeazea?”

“I’m afraid you will have to speak in English.” Sora pulled aside the corner of the veil that Leeteuk had tucked over her face. “I do not speak Arabic.”

“You do not…?” the aide flushed as red as a rose. Sora couldn’t see what his problem was. “Madam, you must cover your face! You are outside the presence of your husband and his family.”

Sora chose not to shake the pompous little jerk by the scruff of his neck. He couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one, if that.

“I’m not…” Sora almost said “married,” but corrected herself in the neck of time. She was married, technically, though that marriage wasn’t three hours old. “I’m not about to be put off just because I am a woman, young man.”

“You must cover your face, madam.”

“Don’t insult me. I am telling you that I own a plane capable of emptying this embassy over the next twenty-four hours. Now do you want to go to your superiors with a solution that will earn you a commendation from King Fahd, or do you want me to report you to the nearest ranking official for being rude beyond redemption and insulting a princess?”

Sora wondered if she was pushing her luck with that last, very bold assumption. She didn’t think so. Leeteuk was a prince. That made her titular princess in somebody’s book.

“You are American?” the aide sputtered.

“Ah, you are quick,” Sora said sharply. “Are you going to help find a solution to our mutual dilemma? Or will you continue to lecture me on the finer points of proper Muslin dress?”

“Come this way, please, but I beg you, cover your face. You will cause much trouble if you do not. Tempers are short today.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Sora muttered. She tucked the tail of black silk in place under her eyes and followed the young man through the crowded lower rooms. “Can you find someone with the authority to get my plane cleared for take-off with the Iraqi in-charge of the airport?”

“Yes. It can be done. I will see to it immediately.”

“Fine. Thank you.” Sora’s hand dropped to idly scratch the head of the loyal dog at her side. “While you do that, is there someplace I might get a cup of coffee?”

“This way. I will take you to the women’s quarters.”

“No, you won’t.” Sora had tucked her veil back over her face, but her eyes remained fastened o the young Saudi official in a dominating stare. “I will take my chances in the open. I trust you Saudi as far as I can throw you. You lock up a woman too easily. Take me where I can discretely observe those Englishmen.”

“This is terribly improper.” On the second floor overlooking the common hall, she was given a seat in an alcove abutting a small balcony. “How is it that you have access to a plane of your own, lalla?” the aide asked.

“Easily.” Sora saw no reason not to answer the young man’s question. “My father is the president of Kang Air. We keep a hangar in the Kuwait airport and have several permanent employees in the country.”

“I see.” The young man frowned. “Is your father in Kuwait?”

“Yes, though I haven’t seen him for more than a week.”

“I assume that you have made this dangerous offer as a means to get him and yourself out of the country, as well?”

Wisely, Sora opted for diplomacy. “You may assume what you like. I am here because my husband brought me with him.”

“Yes, I see. And these planes of your company, you have the authority to dispose of them?”

“In the present circumstance, my father will avidly support any decision I make that benefits the most people.”

“The odds are, he has been taken hostage. Many Americans have.”

Sora was certain a flash of angry paint must have crossed her eyes, for the young man issued a sincere apology and backed off.

Too many people, all trapped, and the borders closing in one day. It was too much to deal with effectively. No wonder there was panic.”

She couldn’t help being selfish, hoping to find a way to get to the airport and her father and Jack. She had better odds of getting into the Kang hangar with the Saudi influence and diplomatic immunity. That brought her back to Leeteuk. She had promised him an airplane – the Vixen One – to get his family out of the city. She had to do both.

“One more thing.” She touched the aide’s sleeve, detaining him. I must get a message to my husband, Leeteuk Park Haji Haaris. He is in a meeting with the ambassador.”

All the color in the young man’s face drained into disdasha. “You are the wife of Sheik Leeteuk Park Haji Haaris?”

What an odd reaction, Sora thought. “Yes, I am. Does that make a difference?”

Apparently it did. The man pressed his palms together and half bowed to her, muttering in Arabic. “Sheik Leeteuk will have my head when he hears about this. I dare not risk angering him.”

“Don’t be an . Sheik Leeteuk knew what he bargained for when he married me,” Sora said smartly.

“This is terrible, terrible,” the Saudi exclaimed. He bowed. “Please, Issaeyaedea Haaris. Forgive my impenitence. A servant will see to your comforts immediately.”

I won’t be sequestered.” Sora told him very firmly.

“No, no. Everything will be as you wish, lalla.”

Lalla huh? Sora grinned under the veil. She rather liked the immediate deference being Sheik Leeteuk’s wife afforded her. Had she known she’d have gotten that reaction, she’d have done some name dropping sooner.

A servant brought her coffee and cakes, small sandwiches and lemonade. Ceasar snuffed inquiringly at the bounty of appealing food. As Sora fed him a finger sandwich, several children watched her from the doorway of a nearby room. They were a solemn lot for kindergartners. Huge fearful eyes and grim little mouths, they dares not step past the threshold where they were contained.

Sora sat in her isolated domain in a crowd, the dog regally guarding her feet. Ceasar surveyed everything, watching, alert and threatening in a rather mysterious way. When a servant came and cleared away the table, Sora silently nodded to his polite inquiries.

Shortly, the young Saudi aide returned with an older, more august-looking personage whose dark eyes were troubled and suspicious. A chair was brought forward for him to sit opposite her at the table.

“Forgive the delay, Issaeyaedea Haaris. Hamid has explained to me your offer. You have a plane, do you?”

“Yes, I covered that with your assistant.”

“Hamid gave the bare details, and I have taken the liberty of verifying what I could. Hence, my delay in coming to you to discuss this more thoroughly.”

“Isn’t time working against that? You have less than twenty-four hours to evacuate the embassy. Correct?”

“That is correct. I have just finished the telephone conference with the Iraqi military commander at the airport. He will allow the purchase of only one plane in the Kang hangar, the DC-7. His price is high, but he has agreed that the plane maybe loaded with the citizens we are sheltering within our walls. I need to know your company’s value for that plane, Issaeyaedea Haaris.”

“You want to buy it?” Sora said in surprise.

“We must buy it. If it is not owned by the Saudi government, the Iraqi’s will not allow it to depart the airport. They have confiscated all personal and real property in Kuwait. Only diplomatic missions are excluded.”

“They can’t do that.” The secretary’s statement have touch raw nerve.

“What an occupying army cannot do is a moot point in our discussion, Issaeyaedea.”

“Dammit, my company has a very heavy investment here,” Sora grumbled. What next?

“There have been heavy financial losses incurred in recent days. It is my conservative opinion that there are more to come. Can you put a price on your company’s DC-7?”

Sora’s head moved in a negative motion. “No, no really. Where I come from, when someone wants to make a gift for a good cause, there are no strings attached. Nobody back home is going to argue the price if it means my father and godfather can get out of this country. It is an old plane, still airworthy, but that’s about the scope of it. Ten dollars will do, to my mind. You offer what you think the Iraqis will accept and I can live with that.”

Secretary Devir relaxed somewhat against the back of his chair, his eyes just a little less cold. “You do not wish to make a profit?”

Sora looked to the small, scared faces in the nearby doorway. “I wish to get those children out of here and I regret that I don’t have something better to offer you than a battered old company workhorse to do it.”

The attaché followed her gaze and nodded in quiet agreement. “Issaeyaedea Haaris, if your plane will take these children to my country, it will be the finest plane Saudi Arabia has ever purchased. Now, I must go and interrupt the ambassador’s meeting to speak with Sheik Leeteuk Haaris. I must have his permission as well.”

That rang Sora’s internal alarm. She leaned forward and put one hand on the crisp sleeve of the attaché robe. “Don’t do that,” she said insistently.

“But I must, Issaeyaedea. You cannot leave this embassy without your husband’s written permission. Nor we could not complete this sale without his consent. We will need you present when we enter the Kang hangar. The adjutant at the airport informs me that the hangar is barricaded from the inside by your company’s loyal workers. With a typical defiance, they have refused to surrender to the occupation. There is apparently an old man within the building who, when threatened, has shouted several threats remembering the Alamo.”

Sora tightened all over with that bit of news. “Uncle Jack,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “That’s just like him. Leave it to him to do such a thing. “I can get us in. Set your mind to rest. As to telling my husband what I’m doing, he’ll just look at you and wonder why you are being so provincial. We came here for the express purpose of getting as many people out of war zone as possible. He is more liberal. I don’t need his permission to do such a thing. You are only going to waste more precious time.”

The man smiled then, for the first time. A wry as a smile, but it did lighten his grim expression.

“You have misunderstood again the point, Issaeyaedea. We are doing this the Saudi way. The Iraqi in-charge would think it most suspicious if you do not have written permission from your husband in hand.”

“Fine, that’s not a problem. Give me a piece of paper and I will write it myself.”

“I cannot do that.”

“You think the Iraqis know my husband’s signature of his handwritings?”

“Lalla, it is not our custom to do such dishonesty.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Sora exclaimed. “Leeteuk’s meeting could last for hours. He’ll be furious if I cause an interruption for such a trivial thing as a letter of permission. Frankly, sir, I don’t take that lightly. He has a terrible temper when he is provoked. Your aide seems to know that.

“Why would you want to risk offending a powerful man when the options are so obvious,” she continued. “The thugs at the airport probably cannot even read. Think of those children. My plane will only hold a hundred or so people. How many flights will it take to empty this building? Which of these people are you willing to sacrifice for want of a signature? Draw up the permission letter and sign it. Or ask someone else to scrawl a signature upon it. We are wasting time.”

“The Sheik’s integrity will be at issue,” the man insisted. “You do not understand these things, the complexity of them.”

“I understand cowardice,” Sora snapped. “Let us quit haggling and get with the program. Which one of those papers is a bill of sale? Give it to me and I will sign it now.”

Sora put her hand out and received the bill of sale. She examined it and, borrowing a pen, hastily filled in the required blanks that concerned her company. She signed it as an officer of Kang Industries, then shoved the document back to the diplomat.

Reluctantly, he took the signed documents and countersigned, calling his junior forward to act as witness. The young man gave him a large checkbook, from which he carefully wrote out a check and precisely separated the draft from the sheet.

Sora folded the check in half without even looking at it, insert it in Leeteuk’s little black book.”

“Come, Ceasar,” Sora stood and walked determinedly into the children’s room.

The little faces never brightened. Older brothers and sisters held little ones, comforting them. The babies seemed the most discontent. There were some women in the room, black-robed, veiled women who cared for the smallest, kept the littlest ones safe around the hems of their shirts. At the door, Sora turned and looked back at the official.

“Hurry,” she quietly urged. “Every minute we delay risks many, many lives.”

Secretary Devir rose, bowing to her. “As you wish, Issaeyaedea. I will bring your papers and the signature you need.”

How ridiculous! Sora’s mouth twisted wryly beneath the covering veil. It was ludicrous that a sane diplomat would purchase from her a plane, accept her signature on a contract of sale, but needed Leeteuk’s signature to allow her to walk out the embassy doors.

She searched for a discarded shopping bag suitable for carrying her armful of disks. And what was she supposed to do with them and Leeteuk’s wicked little black book? Take them with her, she supposed.

Shortly, the embassy employees began preparing the children for departure. Cars were brought to the doors of the building. Sora did not stay long watching. A young official escorted her to a private car and she was sent to the airport with three Saudi soldiers. The car went straight to the orange-and-white hangar, stopping very near the steel door on the side.

The driver climbed out and strode to the door with his rifle in hand. He knocked and waited. Sora watched, chewing on the corner of her lips. Ceasar growled, putting his paws on the seat to lean his slobbery head to the closed window, watching. He quivered from one end to the other, whined and looked back at her.

Someone has come to the door and was arguing with the Saudi.

“I must get out.”

Sora’s announcement brought the rest of her guards and Captain Nassif to their feet at once. While one soldier opened her door, the other soldier and the captain formed a flank around her.

“Please, allow me,” She moved the soldier aside, and pounded hard on the steel door. “Jack Winslow! Uncle Jack, are you there? It’s me Sora. Please, open the door.”

“Sora? Sora, is that you?” a voice responded.

“Yes, Jack, it’s me. Can you open the door for me?”

Almost immediately the sound of the barricades being pulled aside made Sora grin.

When he finally pulled open the heavy door he almost slammed it shut on her face. Sora didn’t wonder why, not with her shroud. She push forward immediately, only to be met by a barrel of a Colt revolver.

“What kind of trick is this?” Jack sputtered, outraged.

“For God’s sake don’t shoot, Jack. It’s no trick. It’s really me.” Sora yanked the veil aside. Ceasar started barking.

Jack recognized her voice, all right, but he still blocked the entry and wagged his gun at the uniformed men. “Sora? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s all right, Uncle Jack. The soldiers are Saudi’s. Let us in, please. Shut up, Ceasar!” She tugged hard on the dog’s collar to silence him.

Jack pulled the door back just enough for them to squeeze inside one by one. He didn’t put away his pistol either. “What in Sam Hill are you doing here with them?”

“It’s a long story.”

The hangar was dark and vast. The air hung stagnant, bot and closed, laden with smells of fuels, oil and sweat. The hangar was but company standards; four Vixens would fit comfortably. The goose ate up most of the space. Sora dropped the dog’s leash. Ceasar bolted, sniffling, growling, and barking at shadows.

She turned to the soldiers and gave them orders to get the big overhead doors open. They eye the rumpled old man who hadn’t uncocked his pistol. Jack may have been outnumbered, but obviously, he wasn’t placated yet.

“You sure these guys are Saudis?” He shut the door with his hack and dropped an iron bar in place singlehandedly.

“I’m sure they are Saudis.” Sora took time now to look at her godfather. Jack Winslow looked awful. A feral gleam haunted his eyes. She doubted he’d shave or a change of clothes in days. “Trust me, and fill me in on what happened here.”

When he hadn’t answered immediately, she said. “Jack, talk to me dammit. Where the hell is Appa?”

Jack’s eyes shied away from Sora’s so fast it wasn’t funny. He glared at the Saudis, instead, then looked back at her. “I’ve been holding down the front door for days. What are you doing here? Last I heard, you father told you to go home.”

Something didn’t jibe. She was told the Iraqis reported resistance inside the hangar. One old man with a Colt 45 couldn’t have held off the army on the tarmac. Maybe he didn’t feel safe admitting anything. Sora gave him a benefit of the doubt.

She began to assess the damage. Two carters yawned in the steel roof on the back corner. Twisted steel girders and aluminium panels dropped downward in a gruesome, Calder-like mobile. Empty boxes and crated were strewn across the concrete floor. The office was gutted. Not one piece of the state-of-the-art communication equipment remained. Lifting her hem to pick her way over the debris, Sora looked at Jack for some explanation.

“Them bastards took every damn thing that wasn’t nailed down, Jack told her bitterly. Then he fell into a step beside her and swung his arm around her and gave her a sly wink and a big hug. He jerked his grizzled chin at the DC-7.

Sora stopped and looked at the goose. It was smaller than she remembered… and older. “What about Appa? Where’d he go? I had word from Tommy he was hurt.”

Jack’s arm tightened on her shoulders. He said, “Kid, are you gonna make me tell you how they took him? They came here busting up everything. Your father convinced them the goose wouldn’t get airborne, so they let it ounce they stripped out the interior. They took everything else. And then when they had what they wanted, they took him as hostage and left me here to make some kind of ransom deal with the company. I don’t know where he is.”

Nearly all the steel in Sora’s shoulders left her then she slumped and was caught in Jack’s embrace. “I’m sorry kid.”

“It is against the law of Koran for an infidel to touch the wife of a haj,” a soldier sad fiercely in English.

“So what?” Jack rounded on the man who had spoken. Then his arm tightened harder around Sora and said. “Wife? What did he mean?”

“Jack.” Sora laid her hand in his forearm, pushing the nose of the pistol down. “There have been some serious changes, Okay? Listen to me. What the soldier just said is true. He’s only acting on his orders to protect me. These guys are my bodyguards – the dog too. I’ve sort of made a deal with the Saudis. I sold them the goose to ferry all the people trapped in their embassy out of Kuwait. We don’t have much time. After that, no one gets out of the country. Nobody gets in. Is the goose still gassed up and ready to go?”

Jack stared at her as if she’d dropped in from another planet. “You can’t do that. How in the hell are you and me gonna get out of here?”

“We’re flying the goose, Jack. That’s how. You’re my co-pilot. Come-on, I’ll explain everything in the air.”

“You better start explaining right now, ‘cause I ain’t liking this one bit… starting with the getup covering you from head to toe. If your sister Katie could see you now, she’d be boiling you in your own feminist oil.”

“Let’s leave my sister out of this, okay?” Sora walked resolutely toward the goose. “Get the doors open, guys, and the wheels chucks out from under the tires. I’ll get the plane started.”

As she ducked under the goose’s nose, she came to a dead stop, gaping at the empty concrete space that stretched as far as the hangar’s wall.

“Where the hell is the Vixen One?”